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September 28th 2038,
There are many who seem to put a great deal of stock into dates, anniversaries, birthdays and the like. For the greater portion of my own life, I didn’t particularly understand this culture of veneration when it came to simple numbers on a calendar.
Nevertheless, there could be no doubting that in an objective sense, September 28th 2038 was a rather significant landmark. 20 years to the day since “Zero” vanquished the Demon Emperor Lelouch vi Britannia and ushered the world into a state of lasting peace. The event had frequently been described in that manner and it never failed to make me grin. The day that good defeated evil. A rather simple description, but people loved simple descriptions. Ones that were easily digestible and without nuance.
Though, to a privileged few that included myself, the events of that day had only one name.
The Zero Requiem.
It was mainly my proximity to the late Sir Suzaku Kururugi, The Knight of Zero, which led to me falling ass backwards into the great scheme. The venture was an interesting one; you may even call it righteous. There was no cause for complaint on my part as the operation allowed me to continue collecting data and most significantly, it gave me the opportunity to perfect my most glorious achievement, the Lancelot Albion.
Two whole decades later, the evening air in Tokyo was humid and sticky. I’m told it was also sweltering on the day itself, a statement I could not possibly corroborate. At the time, I was far from the main action, dutifully playing the war prisoner along with some of the others.
This particular night had not gone well so far, it was like the whole city had been lumbered with a sense of wistful sentimentality. I didn’t know whether I felt more suffocated inside my apartment or out on the balcony as I was currently. The companionship of inexpensive whiskey and an ever-dwindling supply of cigarettes provided me the slightest reprieve, but it was not to last.
Compounding the sense of encirclement, I discovered that someone had invited himself inside my place of residence, someone familiar. That outfit was unmistakable.
“Congratulations! I hadn’t noticed you’d been following me, Zero.” I could always be counted on to mete out honest credit when it was due, though in all fairness, he really shouldn’t have bothered. The hero of the Black Knights stood near the entryway with the door shut behind him, even in the dimly lit room, his mask still reflected the lights of the city outside.
He moved in my direction, his elongated cape looked to be gliding over the strewn-out mess of papers, notes and empty bottles that adorned the floor. His response to me was a simple acknowledgement.
“Professor Asplund.” The modulator behind his visor deepened his voice, it was rather comical.
As was his overt formality, especially since he had more or less just broken into my home. Even now, his paradoxical nature was mystifying. I raised my glass at him while leaning back in my chair to flip on one of the room’s light switches. “I’d offer you a drink but...oh! That would mean you’d have to take off your disguise now, wouldn’t it?” I poured an extra drink and set it down on the balcony table just in case. Zero didn’t respond to my invitation, his mask titled from side to side as he surveyed my now illuminated residence, doubtless appalled by the cramped and disorganised mess in which I lived. He always was the judgemental sort.
In the light, I noticed that he was bigger than he used to be. Not out of shape of course, no. His arms and legs were noticeably more muscular, shoulders broader, he cut a very weathered figure. I had heard stories of back and knee surgeries, his lengthy and toilsome exertions had clearly taken their toll on his body. This wasn’t the slim and agile Zero of old, this Zero was slower and bulkier. Befitting his more ceremonial role in the peaceful current epoch. The days of spinning kicks were long gone.
I’m sure if Zero was analysing my own appearance, he’d be fairly let down by the lack of any dramatic changes. My attire consisted of a beige linen shirt and green trousers; I’d hastily removed my coat and footwear a while ago. Physically speaking, I was still rake thin (and still taller than him), my hair had become overrun by streaks of white and my deteriorating vision necessitated thicker lenses which did my more sunken and wrinkled features no favours whatsoever. No matter, I was never one for cosmetic concerns. But I knew Zero...and I knew that he probably regarded my more wizened image with a degree of pity, especially since we had not seen each other in quite a while.
He appeared to be staring past me, searching out towards any landmarks that could be seen from the balcony. His modulated voice rumbled again. “This apartment is only a few blocks from the site of one of the old ASEEC warehouses.”
The twitch of my eye was noticeable as I turned to face him. “Yes, what of it?” Did he mean to imply that I had chosen this apartment due to some odd sense of familiarity?
He didn’t seek to press the matter. “Just an observation.” His tone was unreadable and his features were locked behind that infernal veil.
As a matter of fact, I moved here because it was incredibly cheap and I wasn’t exactly laden with the wealth of an Earl anymore. The physical proximity to that specific warehouse was purely coincidental. Besides, it wasn’t even there anymore thanks to a certain someone detonating a F.L.E.I.J.A. over Tokyo. The site was now an office building, not that I had been over to check personally.
