"How may I help you?"

"Um, hi. I called earlier, inquiring about enlistment?"

"Your name please?" The secretary asks, looking rather bored and unamused as she types incessantly on her keyboard.

"Athrun Zala."

Upon hearing my name, the young looking secretary finally gazes up at me, seemingly in awe. I look away almost automatically. I'm used to this; it's the very reason that I hate declaring my name. It's the usual response; however, being the son of the supreme council chairman, it isn't the unexpected one. My father's name is well known, and evidently not overly common. For some reason, no one ever suspects that maybe I'm just some kid with the same last name as him. It isn't as though I look anything like him.

Finally, the secretary breaks her awkward glance and returns her eyes to her computer screen. Unfortunately I'm still not completely relieved, as I can feel the piercing stares of others within the waiting room. The woman hands me a clipboard complete with a thick stack of papers.

"Fill these out please," she says, staring up at me yet again. I take the clipboard from her and leave the room as quickly as I can without running.

I wander down the hall until I find what seems like a quiet, unoccupied corridor. I sit cross-legged on the floor and begin filling out the infinite amount of paper work. 1. Name: Athrun Zala. 2. Date of birth: October 29, CE55. 3. Gender: male. 4. Status: Coordinator. 5. Place of Birth: December city. 6a) Father's name: Patrick Zala. b) Mother's name:

I pause for a moment. Mother… Lenore Zala, deceased. My pen stops in the middle of the word and I have to force myself to continue. I feel the all too familiar feeling of tears forming in my eyes as the scene plays over for the millionth time in my head…

I'm sitting in my English class, bored as usual, instant messaging on my lap top with my best friend who ironically sits right behind me. I should probably be paying attention to the lesson but I'm not. I glance up to the front of the room as the sound of a knock on the wooden door overcomes the room. The professor answers the door, and a young looking messenger boy hands the man a small pink piece of paper. He reads it, and then his eyes fall upon me.

"Athrun Zala? You're wanted in the main office," the man says formally.

I glance down as a message pops up in the corner of my computer screen, 'you're in trouble now!' I glance behind me to shoot Kira a jokingly agitated expression, then quickly close my laptop and follow the young boy to the office.

I snap out of my reminiscing daydream as a boy who looks about my own age walks by me. He has dark hair and unmistakably distinct red eyes that bear an ill mannered stare as he passes me. I quickly wipe my eyes on my right sleeve, and continue to fill out the form.

7. Current educational facility: Lunar preparatory school. 8. Health Concerns: none. I continue mindlessly filling in blank spaces, my mind still locked onto the image of the boy with the poisonous red eyed stare. Why had they felt so hostile? It isn't until I reach question 24 that I regain my focus.

Why do you wish to join the Zodiac Alliance of Freedom Treaty Military?

I wrack my brain for an answer, but I can't put my feelings into words. The best answer I can come up with is 'refer to questions 6 a and b.' I see this as being the only reason I would not obtain a position with the military, what with my father being the leader of the nation and all; I really don't have a sure answer as to why I want to join. Is it for my father? To win his approval and praise? Is it to avenge my mother? Or is it simply because I feel that I can no longer sit around and do nothing while people are dying? It could really be any or all of these reasons. Regardless of the root, I feel that it's time I did my part. Those specific words sound pathetic when written on paper, so I leave the answer as is. As much as I hate to take advantage of my father's position, I am his son and for that reason, I won't be declined.

"Thank you, Mr. Zala," the secretary says as I hand her the completed pile of forms. She seems to have her eyes intently focus on my crimson red shirt. "We'll be in touch," she says, finally looking up at me, "by the way, red's a good colour on you." She winks at me, and I raise my right eye brow in confusion. Rather than try to understand, I walk away.

I walk quickly back along the hallway toward the main entrance. I'm surprised as I glance to my right to see the boy with the red eyes again. Despite my best efforts to look away, we make a somewhat awkward eye contact. The boy grunts angrily, shoots me another dirty look and looks back down at his papers.

I don't understand; why is he so bitter? Perhaps he experienced something similar to what I went through only days ago. I pick up my pace and walk out the door into the radiating sunny day. My mind returns to that day; that terrible, life changing day.

