A Love That Is Mine 7

Strike Witches-fanfic. Eila fell head over heels in love with a certain someone at first sight.
Seventh part in a series of short stories.
(Eila/Sanya)

Read A Love That Is Mine 7

Disclaimer: All things Strike Witches belong to Gonzo and a bunch of others, though I’m sure I’m not hurting anything by borrowing them for a bit.

This is the seventh part in the “A Love That Is Mine”-series.



A Love That Is Mine 7
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by Carola “Ryûchan” Eriksson





I will not call you my first love.

I will call you this because to say that you are first implies that there will someday be another, and there never could be. Yes, I know we are young, you more so than I, and that logic would say that our chances to last are incredibly slim even if our circumstances were more normal.

Well logic has nothing to do with it and we are anything but.

I wasn’t always like this though. Before I met you and before I joined the squadron, I always thought myself a complete person in myself. I was the pride of the Suomus air force, the one that was strongest and had the highest success ratio, and if I was alone it did not seem too strange to me, those around me just could not keep up or adjust to my pace.

Ever since I met you I have been made increasingly aware that what I thought of as whole before is nothing of the sort. Although I can live and function just fine on my own, I am but a me-shaped half that needs to be united with a you to be whole, complete. It isn’t that long ago, yet I can’t remember anymore what my reason for living was, before you.

Everything was made new, made different, the day you came.

I’ve done quite a lot in my life you know, seen and experienced many really amazing and beautiful things. I have seen the world covered in gleaming white frost as thick as the width of my hand during the first rays of morning light up north, and I have heard the cracking ice sing in early spring. I have flown through the aurora borealis, the air crackling around me and ribbons of coloured light twisting across the skies like serpents. I have even flown through one of the greater thunderstorms of recent years, up through and above clouds so violently and rapidly erupting in blue arcs of power that not even my shields would have been enough if my special ability had failed to guide me through.

Yet I had never seen anything so beautiful as when you turned towards me and our eyes met. Breathless I fell into those brilliantly green eyes and I am falling still, I will never return from this world of only you.

If asked I couldn’t say how or why, but I know that I must have completely ignored the welcoming speeches of our superior officers to just materialise in front of you the way I did, holding your hand and dazedly introducing myself as if we were the only ones there. At least your reaction was similar, you surrendered your slender hand into mine and left it there, shyly whispering your name in that sweet soft voice of yours while appearing to stare as deeply into my eyes as I did into yours.

From what I was told later it took several not at all discrete attempts to get us break out of this mutual spell we were under and step apart, allowing for the introductions to continue. You remained fairly close by my side during it, and when certain of our more boisterous team-mates attempted one of their usual playful advances towards you I chased them off with a bit more fervour and anger than strictly necessary.

I was declared your protector right then, mere hours after our first meeting, and it was made my responsibility to take care of you and make sure you made yourself at home at our base. It was an assignment I took on most gladly, I doubt I would have left your side then even if you had been supposed to go with someone else, and from the way I found you clutching the edge of my uniform jacket when you thought I was going to leave I would say the sentiment was mutual.

Oh how much ribbing I took from our friends back then, for my obvious infatuation and my generally goofy behaviour around you. The favourite trick played on me at the time was to get me riled up enough to start ranting about you, and then someone would look over my shoulder and pretend to greet you. I fell for that every single time.

Thankfully the sight of the two of us together soon became common enough a thing that other amusement was found, and newer recruits to our squadron were focused on instead. We were allowed to simply grow together in peace for a while.

Then a special event came, one that had our superiors rather agitated but that it turned out we could not avoid; a formal event where a number of military men high up in the hierarchy of the joint forces were to visit the base along with their aides. The technical aspect would have been troublesome enough for the squadron, and while that part did not involve you or I as we were on night duty our friends were kind enough to make sure we knew what an annoyance it had been afterwards.

The real problem the way our team-mates saw it was the formal dinner and dancing that was being forced upon us despite the strenuous protests of our leaders. I suspect that for those that were opposed to our squadron it was an excellent opportunity to attempt to humiliate us, to say that as we are female and young we should be grateful and eager to provide entertainment for the men that were the true soldiers of this war. For those more benign to our existence the request was undoubtedly perceived as harmless, as a bit of fun on our part as well as theirs, and so there was no getting out of it.

One of the reasons we are such a successful squadron, aside from the number of unusual and incredibly strong abilities present, is that we have a commanding officer that while deceptively sweet and agreeable on the surface is a very shrewd and cunning woman. She ordered us to arrive at the dinner in full dress uniform with all the paraphernalia.

Finding themselves seated next to straight-backed and stern-looking soldiers in the kind of uniform to make them feel underdressed, with scarcely a trace of daintiness in sight if anyone could see beyond the shine of all those medals on display, the soldiers we were seated with were just too uncomfortable to make much attempt at conversation. You were the only one among us to wear a dress, simply because you did not have any official dress uniform and what you wore was what had come to be regarded as your version of a uniform. You were just too cute to be safe among all those ogling men, thankfully though our superior officers had convincingly argued to put the two youngest of our squadron wedged in between themselves, thus keeping you at a safe distance from any unwanted attention during dinner.