A chortle broke free of me as I finished off my current glass and expeditiously poured another, shaking my head all the while. Now was as good a moment as any to cut this superfluous pretence and get to the true reason behind Zero’s pursuit of me. “So anyway, have you come to get me to rejoin the festivities? I hadn’t realised how important my company was to you.”
Another important titbit about this significant night was that the former Ashford Academy was holding something of an event to commemorate 20 years since the death of Emperor Lelouch. It was a garish exercise in reminiscence filled with many familiar faces and I was one of the honoured guests, fancy that? What’s more is that I had foolishly gotten dressed and made my way down to the school grounds only to come to my senses and do an abrupt U-turn and scurry back home.
Unfortunately, my fleeting presence had not gone unnoticed as I had hoped.
“Right now, I’m wondering why you got so close in the first place. Nobody has seen you for years. Why tonight?” The caped interloper enquired, still rooted to the centre of the room like a gaudy statue.
While it was true that I had been rather elusive in recent times, that was my business. Still, I decided to humour him. “Such soirees as tonight’s are known to offer a fine variety of beverages and snacks. Free of charge, naturally.” That was definitely part of the reason at the very least. “Besides, doesn’t tonight class as an official duty for you? I don’t think Nunnally and the others would appreciate you shirking your duty to drop in on an old man.” It was undeniable that he too considered tonight’s proceedings with a degree of diffidence, the poor fool likely jumped at the first opportunity to excuse himself.
I placed my feet up against the balcony railing and began to rock my chair back and forth, grinning ear to ear.
Detecting the irreverent nature of my tone and realising his job wasn’t going to be as simple as he expected, Zero disconnected his cape and set it down lightly across my bare mattress. I could’ve sworn I heard a sigh emanate from behind his mask. “I appreciate your concern, but my official duties were over after the opening ceremony. From that point on, I was just another guest.” He knelt down in the middle of my room. I wished he just came over to the balcony already so I didn’t have to crane my neck to see him, I certainly wasn’t going to leave the comfort of my chair. “You once helped save the school during the Black Rebellion, I’m sure you’d be most welcome.” Oh, he was reaching...
“I saved my Lancelot.” I corrected. “Which had been stolen that night by the way.” The glance I shot Zero’s way following my interjection was deliberate. You could argue that technically I “stole” the Avalon too since neither the Viceroy nor Prince Schneizel actually gave us permission to perform our little manoeuvre, but it all worked out well. Cécile and I even got to scupper Rakshata’s plans of getting her hands on the Lancelot which was a nice added bonus.
Still kneeling, Zero picked up one of my papers. It was the most prominent of the mess of diagrams and notes spread out on the floor. I almost felt embarrassed as he began to examine my work, tracing the lines of my crude illustration with his gloved finger. “I didn’t know you still designed frames; this one is...interesting.” His attempt at hiding his uncertainty was piteous.
“The last person who gave me any serious employment got stabbed through the heart decades ago, so forgive me if my latest work is not up to the expected standard.” There was an unmistakable measure of petulance in my reply. In days gone by, talking about my work was something I took pride in more than anything, time had taken something of a bitter shift in that regard.
I found myself recollecting a chat I had with dear Jeremiah in Pendragon, prior to the Battle of Mount Fuji. Jerry prattled on about the “old days” and our stint in school together as we walked the halls of the Imperial Palace, how it was such a curious quirk of fate that we might meet again as two pieces of the Zero Requiem. I mocked my old schoolmate for his tendency to look towards the past, as it was something I never saw the value of. My focus had been firmly forwards, fixed on the next project, the next advancement of my mechanism.
To tell the truth, I was thankful that we hadn’t crossed paths in well over a decade, as I would be forced to concede that the passing of time had granted me a greater understanding of his penchant for indulgent reflection. Nowadays, I sullied myself with sentimentality far more than I would deem appropriate. If it were 20 years earlier, I might even have ended up as one of those Refrain addled Elevens staggering about the docks of the Tokyo Settlement.
Well, at least that would’ve been more entertaining compared to my lamentable current state. Zero’s acknowledgement of my meagre efforts to rekindle an old passion simply served to drive the fact home further.
For the moment, I set down my drink. The haze of inebriation made the already potent humidity borderline deadly; I was operating at a sub-optimal level and that was prior to this unplanned imposition. This was exemplified by yet another slip up.
“Let me tell you about the real genius of His Majesty’s plan, Su-”
Perhaps sub-optimal was putting it lightly.
“-Zero.” My correction was hasty and unsubtle, I winced as though in physical pain.
His mask sharply angled itself upwards as soon as the erroneous syllable broke free, I didn’t know it was possible to feel the eyes of an eyeless face boring into you. Zero gently laid down my papers, showing them more respect than I had, his attention now focused entirely on me.