"Athrun, please, take a seat," the principle says to me, gesturing for me to sit in the chair in front of him. "Your father is on his way, but first I must inform you of a… most unfortunate event," he says, spinning his chair around to face the other way. His sentence trails off in a way that worries me. A thousand thoughts fly through my head; every possibility of what might be said next flood my mind faster than I can even comprehend the first. Meetings beginning like this never end well. It seems like an eternity before he finally speaks again.

"Junius Seven has just suffered a massive, fatal attack. So far there have been no survivors reported. Although it is unconfirmed, it is likely that your mother has passed on."

The news hits me like a bullet in the chest. I feel winded, like my lungs refuse to take in oxygen. I don't feel angry or sad; all I feel is shock.

"I'm going to leave you now; your father should be here shortly. The school counselor is in the next office if you should feel the need to speak with her." I barely hear the man's words as he exits the room. I still can't absorb what I've just heard. My body becomes limp and I fall off of the chair and onto the floor. I know I should be crying right now, but the tears just won't come.

I shake my head and snap back to reality. I feel the tears enter my eyes for the thousandth time. I think I know the answer to question number twenty four now. I want to join the military because of my mother's death. But will it really help? Perhaps I just feel that I can't simply sit around and do nothing any longer. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I break into a run down the driveway and towards the street. I know that my family's limousine service is only a phone call away, but I jog to the bus stop instead. When I arrive at my destination, I lean forward to catch my breath and again wipe my eyes on my sleeve. Thankfully there is no one else around to see me in my pathetic state.

My mother had been doing research on Junius Seven when it happened. It was only an agricultural plant. Why would they choose to destroy that particular PLANT? That was where the majority of their food supplies came from. The question of why has yet to be answered, but the number of survivors has been confirmed: zero. It was usual for my mother to visit that PLANT, she did so every month or so for work. I had thought nothing of it when she had told me she'd been going. Although no survivors have been reported, there is still this lingering hope in the back of my mind hoping that she's floating off in space somewhere in a life pod.

I lean against the bus sign and cross my arms across my chest. I know how unlikely it is, but I can't help but hope. Then I think of my father. Since the incident he's been so reclusive. It's not that we were ever that close, but I would think that under circumstances such as these, families should comfort each other. We definitely won't 'get through this together,' that's for sure. If anything, he's been away from home more lately. This might be because of the attack on its own, but even when he is around he just seems so… angry all the time.

My eyes widen; how could I not realize it before. Maybe the reason he's so distant is because as the chairman, it's his responsibility to see this whole event from a political standpoint.

I'm startled as the bus pulls up in front of me and opens its doors. I plunge my hand into my pocket to look for change to throw into the dispenser. I then wander aimlessly until I find an empty seat and I sit down next to the window. I wonder if my father has spoken to anyone about this event. I know he's the all powerful chairman of the PLANTs, but he's a normal human being with emotions and feelings too. I wish I could talk to him; I wish that we could comfort each other, but I know better than to hope for that. Come to think of it, I don't think we've ever had a conversation about anything related to emotions.

I continue to stare mindlessly out the window until the scenes begin to look familiar. I pull the cord to signal the driver to stop as we near my house, and I thank him as I step off the bus.

"Why does the bus come down here anyways? It's not as though the residents of this area need to take the bus," I hear a young man mutter. I glance back, but quickly brush it off. I have more important things to worry about at present moment.

The large vehicle pulls away, and I notice a small, dark haired, lanky figure sitting on my front steps. I approach quietly, my hands casually buried in my pockets, and I notice that he's asleep.

"Kira?" I say as I recognize the boy.

He opens his eyes, "Athrun!" he says as enthusiastically as his sleepy condition will allow. He raises his hands to his face and rubs his eyes as he stands up. "Athrun, I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner. When you didn't return to class I knew something was wrong, and then I heard about the attack. I tried to come as soon as I could, but the shuttles were all down because of the drama. Your mother, is she…?"

"Gone," I say, forcing the undesirable word to finish the sentence, "as far as we know."

I can tell by the expression on his face that this is indeed the answer he had been expecting. I know my mother was like a second mother to him. He looks as though he's going to cry, and I desperately hope he doesn't because I know what it will reduce me to. He looks up from the ground and into my eyes, he smiles weakly.