As for myself I was seated with a young man who took one long look at me and then steadfastly did not look up from his plate. He greeted me as I sat down, pulling out my own chair thank you, and then never spoke to me again. I could not blame him for being intimidated by me, I wore my dress uniform cut and pressed to perfect crispness, and though I have less medals and other bells and whistles than our resident aces, I still have an impressive collection upon my chest, all polished to a blinding shine. His own decorations were quite modest and drab by comparison, and wisely he opted not to make a nuisance out of himself.

With the dinner being such a strained and subdued affair it was no wonder that when the music started and the dancing was supposed to begin, there was uncomfortable shuffling but no real movement. Well, I was all dressed up to kill and polished to shine, I was not about to let this opportunity pass me by.

Back straight and chin high I marched up to you, clicked the heels of my polished boots and bowed, doing my level best to be absolutely dazzling as I asked you for a dance. You blushed so prettily when you said yes, and I could not have cared less who watched as I took your hand and we moved across the floor in a waltz.

I’m told our friends took our cue, getting up to dance with one another and that way thwarting any unwanted attention from our guests, but at the time I noticed none of that. We danced without stopping until the music at last died down, and a couple of fellow soldiers of Suomus came up to us to slap my back and exchange a few words in greeting before leaving the base.

That night we shared a bed for the first time.

How shy and awkward we were, and how I struggled not to stare at your beautiful pale skin as you undressed. It seems so silly now, how the mere act of going to sleep together was a big deal for us then, although I am grateful that after an evening of holding you in my arms I was not prepared to let you go for such a trivial reason as sleep. Who knows when I would have worked up the courage to invite you to sleep in my arms otherwise.

We both came up with all kinds of excuses or reasons to sleep together as often as we could from that moment on. It became a more and more frequent thing, to wake up to find you having crawled into bed with me, and finally we gave up pretending the night after we saw one of our leaders hospitalised. It had been a trying and unsettling day, and there was just no energy left for pretences. I invited you to stay the night permanently, and you happily accepted before fitting yourself so perfectly into my arms, all warm and soft and sweet like my precious personal version of heaven.

You brought with you your black pillow and your favourite cuddly toy, yet neither ever made it into bed with us as you needed neither another pillow nor something to cuddle with when you slept in my arms, your head on my shoulder and our arms wrapped around one another.

In the tumultuous few days that followed before our squadron was forcibly disbanded, we shared our first kiss.

The only thing really surprising about it I suppose was the fact that it had taken us so long to get to that point, but then again our... courtship, if I might consider it that, has been a slow and steadily building thing. Why would I ever not want to take my time with you?

Our first kiss happened in bed, we had retired for the night yet neither of us were ready to sleep just yet. I was leaning over you, supported on one arm with the other wrapped around you, while you held onto me with one hand gently caressing my face. Our kiss was long, slow and tender, and very much a mutual thing. Passion would come later, and kisses so intense they sent my world reeling and toes curling, but for that night it was all tenderness, complete and perfect.

A few days later the base that had been home to us lay in ruins and our team was sent scattering to the winds.

You had no home to return to, your country still occupied and ravaged by the enemy and the location of your parents still unknown to us. Who knows where those in charge would have carted you off to if they had been given the chance to?

We did not give them that chance. We belong together you and I, and so of course I brought you with me when I was sent back home. It is a good home, you’ll see, and I’m sure you will come to like it here. We will share it and it will be just ours.

Our home.

While I can’t promise you that the hard times are over or that we will get to grow old together, there is one thing I can swear to you, a truth I know above all else in this world:

I am yours, and I will love you forever.

A Love That Is Mine 6

Strike Witches-fanfic. Mio on the subject of the heart, the past, and of secrets.
Sixth part in a series of short stories.
(Mio/Yoshika)

Read A Love That Is Mine 6

Disclaimer: All things Strike Witches belong to Gonzo and a bunch of others, though I’m sure I’m not hurting anything by borrowing them for a bit.

This is the sixth part in the “A Love That Is Mine”-series. Also be aware that I am making absolutely everything about Mio up as I go along, if there is an official story out there (and there probably is) I have no clue about it.




A Love That Is Mine 6
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by Carola “Ryûchan” Eriksson





I have loved you for years, long before I ever met you.

I know it is a strange thing to say, and I doubt you or even my oldest and closest friends would understand. It is none the less the simple truth.

Few of our peers have realized this, perhaps due to the fact that I am ultimately not our commanding officer, but I have been with the Striker project from the beginning. When I was recruited as a child we were a few years away from a working prototype, and every single scrap of data from that moment on and until the first completed unit was deployed in combat all came from me.

During these years I of course was in constant and close contact with the creator of the Striker, and while I would not say that he raised me, for in essence I was raised by a number of combat instructors, he was still my mentor and my best friend growing up. A strange thing for sure, he was a grown man and I but a little girl then, but all the same he was my best friend.

