BIRD OF PREY | a reiner braun spinoff

chapter t w e l v e

CAMP BY A STREAM, ALLIED TERRITORIES

"Gods love war. It's how empires were built. And histories made."

Those were the words that Thomas Gelvar had once said to him as they lay in the infirmary of the battlefield. Saito, in much pain, had barely even cared for his words as falls of red spilt out of skin. The man laughed as he pressed a cloth on him in an attempt to stop his bleeding. Whether he was mocking him, or was solely amused by the fact that this small boy before him was now his captain, Saito never truly figured it out.

But he came to realize that his haunting words were true.

"Gods love war." Saito came to know this. But he had never been truly one for beliefs. Perhaps it was the confusion of growing up in two worlds at such a young age. With two very different, opposite even, cultures and traditions. Or perhaps he had realized that if any higher beings did exist, they had long forsaken the world below long before his time. And what was his measly prayers but a speck of dust to them.

But though he himself never found comfort in faith, he respected others who chose so. He realized there were many in the battlefield, besides fighting to protect their countries, fought in the name of their gods. And he also learned that some wanted to leave their existence per their beliefs. In fact it was among his many duties as Captain of his squad to ensure that each of his fallen comrades had their funeral as they had wished so.

And Lieutenant Thomas Gelvar wished for his body to be buried upon his death.

Saito couldn't help but feel that he had failed him. He owed Gelvar so much. So how could he fail to do just this one thing right for him? Though the ambush wasn't within his control, he wished he had the time to at the very least search for Gelvar's body and have it dealt with the way the pilot he had wanted it. It was the least he could do for him. For his loyalty. And all his friendship.

Maybe one day... when the war is done and over, he'll return to these territories to find him. Whatever may be left. Anything at all.

Saito opened his palms to the dim moonlight. A pale handkerchief unravels from his fingers. It was the only thing Saito had left of him. The legacy of the Iron Terror. The feared pilot whose skill was only second to Dragon of Marley. The only one who dared to rival him. There were even times when Saito himself wondered if it was Gelvar, and he alone, that could defeat him in the skies.

But alas, his curiosity would come to an end, never to be satisfied by an answer.

Saito ever so carefully folded the handkerchief. Fabric over fabric. If he can't give Gelvar his proper burial, then the least he could do was honor him in such a way with the things he's left behind. Saito lowered the folded cloth into the small pit that he had dug out with his bare hands and a stake of wood. A hole by the roots of an old olive tree.

A grave.

Saito leaned down as he gathered his soiled pressed hands together up to his chest. His eyes fluttered close. And he whispered the prayers that only knew. Prayers in his mother's tongue.

And then tenderly, he began to close the hollow. And very soon, he lost sight of the kerchief in the darkness of dirt and rocks. He sighed, his shoulders raising and lowering under the dim glisten of the moon. He reached for the mound of stone beside him and carefully ornated it above the closed pit in a round pile. And when he was done, a small stone mound rested at the base of the old olive tree.