The sand of time. Volume 2. "The Book of Flame" Chapter 2

The car stopped on a large farm. As it turned out later, his distant relative was the director of a stud farm, which was located nearby. From that moment on, Kai practically lived in the stable. He "got sick" with horses. Once he went inside and inhaled the smell of manure, fresh hay, and warmth from horses, he "became infected" with them for life. He did everything in the stable: cleaned up manure, took out dirty sawdust, handed out hay, cleaned old disheveled horse equipment, looked after the horses.

A relative, seeing his desire to work, did not interfere with this. He was warned that this was a difficult teenager, but he saw a teenager in front of him who worked tirelessly from dawn to dusk. And when Kai asked for permission to ride on horseback, he was allowed for his labors, without even becoming to find out whether he could ride or not.

Kai did not know how, but he saw how others were riding, and carefully watched them, their actions on horseback. He had already learned how to saddle and unsaddle horses, giving them to the workers for the ride and taking them afterward.

Therefore, now, having saddled the horse that he liked the most, he led out into the yard and deftly jumped into the saddle. The horse he had chosen was not yet broken, it had only been accustomed to the saddle, no one had ever sat on it. Seeing Kai riding an unbroken horse, people ran to him from all sides, but it was too late to warn him. Now everyone was watching what was happening, or rather, waiting for the boy to fall off his horse.

The horse, feeling for the first time the weight of the rider on its back, first froze in surprise, and then began to apply all the means at its disposal to get rid of Kai. The horse spun in place, backed up, stood on its hind legs times, and even walked forward in such a way, apparently waiting for the rider to "unfasten" from it. But the rider remained in the saddle. Then the horse began to rush about the yard, suddenly throwing itself in one direction or the other, then he stopped and kicked with its hind legs - again the same result, the rider was on it.

Kai not only watched the riders but also listened carefully to conversations about what to do if a horse tries to throw off a man. He realized: he needed to force the horse to run forward, then it would not have the opportunity to throw him out of the saddle like that, and gradually, having spent part of the accumulated energy, it would become calmer.

Keeping all this in mind, Kai squeezed his legs and began to actively hit the rear of his sneakers on the side of the horse. And the horse heard him - rushed forward. In front of them, there was a pole blocking the exit from the stable into the field. The horse easily jumped over it. And they dashed off into the distance.

All who watched this were standing in amazement. The boy did not fall, although the struggle was serious. He stayed on the horse!

"He will fall down there," said the watchman, spitting angrily to the side.

The pale and frightened director of the plant, who came running to the noise, thought with horror that he would now tell his parents.

Kai "flew" over the steppe - there was speed, wind in the face, and the feeling of freedom. He was not afraid. He slipped the end of the rein under his knee so that he would not slip into the legs of the galloping horse, and spread his arms to the sides. Now it was the full feeling of flight! He remembered this for the rest of his life - a horse galloping under him and a space of air flying towards him with the aromas of herbs and flowers.

They returned at a walk. The horse was young and, injecting all the adrenaline, was tired. Kai sensed it and didn't make it move faster. Now they had a complete understanding - he was walking on it, practically giving up the reins, and watched the scenery passing by from the back of the horse. Oh, how wonderful it was. Indeed, the Arab proverb is right that heaven on earth can be found on the back of a horse.

Their appearance was noticed from afar; everyone again ran into the yard. The teenager calmly on horseback went inside the yard and dismounted.

"Well done!" finally, the chief brigadier in charge of driving the horses could not stand it and, enthusiastically rushing to him, shouted, "Mikhalych, can we take him as our assistants? We thought there would be a fuss with this horse for a month, a very characteristic horse. Look, the guy made an agreement with it in two hours."

Mikhalych - this was exactly the director of the plant, he made a stern face:

"What if the boy is killed or injured? I have to answer in front of his family!"

"Please, let me help with the horses!" almost shouted Kai, not even expecting to be offered this.

The radiant eyes of a teenager, glowing with green sparks, looked at Mikhalych. Well, he had never seen such eyes. Mikhalych muttered something else just for show, but then said to obey the senior brigadier and not show any personal initiative!

From that moment on, Kai's life became like a fairy tale. He was happy! He was infinitely happy here. There was nothing here to remind him of his life in Moscow. Here he lived and did what he liked. Here he was free.

Everything was saturated with freedom: this air, this endless distance, the steppes dissolving in the haze of the horizon, and the horses, they were free and gave him this freedom.

His physical fitness and the fact that from early childhood he trained so actively, helped him to master the art of riding. Although he had to fall, his body drew the knees up to the chest, and he quickly got to his feet, receiving only minor bruises and injuries.

Horses feel the rider, and they felt that this rider was not afraid. They felt his inner strength and obeyed him. Not immediately, because they were free, but, falling under his iron will, they obeyed. Only free creatures can make a choice and serve someone who has the same inner strength and the same desire for freedom as they do.

So his summer flew by. It was the happiest summer of his life. Kai had been there for two more summers in a row. But when the parents found out that their son was happy there, and most importantly, free, everything stopped. It was decided to send him for the summer to a teenage military camp for his education and training. So his summer of freedom and flight over the steppe turned into a "prison" and a barracks. But that was later ...

