Fighting Boy Meets Girl

After all, it wasn't Sousuke's fault that he grew up in international hot zones and had no idea how to live in peaceful Japan.

Consequently, no matter how hard he tried, everything he did seemed to backfire, creating trouble where none existed previously. Pretty much everyone at school thought he was an idiot of the highest degree.

Jeez. What did I ever do to deserve someone this useless? Kaname lamented internally.

But Kaname already knew the answer. If she didn't, she would have stopped being his friend a long time ago. Kaname had an obligation to get into Sousuke's business, to lecture him, and to deal with the aftermath of his messes. There was a reason she could not hate him.

She suddenly remembered the various complex reasons Sousuke was the way he was.

She knew Sousuke had another identity, one that he kept secret from the rest of the students, who thought he was nothing more than a useless war nut.

Outside the walls of the high school, Sousuke Sagara also was secretly a first-class soldier, part of a top-notch military organization.

Kaname knew this because of a certain incident.

It was through this incident that Kaname and Sousuke had become acquainted. Kaname recalled the circumstances behind their meeting: There had been grave danger, blossoming feelings, and a huge mystery—one that remained partially unsolved.

That event's aftereffects still lingered in their everyday lives.

Indeed, it all started one month earlier….

CHAPTER 1 School Assignment

April 15, 21:37 (Local Time)

Eastern Soviet Union

50 Miles Southeast of Khabarovsk

I'd just as soon die.

Violently bouncing around in an automobile's interior, the girl continued to make grim assessments of her situation.

Mud from the sloshy road splattered across the windshield, obscuring the coniferous trees that barely were visible in the farthest reaches of the headlights.

The girl caught a glimpse of her reflection in the side-view mirror: a pale face, gnawing on her thumb as if possessed.

I should he tanner from tennis practice. Why am I so pallid?

How long has it been since my last tennis practice? A week? A month?

A year?

Time's not important. I can't go home, anyway.

It'd he easiest if they just killed me now.

"Almost there," shouted the vehicle's driver, a gruff man who was wearing a stiff military uniform. "In just a couple of miles, we'll be in the mountain district. From there, you'll be able to return to Japan."

Liar. We'll never get away in a vehicle like this.

Those people will capture me, drug me, strip me, and lock me up again in that water tank—that deep, dark water tank, a place where nothing exists but endless, meaningless questions. No matter how much I beg, they won't let me out.

"I'll do anything, just let me out!"

They won't hear me. I can't even hear myself.

Gradually, they will break me.

The only thing I have left is biting my nails. That's all I can do. It is my only joy. Nails are fantastic: They hurt, they bleed. They're great. Blood comes out, it dissolves. Nails… nails… nailllllls.

"Stop that!" the man brushed the girl's hand away from her mouth.

For a moment, she stared absently at him. "Let me bite—or else, kill me. Let me b-bi-bite."

The man's face contorted with pity as the girl's speech devolved into a pathetic stutter, like that of a broken tape deck. His sympathy turned to anger.

"Those scum bags did some bad things to you, didn't they?"

A bright flash of light behind the vehicle punctuated the man's sentiment, inspiring him to crank the wheel furiously. The light painted a streak across the sky as it sailed over the fleeing Jeep.

A rocket!

An explosion sent flames and debris hurtling toward the front of the Jeep, which skidded sideways. The windshield shattered, and the jeep toppled and rolled through the flames.

Not wearing a seat belt, the girl was tossed clear of the wreck through the side window.

If she had taken a breath at that moment, or if she had opened her mouth to scream, the whirling flames would have scorched her lungs. Sadly, she lacked the willpower to scream.