Steel Eyed Faker

Chapter 18: Rumours

Beta read by Shigiya and Paragon of Awesomeness

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-Revolutionary Army Headquarters-

Regret. 

It clung to her like a second skin, stubborn and unshakable, burrowing into the marrow of the silver-haired ex-Imperial general. She sat motionless, save for the impatient tap of her finger against her shoulder, her thoughts adrift in the hum of the room around her.

She had failed to be there when they needed her most and allowed herself to get swayed by just a few words from her allies, imploring her to stay behind. 

And worst of all, she felt as if her strength was slipping further with each passing day. 

Across from her, defiant as ever, Bulat had his hair no longer styled in that ridiculous pompadour and instead just letting it down. A person who had nearly bled to death was flashing her a lopsided grin, the kind meant to banish her guilt. 

…It didn’t work.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, voice low as she took a long drag of her cigarette. Around them, the makeshift infirmary of the Revolutionary Army pulsed with activity; healers, medics, and aides weaving between the injured, binding wounds, administering painkillers, whispering reassurances that might or might not be true. The air was thick with antiseptic, blood, and the acrid scent of burnt flesh, some poor souls needing to have their wounds cauterized on the spot. In hindsight, perhaps smoking here was a terrible idea, but the habit had taken over before she realized it. 

The nurses gave her nervous glances but said nothing. Too afraid to challenge one of the best military minds in the Revolutionary Army, perhaps. Not like she ever threw a fit if someone asked her to stop… probably had something to do with her overall presence, which her dear little brother said was intimidating to others. 

Pft, like he was one to talk. 

“Bright and dandy, Najenda!” Bulat replied, far too cheerfully for a man wrapped in bandages and confined to a hospital gown covered in gauze patches. His left arm was decorated in medical tape and plaster, but her eyes were drawn inevitably to the other side. Or rather, to the empty space where his right arm had once been, now replaced with a blood-stained bundle of gauze. 

“Don’t make that face,” he said, chuckling despite the weight of it all. “I chose to go through with the mission, and there’s no way in hell I would’ve let you come with me even if I’d known how it would end. It was a trap, and we knew it and knowingly took a risk.”

“A risk far too great that at no point should I have even given any consideration to,” she replied bitterly.

“Probably,” he admitted with a shrug. “But I’m still alive, aren’t I? One arm down, sure, but that’s not a deal-breaker. I can still fight. Just gotta adjust my style a bit.”

He said it lightly, flashing the same crooked smile that on so many occasions had comforted frightened rookies. But she wasn’t fooled. She knew, just as he did, that he wouldn’t be rejoining Night Raid anytime soon on any missions. A warrior like him might still swing a blade or pull a trigger, but the front lines were unforgiving. He was lucky to have survived. A quieter life was his best shot now. 

One without bloodshed. 

One where he could disappear.

One where this soldier could live in peace, as he had earned.