Disregarding my mishap, I proceeded. “Emperor Lelouch made the world completely lose its appetite for war and the machines of war.” I theatrically pointed my index fingers to annunciate each item. “This meant that there was no need for further developmental Knightmare Frame research and of course no need for the people who carried out said research.” I directed the two fingers at myself and offered a crooked smile, lolling my head to the side.
My assertation wasn’t entirely accurate. Others in the field, such as Rakshata, were able to land longstanding employment within the United Federation of Nations. It could not have been anything to do with her nature being seen as more affable than my own, it was probably due to her consistently (and fortunately) landing herself on the correct side of history. Her involvement with the Black Knights was certainly more appealing than me temporarily throwing my lot in with the “Demon Emperor”, something that I quite fancy aroused a modicum of suspicion.
Before the rot truly set in, I was still kept somewhat occupied. A little jaunt abroad here and there with Cécile and Claudio S. Darlton for some fact finding on behalf of the UFN in war-torn countries, back when I encountered Zero on the regular. It was hardly pulse pounding work, but it seemed a natural progression. To no great end of course
Gradually, the funding and opportunities dwindled. It slowly became clear that I would have to go into business for myself.
Speaking of my freelance days. “I saw some of the work you did over in the EU. Five separate championship winning cars.” Zero’s left hand was affixed to his right wrist, thumb rubbing against it. A habit he had developed when he was, well...someone else.
His earnest praise elicited a scoff from me, as I clapped my hands together. Admittedly, I was surprised that Zero had kept up with my spell as an open-wheel race car designer. It was a stretch of just over half a decade where I briefly settled in Europia, sakuradite usage had become heavily regulated and I couldn’t find work as a frame designer, so I settled for some busy work. The competitive nature of the field was engaging for a bit, but eventually lost its lustre.
“The devicers were prima donnas, the staff were obsequious and the regulations were overbearing to say the least.” I declared plainly. As it happens, my present visitor would know a lot about high-strung devicers. “Also, there were journalists and cameras everywhere, I was treated the way one would treat an artiste. It was a bizarre excursion.” The sycophantic nature of the whole business was pathetic, all for such a low-level mechanism and such poor data. I should have been pushing the boundaries of what was scientifically possible, but Knightmare Frames had become symbols of oppression and tyranny, so I was hamstrung. It was categorically inhumane.
Throughout my blathering, Zero had slowly been moving closer and closer to the balcony, until finally he was alongside me, still refusing the offer of a seat. “So, what next? What did you do after Europia?” His hands gripped at the railing as he questioned me, gaze failing to meet my own. Perhaps that would’ve made things feel a bit too personal.
“Very little.” My shoulders shrugged carelessly. The years following that inglorious stint blended into one beige vacuum. I was hastily livened up by a particular memory bubbling to the surface. “You wouldn’t believe the things I saw on my travels. Acres of farmland stretching throughout the centre of that delightful continent, and get this.” A giggle halted my ramblings, one that threatened to grow into a hearty cackle.
“Knightmare Frames dusting crops!” My head tipped back involuntarily as I laughed so hard that my eyes began to water.
Zero didn’t find this revelation to be quite as hilarious, the throngs of decommissioned Knightmare Frames that had been repurposed for menial tasks were common knowledge at this point. On instinct, the masked man bent down to provide me my lens wipes from the table as I reached out my hand, another old habit.
After cleaning the moisture from my glasses, I pinched the bridge of my nose as I continued. “They were using the Float System. MY Float System!” It was a curiously vexing image even now. In equal measure humorous and infuriating. Cutting edge technology, now helmed by farmers, soaring above homesteads and crop fields.
Now, I wasn’t one of those lunatics who craved wanton destruction and chaos, far from it. All that shouting and fighting was positively exhausting. It was just that I hated to see good material wasted.
“I’m surprised you didn’t try your hand at becoming part of the help. In that case, you could’ve been able to tinker with some of their frames.” Zero shifted his weight and leaned his back against the railing. Was this perhaps humour? From the utterly humourless?
“What use is a frame without a good devicer?” I mumbled, dropping my gaze.
Zero’s response was brisk. “Speaking of devicers, I saw Ruben earlier tonight.” The mention of the young Ashford gave an element of pep to his timbre. “He’s working with Shanti over at the institute, said he wants to become a pilot when he graduates.”
Curious that he should bring up that boy of all people. “Milly’s son? A pilot?” My surprise was apparent. Truth be told, I didn’t think the young man had the slightest interest in the field. Then again, he was around 9 years old on the most recent occasion I saw him so how on Earth would I know? Which made me wonder aloud. “Now...how old is he? 14? 15?” I was banking on the latter.
“He’s 18 in April.”
Goodness. Nearly a grown man and still going by his middle name of Ruben. I had quizzed him once about his decision to spurn his birth name, to which the young man indignantly replied “Shirley is a girl’s name.”
