Erich wakes abruptly, hand going immediately to his pistol, and listens—
“Morning, sir,” Degurechaff greets him as she stalks closer, her spiritual presence prickly with exhaustion-annoyance-exasperation as she comes to a stop a bare foot from his head. “I have the troops breaking camp already after a cold breakfast. Here’s yours. Major Schwarz will be along in a moment with theirs.”
Erich grunts and forces himself up, shaking off both Alexis’ and Urahara’s arms in the process and pointedly not thinking about… about anything related to how he was being held. By a Shinigami.
(Not now.)
(Not yet.)
He fumbles for his glasses with one hand while scrubbing the grit from his eyes with the other, then accepts the two mugs from Degurechaff and squints into them. “Trying to poison me, Degurechaff?” he asks dryly as he takes a drink of the lukewarm not-coffee that she’s presented to him, then blinks and frowns into the mug. “I still have no idea how Serebryakov does it, but this isn’t half bad.”
Degurechaff shrugs and says, “I’ve given up trying to figure it out and just enjoy the result.” She takes a step back and settles, arms behind her back and her gaze drifting between the three of them for a moment before she finally seems to make a decision. “Last night was peaceful,” she starts to report. “Watchmen say they didn’t hear or see anything of note, and the couple of scouts I sent out this morning haven’t found any tracks beyond what little of our own were missed in the dark. I sent a team out to erase what evidence they could, and to follow us to continue doing so as we move.”
“Thank you, Colonel,” Erich says, mind already turning over plans for the day as he downs the barely appetizing food in the second mug and washes it down with the better-than-usual ersatz coffee.
(Real food is definitely on the list of things he’s looking forward to.)
Schwarz nods a greeting as he approaches them, four mugs held carefully in his hands, and passes them over to both Alexis and Urahara. “Sorry about the food,” he apologizes as Alexis gives the mugs a dubious look. “Not really much I can do about it, ma’am.”
“It’s fine,” she says with a shrug, then quickly downs what he gave her, grimacing at the taste. “Not much you can honestly do about it out here.”
Urahara just wrinkles his nose and stares at the food in disbelief, then casts a sidelong look at Erich and asks, “You’ve been living on this?”
“What other choice do I have?” Erich asks in amusement, then nods at the forest around them and says, “Armies make animals run. We do what we have to.”
Degurechaff makes a slightly amused sound and adds, “Can you imagine any of us trying to hunt for our own food? That lot wouldn’t survive a day if that was a requirement.” She watches him a moment longer, waiting for Urahara to make a move, before huffing in exasperation and saying, “You’ll get used to it after a while. Now eat your food so we can all get moving again.”
Urahara gives her a flat stare at that, then reluctantly lifts the mug to his lips and takes a sip, face scrunching up in disgust. “This is terrible,” he mutters, before tipping it back and quickly swallowing the whole thing. “Yuck,” he declares in Imperial as he hands the mug back to Schwarz, much to the man’s clear amusement.
“Going to drink your coffee?” Erich asks with a tiny smirk, indicating the second mug that Urahara had been handed.
“No,” Urahara declares after giving it a sniff, then offers it to Erich. “You have.”
“You can have it,” Erich repeats absently as he accepts the mug with a shrug. “Thanks.”
“I don’t blame him in the slightest,” Alexis grumbles as she finishes off hers, hands it back, then rises to her feet and begins to pack away the bedroll she’d been using. “I haven’t had real coffee in forever, but this stuff is positively vile.”
Erich snorts and mumbles, “This is better than usual,” before he drains Urahara’s mug without a second’s hesitation; it might not actually have the benefits of real coffee, but he can usually manage to trick himself into thinking it does if he downs enough of it.
(Sometimes, that’s the only thing keeping him going.)
(That and pure stubbornness.)
With a sigh he pushes himself to his feet, hands the mugs back to Schwarz, and sets about helping Alexis clear their little campsite up. There’s no way they can hide that a large group camped in the area, but the more they can muddle the signs the better.
“Let’s get moving,” Erich orders as soon as the area is put back to rights. He pulls on his pack, shoulders his rifle, settles Benihime at his waist, and steps over to Degurechaff as he waits for Alexis and Urahara to finish getting ready as well. “You will let me help you,” he says to Urahara as the man gets closer.
Urahara huffs but nods slightly. “So long as it doesn’t stress you.”
Degurechaff looks between them with narrowed eyes, then scowls when Erich gives a small shake of his head; still, she at least stops looking like she wants to question both of them. “Ready to go, sir?”
“Yes. Let’s get moving before we burn any more daylight,” Erich says, glancing up at the thick canopy overhead; there’s only barely enough light to see by at the moment, but it’s getting lighter with every minute that passes.
Time is wasting.
They set out, marching through the forest at a steady, ground-eating pace for the second day in a row.
(This time, he won’t let Urahara exhaust himself.)
(This time he’ll actually pay attention.)
(He swears it.)
