19Beneath the shouts and echoing gunfire two young teenagers hurried across foreign cobblestone roads, dashing into a dark alleyway in a single moment as a mass of men swept past them. Men and women, young and old wearing red white and blue colours, their hands bearing various tools of violence and murder that mob of chanting and singing people surged forward, towards where the sound of fighting was coming from.
Hikigaya Hachiman pressed his hand against Iroha Isshiki mouth so tight he wouldn't be surprised if her teeth turned to dust. But his clamp and white as a sheet knuckles would hear no rationality as even his breath escaped him as silently as he dared to. Shivering against him as pale as he was, Iroha frightful eyes watched the passing,singing, chanting and hollering mob like a hawk.
It was insanity. There was no other way Hachiman could explain his current predicament. 'Either I've gone nuts, become a victim of shonen illusion magic, live the most realistic nightmare I have ever had, or I got fucking truck-kun'ed.'
His eyes flicked to his younger classmate, 'But Iroha is here with me. We were just finishing up at the studio, getting out of school...' Gritting his teeth Hachiman cast the thoughts away for later. There was no use to overthink questions like how and why when the two teens had more pressing concerns on hand.
"Oi! Lookey here!" A shout from the other side of the alley made Hachiman's blood go cold and Iroha muffled whimper paralyzed him as he looked and saw five, ten then twenty men stormed over. In an instant they were over them, looming over and tugging and pulling at them wielding their wide array of weapons dangerously close to the teens faces.
"Who are you slint-eyed louts!?""Where are you from?!" "Who are you working for!?" "Who are you!?" Questions were shouted over each other at a eye-swirling pace, the ferocity of the words and the sharpness of their blades sending jolts of fear through the teens. Panting and his unblinking eyes darting to and fro, Hachiman pulled Iroha closer to himself as he batted and swatted at the grabbing hands with his other arm as best as he could.
His mind was empty safe for a deafening buzzing noise as his heart hammered against his rib cage, wide eyed watching a stout man two heads taller him almost poke his eye out with a butcher's knife while shouting a question that was lost in the sea of noises raging around them.
Hachiman grew more frantic, eyes looking and failing to find a way out, his breath hitched in his throat when Iroha shrieked as some men reached over to pull at her hair and hem of her jacket. In an instant his efforts redoubled, pulling Iroha even tighter to him in an ironclad grip, he was about to retaliate when a voice roared over the ruckus and captured the attention of the entire alleyway.
"Lay off of them now! Let go of the girl Jacques! Do any of you not have eyes!? Look at their uniforms, they're servants!" The man strode towards the teens and the mass of people parted around himself like a parting curtain. A few centimetres taller than Hachiman, with a bulging belly, bald head, bushy brows and a massive moustache, he would've pegged the man for a jolly person, were it not for the puff of black soot sticking to his clothes and splotches of blood splattered against the man's vest.
"Well boy? Who is your master?"The man's moustache bristled with every spoke and Hachiman found the only upside to this entire situation was that somehow, they could all understand each other. 'In this nightmare the smallest of silver linings is worth it's weight in gold.'
He shook his head eyes never leaving the imposing looking man that commanded the crowd with ease, "W-We just want to go home. That's all!"
"Ah so it is like that. No fear!"The man turned to the crowd, "Lads! These former servants, slaves who freed themselves of their own shackles want nothing more than to go home!" There was a wave of roaring approval going up and down the surrounding mob and Hachiman never felt so cluelessly terrified than he did here and now.
"What they want, is something every free man ought to have. What every citizen of France, our beloved republic deserves to have by right! More than that, it is an inalienable human right!"
The cry that followed the man's impromptu speech was almost loud enough to burst Hachiman's ear drums and he felt Iroha burrow her head as deep as she could into his chest, while the apparent leader of the mob continued, turning back to fix Hachiman in place with his blue eyes, "Who are we to deny them this right! Our fight is their desire! Their desire is our cause! Liberty, fraternity and equality! Shall we turn the other way in the face justice, when it's victims are right in front of us! Nay I say, never again!"