“And how is Milly taking this? Thrilled? Horrified?” I tried to sound blasé with my questioning but failed miserably, even at my age I still enjoyed gossip.
I might have heard a faint chuckle from within that disguise of his. We were talking about an acquaintance’s son and he still wouldn’t take that damn thing off. So noble. “She told me she was excited but her hand was shaking. I tried to tell her that it’ll just be test work, but she didn’t feel comfortable until she cast one of her “guts” spells on him for good luck.”
I couldn’t stop the involuntary curl of my lips at the mention of Milly’s spells. Truthfully, she had no reason to fret. The achievements of Rakshata’s younger sister speak for themselves, Shanti was a top-class operator and there could be no denying that Milly’s son would be in safe hands.
Thinking about all this made me feel slightly nauseous, but I could blame that on my alcohol consumption and the heat.
“She asks about you quite a lot, you know.” His statement hung loosely in the air; stopping just short of sounding accusatory. Striking that dreadful balance between informative and guilting.
“Yes, I know.” I drawled. Time to pour another glass, I believe. Without delay.
It was the wedding between Villetta and that timid Japanese man where I found myself conversing with Milly Ashford, truly conversing that is. Not that plodding nonsense we had to endure during our sham engagement. It began with a simple question posed to me as we encountered one another at the reception. “So, how many people here know do you reckon?” Nina had warned me that Milly knew everyone’s secrets, and also that she was impossibly perceptive. I feigned ignorance of course; my level of intoxication was still reasonable. Dancing with Rakshata and projectile vomiting took place much later in the night.
Nonetheless, that fairly innocuous exchange led to more frequent exchanges. She no longer needed to hold herself up as the dutiful prized asset of the desperate Ashford family. We discussed our shared disdain for strict decorum lessons imposed by high-born families and how they were in direct contravention of our direct, uncouth dispositions. Milly also informed me of her spell usage and I was fascinated by the delightful simplicity of the concept, remarking that she could’ve told me this earlier, as it might have proved valuable in wrangling Suzaku.
A group of sorts formed after that, consisting of myself, Cécile, Nina and Milly, a few others flitted in and out. I think they saw it as a group where they could perhaps lean on one another, united by their shared knowledge. Human beings delighted in wallowing like that. Life went on and work scattered us, Milly became a globetrotting reporter and I was just globetrotting. Of course, fate still permitted the odd get together.
Then came the child. I made excuses to skip out on the baby showers and all that pomp. Cécile gave me some stern lectures over the phone, but to me it made sense. Human life is a pitiful experience, and Milly was creating a new life. That kind of talk would’ve gone down like a lead balloon, so I rightfully recused myself.
I would receive postcards that featured Milly and Ruben in front of numerous worldwide sites, mouths agape and striking poses, indicative of one of her spells, “Guts!” “Relax!” Reset!” etc. The boy spent his early days accompanying his mother abroad for work, before he finally started to take schooling seriously. All of the others were sent similar postcards which was to be expected, but I frequently changed addresses without informing anyone, yet these trinkets still reached me.
The oddities would persist. One day, I found myself in possession of blueprints for an undeveloped 10th Generation Knightmare Frame, courtesy of Milly Ashford while reporting from the Kingdom of Zilkhstan. It left me dumfounded.
Naturally, this was not a one-way exchange. I would use what little clout I had left to assist people such as Milly here and there. This once involved a live interview in Paris following one of my motor racing design triumphs. She had even brought Cécile and Nina with her.
I don’t entirely know why I maintained these bad habits as long as I did. Without the active pursuit of new Knightmare Frame research, this kind of interaction wasn’t to reinforce vital parts of my mechanism. They were disparate and confused actions.
I was always the type of individual one could go weeks without hearing from, but gradually the weeks became months and the months became years. It was all rather pathetic really. I meekly retreated from the sight of those who knew me, by that juncture, this had strangely amounted to a large number of individuals.
Abandoning a situation is extremely simple when you are fundamentally incapable of reciprocation. It was liberating but also could land me in trouble. In my school days I had accidentally broken hearts because of it, others scampered for courtships and engagements while I rejected everything that came my way, whether the interest was political or genuine. I had other priorities.
I was dwelling again, at risk of forgetting the presence of my guest. The two of us had lapsed into a lengthy standstill. My newly poured drink lay untouched alongside the one I had poured for Zero, I bemoaned how the heat would spoil the taste.
At last, Zero spoke up. I assumed his prolonged silence meant that he had carefully been weighing up his next move, it must have been important to him.
“It’s not just Milly who asks about you.” He whispered, fighting against the words coming from his mouth. “Cécile...” He inhaled deeply. All of a sudden, his suit seemed too tight for him. “It was Cécile who asked me to come see you tonight.” As if worn out by casting off this burden, he sat down beside me, head cast downwards.