"Come on, let's go inside," he finally says.

I unlock the door and allow him to go on in first. I wander through the all too familiar doorway into the unnecessarily large house. I take my shoes off, and we both throw them into the closet. Kira is a regular at my house; he might as well just live here. Actually, since we've been attending the lunar prep school, neither of us has had time to spend at either of our houses. We reside there, only returning home for holidays. Although returning home is usually an anticipated time of the year, I can honestly say I would rather be anywhere but here now. I'm happy that Kira is with me though; it makes the house feel less empty, less lonely. Even when my father is around, the house is big enough that two people could live here together and not know the other even existed – this seems about where my father and I are currently. I can't help but wonder how things will change now that he's running the house.

Kira follows me to the kitchen and I sit down at the table, leaning forward to fold my arms on the table in front of me. As I place my chin on my forearm, my eyes follow Kira as he opens the French doors looking out onto the ocean. He then walks over to the sink and fill a glass with water before placing it in front of me and sitting down beside me.

"Thanks," I mumble, taking hold of the glass in my right hand. "You know, I can't even remember the last thing I said to her. Was I really that disconnected from her?"

"Athrun, it's not like you could have seen this coming," Kira says, "the worst thing you can do now is beat yourself up. It's only going to make you feel worse."

"Not that it makes me feel any better, but beating myself up seems like the right thing to do," I say cynically.

"I know – that's just your way of dealing with it, but none of this is even remotely your fault. It doesn't matter what you said last to her; she knew you loved her, Athrun." Kira gets it right on. Somehow he can always read my mind. Half the time he knows what I'm thinking before I do. While I was growing up, no, even now, saying I love you to my parents has always been awkward. I've never been good at expressing my feelings to anyone; not even myself.

I bury my face in my arms, and despite my best efforts to refrain, I begin to sob. I hate for Kira to see me cry like this. He and I grew up together, so he's seen me cry countless times, but just this time, I didn't want him to see. I hate displaying my weaknesses, even to my best friend.

I hear Kira's chair scrape along the floor as he moves closer. He puts a hand on my shoulder, "There's no shame in crying, Athrun. Its part of the healing process," he says- His voice too, becoming shaky.

I tilt my head to the side to look in his direction, the tears flowing uncontrollably down my face. "Thanks, Kira." He's always been like a brother to me, reliable and always there when I need him. We've seen each other through a world of difficulties. He smiles at me as if to say 'no problem,' and a single tear rolls down his cheek.

"So how's your father taking it?" Kira asks me. We've both managed to pull ourselves together, and we're currently standing on the balcony extending from my bedroom. I lean on the railing as the wind blows my long hair uncomfortably off my eyes. I've always had long enough hair to hide my eyes; it isn't that I don't like the emerald orbs that were so generously passed down by my mother, I just see my eyes as my main outlet for emotions. You can always tell how a person is feeling by looking at their eyes. I feel that if I am able to hide my eyes from the world, maybe I too can hide. It's twisted, I know.

"I'm not really sure to be honest. He just seems angry. If he's upset, he isn't showing it," I reply, staring longingly out at the ocean in front of me. I've never really appreciated this view the way I do now; it just feels peaceful.

"I see," Kira says, equally lost in the tranquility of the scene in front of us.

I pry my eyes away from the ocean and look at Kira seriously, "thanks for coming all this way."

Kira smiles at me, "well, someone had to relay your homework back to you!" He laughs.

Then it hits me; I haven't told him yet. "I forgot; I applied to the military today." I brace myself for Kira's response; I really don't have the slightest clue as to what kind of reaction I'll get.

Kira continues to gaze out at the ocean, not looking surprised at all. "I figured you might," he says, shifting his glance back to me, "I've put some thought into it as well. I decided that if you did, I would as well."

"What?!" I say loudly. This is definitely the last response I had expected. He's always been so against fighting, not to say that I'm not as well, it just doesn't seem right, Kira as a soldier. "Don't do it for me."

Kira, now staring back out to sea, avoids my request. "I've actually been thinking about it for a while now. It's like, what if a war does break out? I'd feel horrible sitting around doing nothing while our nation, our friends and family were being attacked."