***

Now, entering their apartment from the dank street, he felt warmth. The smell of an old communal apartment hit the nose, such a unique smell of old walls and people who lived here. Leaving his wet jacket on a hanger in the hallway, he headed to their main room.

Prokhor, upon Kai's appearance, got up, as always went to meet him. They hugged.

"Sit down, we are discussing one thing here," Prokhor waved in the direction of the chair, and then returned to the conversation interrupted by his appearance.

Not only Prokhor had changed and matured, but Kai had also changed. Now he was a short, skinny teenager with a shock of curly resinous hair that always fell over his forehead. His handsome, noble features were eye-catching. But the most amazing thing about him was his eyes - large, expressive, the color of a precious emerald, framed by long eyelashes. No, there was no feminine beauty in his features, it was the beauty of a teenager, although the softness and smoothness of his movements gave his appearance certain femininity. But this was only a deception for those who did not know him. His flexible, plastic movements were mistaken for weakness, and this was his strength. Possessing combat techniques, he moved like a panther, softly and silently. But when a fight broke out, his opponents flew in different directions. It seemed that he had no equal in this. He never lost a fight to anyone. There were already legends about him. Any stick in his hand turned into a formidable weapon. And now, like a cat, slipping flexibly into his chair, Kai drew admiring glances with the elegance of his movements. He didn't do it on purpose, it was his nature. They looked at him with admiration and envy.

Having finished planning today's night raid, the purpose of which was to knock out money from the debtor, everyone went about their business. There was still a lot of time before leaving, several guys went to the kitchen to cook some food. Now their "affairs" were more serious, and they had money in the "common fund" for normal food and alcohol.

Kai did not like these Prokhor's cases, or rather, internally did not approve, but was always with him everywhere. After all, this was his friend.

Sitting on the sofa, he tried to relax, leaning back, and throw out of the head another lecture of his parents about his behavior.

"What? Did they again rinse the brains at home?" Prokhor could guess even without asking this question to his friend, seeing his face now. He sat down next to him.

"It's okay," Kai looked absently into the space in front of him.

Prokhor respected him for this. His friend never whined, never complained. And no matter if it was mental or physical, he always said: "Everything is fine."

Prokhor turned to him and asked, looking intently into his eyes:

"Have you ever smoked?"

"No."

Prokhor smoked for a long time, or rather, from the moment they met, he had already smoked. Kai did not smoke. He didn't even know why, although now he had his own money, earned by him on common business, and he could afford to buy cigarettes. But such a thought did not occur to him.

Prokhor took out a cigarette, lit it, and brought it to Kai's lips.

"Breathe air through it. Try it."

Just as then, in the basement, when Prokhor handed him a glass of vodka, he did not hesitate to do what his friend said. He sucked in air, or rather, smoke. He coughed immediately, his eyes stung.

While he was clearing his throat, Prokhor was holding him by the shoulders, smoking a cigarette himself and waiting for Kai to return to normal.

"Let's continue," Prokhor again raised the cigarette to his lips. Kai took a cigarette and inhaled, but not so hard. It turned out better. There was no cough. He blew smoke out of himself.

"Did you like it?" asked Prokhor, removing his hand from the shoulder.

"Do not know yet."

From that day on, he began to smoke and did not understand what, in fact, he should like and, in general, what was the meaning of this action - to draw in the smoke and then to exhale it.

Once, after a very strong scandal with his parents, he went into the garden. It was winter. Snowflakes were quietly falling from the starry sky. Kai tried to understand why snowflakes fell on his face from the clear starry sky. They melted on his cheeks, leaving traces as if from tears. But those weren't tears, he didn't cry anymore - he swore he wouldn't cry anymore. His eyes were dry, only snowflakes rolled down his cheeks, leaving wet paths. Kai looked into the sky and asked the space of darkness above him just one question:

"Why don't they love me?"

They again explained to him what they expected from their son, how he should live and that now he was living wrong - but they would achieve their goal, they would not allow their family to be dishonored. Everyone in their family is military - and their son must love it and live for this, in order to serve for the good of the Motherland!

When he said that for the good of the Motherland one could simply work or, for example, engage in science, he was shamed for another hour by his girlish manners, and not by the choice of a real man. But Kai, just starting to study chemistry, realized that this was the passion of his life. He did not love any science as much as chemistry. He did not even suspect that next to him there was a parallel world - the world of atoms, trace elements, and everything else that was just beginning to recognize. It captivated him headlong, and then he realized that he was interested in this life. He wanted to become a scientist. This was his dream.

Having told the people closest to him about his dream, he opened his soul to them and as a result got a thrashing. How painful it is when your family doesn't understand you.

"His family" - all this became just an empty word, the essence of this word had long since disappeared.

Kai put his hands in his pockets. A hand found a pack of cigarettes. It was cold, his fingers were freezing and numb, but the physical cold was not so strong compared to the cold inside. He wanted to see the warmth - a small flame at the end of a cigarette. Striking a lighter, he lit a cigarette. Warm smoke filled his lungs. The light of a cigarette flickered against the background of the cold white snow. Above him, a huge sky with myriads of small cold stars stretched. But now he felt warm. The warmth from this light warmed him in this dead space that did not accept him.

And so their lives went on. Kai came to Prokhor when he could, and was with them until they locked him up at home again. Prokhor actively made his way in this life, uniting around him more and more young people who were ready to be with him.