“Why?” I curtly responded with a glare.
His answer was earnest. “She’s worried about you.”
I detected the onset of annoyance roiling within me. “Why?” I asked again, teeth grinding. “You actually left the ceremony for her?” Heat suddenly rushed to my features. I considered my complexion to be reddened already due to the heat and the drink, but this was an entirely different sensation.
“This is the first time she’s asked me to do her a favour.” Zero’s admission had ultimately allowed him to find his stride in this interaction, gone was the stilted caginess of earlier. He rounded off his explanation by adding. “And this is important to her, and Milly.” So, Milly was in on this too.
The laugh that I produced wasn’t coupled with a smile, more a noise of exasperation than anything else.
Cécile and I had once been, by professional circumstances, fairly inseparable for more than a decade. All the way from encountering her as a young student to our gradual parting of the ways after the Zero Requiem. By all measures, I really should not have been surprised by her most current act of altruism. Yet...there I was.
Lengthy periods of necessary cohabitation and whatnot meant that she had gotten to know me rather too well. In one instance, she had even managed to see my home, my family home. I recall her stifling awed gasps as she desperately tried not to ogle at the lavish adornments. It was going so well too...until she stopped by a particularly large painting at the top of the main staircase, a textbook portrait of a quintessentially textbook Britannian noble family.
It displayed myself at around age 6 flanked either side by my parents. My bulwark of a father with his nobleman’s attire and groomed grey beard dominated the frame. But Cécile was more fascinated by my mother and I. My more tolerable parent was about a quarter of a century younger than my father and (I’m told) greatly resembled me, perhaps this explained Cécile’s intrigue. I was about to attempt to move her on, but she came to her senses and we carried on our way.
She didn’t see fit to ask any personal questions then, nor did she tell anyone of what she saw when we went back to work. Cécile’s discretion could typically be counted on, not in this instance apparently.
“This is important to her.” I repeated, arching forward to take a drink. “All this nostalgia tonight probably has her wanting to get her little family back together.” My tone was aloof but my pursed lips and constricted pupils disclosed my prevailing sense of discomfort.
“Her concerns date back further than tonight and you know it, Lloyd.” Zero was certainly feeling at home now. First name basis, how assertive. Why though? Why was he wasting his time here?
I decided to partake in his little game. “So, you agree that she DOES in fact want to reassemble her family unit? Now we’re just debating when this burning need of hers began.”
Cécile always was someone desperate for the slightest bit of affection. From what I understood, she had no immediate relatives. In place of family photos on her mantle were ASEEC staff photographs, supplemented by pictures of significant work occasions such as the Lancelot’s completion or Suzaku’s knighthood. As a young lady, she had been walked out on by a lover. Even her dreadful attempts at cookery seemed akin to a grasp for a semblance of domesticity. It really was so typical.
Zero didn’t get a chance to reply as I quickly added. “Indeed, I have a good idea of when it started.” My grin was practically monstrous. “Pendragon Palace, 20 years ago.”
Another sigh escaped that mask of his. I simply couldn’t stop now.
“The Knight of Zero, Suzaku Kururugi was kind enough to inform myself and Miss Cécile of the grand plan, the Zero Requiem. Not all at once of course, but we got the general idea. As we returned to our adjoining suites, we wished each other a good night.” I glanced across at my guest. “Neither of us slept, I was kept awake my something. A dreadful sound, now what was it again?” I drummed my fingers against the table in mock thought before clicking my fingers.
“Aha! I remember! I couldn’t sleep because Cécile spent the night crying and crying and crying.” Gleefully, I rubbed my hands together. Triumphantly asserting. “Yes, that must be it! That is the moment we’re looking for, when the illusion of a family was shattered. Wouldn’t you agree, Zero?”
I patted my visitor on the shoulder to rouse him, he stiffened in response.
“Sounds about right.” He hesitantly assented.
“Fortunately, the Knight of Zero never found out about this.” My words came out uncensored, what little filter I had was completely overcome by the strange combination of my inebriation and my current sense of annoyance. “From that night on, she was stone faced and dignified in his presence. Only 25 years old, but carrying herself like a dutiful widow and grieving mother all rolled up into one sorry package. It was as though her life was already over.”
I was deliberately laying it on thick now. But there could be no doubting that as time went on and her acquaintances started families, Cécile surely suffered pangs of jealousy. Holding someone else’s child must’ve been an agonizing experience. But that was Cécile to a T. Always concerned with putting on a brave face for others while she languished. I tried to warn her about all this but would she listen? No.
I bounced up from my chair, sauntering in from the balcony while treading haphazardly on my own mess of notes on the floor. By the time I peeked over my shoulder, Zero had begun to follow me inside at a much more cautious pace.
There was a graceless sway to my movements as I reached the front door, successfully grasping the handle at the second attempt.