We spoke of many things, the professor and I, and I am sure he influenced the way I think more than I am aware of. My favourite part of our conversations back then were when he spoke of his daughter, and encouraged by me he spoke of her often.

It must have been the warmth and love with which he spoke that influenced me or the vivid way he would describe his child, but before too long I loved her as well even though we had never met. I was a child and it was a child’s love, and so romance did not play into it, but it did make you infinitely important to me even from that young age.

The professor left his legacy with me for safekeeping. He always intended for a pair of Strikers to come into your possession, not for combat as he like any parent of course wished that the war would be over before you would be old enough to don them, but he wanted to give you the gift of flight. I don’t think I shall tell you given what became of your unit, but there was a secret behind your Strikers and mine.

The Strikers I use are the first completed and perfected prototype, custom made in every little detail to my specifications, which is why they can be difficult for others to use. Yours were the ultimate version created from the base of my unit, made especially with you in mind and to be used by no one else. Everyone else wears units that while all of them just slightly different from one another, slightly tweaked to their users if you will, are still a basic mass-produced model. Were magic ability more common even those small differences would be erased in favour of a standard unit that could be produced in large numbers and would be easily interchangeable for their wearers, even though this would make them less effective and powerful. Never so however, for yours and mine.

While it saddens me that we will never know what the professor’s final, perfect unit built by his own hands was capable of, at least I know it could not have seen a better or more worthy end. A hive destroyed and a country freed... you have exceeded even my expectations of you already, and I always thought you were meant for great things.

I had guarded that unit for some time, waiting for the moment I would be able to hand them over to you, their rightful owner. The professor trusted me to find a way to do it, so once you were old enough to be recruited I managed to convince my superiors to allow me to go find you. I had decided on my way to Fuso that if I found that your ability was anything less than top level, I would leave you there and not risk your life by bringing you back to the frontline with me. Of course you proved that you were even stronger than I thought you might be, and your father’s last gift to you found its way into your hands in the middle of combat.

Where once my affection for you was a childish thing, in as much as I have ever had the chance for anything childlike, it began changing once you came into my life. You are a constant source of pride and joy for me, and you are the kind of person that is surprisingly easy to let inside one’s heart. So even for someone like me, who scarcely knew I had one.

Already by the end part of our journey from Fuso I was consternated to find that I experienced a strange little trill inside when in your company, and even worse was the handful of moments I felt my heart speed up ever so slightly because of you. For me, a person who regularly flies into combat with less internal turmoil, this was unheard of and quite bewildering. My fondness for you was ever growing, and I found I wanted you by my side as much as possible. Any excuse would do.

When we reached our destination you became a source of frustration for me as well.

For most part you were the same sweet, earnest and honest person who had begun making me feel just a little bit dizzy or off kilter when I looked into those eyes for a moment too long, but there was another side of you that had not revealed itself to me before your interaction with the rest of the squadron, and it was quickly becoming a source of annoyance.

This rampant teenage lusting after the female physique, regardless of person or place, made me want to pull out my hair at times, and whether I wanted to admit it or not by that time I had invested enough of my heart in you that this behaviour hurt. I was accustomed to this kind of conduct from several others of the younger members of our team and had long since ceased trying to stop them, but I had never thought you would join them.

True, in your case your actions tended to be a bit more innocent or accidental, allowing me to turn a partial blind eye to what you were up to, still the gist of it was clearly undeniable.

You were a young teen, barely more than a child. Although I at the time refused to acknowledge the true nature of my interest in you, I still felt very clearly the sense of inappropriateness in it while you were so young. I tried to distance myself from you after that, although I doubt that you noticed since you simply refused to let me.

How was I ever supposed to be able to refuse a request to train you, when it was one of my more nostalgic memories of my childhood; the hours spent in practice secretly making believe that I was teaching you each thing I learned.

I was a very solitary child and you were, in a way, my imaginary friend.

As an adult I am no longer so solitary; I have good and trusted friends of whom some have been with me for a long time. It never occurred to me that the one closest to me, the one I would consider my best friend and whose leadership I would have followed blindly into whatever danger, would in any way hold other feelings for me. I wish I had, perhaps I could have found a way to spare her pain.

The events that led her to reveal her otherwise so guarded heart to me made me realise not only the unspoken emotions directed at me, but also those I myself carried for you. It is entirely inappropriate and unacceptable of me, but there it is and it is true.

I love you, not the childish emotions of long ago, but as a woman for another.

You, however, are still a child in many things, and although I cannot seem to change my heart at least I can make sure to never act upon this revelation. One day when you are an adult I will tell you, and perhaps by then it too will be a thing of the past, something to merely share a smile over before moving on.

Until then I will be here, watching over you, guiding and protecting you. It is not because of your father although I would have done as much for any child of his, but rather out of my own wish to do so. Forgive me my selfishness, but keeping you safe as you grow strong enough for all the great things I know you have in store for you will give meaning to my life.

You are my treasure, my reason.

Ever since I found myself drawn into those sparkling eyes of yours I have had something personal to protect beyond the so important yet rather intangible fighting for the future of humanity, or even the safe return of friends and allies.