Well, we definitely share that view. I too am afraid of being useless. I know it has something to do with why I joined, but I can't for the life of me get my thoughts on the matter in order. For as long as I can remember, Kira has always been so level headed. He always knows exactly what he wants and how to get it. No matter how rough the circumstances might grow, he's always calm and in control. I have always envied him a little for this, as it's a quality that I myself, greatly lack. I've always been sensitive that way; it doesn't take much to put me out of balance. Although I might not be good at hiding my emotions, I've never been one to directly let them out. No matter how unhealthy it is, I generally keep my emotions at bay until they more or less destroy me.

The sun dips down behind the mountains, and its reflection plays upon the rippling waves of the ocean. It brings about a cool breeze, and thin red t-shirt proves insufficient at blocking the cold air from my body. I adjust my black wrist band on my arm, only to notice goose bumps quickly weaving their way up to my shoulder. I shiver slightly, and snap back to reality as Kira says my name.

"Athrun?"

"Huh?" I look over to him, my eyes stinging from a combination of the tears I had shed and the cool wind whipping ruthlessly at my face.

"Let's go in; it's starting to rain," he says, turning to take shelter in the house.

"Right," I say, reluctantly following him.

We return to my room, and Kira sits on the edge of the spare bed across the room from mine. As far as I'm concerned, half of the room is his, especially since half of the contents in it are his. My mother always made a point to make Kira feel welcome in our home, even going as far to have a second bed put in my room for him. We might as well be brothers sharing a bedroom, or at least that's how my mom sees it. She treated Kira like her own, and Mrs. Yamato has always done the same for me.

"Dude?" Kira says, causing me again to snap back to reality.

"Huh?"

"Are you ok? You keep like… zoning out," he says, looking at me curiously.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, what were you saying?" Only now do I realize that he was trying to say something to me while I was in my trance.

"Food." Kira says simply, indicating that he's hungry.

"You know where the kitchen is," I say rudely.

"Oh come on, you probably haven't eaten all day either," he says, dragging me out of the room by my arm. He's right.

"I have so," I lie. He stops and looks me in the eye, giving me a half open eyed looking, stating that he doesn't believe me. I don't know why I bother trying to lie to him; I know he can see right through me. I guess that's what happens when you know someone all your life. He's right though, I haven't thought about food in days.

"So, what are we eating?" Kira asks, sitting down at the kitchen table like a child.

"Ugh, I don't know," I say boringly. I open the fridge and stare unenthusiastically at several pre-prepared dishes that worried friends and neighbors had obviously dropped off. I reach in and randomly pull one of the dishes out and turn on the stove. I pour a container of rice into the rice cooker, fill it with water and flick the on switch. I then return my eyes to the dish I had pulled out. It looks like some sort of beef stew; quite possibly the most unappetizing thing I've ever laid eyes upon.

"Mmm, looks great," Kira says, his face beaming. I don't know why I feel so grumpy. Kira has always been good at pretending things are ok. I don't even know if it's that he pretends, I think it might be more along the lines of seeing the brighter side to things. I wish I could be positive like that. Then again, it isn't his mother who died. I feel my sinuses grow heavier as if I'm going to cry again. I swallow the lump in my throat and pour the dish into the pot on the stove.

At that instant, I hear the lock on the front door click; my father is home. I hold my breath as I wait for him to enter the kitchen. I don't know why I'm afraid, but it's as if I'm waiting for him to blow up at me. He finally rounds the corner to the kitchen with a sluggish pace. He looks exhausted, and his face finally displays the expression it should after losing his wife.

"Hi Mr. Zala," Kira says in a genuinely pleasant tone, "How are you?"

"Kira, what are you doing here?" My father says, obviously taken aback by Kira's presence. "Shouldn't you be at school?"

"I flew out here today," Kira says hesitantly; he knows my father. "I thought maybe you guys could use an extra hand around here, what with all the chaos occurring in the region." His words are polite, but almost nervous, almost as though he's been caught in the middle of a lie and is hastily throwing an excuse together.

"We'll I'm not sure I approve of you skipping classes. Frankly I don't know why Athrun is still here either. You two should see what you can do about booking a shuttle tomorrow." My father doesn't even bother to thank Kira for his concern.