***

When they had not moved from the basement, an incident occurred, after which Kai began to be treated with even greater respect. In the fall their gang climbed into the house closed by summer residents until spring. They had nothing to eat, and they knew that in such houses there were always cereals, canned food, and pickled products like cans of cucumbers and tomatoes. To get into such a house meant to spend half of the winter without starving. And they made such an action. Having broken the locks, they got inside. While swarming inside the house, they heard the sound of a car approaching. The car stopped right at the only entrance to the house - only from there they could get out. The windows in the house were tightly shuttered - it was a trap. The lights came on and an elderly man and woman entered. From their characteristic appearance, Kai immediately guessed they were Japanese. Apparently, they rented this house for living outside the city, not only for the summer but also for the fall. With the lights on, the guys saw a fireplace and a fairly well-furnished interior of the room.

Prokhor prepared for a fight. Kai understood: Prokhor would out Herod. The guys also froze in combat readiness, waiting for his command. The elderly couple froze in surprise, not expecting to see them here. And then he greeted the newcomers in Japanese, bowing politely in the traditional Japanese bow.

He was answered by a man, also in Japanese. A conversation ensued between them.

All stood still.

Then Kai turned to Prokhor and said that they could take whatever food they needed and leave. They could just walk away because the owner of the house did not mind sharing food with them since they needed it.

The guys silently collected their bags and left.

Kai said goodbye, again bowed politely, and went out with Prokhor.

Walking along the dark, cold streets to the basement, they began vying to ask him what language he spoke, how he knew the language, and what the man answered to him. Kai calmly replied that it was Japanese, that he was studying this language, and the elderly man was native Japanese, and it was not customary to refuse food to those in need there.

"And what other language do you know?" with a mockery asked the guy going nearby.

"Many different ones."

Prokhor stopped and, turning Kai by the shoulders, said sternly:

"Why did you hide it from me?! I must know everything about my people, especially about you! And you hid it!" Prokhor shook him by the shoulders, and since he was taller, now Kai stood on tiptoe, so tightly Prokhor held him.

"Besides Japanese, I know English and French. Now I am studying German and I have also begun to study Arabic ..." embarrassed, he said quietly. "Let me go, please, it hurts."

Only now Prokhor realized that he was holding his friend in a stranglehold for his shoulders almost above the ground. He unclenched his hands.

Kai stepped back from him.

"And what did you think I had been doing when they locked me up at home? And also I can sing," he angrily snapped to Prokhor for such an interrogation.

They walked in silence towards the basement. Prokhor caught up with Kai, who was walking, frowning, and was silent, and hugged him by the shoulders.

"Offended? Come on! No offense. So why didn't you tell me that before?"

"I didn't want to stand out - and without it, everyone thinks me different."

"You always will be different, not like them. And they will always all envy you. Get used to it."

"And you?" he stopped and looked into Prokhor's eyes.

"You didn't tell me that - were you afraid of offending me?" Kai averted his eyes. "Silly, I'm proud of you!"

They went to catch up with their comrades who had gone ahead.

"Well, now, share your secret, how did you manage to learn so many languages?" asked Prokhor as he walked.

"You know, a Japanese man lives with us, a friend of my father. I began to speak Japanese earlier than Russian," Kai smiled, remembering his childhood. "Mom did not take care of my upbringing, they hired a French governess for me. She has ancestors from the White Guards who have fled from Russia during the revolution. She not only teaches French but also manners and etiquette. Do you know how strict she is? You take the wrong fork at the table - she beats on the fingers with a pointer," he saw the surprise on Prokhor's face. "And what about English - so my father constantly has guests, all foreigners, I'm already used to the fact that in our house they speak English more than Russian ..."

"And German, Arabic?"

"My father has insisted on German; he says it will come in handy in my profession. And I like Arabic myself, and my parents are all for it, considering that knowledge of the Muslim language will also be useful to me."

Prokhor did not ask his friend about anything anymore, he was proud of him and was glad that his friend was so extraordinary and talented.

In the evening, after a sumptuous dinner, Prokhor solemnly announced to everyone that Kai would now sing. Kai glared at him.

"Why are you staring at me?! You've said yourself that you also sing. I am already acquainted with you so much and have never heard you singing, and also the boys," Prokhor said all this calmly, seeing how his friend "boils". "Lads, where is the guitar?"

The guys perked up when they heard this.

They brought a guitar, shoved into Kai's hands. All the guys sat in a semicircle around him, waiting for the concert. It was stupid to behave with false modesty. He, quickly going over the songs in his mind, stopped at this one and began to sing:

My fleet is of two ships, it is true.

How can I sail to your pier

Along fast rivers of wanderings?

We are lost in space. *

While he was singing, Prokhor cast glances at him, thinking that he did not know that his friend had such a voice.

"How cool he is! It's good that we are friends. I'm proud of you!".

The chords died down, the guys began to rustle, they began to demand more to sing. But Kai flatly refused, saying another time.

Now they got off his back, but then he sang for them at each of their gatherings, so his singing and voice fascinated and attracted. The boys each time waited for his concert, listened to his singing, and delighted in their souls. After all, despite all the unsightly truth of their life that they led, their souls were young and pure, they had not yet become completely cold-hearted.