Something precious.

You gave me my heart when you claimed it for your own.

A Love That Is Mine 5

Strike Witches-fanfic. A helpful Erica Hartmann decided to do a good deed.
Fifth part in a series of short stories.
(Minna/Barkhorn)

Read A Love That Is Mine 5

Disclaimer: All things Strike Witches belong to Gonzo and a bunch of others, though I’m sure I’m not hurting anything by borrowing them for a bit.

This is the fifth part in the “A Love That Is Mine”-series.



A Love That Is Mine 5
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by Carola “Ryûchan” Eriksson





I never had love.

Oh I’ve flirted aplenty, and been flirted with, but beyond that, the actual emotions... no, I have never had love. I figure that I’m young, things like that will come to me in time, when something in me is ready for it and there is a place for that love in my life. It is not something to stress oneself over.

Still, I’ve found myself thinking a lot lately that it would be nice to have, to share that sort of thing with someone. I admit that I’ve looked at some of my more obviously amorous friends and felt the occasional pang of envy... how nice to belong together with someone.

That is probably a big part of the reason why it gets on my nerves when certain people waste it, squander what they’ve been given by dancing around the issue and one another, saying nothing. I kind of want to yell at them to get on with it already. I know I’m the irresponsible one of the team, but even I know to have my fun today because tomorrow I might get shot out of the sky for good. Even fool’s luck runs out someday.

Such was the case with my two oldest and dearest friends, until recently that is.

I had seen it coming for some time, and it wasn’t particularly surprising that once a certain person managed to put her hang-ups to rest, my dear old former teacher was going to get caught dead in her sights. Which is all fine and good, they’re made for one another and I’ve been expecting this for almost as long as I’ve known them, but little miss combat genius has her ponytails tied on too tight to catch a clue even if it is hammered into her skull. It was almost painfully embarrassing to watch.

After some time of this kind of behaviour even the kid started sighing and rolling her eyes when those two got going, yes they’re both so sugary cute it makes my teeth itch, but something just had to give. I was sorely tempted to intervene, but none of my ingenious plans were likely to work, after all, how does one manage to lock two women into a small room together if one somehow has the ability to read your mind and the other the strength to tear down walls like they’re tissue paper?

I was going to have to plan it all very carefully and be extra sneaky.

Thankfully I never needed to implement any of my cunning plans as my friends saw fit to come to their senses just before I would have been forced to flip a coin for which one of before mentioned plans to put in motion. We were supposed to wait for the kid while she was getting ready, and I was busy describing my war achievements to this pretty little thing that was absolutely fascinated by me – what can I say, I’m so charming it’s sinful – while a certain couple in the making quite suspiciously retreated to a nearby balcony.

For all I know they were out there flirting their Strikers off while alone, after all I took my time to finish the conversation with pretty before stealthily sneaking up to check on them, but at least I got there for the important part.

When I first spied them they were standing close together, good old teach looking almost mortally uncomfortable with her shoulder providing someone else’s headrest, but completely unable to move since her arm was in quite a secure double-armed hold. As giggle-worthy as that sight was, it was also fairly par for the course, so I was going to just step out and strike up conversation when something happened.

At first it seemed to be the usual let-me-straighten-your-crooked-hair-by-embracing-you,-pressing-my-body-shamelessly-against-yours-while-staring-deeply-into-your-eyes thing – I need to come up with a good name for this manoeuvre, it is really quite effective apparently – but just as they were about to draw apart my old buddy surprised me and possibly herself as well.

Even though I could tell that her ears were bright red from where I was standing, she had some spurt of boldness from I don’t know where and yanked our other friend back into a close clinch, and then she kissed her. Just like that, and not a short little peck of a kiss either.

They drew back far enough to stare at one another, looking about as shocked as I felt. It took me a long moment to comprehend that it was real, but by the time I could finally process it I was fully ready to run out to the nearest populated street, wave flags around while proclaiming to all that heard that THEY FINALLY DID IT, but I restrained myself. See, I do have discipline.

I would like to say that at this point they leaned in and kissed each other again, however it was more like they fell upon one another like a pair of starving wolves. I stopped my internal cheering and celebrating enough to stare at them completely dumbfounded for another good long moment, while they were getting increasingly heated. It is not something that is easy to do, but I swear they made me blush.

When they upturned that table in their search for a convenient and friendly nearby wall, breaking whatever that clay ornament on it was supposed to be in the process, the paralysis spell deviously thrown on me broke, and I made a very hasty strategic withdrawal. I then wedged a chair against the door from the inside and, a quick dash down the corridor and back later, managed to write a sign in nice, big block letters that said OUT OF ORDER, DO NOT DISTURB that I hung on that chair.

After that I strolled off to make sure the kid was kept occupied until her big sister, and her sister’s blushing brand new girlfriend, decided to come looking for us. All in all I’d say that was pretty nice of me, so I don’t see why I am the one currently locked out on the balcony of our apartment with nothing but a blanket and a wooden recliner for company.