“Well then.” I adjusted my glasses as I motioned to the door. “It seems we’ve gotten to the bottom of that issue, so now you can go home and tell Cécile that there is no cause for concern.”
Zero was unmoving, obviously considering his business here to be unfinished. The fool stood square in the middle of my room not unlike some obstinate monolith of irreproachability. My grip on the door handle was unconsciously tightened. Catching myself, I released it and walked to meet him.
“What is this?” I asked, gesturing to the both of us. “This noble munificence...Are you trying to save me or something?” My tone veered into the dominion of bitterness. Even now, he was still trying to cleanse his conscience with these acts of pity and charity. Did he think I would fall down and weep at his benevolence? That we’d walk arm in arm back to the ceremony?
I couldn’t remember the last occasion I was this...angry? It was the only fitting description for this kind of ugliness.
“Because, Zero. If you have come to rescue me from my own rot then I fear that, going by your track record, you will fail.” My head was spinning. Seeing him standing there in that outfit, with that false face, it was like an accelerant that rushed into the hollow chasm hidden underneath my ribcage. “After all, you were no good to Princess Euphemia and you were certainly no good to Emperor Lelouch either.”
He tried to hide it, but I noticed him balling up his fists by his side.
Please, I implore you.
My wishes were spoken aloud. “You want to hit me again, don’t you?”
When I first met the man standing in front of me, it was so easy, so amusing to pick away at his sense of morality. I don’t recall when exactly this happened, but as I grew to know him, the lines became blurred. Things would...overlap. The necessary work and the frivolous personal interactions, the Lancelot and the devicer, the humour and the frustration.
With a snort, I reasserted my suggestion. “We’re not quite aboard the Avalon this time and I don’t have a Lancelot key to hand over, but you can still give it a go.” Almost pre-emptively, I closed my eyes for a strike that never came.
Instead of hearing the crunch of his fist against my face, I heard the sound of his voice. It was steady and weighted, words carefully chosen.
“I suppose I do want to hit you. But not because of what you’re doing right now.” He paused, letting out a breathless chuckle and scratching his neck. It was as if any consternation that had built up within him simply fell away.
How disappointing.
I had desired a reaction resembling the ones I received long ago, when I was dealing with an impulsive boy. But even that kind of entertainment had passed its sell-by date. Of course he wasn’t so easy anymore, the boy was dead after all. Now, I was stood across from a weary middle-aged man, scarred and aching on the inside as well as the outside.
“It’s just you...don’t get it. And I wish you did, so does she.” I had wanted to query the nature of “it”, but Zero promptly elaborated. “It’s not Cécile who is going around acting like her life is over. She has people who are important to her, Nina, Milly, people you haven’t even met yet. She’s started mentoring Ruben as well. Back then she only had the two of us.” There was a purpose to Zero’s words, he was telling me I’d had my chance and now it was his moment. He had ignored my ploy and was letting loose feelings that he’d been sitting on for years.
I indignantly turned my head away, but he continued nonetheless.
“Everyone, including you, did their best after the Zero Requiem. Everyone tried to move on, to find new opportunities in the peace given to us by Lelouch.” Even through the modulator, I could tell that his voice wavered at the mention of his old friend. “But now Lloyd, you’re-”
“Alone?” There was a dry scrape to my voice as I cut him off. I suddenly regretted leaving the sanctuary of my chair and my drink. “And? I do not require constant personal stimulation the same way everyone else does. I am perfectly fine alone.” The involuntary clench of my jaw betrayed my weak attempt at deceit.
“Then what about your mechanism? I thought it needed parts.” Zero was sure to emphasise the plurality of that last word. “You fought pretty hard to keep me and Miss Cécile around when people wanted us gone, remember?”
“You want to talk about what I remember?” I spat, wishing I could break that irritating mask of his in half. “I remember warning you that you’d get yourself killed.” The edge that my tone had adopted was wholly unfamiliar to me. The Zero Requiem was, in a sense, theatre. And theatre required props to convince the audience, one such prop was a grave for Sir Suzaku Kururugi. I had never been near the site of course.
“If you were so interested in my mechanism, you might have heeded that warning. You might not have had to wear that.” I gestured to his attire, something about seeing him like this ate away at my insides.
I had allowed myself to become stirred. How displeasing it is to give in to one’s lesser nature. The humorous irony of this situation did not elude me. In our own ways, Zero and I both went about our current lives pretending, both in intolerable situations, both bereft of what made us whole...I suppose the scope of the Zero Requiem’s sense of theatre and deception was greater than I had anticipated.
My hand reached out to touch his mask but was swiftly and delicately intercepted by his own.
“What I’m doing, Lloyd. It’s my contract.”
Contract. A decidedly impersonal word for a decidedly personal pledge.
