Moments of a Life Untold

Summary: Seven moments. Seven lies. Seven glimpses into a shattered world and the past of Iliaster's Three Emperors. Gen!fic. Heavy spoilers for Episode 134.

Characters: Plácido, Lucciano, José (& others)

Rating: T

Notes/Warnings: Spoiler heavy, so if you're behind or watch the dub, I'd advise you hit "back". Now. Contains violence, some coarse language, and character death.

Disclaimer: YGO 5D's is the intellectual property of Kazuki Takahashi, NAS, Konami and various other organisations. I lay no claim to the characters, situations or plotline of this story.

Part 1 – A White Lie (500 words)

Her name is Ayumi. She is nineteen years old to his twenty, and the most accurate shot with a rocket launcher he has ever seen. When the leaders of their resistance unit assign her as his new partner, Plácido thinks they'll finally stand a fucking chance against those bastards.

In another world, another lifetime, he might have fallen in love with her.

Together they are invincible. Time after time their efforts are met with success. They function as a well-oiled team, he drawing the enemy's attention until Ayumi has the chance to get that ugly head in her sights and fire. The head is the weak spot. Take that down, the other parts follow quickly enough. It's risky work. Plácido has had other partners before. He's seen them die, one by one, horrendous deaths with their high terrified screams echoing around his head for weeks after. But for two, three months now, he and Ayumi have survived, clawed out victory after hollow victory. Him and her against the world.

Plácido wants to believe they're winning.

He kisses her for the first time after their closest shave yet. They've just succeeded in destroying four of the blue winged monstrosities, but one got in a lucky shot and vaporised a chunk of building barely two feet away from her position. (He still flinches at the memory of smoke obscuring her from sight.) She's filthy with grime, he not much better; the kiss is a brief and quiet affair, a shared recognition of a life they might have known if Hell hadn't swept them up in its wake.

He can't think straight for the rest of the day, and it terrifies him.

Together, they are so fucking invincible that some days he feels they could ditch the subterfuge and the creeping through deserted buildings, ditch the guerrilla lifestyle and take the world head on. Screw subtlety. Screw skulking and hiding. The world needs somebody to stand up and make their presence known, neon lights and hell-rage. There are other survivors out there who will rally to the cause.

He voices this thought to her, once, under a blanket of smoke and the shrill whine of energy cannons. Him and her against the world. It'd be beautiful.

She purses her lips and slaps him so hard he's seeing stars afterwards.

Her name is Ayumi, not #D-64, like he is Plácido and not #A-31. (His number is both pride and shame – he lost his parents and younger brother in the initial assault and thought combat a glorious way to die.)

Her name is Ayumi. She is nineteen and fierce and utterly brilliant, and he loves her anyway. Though neither dares give a name to their relationship, he knows her heart better than his own. They'll always be together.

Her name was Ayumi.

...She's gone now. They weren't so invincible after all, but Plácido has no time to mourn her loss. Not now. Not like this.

He raises his gun, and bellows his visceral wrath as judgment falls.