Sure, I tease them as much as I can every chance I get... and I did kind of end up spilling everything to these two other friends of ours, who thought it was hilarious and in turn told several other people, but still! To lock me out here and then go to bed themselves, is that any way to treat a friend?

Ah well, its not so bad. It is a warm night, and those stars look quite amazing from here. I think I’ll just lie here and continue to dream of that elusive someday.

The day when I too will know what it is like to love.

A Love That Is Mine 4

Strike Witches-fanfic. Lynette thinks she might have found love where she least expected it.
Fourth part in a series of short stories.
(Lynette/Perrine with mention of Yoshika)

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Disclaimer: All things Strike Witches belong to Gonzo and a bunch of others, though I’m sure I’m not hurting anything by borrowing them for a bit.

This is the fourth part in the “A Love That Is Mine”-series.



A Love That Is Mine 4
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by Carola “Ryûchan” Eriksson





Were you my first love? Was I yours?

I do not know, I was far too naïve then and it passed me by unawares. Thinking back now though I think there was something between us, something beyond the strong and true friendship that we did and still do share though we are now a world apart, something strangely deeper. A possibility of something that could have been but never was, if that makes any sense.

I suppose we were children still, playing at the beginnings of romance before we even knew it, and by the time we could tell what was possible for us the chance of it, of us, had already become a thing of the past. It is nothing but curiosity coloured by nostalgia now for me, wondering what would have happened if you had ever reached out for me. Would I have accepted? What would we have become together?

The friendship that we share is something I am both happy and content with, and if there was ever the urge to take it further I no longer have it, consciously or otherwise. Although I find myself missing you often, it is my most precious friend that I long for, not a lover I wish had been mine. If I know you even half as well as I think I do, you feel the same.

I could sure have needed to have you around now though, to share these other thoughts and feelings that have preoccupied my mind of late. I wonder what you would think of this situation I find myself in, and what advice, if any, that you might have for me.

The decision was easy, it was as if it had been agreed upon long before in how obvious and clear it was to me that my path was the same as hers. Rebuilding what was lost is both so very needed and a good cause, and it is one that I feel far better suited to than combat. Work might be hard but it also brings me much joy in so many small ways, and I am so glad I can share those moments with her.

There was always something about her that I admired and respected in some small way, and it had nothing to do with her competence in battle though she proved that as well. Strangely now that we spend so much time together, alone, I can truly see how she was held back before, like a flower not allowed enough room or light to grow. Now, here, she reveals her true self, the strength and grace which were overshadowed before and that now sparkles so much it amazes me. I could think of nowhere better to be, nothing more worthwhile for me to do, than to be at her side.

She is also very gentle and caring, particularly with me. I know the others would laugh if they knew that there is no place I feel as safe or as welcome as by her side, but they know only of the old her, not of her as she truly is.

Who would believe me if I tried to describe the childlike joy on her face that comes from the simple act of planting a small sapling? Or the gentle care and immense concern directed at me for even the smallest scrape or tiny splinter? She treats me sometimes as if I was as fragile as glass and infinitely precious, causing my heart to beat just that much faster every time.

Her hands. I am embarrassed to admit it even to myself, but her hands fascinate me. So slender and smooth, yet so strong and sure... always catching me, guiding me, supporting me. Lately my thoughts have strayed even further, and I have caught myself thinking that her hands, slightly cooler to the touch than mine, would feel so soothing against the heated skin of my face, my cheeks, my forehead.

Once I fantasized of other places where her touch would be bliss, and since then I cannot keep myself from blushing when our eyes meet for too long. Now I know why I blush when our gazes meet or my fingers linger a bit longer than they should when we touch by chance, but why does she?

Could it be that this remarkable person sees beyond the friend, student and little sister, and sees in me a woman worth noticing? The mere thought of the possibility of this makes my heart soar every bit as much as I ever did while flying in these endless blue skies. I am left almost giddy and breathless, and have to control myself so that I will not simply rush to her and wrap my arms around her neck, never letting go.

Is this love? The closest I have ever felt to this are the nascent feelings that almost were with you, and this is so infinitely much more.

The next time she takes my hand to guide me over uneven terrain the way she does to keep me from falling on my face, I shall entwine our fingers and see how she reacts. Maybe, if I am really lucky, she will accept my hand and not let me go.

Maybe she will want it too, this unexpected feeling growing between us.

This love that could be just ours.

A Love That Is Mine 3

Strike Witches-fanfic. Barkhorn never had time for love before, but with the squadron disbanded she suddenly finds that she has nothing but time to spare.
Third part in a series of short stories.
(Barkhorn/Minna with brief mention of Yoshika)

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Disclaimer: All things Strike Witches belong to Gonzo and a bunch of others, though I’m sure I’m not hurting anything by borrowing them for a bit.

This is the third part in the “A Love That Is Mine”-series. Also, since I know nothing about the characters beyond what they reveal in the series I am making up a lot as I go along. If this doesn't fit with novels or whatnot, then that is why.



A Love That Is Mine 3
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by Carola “Ryûchan” Eriksson





I never had time for love.