***

Prokhor, as an older brother, on the one hand, guarded and protected Kai from the cruelties of this world, on the other hand, brought him into this world, realizing that his friend would face it anyway. So let him know better from his friend and under his control. So gradually Prokhor taught Kai to drink various alcoholic beverages. He helped him to taste and understand their action and determine his measure for himself. Once he allowed Kai to get drunk almost to the point of losing his pulse, and the next day he walked gloatingly and mocked him, seeing him, half-dead, with a terrible headache, lying on the bed.

Kai drew conclusions from such experiments and discoveries. He learned the consequences of excessive libation, which he did not like, and he did not like to lose control of himself. Therefore, if he drank, then little and controlled what to drink and how much.

He started smoking after that incident in the winter when a warm light warmed his soul on a cold winter night. But he also rarely smoked, only when he wanted to feel again this warmth of the burning light at the end of the cigarette.

Now, having matured, he spent more time in their apartment. Somehow, after another successful case, the guys invited "girls" to celebrate their success. Kai was present at such parties, but he was still considered small, therefore, what the boys did with the girls, going to the next rooms, he only guessed from the scattered information that he learned for himself on this question that was beginning to worry him. He could emphasize all the information only from the books in the library where he spent time. From the artworks read by him, he understood only what happens unsaid by the authors of these works between a man and a woman, when the doors are closed behind them and they are left alone. Having tried to find the answer in the scientific and medical literature, he learned about the physiology of this process and the difference between the opposite sex. This was the end of his knowledge.

The party was in full swing. Prokhor returned happy from the room where he was leaving with a girl much older than him. With a sly smile on his face, he sat down next to Kai on the sofa. This was the third time that Kai had seen this smile on Prokhor's face. The first, when he gave him a glass of vodka for the first time to drink, the second, when he brought a cigarette to his lips for the first puff in his life, and now his friend had the same smile on his lips. Moreover, everyone around was also whispering conspiratorially and exchanging glances.

Feeling a conspiracy against himself, he jerked to get up from the sofa, but Prokhor's strong hand on his shoulder held him in place.

Prokhor laughed.

"Relax! Why have you tensed?"

"And what do you all have such faces?" Kai tried to get up again, but could not.

"Well, here with the boys we have consulted and decided. You seem to be cooler than all of us in a fight, but you are not a man yet. You haven't slept with a girl, have you?" asked Prokhor and laughed. "Well, I do know, you haven't slept!"

Everyone laughed.

Kai frowned and tried to get off the sofa again.

"Come on, we do not want to offend. Everyone has had their first time. Today you will have this for the first time."

Kai looked at Prokhor distrustfully.

"Guys! Pour a glass of cognac for the courage to a soldier!" ignoring Kai looking at him, shouted Prokhor.

They brought cognac.

"Drink!" commanded Prokhor.

Kai drank.

"Now let's go."

Prokhor got up and, not letting go of his friend's shoulders, led him to the door, from which he had recently left.

"Otherwise, Marusya has already been tired to wait for you," with these words Prokhor pushed him into the room and closed the door behind him.

There were curtains in the room, and a floor lamp in the corner was burning. A half-naked girl was sitting on a crumpled bed and smiled as she saw him stiffened as if nailed to the floor.

The girl, still smiling, pulled the shirt off her shoulders, and Kai saw her big full breasts. Then she got up, the shirt slipped down, and, without lingering on her hips, fell at her feet. What he saw in the picture in the medical anatomy handbook now stood before him live. But unlike the book, it looked many times better.

The girl approached. Her face was smeared with makeup, strips of mascara remained on her cheeks, lipstick-stained part of her chin.

She took Kai's hand and pulled him to the bed.

"Well, hero, I'll do everything myself now," said Marusya, pushing him onto the bed and stretching her hands to the belt of his jeans, "I like you for a long time. You are so handsome! Sweetie!"

Kai felt her hands under his jeans, threw back his head, and the ceiling began to disappear in his mind. The incredible sensation covered him completely and then twisted his body in a sweet spasm.

Catching his breath and recovering a little, he opened his eyes and sat up on the bed. He saw that Marusya was wiping her hands with napkins, and then, bending over him, wiped the moisture that he felt inside his pants.

"For the first time, it always happens so quickly. But don't worry. I'll teach you everything," just as insidiously as Prokhor, smiled Marusya. "Eee! Do not rush to leave, otherwise, these fools will laugh. You will be out in half an hour so that they all would be envied."

Kai then did not quite understand what she meant, but believed her and stayed. While he was waiting for half an hour to pass, his young body recovered, Marusya noticed this and decided not to postpone the teaching for a long time, but to continue right now.

He left Marusya in more than an hour. He was greeted with whoos and pops of opening champagne bottles.

Clinking glasses with him, a glass of champagne, Prokhor asked:

"Are you glad?"

Kai averted his eyes in embarrassment, perhaps now he had not even fully realized what had happened to him, and therefore was not ready to discuss it.

Prokhor smiled, seeing the detached, still hovering in the clouds, the face of his friend and his pupils dilated from the pleasure received.

Then he met Marusya several times, then there were other girls. Although for some reason he did not like such girls, it was impossible to separate from the team, and now he had to be a member of their private parties and entertainment.