For as tiring as the march is, it’s also boring, especially the longer they go without any indication of pursuit. There’s nothing but trees all around them, gigantic trunks rising up into a vast canopy that shades them from the sky, with only the occasional beam of sunlight to indicate that the sun is still out. And the more they march, the more it all stays the same: trees and trees and yet more trees, occasionally broken by rocky areas they need to circle around.
Each time they stop to rest, Erich settles beside Alexis and Urahara and uses the chance to center himself and help Urahara refill his reserves; it’s obvious that even with his help the man is beginning to flag — truthfully, even Alexis is beginning to flag — and that’s… he can’t do anything about that, no matter how much he might wish to.
(Marching is not a skill that anyone but an army needs.)
(And these two have never needed those skills before.)
(It’s only because of their inner strength that they’ve kept up so far.)
There’s little he needs to personally see to in the middle of a march — Degurechaff and Schwarz are some of the best officers a General could wish for — which unfortunately means that he has plenty of time to stew in his worries.
With every kilometer they cross, they come closer to Rerugen lands — to Quincy lands — and to the confrontation that he just knows is going to happen. The border guards won’t dare to confront them, not an entire Living World army marching directly at them, but they will send word ahead. Word that will mean that there will be a ‘welcoming’ party waiting for them. Word that will mean everyone on high alert.
(Word that will mean a confrontation as soon as they spot Urahara.)
(He’s leading danger right to their doorstep.)
(Not just the Republic’s army, but a Reaper as well—!)
A stir in the line drags Erich’s thoughts from their circling, and he quickly brings a hand up to signal a halt.
(Have they been spotted?)
(Have they been caught?!)
Degurechaff leaves her men and hurries to his side, her gaze hard as she glances back. “This doesn’t bode well,” she murmurs as soon as she draws even with him.
“Everything was going a bit too well, wasn’t it?” Erich can’t help but ask, before wincing internally at how exhausted he sounds.
Degurechaff huffs in agreement, and Erich fights back a grimace at the way Alexis and Urahara give them concerned looks and then exchange worried glances; while it’s nice that his two soulmates are agreeing on something, he really wishes it was anything but concern for him.
(He’s fine.)
(He doesn’t need their concern.)
(He just… he just needs some time to rest is all.)
A scout hurries towards them with Schwarz at his side, his mouth a thin slash and his presence bleeding concern-worry-despair into the air. “There’s a hamlet burning just to the north of us,” he reports as soon as he reaches Erich and Degurechaff. “My team didn’t spot whoever did it, but it looks recent.”
Degurechaff grimaces and looks up at him. “We should check it out, sir. If it’s the Republic…”
“Then they’re closer than we anticipated,” Erich agrees, then casts a glance at his exhausted men. He’d prefer to do anything but confront the Republic so close to Rerugen lands — so close to safety — but they can’t just leave it to chance. There’s also the possibility that it’s a feint meant to draw his men out into the open, but…
He can’t just leave it be.
“Colonel Degurechaff, gather a squad of your men and meet me back here in ten. We’re going to investigate,” Erich decides, then fixes Schwarz with a look when the man stiffens in realization. “Get me a small squad that’s up for a swift sweep of the area.”
“Sir,” Schwarz grits out, a wealth of meaning in the single word.
“You and Major Weiss will be in command here,” Erich says before Schawrz can protest further. “Be ready to get the men moving, but don’t waste your time trying for a rescue if things go wrong and we’re outnumbered.”
Schwarz’s lips thin, but he nods and turns away, striding down the line with his shoulders straight and his back stiff.
“Erich—”
Erich holds up a hand, cutting off Alexis’ attempt to speak, and says, “No. I need to see to this. If something happens, get the men settled in Rerugen lands and then send some of our people out—”
“I’m going with you,” Urahara declares firmly, something dark-stubborn-vicious about him that sends a shiver down Erich’s spine. “You are not my superior,” Urahara adds before Erich can try to reason with him. “And I don’t have anything else to do. You and Degurechaff-san are the only two who speak my language.” He pauses, hesitates a moment, then bows his head and whispers, “Please, I just found you. Don’t… don’t make me stand aside while you throw yourself into danger.”
Erich swallows, mind whirling as he tries to come up with something, anything, to get Urahara to stay behind, but— but he can’t. Not in the face of Urahara’s obvious distress. Not when he knows how capable Urahara is—
“You will stay at his side at all times,” Degurechaff orders, making Erich twitch at the suddenness of her arrival. “If you come with us, you will do everything in your power to keep General Rerugen safe. Understand?”
“Yes, of course,” Urahara answers as he straightens up and squares his shoulders. “I won’t let anything happen to him, I swear.”
Erich grits his teeth and spits, “I do not need watching,” before turns away and takes a breath, trying to pull his fury under control; he knows what Degurechaff is doing and he even understands it — if it was one of his superiors declaring they were going into a hostile situation with only a small squad, he’d leverage their soulmate’s presence as well — but that doesn’t mean he likes it.