Even before the fall of my home country I was a soldier at war, and love had no place in my life. Apart from my duties there was also my adorable little sister to raise and an undisciplined yet promising junior to take under my wing. What time did I have for any fleeting thoughts of romance?

Then that dreadful day came when I failed, failed my country and my beloved sister. In one great and terrible swoop it seemed as if I had lost both, my home in burning ruins and my sister comatose from the injuries she sustained. I lived for nothing but duty and vengeance after that, unable to bear my shame and guilt.

I don’t think I could even tell how much time passed by, until I found myself face to face with a wide-eyed and naïve young recruit that reminded me so much of my precious little sister. I tried to turn her away but she got under my skin anyway.

Everyone suggests that what I feel for her is romantic in nature, that I have some sort of crush on the girl. I am pretty sure that is not it, how could I have those kinds of feelings for someone so reminiscent of my little sister, but I know that I am quite helpless when confronted with her sadness or disappointment. The slightest hint of either stirs the protective older sister in me and I will move mountains to protect her smile.

It is not a crush, I tell you it is not!

Either way she is back in her homeland now, hopefully reclaiming what the war had not already stolen of the remains of her childhood. This is good and I am happy for her.

I still cannot believe that they disbanded our squadron. It makes no sense that they would disband the most successful group in the entire joint forces, the only ones to actually reclaim land from the enemy. Beyond the land that is now freed the smoking ruins of my home awaits, and I wanted us to be sent to press on, to reclaim my native lands as well. Instead I am cooling my heels here, another row of medals on my uniform and a pat on the back as I was pushed out the door.

Usually I leave such things to my superior officer, she is far smarter with these things and by far better equipped to deal with them, but even I can tell that this is all a game of politics. The higher-ups are shuffling us about in their attempts to cover up the Warlock fiasco and the corruption within their ranks that allowed it to happen in the first place. See, this is why she is far better suited to these things than I, she will parry words with them until she gets what she wants, while I am more inclined to put my fist in their faces whilst yelling at them for being honourless bastards.

She told me that I should take this as a long overdue and well-deserved vacation and spend time with my sister, because it won’t be too long before we get reinstated and based somewhere on the frontlines again. I believe her of course, she is never wrong, and so I am doing just that. I suppose I should be surprised that she and our nosy, big mouthed junior have opted to stay with me as well, but I’m not. In times like these one should be with family and family we are, for all that we’re not of the same blood.

I know that without her in particular I would be lost.

I need her to boss me around, certainly, and to reign me in and keep me from making a fool out of myself at times, but that is not all. There is something else as well, though I can’t quite put my finger on it. Perhaps I am just thinking too much.

It is so soothing to listen to her sing, and maybe a bit nostalgic as well since she did not want to sing for so very long. I find I could sit there for hours watching her and listening to her, if she had the voice and the strength to keep going, and I’d feel completely at peace. I would say that such is the power of music, only I have never felt that way when listening to other singers. It is quite strange really.

Normally I would feel comfortable and, well, at home I suppose, by her side, but ever since our squadron was disbanded I have detected a certain steadily increasing change in her behaviour which puts me a bit on edge. It is not that I dislike it, I just find that I do not know how to react sometimes, and I don’t like feeling so confused about her.

It started pretty small. She took to standing just a bit closer than she used to, which was not saying much because she was always a rather touchy-feely person with us, her oldest friends, when we were not acting in an official capacity. I noticed but brushed it aside as nothing.

Then she started... touching me. These casual touches seem different somehow, I can’t really say why. Perhaps it is because they linger a bit longer or a bit more significantly than before, or perhaps it is that she sometimes touches me in ways that are rather embarrassing. I’m not sure if she is teasing me or if she honestly does not notice that when she does things like brush a finger across my lips I light up like red-tinted bonfire.

She leans far too close when we interact as well. Lately she has taken to straightening my ponytails for me when they are crooked, which of course is very kind and considerate of her, it is just that she does it from the front, standing close and reaching her arms around my neck to pull at my hair. She means nothing by it and probably doesn’t think it is strange at all for two old friends to stand like that, but... I fear for my sanity as being that close I cannot seem to stop staring at her. Also a woman of her, ah, generous endowments really do not have the room to stand that close, at least not without... without...

I will not think about that again. No, no, I will not.

She always catches me when I look at her and accidentally think of such things. I curse my blushing for betraying me so easily. And when she does, she always, always responds by teasing me in some way, by touching me in a confusing manner while leaning far too close or even finding it the perfect opportunity to straighten my hair once again.

No, it is not that I dislike it; it is just bewildering and has me thinking things I have no business thinking about a friend. Not that I think such things are wrong for being between women, I’ve seen it often enough with my comrades in arms, but I’m sure she would be appalled to know I harboured those kind of thoughts about her. After all, though I am dense about these things, I am fairly sure her interests lie elsewhere.

I am nobody’s choice for such things.

I am just me, big and strong and only good for combat, someone who will fly and fight for as long as I have enough power in me to hold a shield. When that is gone, my wings clipped and I am grounded, the only thing I have to fall back on is more fighting, no matter how much I know that ground combat is useless against our enemy. It is all I know.

