'Everyday is a journey and the journey itself is home.'

Matsuo Basho

Kaeru

(to return; to go back)

Chapter I

Tomodachi (Friend)

I knew I was in a hospital the moment I regained consciousness. I'd been trained to keep my vitals under check while I assessed the environment, but I had woken up in hospitals enough times to recognise the unsettling smell of antiseptics and the nerve-wrecking beep of heart monitors within a span of seconds. There was something else this time, however, something I wasn't entirely used to waking up to. Perfume. And I knew exactly just whose perfume it was, which led me to the pressing question of whether I was ready to talk to her or not.

Relena had been there when I passed out, she had witnessed the things I'd done, she had heard the words I'd spoken to Mariemaia Kushrenada and, knowing her, she had probably been the one to catch me and bring me to the hospital. She sat there now, waiting for me to wake up, to reassure her that I was alright. Was I supposed to thank her? Did I want to? And what for? And if I didn't thank her, what would she expect me to say then?

Certain that she wouldn't leave before I woke up and knowing there was no use postponing the inevitable, I opened my eyes.

At first, she gave a sharp intake of breath, her body moving out of the chair and towards me almost unconsciously, but as I watched her out of the corner of my eye she seemed to catch herself, reining in whatever impulse she'd had and regaining her seat with a small reassuring smile.

'It's good to see you.' She said, surprisingly, as if we'd just run into each other. 'How are you feeling?'

Sore. I thought. And stiff. Because that was how my body felt. And then I remembered why. I remembered Zero and how very little was left of it at the end. It amounted to nothing. There was nothing left of it. It was over.

Lost. I thought. I feel lost and numb.

'Fine.' I said.

Relena let out a deep sigh, as if relieved, and her tired eyes ran over the room. It was as empty and sterile as any other hospital room, yet her gaze alighted on the wall anyway, glancing at something I couldn't see. 'What have you been doing? This past year.'

'A little of everything.'

'Will you go back to that now?'

So that's what it all came down to. I guess it was unavoidable. What was I going to do now? Who was Heero Yui without a gundam?

I had been willing to send Zero to the sun to be destroyed. I thought I'd had it all figured out, but now – after piloting it one last time – I couldn't shake the feeling that I was nowhere close to knowing who I was nor what I wanted. All I knew was that I had been about to commit a serious mistake before this incident, because, as hard as I tried, I could no longer imagine myself working those petty jobs for the rest of my life. But if not that then what?

'No. I won't go back to that.'

She nodded, having somehow anticipated my answer. Then her cheeks coloured lightly, and I saw her lip tremble even though she still wouldn't meet my gaze. 'If you need a place to stay, you can always stay with me.'

Her offer did not surprise me in the least, but her sudden reluctance towards me did. We had only been apart for a year, but still she had changed and – I was beginning to realise – so had I. One thing, nonetheless, remained the same. I could not imagine myself answering to anyone just yet, could not picture myself compromising and that was what moving in with Relena would mean. It would mean time spent together; it would mean whenever I left, wherever I went, she would be worried; it would mean sharing with her the nothingness that was myself, and I couldn't even fathom doing it. Not now. Not yet.

'Hn.'

My meagre acknowledgement of her offer brought a rueful – though knowing – smile to her lips. She finally turned back to me, back to the confident Relena of old. 'Will you be leaving then?'

'Yes.'

'Where to?'

Indeed. Where to? I didn't know, but I felt like in order to find out who I was I'd have to trace back my steps. I needed to go back to where it'd all started, and I had a couple ideas of where that might be. For some reason, though I wasn't ready to be kept tabs on, I decided I wanted her to know.

'L1.'

She did not look surprised.

As soon as Relena was gone, I discharged myself from the hospital and left before I needed to answer those very same questions to numerous other visitors. I left before doctors could tell me that, despite all evidence pointing to the contrary, I was not yet fit to leave. How could I possibly be fit to leave after what I had been through? They couldn't comprehend the amount of damage my body had been honed to withhold. No matter how good they were at their jobs, physicians just had a hard time wrapping their minds around it, around the fact that I was probably as close to indestructible as a human being had the right to be.