I've grown used to this type of response from him. Kira knows him well too, but he looks a little confused by my father's blatant hostility. I don't bother trying to speak kindly with my father anymore; I only converse with him when necessary.

Kira however, being the good natured person he is, tries again. "Are you hungry Mr. Zala? We're just making something to eat and –"

My father cuts him off, "No, I already ate. Make sure you two clean up the kitchen," he says, turning to leave the room. He doubles back and looks at me, "And Athrun, let me know if there are any problems with booking a flight."

Typical, the only reason he would make the extra effort to talk to me is to ensure that I'm leaving. "Uh, yes father," I reply uneasily. I had hoped that with the passing of my mother, maybe he would act a little more fatherly, but the boat has definitely sailed on that one. "See what I mean," I begin as I hear my father is a safe distance away, "he's just so bitter." I turn back to the stove to stir the stew.

I don't need to have eyes in the back of my head to see that Kira is thinking carefully. He has seen the way my father has treated me all my life. Truth be told, it isn't that different now than it was before my mother passed. Although I often feel that I must be doing something wrong for my father to act this way, deep down I know that I'm a decent kid; at least I think I am. I don't get in trouble, I make good grades and I do pretty well whatever my parents ask of me. I never really understood what I was doing wrong. When I was eleven, I beat out forty seven other kids and won the school science fair. My father was unable to attend since he had work related matters to tend to. But even when I proudly brought home my first place blue ribbon, my father had told me not to bother him with such juvenile affairs. He and my mother fought that night, and unfortunately our large house was not enough to distance them from the crying child across the hall. That was the first and last time I cried because of my father's disregard for me. Since then I have found other ways to deal with it. I know my mother shielded me from what could have potentially become emotional abuse from my father, but she could never mask the neglect that he had set upon me. Perhaps he's the reason that I am who I am today. Quiet, timid, withdrawn, the list goes on and on.

"Dude?"

"Huh?" Yet again, I'm broken out of my dazed state by my worried best friend. Or perhaps my hungry best friend as it seems when he pushes past me to get at the stove.

"Fooooood!" Kira says, pointing to the pot on the stovetop. "Ugh, just sit down. I will serve you," Kira jokes. I comply, and barely pull a chair out from the table before planting myself in it.

"I'm not really hungry," I say, realizing my appetite is virtually nonexistent.

"Well that's nice, because you're eating," Kira says, plopping an overflowing plate of rice and beef stew down in front of me. He reaches for the utensil drawer and sticks a fork in the middle of the plate so it stands erect from the mound of food. "Look at this," Kira says pinching the back of my upper arm.

"Ow," I whine.

"It's been a week since I last saw you, and you're skinny as fuck dude. You're losing what little muscle you had," he pinches my arm again. "How are you going to attract the ladies with that?"

"Ow! Quit it! I applied to military Kira, there will be no ladies." I complain, rubbing the pressure point that he so ruthlessly disrupted.

"Don't be so sure my friend, don't be so sure."

"What?" I ask. But it's too late; he's already shoving unbelievably large mouthfuls of food into his mouth faster than he can chew. I stare at him disgustedly, "wow, hungry?"

"Mphghm," Kira mumbles, which I would assume to mean yes.

"It's like watching a starved animal eat," I comment, slowly picking up a small forkful of rice.

Kira looks up at me and stops chewing for a second. He looks as though he's thinking. "Whatever," he finally mumbles; his mouth still full of food. Normally he would put a greater effort forth in order to defend himself, but evidently he has more important things on his mind at the moment.

Finally finishing his last piece of beef, Kira dramatically drops his fork and knife to the plate and leans back in his chair with a deep sigh.

"Feel better?" I ask, having barely touched my own food.

"Yep," Kira says, his eyes closed and a smile on his face. He then opens his eyes and assumes a serious expression. "So you haven't told your father about enlisting yet hey?"

With this my appetite disappears completely. I place my fork lightly on the side of my plate. "No."

"Do you think it will please him?"

"I don't know. I have no clue how he'll react. I haven't even thought about how I'm going to tell him," I say honestly. I had indeed considered what my father might think, but I never came up with a satisfactory answer. In all honesty, I would assume that it's what he was eventually expecting of me, but I'm not sure if it was something he expected me to do myself. He's had me enrolled in every school, class, and training session that would ultimately lead to the military. The school Kira and I both attend is a preparatory school for kids who may eventually enlist. I've known how to shoot a gun since I was ten, and I've been taking various martial arts classes since I could walk. If my decision doesn't please him, I don't know what will.

