yuwin ✧ animus

Four

Yuta walked past the scattering sounds of men tiredly cleaning their rifles. He was instructed by the General to depart with few men to a nearby cotton mill.

Yuta obviously did what he was told to and walked by, and into one of the green trucks that they'd usually be driving. He sat in the passenger seat as one of his many juniors climbed into the driver's seat and began to depart.

Yuta gazed out the window as the truck sped down the dirty roads, his eyes carefully watching civilians move out of the way and onto the side of the arterial.

The vehicle soon stopped at the cotton mill, half the soldiers getting off and walking through the entrance.

Once the presence of the soldiers became acknowledged, everyone kept quiet in a cowardice. Some of the soldiers pulled the translator out of the truck, pushing him to the front where he was required to translate what was written in Chinese. He began switching from Japanese to Chinese, simply asking the soldiers what they desired to say next and speaking it unto the people in the cotton mill which was something about them making a certain amount of money or being publicly executed.

Yuta, watched in deep regret the fear in the people's eyes as they listened, which only become worse when he noticed Sicheng standing the back of the crowd. What made it worse was that Yuta was tasked to extract someone out of the crowd and execute them. 

The Major General and few junior soldiers awaited for Yuta to move and grab someone, staring at him stoically. One of the soldiers standing behind Yuta tapped his shoulder, thinking maybe he was spacing out.

Yuta looked away from Sicheng to meet the eyes of every other soldier there. He couldn't bring himself to say it, turned his back and walked out of mill, leaving the other soldiers in an utter shock.

~~~~

The General was later reported about Yuta's disregard of orders which resulted in a "discipline".

Yuta's body jolted back as he was met with a sharp kick to the stomach. He clenched his arm against his stomach and gritted his teeth in pain.

The General crouched down, clutching Yuta's hair and holding his head up, his voice mitigating,"I expect you follow orders next time, yes?"

Shortly after, he walked away. Yuta sat up still clutching his stomach as both his nose and lip bled. His head leaned back against the stone wall, heavily exhaling in pain.

Sure, the punishment was excruciatingly painful, but Yuta's neglect to follow orders was an utter distraction that the soldiers forgot about the public execution. Knowing that no one had to die then and there, was worth a few painful kicks to Yuta.

Yuta forced himself up and went over to wash the dirt and drying blood off of his tan face.

Shortly after, Yuta checked around the halls and eventually sneaked away. He walked down the faintly familiar roads, remaining on edge practically the entire time.

Yuta slid across the wall of the building, his hand knocking on the deteriorated door. He began to push the door open, his eyes catching a glimpse of Sicheng's which were laced with a slight aggression. Yet, they softened when the door opened slightly more and his drifted to the injuries painted on Yuta's face.

Sicheng sauntered towards Yuta, his eyebrows unknowingly furried in concern,"What happened?" His lips quickly formed an 'o', he scurried to the back of the building, scavenging the dictionary out from behind his mattress. 

He quickly flipped through the dirty pages, in a choppy and unsure tone, he asked in broken Japanese,"What happened?"

Yuta softly smiled at the boy's effort, simply replying,"It's nothing."

Sicheng ingenuously pouted at Yuta, his expression only changing when Yuta's stomach growled. Yuta awkwardly scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment, leaving Sicheng to walk over to the clay pot.

The Chinese boy removed the grains and separated a portion into a pot. He then moved outside, the sounds of a fire being birthed quickly emitted before the sound of the rice being poured into water also emitted.

Sicheng walked back inside while his he dusted his hands off.

"Sit down," Sicheng signaled with his hands pointing down at Yuta.

Yuta hesitantly sat down, his eyes not leaving Sicheng's figure.

Sicheng wandered to the back of the building, scavenging for an old rag. He immersed the cloth in water, then walked back over to Yuta. He sat besides the Japanese, softly grasping his face and pressing the cloth against his cuts.

Yuta flinched at the touch. Though he had already cleaned his face, nevertheless, he let the boy continue. He gazed at Sicheng's overly-concentrated, exhaling through a hidden smirk.

Sicheng squeezed the now soiled cloth and stood up,"That should be better now."

Yuta hummed in response to what ever he suspected Sicheng had said.

Sicheng rinsed the cloth off and hung it before rushing back outside. Shortly after, he returned with a bowl of rice and set it in front of Yuta. He crawled to the back of the building, returning with a pair of chopsticks in one hand and a match in the other.

Handing Yuta the chopsticks, Sicheng grabbed his lantern which rested against the wall. He brushed part of the dust from debris off with his palm, lit the match, and the lit the lantern.

Yuta bit down his smile, muttering a small 'thank you' before proceeding to eat.

Sicheng laid on his stomach, his hands resting under his chin while his feet kicked back and forth.

Yuta picked up rice with the chopsticks, biting down against them as he muttered,"You're cute."

Sicheng perked up in curiosity, obviously confused about what Yuta said,"Hmm?"

Yuta shook his head, still counting to suppress a smile,"Nothing."

Sicheng pouted as he folded his arms against the floor and laid his head against them, silently playing and flicking the diminutive pebbles that always remained scattered on the floor.

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