Still, can there be nothing else for me then? Will there never be anything else waiting for me when all the fighting is done?

I long for something. Maybe that is why my thoughts seem stuck on this loop lately, reflecting on that I never had time for love in my life before. Right now it seems I have nothing but time to spare, still when it comes to love I... I...

I wonder...

I wonder if she would laugh if I brought her flowers.

A Love That Is Mine 2

Strike Witches-fanfic. A few thoughts of a first love, and how it can blind you, from Perrine's point of view.
Second part of a series of short stories.
(onesided Perrine/Mio, Perrine/Lynette)

Read A Love That Is Mine 2

Disclaimer: All things Strike Witches belong to Gonzo and a bunch of others, though I’m sure I’m not hurting anything by borrowing them for a bit.

Part 2 in the “A Love That Is Mine”-series.



A Love That Is Mine 2
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by Carola “Ryûchan” Eriksson





You were my first love.

I realise now that you probably knew, but in your kindness never addressed that issue with me. You were always so kind and considerate towards me, yet you never doted upon me like you did the one that came to claim your heart. Although at the time it saddened me, and unfortunately made me face some rather ugly sides of myself, I feel grateful for this small grace.

I was a ravaged soul when we first met, my country, my home and all I had known hopelessly lost in the war. Somehow you managed to lift me up from where I had fallen and instilled in me a sense of pride, made me believe that my country could never truly be lost as long as I kept it strong and alive in my own heart. I did my best to be as honourable a daughter of my noble home as I could be, the way you were for yours even though you did not have the reasons I did.

You are my hero, did you know that?

You were always so strong, so sure, so noble and honourable. I saw in you everything I would ever wish to be, and I worshipped you. I followed you like a puppy, but I must say in all earnestness that my love for you was more than this. My love for you was genuine.

It was never my intention of pushing my feelings upon you. I was quite content watching you from afar, or basking in the glory of your presence during missions or training. Like yourself I always took both things very seriously, and you trained me hard in compliance with my wish for strength. My only selfish wish was to one day become strong enough and capable enough to be of help to you.

The jealousy that later overtook me was something I had never dreamt of in myself. It shames me to know the things I thought or said back then regarding she who is the closest to your heart. She deserved better and I should be better than this, however I was floundering and struggling with emotions that were new to me.

There is a lesson to be learned in this ugliness, in finding and acknowledging a less pleasant side of myself. In knowing this part of me I am better equipped never to let it rule me, though I fear I am still never going to be considered congenial by those around me; you were ever the only one that thought that of me.

You and now one other, though this has come as a surprise to me.

You were my first love, and as these things often go, it was a one-sided and unfulfilled love. It shall ever remain a fond memory for me, but I learned to let it go. The one that stands by your side now is not me, and that is as it should be. I respect and even like the one you chose, in my own strange way and although she had to earn that respect first, and I will always be the one that wishes for your happiness.

I am not alone anymore. Of those that were my comrades in arms, she was one of those I least would have expected to find myself close to, yet here we are. I marvel at the fact that my eyes were so filled to the brim with the vision of you that I could not see her before. She was right before me yet I passed her by so many times, unseen.

She is so beautiful. Such a kind, gentle soul, with nothing but sweetness and light in her heart, I am constantly filled with wonder, watching her. She is polite and well-mannered, and most baffling of all, completely and utterly genuine in the truest sense. For every passing day I spend in her company I can feel her reaching in to claim a little bit more of me.

Why she chose to stay with me, taking on the momentous task of slowly rebuilding my homeland pebble by pebble, I do not know. She has no reason to, she has a home and a large and loving family that eagerly awaits her homecoming, yet she remains with me.

I have gotten to know her in ways I never could have before, and I can say truly what a wonder she is. It moves me and humbles me at the same time when she accidentally falls asleep on my shoulder, worn out by our work and so trusting in me that she can relax wherever we are as long as I am with her. I spend hours watching her sleep, the beauty and nuance of every shape, every flutter keeping me transfixed.

I loved you because you were my hero, you were everything I wished I could also be. More and more I am starting to realise that she is the reason I now would wish to be a person like you, the thing which I would protect. The person I cherish and adore, yes... the one I love.

Perhaps it is too soon to speak of love on my part, but I do not think so. My day would be empty, meaningless, without the sweet sound of her lilting voice or the warmth of her shy smile. Lately on the occasions when her innate clumsiness visits I find myself wanting to kiss away the scrape, the bruise or the frown in its wake. I find myself wanting to draw my fingers through her hair, or to kneel before her in a field of flowers, reciting poetry and all manner of other courtly things.

Soon I believe there will be no other recourse, and I will have to make these burgeoning feelings clear to her. Even if she then rejects me she deserves to know what is in my heart, and if I am to be a person worthy of someone like her I must be both brave enough and honest enough to face this. And if she does not reject me outright but gives me a chance, then I shall court her, woo her, charm her, this strange wonderful girl whom does not shy away from my company or my touch.