"Well, I think it's safe to say he won't be too disappointed," Kira says, standing up to put his plate in the dishwasher. "Are you done?" he asks, looking down at my hardly touched meal. I nod and wait for some kind of objection, but surprisingly enough he takes my plate without another word.

Once the kitchen is spotless, we wander back up to my bedroom. Strangely enough, it's the only room in our vacant house that I spend much time in. I would occasionally watch television or a movie with my mother in the main living room when I was younger, but now most of our family rooms and dining rooms are scarcely used. As much as I don't see the point in having such a large house when none of us are ever around to use it, I grew up in this house and I would be crushed if my father got rid of it.

"Mind if I take a shower? Seven hours on a shuttle can make you feel pretty disgusting, I probably smell terrible." Kira says, already heading for the bathroom.

"Yes you do, and go ahead," I say, attempting a hint of humor. But Kira has already closed the door behind him and turned on the water. I decide to take the opportunity to do something that's been haunting me since I made the decision to go down to the military office.

"Kira," I call through the bathroom door, "I'll be right back." But the shower is already on and I snicker to myself as I hear Kira singing.

I leave my bedroom, quietly closing the door behind me, and head down the hallway. I jump down the half set of stairs, glance out the giant window looking out onto the ocean, and continue to down the green carpeted hallway toward my father's office. I approach the wooden door slowly, pressing my ear against the door to ensure that he's not on the phone. I hear only the sound of the keyboard clicking, and I take a deep breath before knocking timidly on the door. I can feel my heart pounding.

"What," my father grunts.

I turn the handle and slowly open the door; I can feel the blood drain from my face as I do my best not to display the nervousness I feel. Thankfully, my father doesn't see how tense I probably appear since he's staring attentively at his laptop.

"Hi, father. How are you? How were things at the office today?" I ask, disgusted with my pathetic attempt to create conversation.

"Chaotic," he answers simply. I should have suspected as much. "I don't have time for mindless chit chat right now, if you don't have a purpose to your visit then I will have to ask you to come back later," he says, still not looking up from his computer. He speaks to me as though I am some petty officer rather than his son. Although it's no surprise, it's still not pleasant. Even if I did return later, he would find another excuse to shoo me away. "Oh, and have you booked a shuttle yet?" He asks in a more pleasant tone. Again, it's too typical of him.

"Actually, I won't be going back to school," I say, finally catching his attention. He looks up at me, and his puzzled expression quickly turns to one of rage. I hurry to continue my explanation before he voices his anger. "That's why I came, I enlisted with ZAFT today. I should be receiving a call sometime before the weekend." I hold my breath as I wait for a response; my heart pounds through my chest.

I watch him as though he was a suspenseful television show. I'm not sure I've ever seen him so uncontrolled. He looks shocked. Evidently, he had in no way been expecting something like this. It's only natural, since I never speak up to him. He knows as well as I do that once a person is sixteen, they are legally allowed to enlist without the consent of a parent. A rather unusual expression crosses his face; for a second I think that he might actually smile. However, as quickly as the near positive expression appears, it is forcibly removed. He glances back down to his computer, doing his best to hide his astonishment.

"Don't make a spectacle of the name Zala," he says. He waves his hand to signal my dismissal.

I stare at him for a moment longer. I want to say more, but a voice in the back of my head tells me to leave it. I turn to leave the room, and gently close the door behind me, being careful not to disturb my father's fragile mental state. I wander back along the long hallway, only this time I stop to stare out the window. The scene replays itself in my head. I suppose I should have known better than to expect direct compliance from my father; even if he had been ecstatic beyond belief, he wouldn't have showed it. He always does whatever he can to conceal his feelings and appear unaffected. I only know that because I too have made that kind of effort; unfortunately I'm not quite as well practiced as he is.

I should consider myself lucky; he didn't shut me down completely and he didn't seem at all appalled by the news. In fact, he seemed rather pleased; at least more pleased that I've ever seen him. Then again, that isn't saying much.