I wandered the streets in search of a cash point. And – once I finally found one – I withdrew all the money I had left. One person already knew where I was going and I thought that was enough. I didn't want anyone tracing my steps by any means. I already felt lost, but now I wanted to truly and completely lose myself in the world. I wanted to disappear because disappearing had always helped me clear my head, and that was as much as I knew about who I was.

The next flight to L1 would be leaving in eight hours. I purchased a ticket and resumed wandering. Out of the space port and into the streets. Brussels was a city much like any other and not even Mariemaia and the threat of yet another war had managed to dampen the overall holiday cheer. Buildings sparkled with colour even in the bright light of day and families strolled by, hand in hand, basking in the renewed sense of peace and security that had dawned with the new day.

Relena would be giving a speech. One of many. Where she'd most likely clarify what had happened the night before; convince the whole of the ESUN and the colonies to forgive Mariemaia and give her a second chance; and reinforce in the minds and hearts of all those watching her those ideals of disarmament and peace she had always believed in, always fought so hard to uphold.

For some reason, probably out of habit, I found myself making my way to her, stepping into the auditorium just as the sun set. I did not wish to talk to her. There was nothing left for us to say at that point, but I felt like watching over her. Perhaps because the sense of security had yet to contaminate me, and her feeble security detail did not inspire any trust in me; or perhaps I knew that'd be the last time in a long time that I'd see Relena Darlian in person even if it was only from afar.

It was during the long flight to L1 that I met the old man who first gave me the idea of writing this memoir.

I was lucky enough to be given a window seat and even luckier to be the first in my line of seats to arrive. I wanted as little human contact as possible on my way from ESUN back to the place where it had all begun or, at least, where Operation Meteor had begun for me. I had a lot on my mind… Data on my past that I meant to sort out and analyse, things I remembered and things I'd forgotten and then there was the future, the uncertainty of it all, which – despite the fact that I kept trying to push it out of my mind – kept coming back to rule my thoughts.

For the moment, I knew where to go and I had something I meant to do, but what if it led nowhere? What would I do then? Where would I go?

Those were the questions that were running through my head when the old man arrived and quietly took the seat beside mine. I paid him no mind at first, made no move, said nothing that might encourage him to talk to me at all and – during the first half of the flight – he seemed perfectly content just sitting there in neither uncomfortable nor companionable silence. Why and when that changed I cannot tell.

'L1 surely is a long way.' I peeked discreetly at him out of the corner of my eye, hoping against hope that he was talking to someone else. There was no one else however. And – to my utter annoyance – my apparent disinterest didn't seem to discourage him, but to urge him on instead. 'It's my first time visiting the colonies… My daughter moved out here a couple years ago to live with her husband, but even though she's been insisting ever since for me to visit I've always found a reasonable excuse not to. Except this time there was none.' He chuckled to himself then threw his trump card. He asked me a question. 'Have you ever been out here?'

As much as I craved my space, I did not wish to be rude. That might attract attention to myself and attention was most definitely something I could do without. 'Yes.'

'Really? Oh, well, you do strike me as a colony kid. Are you coming home? Or leaving?'

I had no idea. 'I was born in L1.'

'Ah… Coming then.' He paused, and I turned back to the window trying to put an end to our conversation. 'Aren't you a little young to be traveling alone?'

In times of war no one cared if you were old enough to wander about unsupervised, but I had plenty of fake IDs for times of peace as well. 'No, I'm not.'

'I'm sorry. I know it's none of my business. I just sympathised with you for some reason, so I worried. As we grow old we sometimes tend to worry about other people's business more than about our own.' He was smiling, and I no longer had any hope his pauses would be permanent or even long-lasting. He reminded me of Duo Maxwell, babbling non-stop, minding other people's businesses. 'Do your parents still live in L1?'

'No.'

'Hmm… You're living on your own then. Traveling around the universe?'