“Aha, yes.” I replied unenthused, snatching back my hand to point to my left eye. “Live...Right?”
His confirmation was simple. “Live.”
Typical of him to be so matter of fact about tossing away his life, relegating himself to donning the suit of a dead man until his Geass finally and mercifully gives out. It was bizarrely frustrating to have seen it unfold in person, I should not have given it a second thought, let alone be dwelling on it 20 years later.
My old tactic to stave off such frustration involved reminding myself that he was simply an intriguing curiosity that also just so happened to be the perfect part. Actually, it was rather curious how this ideal part appeared out of nowhere one day in the Shinjuku Ghetto. If you believed in the sort of thing, you might call it providence. Now, you could question the wisdom of my decision to surround myself with a commoner by birth and a self-loathing Eleven with a death wish. You could say “What did you expect?”
Zero was right in saying that I fought hard to keep them around. In the early days of the ASEEC, I had navigated the consternation of numerous higher ups to appoint Cécile as my assistant. Not to mention that the administrative plates I needed to spin in order to keep Suzaku out of harm’s way were at times impossibly complex. But this was a matter of efficacy. My research would break new ground and for that to happen, I needed the very best.
As it happened, those two were the very best.
I never put much stock into the old Britannian mantra that the strong ought to devour the weak. In a logical sense, I suppose you could argue that such a maxim held some degree of merit, the strong were strong and the weak were weak.
But that’s the thing. Humanity is not a logical formula that can be proved over and over, it is not something that is unchanging and sound. Humanity is something that is to be experienced, and human beings are little more than walking mounds of overlapping contradictions. And yes, it was often fun to highlight these contradictions, the comical instabilities of erratic beings. They are, after all, the opposite of empirical things, such as mechanisms. Some people are inscrutably selfish and some people are inscrutably selfless. More contradictions!
I had made my mind up early on that this was an experience I didn’t want any part of, but since I was forced to be part of it, I made sure to carve out a place for myself in this gigantic mire. I would form the complete mechanism and control all its aspects as though they were extensions of myself. But that place and that goal are both gone now, never to return.
My body seemed to deflate in resignation in the face of this current little scenario Zero and I had gotten ourselves into. As I languidly shuffled towards a cabinet on the far side of my room, I couldn’t help but speak up once more.
“You know, I once called the human form pitifully fragile.” I confessed, referring to my conversation with Cécile aboard the Avalon during the Black Rebellion. “I said that people break too easily, and I suppose that is true of mechanisms as well. Every once in a while, no matter how hard you try, you simply can’t replace certain parts. Very irritating.” More irritating than Zero could realise. The truth was that the mechanism I had chosen to assemble was never and could never be empirical, for it relied upon people. And duly failed when they left.
With my back to Zero, I opened the cabinet. It only required a cursory rifle through until I obtained what I was looking for.
Before I could spin about, I heard the unmistakable sound of the hissing of air. At once, a strange dizzying sensation engulfed me. As the moment itself appeared to freeze, I realised I experienced this same suffocating sense of dread anticipation earlier in the night when I entered the school grounds.
“Lloyd.” My name was unmodulated.
The trueness of his gaze paralysed me, I didn’t dare confront it. Battling through a sudden tightness in my throat, I responded.
“Who exactly am I speaking with right now?” My voice was hoarse, like the sound of metal scraping on metal.
“I suppose that’s up to you.” His own had aged...but still carried that familiar soft edge. Something I never imagined I would hear again.
Keeping my head shamelessly lowered, I spun on my heels and handed him the item I had retrieved from the cabinet. A postcard. “It came in through my mailbox earlier this year.” I explained stiffly, suddenly wondering whether the whiskey I’d been drinking had contained lead. “I don’t know how they found my address.”
Curiosity won out against my cowardice and I looked up.
And I saw him.
He was in the midst of examining the postcard, turning it over to see both sides then detecting that he was being watched.
Naturally, he had aged. That boyish face that I once knew had been replaced by that of a man. There were scars and lines that I didn’t recognise. The now perpetual bags under his eyes still could not hide their powerful green tint. Zero was no longer present. For some reason or another, here and now, Suzaku Kururugi had chosen to appear in front of me.
His expression softened as he read aloud the short message on the card.
“Best wishes.”
This distinctly troublesome item came into my possession on the afternoon of February 3rd, my 50th birthday. There was no doubting the identity of the two women behind this gambit. It was a unique addition to the throngs of postcards I received back in the day, in that this one actually featured me.
There I was, my more youthful physiognomy contorted in discomfort as I held a small blonde child, with Cécile smiling anxiously alongside me. If memory serves, she was concerned I would drop the child or try to throw him back at Milly, the guilty party who had thrust him into my arms and took the picture. Young Ruben himself was cackling, totally unaware of his chaotic surroundings.