All in all, I'm pleased with the response I got from him. I smile to myself and hurry back to my room. I pull open the door and find Kira sitting cross legged, his laptop in his lap, and wearing my pajama pants. His hair is wet and sticking out in all directions, however he looks refreshed and he grins at me as I enter the room. "Sorry, knew I forgot something," he laughs, referring to my pajama bottoms. I laugh a little. "So it went well then?" He asks, obviously tipped off by my positive expression.

"Surprisingly, yeah. All he said was don't make a spectacle of our name. But I don't think I've ever seen him look as shocked as when I first told him. In the beginning he almost looked like he was going to smile."

"Well that's good right?" Kira asks light heartedly. I can feel eyes growing heavy, and Kira obviously sees it too. "I think the military could be an interesting experience actually, you'd learn so much more than you would at a normal high school."

"Yeah, I guess so. It'd be more practical anyway." I sit down at my desk and try to busy myself to take my mind off the emotional strain it seems to be undergoing. I flick on the power switch on my laptop and pull out a small, green robotic bird. It's a project I've been working on for a while now, but I only get to really work on it when I come home. I've been programming the memory chip while at school, but now I think I'm almost done. I don't know what it is about robotic pets that I enjoy, I actually find them rather annoying once they're done. I just enjoy building them. I've built a number of them for our childhood friend Lacus, whose father works closely with mine. The three of us grew up together.

"What's that?" Kira asks as an intrigued expression crosses his face.

"Just a project I've been working on," I say, pulling the memory chip from the computer port. I carefully place it in the opening in the bird's neck and close the hatch with the screw driver. "Did you ever see the ones I made for Lacus? She calls them haros."

Kira looks deep in thought as he stares on the ceiling. "Actually, come to think of it, yeah I do remember them. She has a whole bunch right? You made those?" He looks bewildered.

"Yeah," I say, flicking the on switch on the bird. Kira and I both watch closely as I place it on the desk.

"Birdie!" It chirps, and begins flapping its wings. Now the bigger question, can it actually fly. I've made several that walk or bounce, but I've never succeeded in creating one that flies. To my astonishment, it quickly flaps its wings and lifts off the desk before soaring around the room.

"Awesome!" Kira exclaims. "How do you know how to make those?"

"Too much free time. One of the teachers at school showed me something once and I just kind of picked it up. I watch as the bird flies around the room before returning to the desk in front of me. I take the screw driver again and make a few final adjustments to its left wing. It seems to be flying a little crookedly. Again she takes off and lands on Kira's head.

"Wow!" Kira says. "So cool!"

"She's yours if you like her," I say, watching with a smile on my face.

"Wha? Really?" he says, raising his hand to grab the bird. Instead it jumps onto his finger and he pulls it down to eye level. "Are you sure?" Kira asks.

"Yeah. I just like building them," I answer truthfully. After staring closely at it for a few seconds, he pulls it closer to his body and smiles at it before it flies away again.

"Thanks, Athrun."

******************************************************

I awaken to the familiar creek of my bedroom door being open, followed by a soft thud of it being closed. I slowly open my eyes to find the bright midmorning sun pouring through the windows. I slowly sit up and rub my eyes, blinking rapidly as my vision clears. I finally open my eyes to find Kira, fully dressed, and reentering the room.

"What time is it?" I ask groggily.

"Just after eleven I think," Kira replies, placing a large stack of papers down on his bag.

"Where did you go?"

"ZAFT military office," Kira grins, "I figured you couldn't try to stop me if you weren't awake."

I lean back, slightly dazed as I realize what he's done. He's right, I probably would have tried to stop him if I had known he was going. It just doesn't seem right, Kira in the military. He's not the fighting type, he so youthful and happy. He's intelligent and personable enough to have any career he wants, yet here he is throwing away his future for something like tis. As much as I don't want to believe it, I know that he did it for me. I feel guilty for dragging him into this. He's always watched out for me, ever since we were little. My parents have always been busy people, and I guess Kira always saw it as his duty to keep an eye on me. I know I should consider myself lucky to have a friend like him, but it's something I've always taken for granted. He's just always been there.

There are so many prospective opportunities for disaster involved with the military; I'm glad he'll be there with me.