***

Time passed. Spring came in the world, so it seemed to Kai, he felt such a feeling of renewal and rebirth of nature in himself that it seemed that the whole world felt it and, like him, blossomed after a cold and dead winter.

He did not like winter, or rather, he did not tolerate the cold very well. Although no one knew about this, except for Prokhor, who saw how hard it was for Kai to spend many hours in an ambush in the street. But his friend never complained and always walked with Prokhor, even when he knew that they would spend several hours on the frozen winter street. Then he came, sat down closer to the radiator, and tried to draw from it the warmth that this cold haze, permeated with stabbing snowflakes, took from him. Then Prokhor brought him hot tea, and Kai, taking a cup from his friend's hands, warmed his soul with the warmth of this cup and the warmth of Prokhor's friendship.

But now winter was slowly dissolving in the rays of the warm sun. The snow was disappearing from the streets of the city, leaving only mud and gurgling streams. The first leaves appeared on the trees, but the main thing was warmth. The warmth came from nature itself, from the air around. Kai loved spring! He loved this warmth, which warmed his soul and gave him hope for a happy life. And this his adolescent spring in his soul gave an aching feeling of something new, beautiful. Kai had never felt such a feeling in his soul.

There was a girl going in front of him on the sidewalk and suddenly a bag fell out of her hands, one handle came off, and all its contents began to fall and scatter on the asphalt.

Kai deftly intercepted several oranges rolling to him and carried them to the girl, who was trying to prevent all the products from falling out of the bag. He grabbed the bag from the bottom, helping her with it. They both straightened up and looked at each other. Her eyes were blue, like the spring sky above their heads.

"What about him? How did he feel? What strange pleasant anxiety in the chest!" he had never experienced such excitement before.

The girl was saying something to him, and he only felt her hand under his, with which he held the package, and looked into her eyes.

Finally, she pulled her hand away and began to pick up the other products on the pavement.

"Let me help you carry the package," he said.

"Okay," she replied, realizing that she couldn't handle it alone. She had to carry some of the products separately herself, as they constantly fell out of the torn bag.

They walked side by side. Kai asked her about everything that seemed so important to him now, she answered, reluctantly at first, but then began to speak calmly and freely, as if she had known him for a long time.

On the way, they cast furtive glances at each other. She had light blond hair, tied in a braid that twisted like a beautiful golden snake down her back. The delicate facial features of a teenage girl who was already crossing the line between a teenager and a girl. She had a slim graceful figure and light flowing movements. It turned out that she was studying at a ballet school, although she didn't like it, the parents wanted her to study - it was so familiar to him.

Her name was Anna, as she later seriously told him at parting.

Anna also cast glances at the short young man walking next to her. For some reason, he reminded her of a fairy-tale prince. She had not met such guys yet. This face, curly resin hair down to his shoulders, and his eyes attracted her. If it were not for those green eyes looking at her so mesmerized, she would never have taken help from the unknown. Dressed in dark jeans, rough boots with thick soles, a dark sweater with a hood, and a black leather jacket on top, he looked unreal, and his name completed the image of a prince from a fairy tale. Can you call an ordinary guy Kai? No! This could only be called the prince, who happened to be on the streets of Moscow and was now helping her carry these products.

Walking her to the door of the apartment, Kai left the groceries on the rug, as she had asked her parents not to see him, and, saying goodbye, left.

But the very next day he waited for her return from the ballet school with a small bunch of flowers in his hand.

So their meetings began. Thus his first youthful love began. That was true love that happens only once in a lifetime. It is love when the souls of two young creatures come into contact with each other and acquire an incredible feeling of flying over this world.

 

* Song: Ocean. Alexander Geints and Sergey Danilov.

The sand of time. Volume 2. "The Book of Flame" Chapter 1

 Moscow. Fall. Cold. It rains constantly, drops are small and cold. Everything is gray and dirty: houses, cars, and people. They are in a hurry, running along these gray streets with gray faces and empty eyes. Only he stands on the sidewalk and realizes how stupid, senseless everything around him. What is the point of their rush? After all, they do not even have time to see life! Their lives pass in an endless stream of gray everyday life, similar to one another and already washed out in their minds in one endlessly dull gray day like this one.

Damp and cold made their way under the clothes - the teenager put his hands in his pockets and, throwing the hood of his jacket over his wet hair, walked along the wet sidewalk.

Why is he haunted by this feeling that this is not his life, not his time, not his place, not his city? Why? Maybe it all started from the moment when he realized that everyone around him was distant from him? When he didn't become like all of them. Kai glanced at the people running past.

He's different. And if you are different, then you are an outcast. People don't need you. You are internally rejected by everyone you know and love! But why? Why do people close to you stop loving you just because you do not want to be the way they want you to be?

His family: dad, mom, his two elder brothers, and a sister. Why did the people closest to him, the dearest to him in the world, move away from him? What did he do wrong? He simply began to live, speak, and think as he saw fit. And they wanted him to match the image they had created. They came up with a life for him to live.

Gradually, they began to realize that the image they had created did not correspond to reality. At first, it was not very noticeable and they even pretended that nothing was happening, that it just seemed to them. But then they couldn't help but notice that everything was wrong. He was not what they wanted him to be. And nothing could change him, neither talking about what he should become, nor trying to force him to submit to their will!