His tireless cheerfulness was starting to wear me down like nothing ever had. Or maybe it was all those questions and the realisation that I had only pitiful answers for each and every single one of them. 'Yes.' I supposed.

'That's good.' He nodded to himself as if coming to some sort of realisation. 'That's really good. I always wanted to travel when I was about your age. I was brave then, you see, and I wanted to go on an adventure, to conquer the world.'

I thought a sane person would've laughed at such an unrealistic, childish ambition, but he looked quite serious. Dreamy even. As if he wanted to go back to those days, as if he still wished to go on an adventure or to conquer the world. For a fraction of a second I considered telling him he already was on an adventure because what else was leaving one's home behind, one's very planet, if not an adventure? But that sounded foolish even in my own head and I had never been foolish.

'Are you keeping a log?'

'What?' I fully turned to him then, for the first time since we'd started talking, and frowned in confusion.

'A journal. You should keep a written record of your travels. It's what every real adventurer does.'

I was so perplexed my tongue slipped. 'Why?'

'Why? So you may relieve it all when you're my age. Retrace your steps, recall every feeling, every sensation… So you can tell your children and grandchildren all the amazing things you've done and the unimaginable things you've seen.' His smile widened further than ever then. 'I'll be a grandfather soon. That's what gave me the courage to get on this spaceship. I want to be there for my daughter and I want to tell my grandchild about all the things I've done and seen… Even if I never left the ESUN. What else is there to live for but to share your life with your loved ones?'

Seeing the joy on that old man's face, I did indeed wonder.

I hadn't expected L1 to have been left untouched by the war, I very well knew it hadn't, but it was only when I stepped out of the spaceport that I realised the hangar where Wing had been built, the base where I'd been genetically modified and trained to perfection, might no longer be there and the information I'd been aiming to find would then be lost forever. If Dr. J had left anything behind to begin with. My unusual thoughtlessness only cemented the fact that the war was over, as I was forced to make my way to the old industrial district either way. I had come too far to turn back without making sure. Besides, turning back wasn't really an option as I had no other place to go.

Luck seemed to accompany me, however, as I soon found that – though most of the district had been destroyed by battles long past – the reconstruction had yet to reach that small forgotten corner of the colony and that, despite some structural damage, the hangar remained just where it had always been.

The gates remained in place, but I snuck easily past the twisted and torn wire fence. An entire side of the structure seemed to have been hit by a blast and the walls, especially on the second floor, had caved in. Even from outside I could glimpse the dark soot stains that marred a portion of the inner walls. It was about all I could do to hope that the data I was looking for – whatever it was – hadn't been damaged.

Where the heavy sliding doors had once stood, shielding the inside of the hangar from passers-by, now I found open archways leading into a dark empty building, a house to nothing but dust and debris…and a man. He sat underneath the scaffold, almost in the middle of the room, by a dying bonfire. His seat was a pile of scrap and the clothes he wore were stained and tattered, but I could see he was still young, maybe in his early or mid-twenties and despite the slack posture and the tired haggard looks, clearly a former soldier.

I debated with myself on whether to ignore him or recruit him, after all he might have already found what I was looking for. He might even have already burned it. A possibility I was unwilling to consider at that moment. Still sore from my wounds and tired from recent events, I approached him.

'I take it you're in need of money.' I went straight to the point. His dark eyes held mine, suspicious but curious. 'I'm looking for something… It may either be a floppy disk or a handwritten log. I'll pay you if you help me find it.'

His hesitation lasted but a second. 'And what's this log supposed to look like?'

'I do not know.'

'One of the rooms here has hundreds of these thin grey notebooks. It might be one of them.'

'It probably will be.' I was just slightly surprised by his knowledge of the place and the secrets it hid at plain sight. I could picture those notebooks so perfectly in my mind, I knew I had seen them before and I was certain the information I was looking for had to be there somewhere.

'How will I know I've got the right one?'