I had been meaning to throw it away but for some reason or another, it had ended up in that cabinet. In all likelihood, my reason for holding onto it was the same thing that had led me to being so close to attending that ceremony tonight.
As I said, I am someone prone to pretending. A defective human is still human nonetheless, even if he tries to make himself and others think otherwise. Sometimes reality overwhelms, like it did on February 3rd and like it has on September 28th.
After a moment, Suzaku returned the postcard to me, understanding evident in his complexion.
“For so long, I wanted to die.” He murmured. “I believed it was the only way that I could answer for what I did. Now I’m here, living on as Zero.” As he ran a hand through his damp hair, I noticed the slightest hints of grey. Setting down his mask, he carried on. “I called it a contract, but it’s more than that. It’s another chance. Lelouch gave us this future so that we all have second chances, we either go on or we don’t. The choice is ours.” That’s just it though, I no longer had anything to offer in this future.
As if reading my mind, Suzaku declared. “It could be time for a different type of...mechanism.” It was somewhat endearing how he was attempting to use my own vernacular. “And...” His lips curled upwards. “Cécile is the only mentor at the institute, I’m sure some more experience wouldn’t hurt.”
My eyebrows rose.
I beckoned him to follow me as I made my way back over to the balcony and in an instant, there was a lit cigarette between my lips. An odd thing to do given the heat, but smoking helped me to mull things over.
Suzaku sat down next to me and I began to fish out another. “Let’s suppose I indulge your train of thought, and allow myself this one indulgence.” I casually offered Suzaku the second cigarette before continuing. “Would you not allow yourself one as well?” “Let yourself be Suzaku Kururugi for a second” I wanted to say.
His hesitance was amusing as he held it up against his mouth, lips tentatively wrapping around the filter as I held out my lighter. His first inhalation was palpably more than he could handle and just like that, Suzaku was choking out coughs with watery eyes.
He’d helped shape the world and topple an Empire, but was bested by smoking for the first time. How appropriate.
“Technically you’re dead so don’t worry about the health drawbacks.” I assured him, while occupied with my own cigarette.
Still not fully recovered, he let out a muted snort at my remark. “What time is it?”
I never wore watches as I hated the way jangled about on my wrist. So, I had to lean back in my chair in order to check the clock on the far side of my room. “11:25. Just over a half hour until midnight.”
Suzaku gave the impression as though he was sizing up something as he viewed the now darkening city. Commendably, he hadn’t yet given up on his cigarette. Suddenly, he shifted his weight and turned to me.
“We still have time.”
I picked up on his tone immediately. Of course, I knew what he was referring to, but I played dumb and asked regardless. “Time...to what?”
My guest was without doubt a faster smoker than I was, because he had practically worn his down to the end already. I suppose I would have to teach him the art of enjoying a slow smoke.
“To make it back for midnight.” He replied, discarding the remnants of his cigarette. “Most people will have left by then and there’s a something planned on the roof.” Now that definitely struck me as an invitation.
My free hand moved towards my chin, stroking it in perfunctory contemplation. I was about to ask him what sort of thing he meant exactly but then it hit me. “Aha! Let me guess.”
Neither of us meant for it to happen this way, but the both of us simultaneously spoke out the answer.
“Fireworks.”
Wistfulness briefly washed over Suzaku’s countenance as he permitted himself to dwell on what was surely a far more...intimate commemoration of Lelouch. Milly had once informed me of the significance of fireworks to those within the Ashford Academy Student Council. I had been surprised by how deeply she knew and understood the 99th Emperor. He seemed an interesting man, far more engaging than Prince Schneizel and Emperor Charles. All three of them were so bent on shaping the world to their own vision. It was a pity my dealings with Lelouch were so minimal.
Why then, would I be invited to such a private gathering?
In reply to Suzaku’s “loose” invitation, I held up my unfinished cigarette between my fingers and waved it from side to side. “We have time to finish up here. Besides, I’m still weighing up my options.”
He reached down to reobtain his mask, not quite ready to reattach it.
“Well, you weigh up your options.” The humour in his tone was clear. “Just don’t take another 20 years to come to a decision.”
I suppose I could gather some data of sorts.
“Will that immortal girl be there?” I searched my memory banks briefly for her name. “C.C.! Now that would be some data.” I pondered, wiping perspiration from my forehead.
Suzaku shook his head. “She drops in and out as she pleases, but tonight isn’t her kind of scene.” Now that’s someone with good taste. “She’ll be around eventually.” He added, sitting up. His sights were set on the clock once again.
I held out my arm to allay his worries about our potential tardiness.
“I’ll get there on time, Suzaku. Don’t fret.” My cigarette was about finished. “Haven’t you heard? I’ll be travelling with Zero after all. The man who makes miracles.”
September 28th 2038,
Reinitiation.