(He doesn’t need to be babysat!)
Luckily, he can see Schwarz returning with the squad he requested, which means he can just… ignore the whole thing — especially Urahara’s watchful-wary-uncertain expression — and move on.
(Urahara will follow him no matter what.)
(Better to just save his energy for a fight he can win.)
Erich shrugs off his pack and hands it to Schwarz as the man reaches them, then hesitates, hand over Benihime’s hilt, and slowly forces himself to release the blade from his side. “Since I can’t make you stay behind,” Erich murmurs as he offers the blade back to Urahara.
“Thank you,” Urahara whispers, voice choked with something that Erich doesn’t want to understand, doesn’t want to face, because— because no one should be so damn thankful to be handed back their own weapon before heading into danger.
So instead of acknowledging it, he turns away. Shoves his tangled sorrow-frustration-fury deep into his soul and buries it beneath his mission mindset.
(If he ever meets the people who engraved such lessons into his soulmate’s mind—)
(Well, it certainly won’t be a very polite meeting.)
“Lead the way,” Erich orders the scout as he gestures sharply for Degurechaff and the others to fall in.
“Yes, sir,” the scout replies with a quick, sloppy salute, then turns and heads off into the forest.
Erich follows the scout through the trees, trying to place exactly where they are on his mental map; it is a bit further into Imperial territory than he expected the Republic to have already ventured, but if it’s a squad of mages…
(No.)
(Don’t assume.)
Urahara stays at Erich’s side as they hurry on, the connection between them humming with resolve-focus-determination as they fall into harmony, both of them preparing for a fight at the end of the march.
(Maybe this wasn’t a mistake.)
(Maybe they’ll be able to win.)
The scout waves them to a stop and gestures Erich forward: they’ve reached a small break in the trees, leading down into a shallow valley, and the air is thick with the scent of smoke.
Erich scans the area with a frown, disturbed by the lack of visible enemies, though there does seem to be some movement down in the hamlet itself. “Anything?” he asks Degurechaff as she joins him.
“Nothing,” she confirms with a scowl. “I don’t sense any magic emanation, either. If the Republic is here, they’re hiding in the village itself.”
“I don’t like this,” Urahara murmurs as he steps a bit closer to Erich’s side, body loose and prepared for combat. “It’s sloppy,” he adds as he tips his chin towards one edge of the village, where only a few scattered houses are on fire. “I’ve seen how your people work, and if your enemies act similarly, this seems…”
“This is someone looting,” Degurechaff breathes in horrified realization, then spins back towards their squads and barks, “Senses sharp and weapons up! This isn’t the Republic, this is—”
Degurechaff yelps as Urahara darts in and shoves, sending her toppling to the ground, and Erich stiffens. Draws his pistol and turns—
Bark explodes from the tree behind Degurechaff. A gunshot cracks. Voices rise from the trees to their left, figures in familiar uniform darting towards them—
“Shit,” Degurechaff spits, scrambling to her feet. “Go, go, go! Ignore their uniforms and fight!”
Urahara launches himself forward, blade drawn and expression grim, and takes out a fake Imperial soldier with a single blow.
Erich ducks behind a tree. Levels his pistol and cracks off a shot. Switches aim to another. Fires again. Switches. Fires. Again. Again. Ducks away to another tree, mind blank and hands steady and aim focused. Cracks off another shot. Another. Reloads and darts a look—
The enemy is charging them. Knives and bayonets and blades and everything but guns but that makes no sense, why would they charge, why not keep firing, why give up their advantage—
His soldiers are good. Degurechaff is good. Urahara is good. Charging makes no sense—
“Bastard!” a voice to his left spits. “Officer over here! Take him down!”
Erich jerks his attention towards the newcomer. Swings himself around, pistol firing, but it’s too late, the man is too close, face contorted in fury and knife poised and Erich twists aside, praying it’s enough, praying he can escape—
Pain!
He stumbles, pistol falling from nerveless hands as the man staggers against his side and then collapses, the knife skittering across his ribs and then down, a line of vicious ice that ends when it jars against his hip and tumbles free.
He staggers back. Presses a hand to his side. Swallows a cry as ice becomes fire, wild-furious-consuming, and tries to think, tries to gather himself—
Strong-warm-steady hands grasp him. Tug him against a broad chest. Words in his ear that he can’t parse, should be able to, can’t—
Power crashes down, hate-rage-fury, and it’s like drowning, air stripped from his lungs and body unresponsive and darkness with no light, no direction, no hope— he scrabbles for air, for freedom, claws at whatever has him, every motion like wading through magma but he needs to escape, needs to get away, to get safe—
More words in his ear. A hand against his chest. Power sinking beneath his skin.
It’s cold. Cold enough to burn, cold enough to freeze, except it feels good. Feels safe. Feels like trust-home-loyalty.
Feels like a promise.
Erich slumps. Gasps for breath.
Surrenders.