That gave me pause. It was a reasonable question, but could I really trust him with that information? How much did he know? What would he infer from it? And what could he possibly do with the knowledge? He seemed to read my thoughts, but – even though he clearly needed the money – did not push me, did not offer empty reassurances as to his character. I thought that was most assuring of all.

'Look for the words "perfect soldier" and "operation meteor".'

No recognition or shock or anything crossed his face. A simple nod and he pushed himself to his feet. It was when I realised he had a limp, a memento of war surely and a confirmation that he'd been at the front.

I followed him past dust covered scrap piles, knocked over tray carts and fallen tools, up the well-known spiralling stairs and towards the damaged side of the building. The tiny office we were headed to, which was really more of an archive, was located at the corner farthest from the street where the mobile suit battle, which had caused the second floor's destruction, had taken place. That was the most likely reason why it had been spared by the blast. The lock had been shot, and my companion pushed the door open without effort. It groaned on its hinges.

'It was locked when I first got here.' He answered my unasked question. 'I had to make sure no one was hiding in here. Nothing else's been damaged.'

He stepped aside to let me in first. It was awfully dark inside, but I could see the tall packed metal shelves that covered every wall on every side of the room. 'Does the light still work?'

'No, and the torch's run out of battery.'

'Perhaps we could knock down a wall.'

'Or we could carry these logs downstairs.' He had made his way past me to run his fingers over the dusty inscription on the edge of the nearest shelf. 'They're classified by date. Any idea what year we're looking for?'

It was the year Dr J had found me. It couldn't have been more than a decade even though it felt like a lifetime. 'Somewhere between AC 187 and 189.'

He simply nodded in the quiet efficient way I was beginning to be quite grateful for and set out to find the right section. I too began searching my side of the room, leaning close to the shelves and narrowing my eyes against the darkness. The years which I had spent training in that place seemed to all blend together and the years before that were but a blur in my head… Then there'd been the war, that ordinary year of respite, the recent Mariemaia incident and, now, here I was. Back where it'd all started.

'87 to 89' the stranger said behind me. 'There's quite a collection.'

I crossed the room in three steps and pulled one of the books off the shelf. The hand was unrecognisable and the first few entries pretty much irrelevant, but I was sure we would find it, the right log – Dr J's hand, I hoped – and the data. 'Let's start with these. They can stoke the fire once we're done with them.'

A nod from my companion and we set out to empty the shelves.

It was nearly morning when he handed me the log he'd been reading for the past five minutes. 'Here. I believe this is it.'

I took the notebook from him – open as it was – not caring to check the year or month. I'd come upon Dr J's hand a few times before as I scanned the previous logbooks so it was no surprise to see it now. I took it as a good sign.

The entry was irrelevant in itself. He mentioned the progress they had made in building the gundam and explained in detail the structural changes he'd decided to make. It was only as a post script that he commented on the 'still unfruitful' search for the 'perfect soldier' and how he was beginning to feel the need to get involved in it.

It wasn't much, but it was a confirmation that I was on the right track. My assistant seemed to be waiting for a word. 'It's a start.'

'But we're not quite there yet.'

'No.'

He nodded and picked up the next log on the pile, but then seemed to hesitate. 'Should I leave you to it? Perhaps you don't wish me to know the information you're looking for?'

Thoughtful, to say the least. 'Go on.' I wondered if he was laying the groundwork to ask for more money. Not that we'd agreed on a sum yet, but still… When he said nothing, however, we resumed our search. I realised I didn't care what he read, it made no difference, but what really surprised me was the fact that I trusted him not to read further than the keywords we were focusing on. He didn't strike me as the kind who would willingly stick his nose where it didn't belong.

It didn't take long for him to find the one entry I'd been looking for, the entry that marked the beginning of a new era for me. 'Here. They've found him.' Was all the stranger said before handing me yet another log. I had still been searching the previous one for the entry he had just located. My first meeting with Dr J.