When you are little, you depend on your family you cannot fight back and therefore you endure everything they do to you.

He was constantly put under "house arrest", but this arrest took place in the library, and it was happiness for him, and not a punishment, as they wanted. He opened the book and was transported to other worlds that opened to him from the pages. He found freedom in books. He traveled for hours in other worlds, acquired knowledge and experience given in books, and learned the surrounding space.

They hired teachers so that he had no time to think about rebelling against them. But he loved to learn and gladly drew knowledge from those who gave him this knowledge.

They never let him go to school, believing that the world behind the wall would ruin him.

But he had long ago penetrated that other world. They did not notice it, they missed it. They thought that a little boy riding his bike through the fields around their house, surrounded by a huge fence, would not be able to know that there was another life. But he found out.

Prokhor! They met then at the pond: little Kai with a mute question in his eyes turned to the sky and such an overly serious teenager who saw the boy's eyes and felt his loneliness. He was lonely too. But from that day on, they divided their loneliness into two.

They did not talk about the pain that was already in their souls. Rich, from a good family, Kai, but with such huge and sad green eyes, and Prokhor, a teenager from an ordinary family, where there was no father, only an eternally working mother, whom he always saw tired.

Prokhor also asked himself a question:

"Why? Why does his mother hate him so much? Why then did she give birth to him, if his whole existence was now so hateful to her? What for? Why tell him that she works three jobs to feed him and put him on his feet. After all, if you love someone, you do it for him. And if you don't love? Then you do it anyway and you hate that person even more."

After all, it was he who was to blame for such her life. It was his fault that his father left when he had been still little. He just left to live with another family. But Prokhor felt that it was because of him, and she knew it, and hatred for him had already arisen in her soul. And now his mother had a broken life - this was how she had spoken of herself to everyone who felt sorry for her. But what was he to blame? It turned out in everything. It was he who broke her life with his birth.

"How strange," thought Prokhor, "a new life is being born, but it turns out that everyone has already hated it. You live with a person who is dearest to you, the closest on the whole earth, but gradually you begin to feel that this one hates you. Your whole existence is unbearable to this person! "

The small apartment in which he lived with his mother did not make it possible to exclude communication, and therefore Prokhor more and more often began to disappear on the street. This angered her even more. Now he was gradually turning into a difficult teenager who got involved with a bad company, and that finally ruined her life. It was a vicious circle. There was no way out of it. It was only necessary to accept the reality of what had happened. And Prokhor accepted. He loved his mother, the one he created in his dreams, sweet, caring, loving him. He loved her with all his heart. And in real life, he calmly listened to the next reproaches and painful words addressed to him and left where he was not alone.

Then by the pond, seeing a boy with eyes full of pain, he read in them a question that had tormented his soul too:

"Why don't they just love me, just because I exist?"

Prokhor did not talk to him about this. He could not answer this question. But from that day on, two souls found each other and the pain shared with the other was no longer so strong. They stopped looking for an answer to their question. They just began to live and enjoy life!

Prokhor opened another world for Kai. The world outside the wall of his house. It turned out to be cruel and adult. And in order to survive in it, he had to grow up quickly and fight for a place in this world.

This did not frighten him. Prokhor's company, to which the boy brought him, was one of the same teenagers who were also simply not loved just because they were born and lived. And it hardened their hearts.

Kai was under the protection of Prokhor. He was much younger than them, although in conversation and prudence they thought he was older. At first, they hated him for having everything in this life, and then they accepted him, realizing that he did not need all this. That, having everything in life, the most important thing was taken from him - this was his freedom. For them, freedom was the most important thing, and therefore they accepted Kai, and no one else dared to throw an insulting word against him.

***

Once, returning to the place of their "deployment", an abandoned basement, where their small teenage gang equipped themselves a temporary shelter, a group of guys, much older than them, from another gang came out to meet them.

Prokhor hid Kai behind himself, telling him to flee from here when the fight started. The forces were unequal. Prokhor's gang numbered ten people - another one was twice as many. And they were well prepared. In their hands, there were sticks, metal rods, bottles, and knives.

A fight broke out.

It was then that Kai first used his martial art in a real fight. Then, for the first time, he felt the warm blood of his enemy on his hands. He managed to snatch the stick out of the hands of the attacker, and he fought with it, using all kinds of martial arts techniques that his teachers had taught him.

Prokhor and his guys froze in amazement when, with another precise movement, he knocked the bottle out of the opponent's hands and knocked him out with a stick to the solar plexus. But he was still too young, and therefore he also got bit a lot.

He tasted his blood in his mouth. This taste - the taste of metal - how often he would feel it later in his life.

The fight ended, or rather, the attackers did not expect such fierce resistance and therefore began to retreat, picking up their guys and dissolving into the darkness of the alleys.

Having kicked the last two teenagers lying on the asphalt, Prokhor gave the command to leave.

Kai held on with the last bit of strength. The whole body ached from the blows received, the right hand became numb from such an overload. He spat blood from his broken lips and wiped the dripping one from his nose with his sleeve. Prokhor walked beside him, casting attentive glances over his shoulder at him.