Even though I could never catch up to you, never become truly like you, if she accepts me I will become as the prince in a fairtale, living for my princess fair, protecting and caring for her.

Even if I have to face her many overprotective brothers to be with her, I shall be strong and charge that and any other hurdle life would throw our way.

And I will never, ever let her down.

A Love That Is Mine 1

Strike Witches-fanfic. A small story of love lost and found, from Minna's point of view.
First part of a series of short stories.
(onesided Minna/Mio, Minna/Barkhorn)

Read A Love That Is Mine 1

Disclaimer: All things Strike Witches belong to Gonzo and a bunch of others, though I’m sure I’m not hurting anything by borrowing them for a bit.

First part in a series of short stories on the same theme.



A Love That Is Mine
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by Carola “Ryûchan” Eriksson





You were not my first love.

I had loved before you, and I had done so deeply and happily. When that love ended in heartbreak from the horrors of war it was too much for me to take, and I hid this bleeding heart of mine away behind walls and masks. No-one was allowed to enter into that inner sanctum, no matter how close my friends and comrades were or how well I loved them.

You snuck up on me unawares, slipped past my defences so slowly and surely that I never noticed it until it was too late to protect this vulnerable core of me from the force of nature that is you.

The irony of it all is that you never noticed. To you we were, are, shall ever be, close and steadfast friends and no more. We grew together as a unit, our joint leadership fusing us together in ways I have often in my mind likened to the way a married couple grows together over time; I have heard us described as the kind mother and the stern but benevolent father to our group of young warrior girls, and it has suggested to me that perhaps I was not the only one to draw this parallel.

How many times over the years that span our togetherness have I, consciously and not, likened what you do and what you are to me to that of a husband? It was but an amused observation at first, a comment to myself regarding the utter loyalty which you gave me so freely, but somewhere, sometime when I let my guard down for just a moment, you stepped in and took his place in my dreams. Those sweet forbidden dreams in which I no longer dreamt of him as my husband but of you, tall and strong and smiling, holding me as we danced in a world where war and painful things had no place.

Those dreams in which you were mine.

In troubled times you were my only counsel, and I know you in ways no-one else does. I flat out refused to love you for the longest time, as if I could simply will the emotions away, did you know that? I did not want to love, did not want to open myself to such pain ever again.

In the end I could not deny it though, such things always come to the surface one way or the other. It was too late by then, for me, for us; you looked at me with warmth, compassion and sympathy, yes even pity, and in your silence confirmed that you knew and did not feel the same. By then I knew it too, that your heart had been claimed as unexpectedly as mine, but I needed this moment for my weakness. I needed to know that you acknowledged me, and to see your back when you turned and walked away.

I shall always love you, I know this much. There is a sacred place in my heart where I have enshrined my feelings for you, and they will remain there, pristine and evergreen, forever. But I have moved on, and my heart is no longer the bleeding and useless thing it was before I loved you. Though it frightens me greatly, I am ready to love and be loved, and for this I thank you. You were what I needed when I needed you.

Although it still stung somewhat right after my heart had been laid open and so gently yet firmly been rejected, I was filled with a sense of starting fresh, like a morning after a night of rain. The heavy clouds that had shrouded my eyes had cleared, and I could see clearly now.

At long last I could see her, well and truly. For so long she had been one of my closest friends and allies, second only to you although there was an ocean of difference in that small step alone, and I can honestly say that I have loved her dearly all this time. It was not the love I once held for him, now so coloured in pain that I cannot recall its original flavour, nor was it the struggling reluctant love that pierced my heart and made me ache when I looked at you, and in honesty I think it shall never be like that.

I was unprepared for it when I found myself looking at her and was immersed in a flood of warmth, soft and soothing and filling every part of my being, making me feel more genuinely joyful and complete than I had in so very long. You are similar in many ways, like you she is strong and stoic on the surface yet so very sweet beneath, but the way I feel about her is not at all similar to how I felt for you. With you I wanted you to hold me, I longed for the safety of being in your arms. With her I long to hold her, to wrap my arms around her and find those small, gentle and peaceful moments together.

I am grateful to you for that. Had you not opened my heart I would not be able to love her now, and loving her is something I can envision myself doing for my future. She doesn’t know it yet, she is not quite ready for me yet, but I am patient and do not mind the wait. The signs are already there, in her shy glances, her blushes and her warm smiles. It won’t be long at all until I will find her looking back at me, with eyes that hold only love and acceptance. Soon she will reach out for me for no other reason than to touch me, to hold my hand, and until then I shall savour the sensation of this sweet falling.

You were not my first love, nor will you be my last.

We shared a time in our lives that shall always be important to me, and you set me free. I will never regret my love for you, and I shall always be grateful that our time together allows me to love her, to accept her and whatever our future might have in store for us. I wish you the same freedom and hope for your happiness, though I suspect that it will be thrust upon you whether you would accept it or not.

As for myself, I step forward stronger and more complete than before. I am confident that I can take what the future holds for me, filled with anticipation as I am for the day very soon when I will finally know the warmth of another’s heart.

The day when I will finally have a love that is truly mine.