Progress has been made regarding the perfect soldier. The ideal subject has been secured. The boy cannot be older than ten. He was found wandering the streets aimlessly. There is a coldness and an emptiness about him that is impossible to overlook. He appears to be of Japanese descent and – surprisingly – to have already received some sort of training. His intelligence and perceptiveness are clearly above average, a fact that was noticeable within no more than a few minutes of conversation. He has joined our cause willingly and seems eager to pilot the new model. There's no doubt he'll be ready when the time comes. His training will begin post haste.

Japanese descent… Over half the people in L1 were of Asian descent and most of those were Japanese. Besides, I already knew that piece of information. I needed something more specific. I needed information that would shed some light on my true origins, that would help me trace my steps back and beyond this point. I had lived for less than twenty years, it shouldn't be too hard.

'We will continue.' I nodded at my companion who had lost himself watching the lightening horizon through the open archways for a moment. 'Unless you need sleep. I can take over from here. It won't affect your payment. You've earned it.'

He shook his head. 'I wish to continue, if that's alright with you. I don't really sleep. Not anymore.'

I didn't ask. It didn't sound like he wished to elaborate anyway. 'Hn.'

We all had our fair share of war related nightmares.

The next relevant entry was dated one week later. I found it in the same log I already held and – as I read it – I realised it would be enough. The lead I'd been looking for was finally within my reach.

The subject has been making extraordinary progress and it is still inconceivable what he will be capable of once genetic improvements have been made. It is very likely his previous training was given to him by Oz. They have been working in L1, particularly in X-18999, for some time now and the body of one of their spies was recently found not very far from where our subject was located. Remains to be seen whether he retains any kind of allegiance to his former organization.

I snapped the book closed and threw it into the fire. My nameless assistant slowly closed his as well, studying me for a long moment before he put it down. 'I take it we're done then.'

'Thank you for your help.' I felt obliged to say before handing him what I assumed to be an agreeable sum.

'Am I allowed to burn the rest of these logs?'

'I meant to do that myself.'

'I won't charge you for the pleasure.'

'Hn.'

So Oz was where I'd come from. Oz and that man whose face I no longer remembered, even though I'd never forget his words. I couldn't recall his name either no matter how hard I tried. I wondered what that meant, if it meant anything at all. I had only been eight years old at the time. It didn't matter. That man was my lead now and to discover where he had come from I'd first need to remember his name. If there were any records left of Oz after the wars the Preventers were sure to have access to them, which meant making a call to Lady Une. A call I really did not wish to make.

The flames grew and sizzled as more logs were added to the fire. The stranger didn't bother to read them, to try and uncover my secrets, which I thought was quite generous of him. Or maybe he was just polite enough not to do so in front of me. There was no way he wasn't interested in the information despite its uselessness now that the war was over. He was a former soldier after all, wasn't he?

It was when I realised I might have an access to Oz's records sitting idly right in front of me. If only I was lucky enough…

'Which side did you fight for?'

My boldness didn't seem to surprise him. He picked up another log as he considered the question and dropped it into the fire. When he met my eyes it was in a silent dare. 'I was an Oz soldier. A lieutenant, actually. Then I joined Treize's Faction. Lost a leg fighting the White Fang… And that's the end of it.'

'Do you still have access to any Oz records?' I tried not to glance at the leg he had fisted his hand on. It was irrelevant.

This time his suspicion deepened and he frowned at me as he asked: 'Why?'

'I don't mean to start another war.'

'I couldn't care less if you did. I just wish to know why.'

Fair enough, I thought. After all, I was asking for something big. 'I need to gather information on one of their former spies.'

'Who?'

'I don't know his name. He died in 188.'

'Hmm…' he met my eye thoughtfully. I suspected he must be wondering about my reasons to be inquiring after a man who had died nearly a decade earlier, when I was but a child. But even if he was curious – from what I'd seen of him so far – he wasn't one to pry. 'Very well… But we'll need to travel and I've got no means but what you've just given me. The local Oz base's been bulldozed a few weeks ago. I'd been hiding there when the machines arrived.'

'Where would we have to go?'

'Earth would be our best option. Plenty of old Oz hideouts there, but if money's an issue then—'

'No. I think I have enough to get us both to Earth.'