A firm hand clasped Hachiman by the shoulder and it took everything within him, reminding himself of his friend in his arms, to not flinch as the man leaned in, "Come now son, join us for this fight is yours as well!" Without even hearing an answer the man pulled Hachiman along and the mob once suspicious and hostile, turned on a dime to a jubilant and cheery crowd that sang cheers and patted and ruffled Hachiman and Iroha.
Yet neither of the teens hearts knew peace as they were pulled and pushed forward out of the alley and down the cobblestone streets. Dragged by the sea of people that had subsumed the pair ever closer to the deafening cacophony of noise ahead of them.
"Hachiman." Breaking her silence Iroha's voice wavered on a level that was completely alien to him. He had seen her heartbroken once but as she meekly piped out his name from where she clung to him, Hachiman struggled to remember a time where she had sounded this vulnerable. This frightened.
"It'll be okay. Don't worry it'll be fine. I got you." Whispering sweet nothings, each lie stabbing at his pounding heart Hachiman pressed forward, gritting his teeth as he felt her furious shivers fade away by just a bit.
'You know it's a lie, she knows it's a lie yet she accepts them and they soothe her. People all people, need sweet little lies to push themselves forward. If I fail, will she be able to forgive me?' Sweat trailing down his neck Hachiman moved with the mob, to where ever they took him as the sounds of chaos reached a new high. Bloodcurdling screams filled the air, white smoke filled the air stinging their eyes, as the smell of black powder tickled their noses.
"The Tuileries is ours! Just one more push!" With a resounding, warbled war cry that resembled more something from another world the sea of people, charged. To the sound of cries, roars, shouts and explosions, from small and trickling from seemingly everywhere all at once and large thunder like booms that rocked Hachiman to his bones. All around him people hurled themselves forward to where exactly Hachiman could not say, his view obscured by the mob only at the very top of their heads did he see blue roof tiles of dome shaped roof.
They were pushed, shoved and dragged along until the mass in front of them spread out and revealed Hachiman a sight that made his throat dry up and his heart come to a crashing stop.
A palace under siege. White stonewalls and pillars were pocked marked, chunks seemingly blown out of them. Windows blown out, glass and wood lying all around the ground with people – Hachiman's gut curled at the sight – dead and dying scattered about the war torn courtyard. Some in pieces others with gaping wounds lying motionless, while others howled and cried crawling around feebly. His eyes went wide as he saw a wounded man in red uniform, a white wig hanging off his ear, tried to crawl away only to be set upon by ten men with knives, clubs, rifles and stones.
"Don't look Iroha! No matter what close your eyes!" Hachiman roared as he watched in silence the vicious fighting. Flowerbeds blown out of the places, statues turned over acting as makeshift cover as hundreds of people stormed across the courtyard, braving gunfire from the windows they surged forward with violent intent.
Pulling himself out of the stupor Hachiman dragged Iroha as fast as he could to the furthest corner he could reach, where ever he looked he only found the weapon wielding mob of manics wearing a familiar tricolour and soon he found himself amongst a stand with bread and beverages, manned by stout women. They continued on with their work, cheering the mob on with only an elderly giving the pair a glance as the battle ahead of them raged.
"You alright there lad?" The elderly woman now looked at him like a mother would look at a frightened foreign child. Not letting go of Iroha, Hachiman licked his lips, his mind churning for an answer yet he found himself empty handed.
"Don't worry yourself lad. Everything will be fine!" In an instant the ladies began to sing,their voices joyful yet to Hachiman he felt like he was staring insanity right in it's face.
'Ah this is hell is it not? Or as close to hell as one can be.'
And all the while amidst the chaos the ladies sang their joyful and terrible song.
"Ah! It'll be fine, it'll be fine,it'll be fine,~ The people on this day repeat over and over,~ "