Already going down to the basement, he staggered and felt that the floor was leaving from under his feet. Prokhor grabbed him, carried him in his arms to an old iron bed in the corner, covered with a torn bedspread. One of the guys brought a roll of toilet paper and, tearing off a larger piece, gave it to his hand to put it on his nose, which was bleeding. Prokhor brought a towel soaked in water and wiped his face. The guys picked ice from the freezer and, putting it in a bag, gave it to Prokhor, who put ice on his nose.

Kai felt that everyone was looking at him strangely, he understood that his behavior in a fight, his mastery of fighting technique made such an impression on them. From that moment on, their attitude towards him changed radically. Now they treated him with a kind of awe. On the one hand, in their attitude, there was an almost parental concern, because he was younger than them, and on the other hand, respect as he was a cooler kid than they.

"Does it hurt?" Prokhor asked carefully, bending over him.

"It's okay," he smiled, although it was given to him with difficulty.

"You fight in such a way! This is the first time I've seen this! Like in the movies!" Prokhor spoke, not hiding his admiration, "Where did you learn this?"

"Father's friend is Japanese, he lives in our house. I have been training since childhood," then he became sad, "and my father also hires such teachers especially for me. You remember I've told you that I have to become a military man. That is why they teach me this."

Prokhor remembered their conversation, when Kai briefly had told what his family expected from him, and that he did not want this, and for this, he was rejected. Then Prokhor did not ask him about the details, feeling that this was a very painful topic for him and it was difficult for him to talk about it. Prokhor understood why he had such sad eyes and why he was with them, and not with his family. And now, having once again heard this from him, and most importantly, seeing him in a fight, Prokhor realized how serious it was in his life.

"I haven't asked you, but I want to understand," Prokhor looked into the eyes of his friend, "it is important for me to understand this for myself, because you are here, among us, and you are my friend, so I want to understand you. You've said that your family wants you to become a military man, and as I can see, their intentions are serious. Tell me why don't you want it?"

"I don't want to kill!" he answered very clearly.

Now Prokhor saw in the eyes of this boy an adult life position, which could not be changed by anything or anyone.

"But they will not leave you alone?"

"Yes, I know. I will grow up and then I will be able to decide for myself how to live and what to do!"

"You have made a decision, I will be with you, we will think of something. When you grow up, you will join my gang. Do you want to be with me?"

"Yes. I have no one else but you."

Kai's eyes glowed with sincerity.

Prokhor put his hand on Kai's one and shook it.

"You are not alone. We will always be together now."

Then he fell asleep, the load and nervous stress from the first real fight in his life made itself felt. Prokhor, covering him with his jacket and making sure that he was sleeping soundly asleep, went to the guys who were preparing a festive dinner in their makeshift kitchen.

The so-called kitchen was located here, in another branch of the basement. There was an old gas stove with a gas cylinder, a shabby washstand hung on the wall. Here the guys brought the furniture they found in the trash heap, but the main value was a huge long table at which almost everyone was placed. Benches, chairs, and stools were around the table. Everything that was found in a more or less good condition was brought here to their "home". In the center of the table, there was an old armchair, this was Prokhor's seat. Nobody even thought of sitting there. Prokhor, although he did not possess the eastern fighting technique, but hit hard and concretely. And he was feared and respected. He was their leader, who managed to unite them and lead them.

To the right of Prokhor's chair, there was a chair that no one was occupying either - this was Kai's place. Even the first time when Prokhor brought him to their gang. He put this chair next to him and asked if anyone had any questions on his wish to see Kai next to him. No one had any questions.

Prokhor guarded his little friend, although he never made him exceptions or indulgences in anything. He felt responsible for him, as for a younger brother, so he always kept him by his side if they went to fight or to rob. Among the members of his gang, he quickly figured out those who were dissatisfied with such a decision and explained to them once and for all that his decision had to be respected.

Now in this kitchen, his guys were preparing dinner. After all, they had won! Nobody even expected this. Seeing these adult boys in front of them, and even prepared for battle, they realized that they would fight to the last, but they had no chance. And here was Kai. Who would have thought! Now, opening the stew, stirring buckwheat, and slicing bread, they heatedly discussed how he behaved in a fight. Some even tried to imitate his fighting moves, but this only made the others laugh.

Prokhor was pleased with the realization of what his friend turned out to be. But even if Kai today, as Prokhor told him, ran away when the battle began, it would not matter for Prokhor. Their friendship would not have broken up. It was strange, but Prokhor understood that Kai would never run away. Why did he understand this? There was something in him that attracted Prokhor - this inner strength. It was an incredible inner strength of mind. Therefore, Prokhor was with him. He never made mistakes in people, even if he was still a little boy, but with huge sad eyes.

They took out vodka from the refrigerator. They have long behaved like adults, although they were still children. Prokhor drank with everyone. They put hot food.

While eating such delicious buckwheat porridge with stewed meat, Prokhor thought about Kai's words: "I don't want to kill." But he had crossed this line long ago, and he did not care. Although no, then when he realized that the man who had been struggling in his arms had quieted down - he became afraid. It was very scary. It was a couple of years ago. Then he just began to gather around him those who were rejected by this world. They decided to rob the warehouse. According to their calculations, there should have been no one there. But a drunken man was sleeping inside. It was either a watchman or a bum who got inside. It didn't matter. He saw them and began to shout. Rather, he just screamed when Prokhor's knife entered his stomach. Prokhor struck several times. The body went limp, short death cramps - and everything was over. Prokhor felt warm blood on his hands. He dried his hands. He looked at the pale faces of the guys standing around him. From that moment on, he became their true leader. It was like a rite of passage - a sacrifice. Now no one dared even think badly of him or contradict him. Those who saw it with their own eyes told the boys who were newly arriving at them about Prokhor, who even without flinching had ripped open the man's stomach.