'Good.' He glanced outside for a second at the already light blue 'skies'. 'I take it you're not in too much of a hurry?'

Since your man is dead, I filled in for him. 'No. I still mean to burn the rest of these logs, including the ones upstairs.'

'There's some MS fuel left. We could set the whole archive on fire. And then I'd like to buy a new outfit and grab a bite to eat before we go.'

'Hn.' I agreed, feeling my own long empty stomach come back to life.

'There's a diner nearby. Cheap and inconspicuous. In case you're worried about being seen.'

Not really, I mused.

We made quick work of the remaining books, pausing only for a moment to admire the roaring fire before we set out to burn the ones we had left on the upper floor. I realised then what I was really doing. There was no real need to destroy those records, they no longer meant anything to anyone. Hence why Dr J had left them behind… But they did mean something to me. By destroying them I was erasing my past, a past I honestly didn't care for. It might be a chance to start over.

'I'm Wischard by the way.'

I glanced at Wischard over the fire and wondered what to do, but even though there were parts of my past I wanted gone there were others… No one said I couldn't be selective and I had been using that name for so long I didn't even remember having another before it. 'Heero Yui.'

Recognition flashed in his eyes, as it did for everyone I introduced myself to, but he said nothing as he shook the hand I – for once – offered.

'That's the place.' Wischard said as we halted in front of the tallest fanciest gates in the entire neighbourhood.

I trust my hands into my pockets as I tried to see past the underbrush, but the darkness of the night did little to help. From what I could see of the property, it was a big two-storey mansion, the lights were off and the windows were grey with dust. 'Looks abandoned.'

'It should be.'

'Are you quite sure the base here hasn't been dismantled? I don't see why they'd keep the house standing otherwise.'

'The house belonged to one of our generals. He fell in battle and – from what I've heard – his wife hasn't yet found the heart to return to the place. I'm sure she would've listed it otherwise. The house is just a ruse anyway, the base is hidden underground. I doubt the current owner's even aware of its existence.'

'Mustn't be a large base then.'

'No. It's actually more of a secret meeting room.' He finished examining the gate and turned back to me with a frown. 'I cannot make it over, but you can and you just might be able to open it from the other side.'

'Didn't expect security to be so lack.' I raised an eyebrow at him.

'They let it go after the war ended.'

'Hn.'

I looked at the gate, trying to come up with the best way to climb it. It was tricky, but not impossible and I was sure I could move fast enough not to be noticed. It was already past midnight and the streets were deserted. The cold blustery night clearly favoured us. Wischard said nothing as I finally made my move, but I saw him needlessly scan our surroundings. As soon as my feet touched the ground at the other side of the gate, he turned back to me.

'So?'

'Lock's too sturdy to pick. I could try breaking it.'

'That'd make too much noise. We don't want to attract any attention…' he paused but for a fraction of a second and yet I could see the shadow of doubt as it crossed his face. 'Maybe you should go on without me. We both know it'll be easy work for you getting into the base and extracting the data.'

Though I had refrained from telling him a single thing about myself, my actions seemed to have spoken for me, and more candidly than I would've liked, but I pushed my worries aside and focused on the mission. It was strangely reinvigorating to have one again. 'I'll check the shed. There might be a key in there.'

Surprised he had overlooked such an obvious option, Wischard nodded mutely and turned to wh an obvious option, ? atch the street as I covered the short distance from the gate to the lonely wooden shelter. It didn't feel right to leave a man behind just because of a missing leg. I wouldn't have appreciated it if someone had done it to me and so I wouldn't do it to Wischard, regardless of my personal feelings or lack thereof.

There was a key in the shed, as well as a pair of garden shears and a machete I thought might come in handy, since Wischard had had to leave his gun behind. Ever since the end of the war, the spaceports had become extra cautious in regards to weapons and no armed passengers were allowed on board any spaceships. Relena would've been proud of how thorough they'd been in searching us.

'Nice save.' Wischard told me as he crossed the now-open gate. He nodded at me somewhat unsettled. 'Thank you.'

I could only shake my head and gesture for him to precede me.

We made our way up the gentle slope that led to the front door. There was no porch, only three narrow steps led to the entrance, but Wischard ignored it completely, leading me around the house instead. At the back, a pair of wooden doors led us down into an underground cellar. The doors had been left unlocked, a fact which we both found suspicious, yet neither of us chose to comment on.

Wischard searched the shelves and wine racks for what I assumed to be a switch or the hidden entrance to the bunker. Even in the dark it didn't take him long to find it. I heard the obvious click as the hidden door unlatched and the former lieutenant was suddenly walking past me again and towards one of the furthest walls.

'Here. Lend me a hand.'

The rack he wanted us to move looked stupidly heavy and yet – upon closer inspection – I realised it was all just for show. Wischard could have moved it single-handedly had he not minded making any noise. The fact that he asked for my help and, therefore, that he did mind being noisy only served to reassure me of how suspicious he'd found the unlocked cellar door.

'Take one.' I extended my improvised weapons towards my companion as we prepared to step through the door. There was no need to tell him where I'd found them.

'I got this.' He pulled a corkscrew from his back pocket. With the wooden grip in his hand and the sharp iron screw gleaming between his middle and fourth fingers it looked like as good a weapon as any. 'Was all I could find. Keep yours. You've got a mission to accomplish, it won't do for you to die here.'

The hidden door led us into a bleak grey corridor. The lights turned on automatically at our entrance, and I was immediately reminded of the many underground bases and spaceships I'd visited, and sometimes lived in, during the war and even before it. I could hear the echo of our boots around us even before we'd started walking. Wischard's deep frown did not bode well and I held on to the machete on my waist.

We paused as we reached the door at the end of our short walk and listened. Wischard gave me a warning glance as his hand closed around the knob. I nodded my acknowledgement. Whoever had been here before us might have already left but it was just as likely they were still inside. There were many former soldiers hiding at the present moment. Some feeling hopelessly lost, dreaming of war and plotting against peace, others – on account of their recent association with Mariemaia Kushrenada – in fear of retribution.

We'd just never expected there'd be so many.

A dozen pistols stared right at us the moment the door swung open. Wischard dropped his weapon and raised his hands. I could only step beside him as I did the same. There was nothing that could help us identify the enemy. They were all young men, former soldiers as expected, but without their uniforms it was impossible to tell their allegiance. And yet the fact that they were there, in an Oz secret meeting room, betrayed the fact that at least one of them must be a former Oz member. At least one of them might know and recognise my companion.

'Who are you? And what do you want here?' the man closest to us demanded. I could tell by the sharp edge of his voice that he was more shaken by our arrival than a decent soldier ought to be.

'I'm Lieutenant Kemeny, former Oz and Treize faction member.'

'Lt. Kemeny is dead!' a man to our right said visibly distressed and all eyes in the room were suddenly on him. 'I-I saw his mobile suit explode! I was there! He couldn't have survived!'

'It did explode.' The man beside me agreed. He was calm, but the grave expression on his face was one only a man, who knew what it felt like to be in charge and fail his subordinates, could muster. 'But the bottom half alone. I survived, though not unscathed.'

The accuser seemed to believe him once he pulled up his trouser leg to reveal the metal prosthesis underneath. The others too were consternated, but not enough to lower their weapons. 'And what is it that you want here, Lieutenant?' the first man resumed his inquiry.

'My friend and I need access to some old Oz records.' Wischard nodded at the computer set behind them.

'Old Oz records…? Whatever the hell for?'

'I'm looking for my father.' I said suddenly. The lie coming so naturally I couldn't help but wonder. 'For his burial ground rather. He was an Oz agent back before the war even started.'

'Awful sentimental story.'

'As are all war stories.' My companion backed me up seriously and the two men glared at each other for a long tense moment.

'Can't do no harm to let them have a look.' One of the youngest men said, lowering his gun. He didn't seem very interested in killing us or in pulling the trigger at all, but struck me as the kind of misguided kid who realises too late he's joined someone else's war and would've rather stayed home instead.

'We're not Oz anyway.' Another agreed.

'And Walter's recognised the man.' A third joined in and soon – however with an exasperated snort – the man-in-charge was lowering his own gun and motioning us towards the equipment at the back.

'But keep in mind we'll be watching you, Lieutenant.'

We stepped past them as a way was made for us. 'Perhaps it might be best if I—.'

'I know.' I cut Wischard off mid-whisper. It might be best if those men thought I was just a civilian. I wasn't sure I could rely on my companion's hacking abilities though. Thankfully, they were unnecessary, as he was able to make it into the system the easy way. Being a former Oz member, Wischard logged in with his own access code and password.

'You really are Lt. Kemeny then.' The man who had recognised him earlier - Walter - was standing right behind us. 'I'm sorry I doubted you, sir.'

'Water under the bridge, soldier. I'm glad not every single one of my subordinates was killed in that battle.'

'Oh, no, sir. Quite a large number of us survived, though I fear that was only thanks to the gundams. We were awful lucky to have them on our side, sir.'

'Yes… I guess we were.'

It was strange to stand there, listening to those words and thinking of all the lives we had unknowingly saved, the memories we'd unintentionally marked and the hearts we'd inadvertently touched. Collateral damage… Relena. What would have happened had we not met at the beach that day? We'd still have met at St. Gabriel's Institute, of course, but would it have been the same? Would she still have invited me to her birthday party? Would I still have ripped the invite in an attempt to keep her away? In retrospective, it seemed like a very childish way of handling the situation. It clearly hadn't worked, having had the opposite effect instead.

'Here it is.' Wischard said beside me. 'The list of all spies and secret agents working for Oz in the AC 180's.'

'Can you sort them by…'

'Hmm… Yes. Half of them are dead.'

One of the top names attracted my immediate attention. Clark. Aoi Clark. Why was it so strange and yet so dreadfully familiar? 'Click that one.'

Wischard raised an eyebrow at the screen once we realised we were actually looking at a woman's profile, but he made no comment. I read the page carefully. Mrs Clark – formerly Aoi Surname Unknown – had worked for Oz until AC 180 and she had been in X-18999 during HeeroYui's assassination which made her one of the likely suspects. She had left there alive and returned to Earth, most likely to the Asia 1 area from where she originally was. They gave a full address in Japan in case they needed to locate her. Most likely to threaten her into silence, I mused. Once back 'home', or wherever it was she'd gone, she had soon proceeded to marry a man by the name of Seis Clark with whom she had later had a child. It said between parenthesis that Mr Clark was a civilian, an Oz sympathiser and – I could fill the blanks myself – clearly not a threat to the organization. Still his name seemed to work as a link to what was probably an individual profile.

'Can you print it?' I asked still amidst reading.

It took my companion a moment to work things out. 'Yes. Should I go back to the other page now or are we done?'

'Go back.' I read every single name as he scrolled down the list until we reach the letter L. And then I knew. Lowe. Odin Lowe. Yes, that was his name. I didn't wish to know any more about him. 'We're done now.'

Wischard signed off, handed me Aoi Clark's file and stood – unsteadily for a moment – before coldly thanking the man-in-charge and promising we wouldn't disclose their location to anyone. His former subordinate and a few other men looked afflicted to see us go. Not because we were taking their secret with us, but because they ached to follow us. If he had any sympathy for them, my companion didn't show it, and we made our way out at a steady pace, never looking back until we'd reached the street. We both wondered what those men were doing there, why they saw the need to hide and from whom, but none of us ever voiced those thoughts.

After nearly an hour of walking in complete silence, Wischard only had one question: 'Weren't you looking for your "father"?'

Was that really what he was? I wondered, but it was an exercise in futility. I remembered so little from that time I'd never be able to answer that question by myself, but I knew – if I was now headed in the right direction – someone at my destination might. 'Yes… But I think I've found my mother instead.'