"I wonder how Kai will react to this when he finds out that I've killed a man?"

But that was not the point. He would kill if the situation called for it. It didn't bother him. This was life. And he accepted it for what it was. He needed to tell Kai about it somehow. After all, he was his friend, and there should be no secrets between them.

***

In today's fight, Kai suffered the most. The rest escaped with bruises and minor injuries. And not surprising - after all, he was in the thick of the battle.

An hour later he left the bedroom.

His body was recovering quickly. And now this hour of sleep restored his strength. Although everything hurt, he felt good overall.

Everyone was delighted with him. They began to shake hands and pat on the shoulder. They immediately pounced on with questions and requests to teach them how to fight in the same way.

Prokhor banged on the table, everyone was quiet. He motioned for him to sit next to, in his place. Everyone parted in front of him, letting him pass to the chair. One of the guys quickly ran away and brought him food.

"How are you?" Prokhor looked at him carefully, trying to make sure of his health.

"It's okay."

"Exactly? You got the most."

"I am not only taught the art of combat. There are also techniques for protection and recovery. It is important to know and be able to apply. Therefore, everything is really normal."

"Well, you're cool! You've passed the rite of passage into our gang - you've shown yourself in the real case. Now you will always be with me - you will be my deputy."

Prokhor held out his hand to him. They shook hands. This was the recognition of Kai by Prokhor in front of everyone. Now Prokhor had officially put him in second place after himself in their gang. And everyone understood this.

After that, the guys could not resist and inundated him with questions about how he fought like that. He ate and answered. Prokhor, being already full and lounging in his "royal" chair, looked at all this.

"What time do you need to get home today?" Prokhor's eyes sparkled slyly.

"Today I can do it late. My parents left for the reception at the Kremlin, they will return very late, and those who are in the house will not betray what time I have arrived."

"It's good that there is time," Prokhor sly smiled, "guys, bring a clean glass and pour vodka."

Prokhor put a glass of vodka in front of Kai.

"It's time for you to become an adult. And then you fight better than us, and you haven't even tried vodka. Is it so?" Prokhor looked into the eyes of his friend.

"No. Have not tried it."

"Then drink."

Kai looked at Prokhor. He trusted him. This was his friend. If Prokhor said, then he must drink vodka.

He drank. His breath caught. But then a strange warmth poured over his body. The pain from the blows gradually melted into this warmth. He no longer felt pain, he felt good, it was good and easy. And the soul was easy. Everything that had tormented and tortured him from the inside went away and remained somewhere far away.

Prokhor watched him, saw, and understood what the boy was feeling. He bent down to Kai and, so that no one could hear, asked:

"Doesn't it hurt now?" he understood that everything hurt him after today's fight. He admired how courageously his friend endured pain and did not complain. This glass of vodka was now the only thing that Prokhor could do for him to numb the pain, even if for a few hours.

"No," Kai replied in surprise, "I'm fine now."

The guys shouted at him to have another drink. But Prokhor covered the glass with his hand and said that it was enough for the first time.

He spent that evening in a state of strange euphoria. Late at night, when the alcohol had practically disappeared, Prokhor took several guys with him and went to see him off.

Since that time, Prokhor no longer allowed Kai to drink vodka. Only on New Year's, which they celebrated later than the holiday itself, Prokhor poured and allowed him to drink a glass of champagne. After this glass, everyone "lost" him. He woke up in the morning, when, finally, Prokhor managed to wake him up to send him home.

So he grew up. Then there were many more fights and not entirely correct affairs, to which he went with Prokhor. Although Prokhor did not take him for serious cases. He didn't want to involve the boy, and he was worried about Kai.

***

Being a teenager, he came into their flat. That basement had long been abandoned by them. And that house was also demolished. Now their gang was based in the flat. It was a huge communal apartment in the center of old Moscow in one of the lanes behind the Arbat. This pre-revolutionary house was dark and gloomy. There was a dark entrance, narrow stairs, and a strange apartment with a long corridor and rooms. There were several adjoining rooms in which they mostly hung out. These adjoining rooms belonged to a relative of one of the guys in their gang. The relative herself lived in another room, or rather, drank and slept there later in a permanent unconsciousness. Other tenants of the rooms were registered here, but did not live; where they were no one knew, and did not delve into the details. Only at the end of the corridor, in the room, lived a strange old man, practically out of his mind, who could walk along the corridor as a shadow, but spent most of the time, shutting himself up.

When he was here, Kai was always amazed at new faces and strange personalities that one could encounter in the hallway of this apartment and then never see them again. Who were they, where were they from and why were they here? Probably no one would have answered this question to him.

Their rooms were comfortable. There was also a table in the center, but now it was more decent than the one in the basement. There were also chairs around the table. The invariable royal chair of Prokhor was in the center and a little simpler - Kai's one - to the right of Prokhor.

During this time Prokhor turned into a stocky, broad-shouldered youth with straight, short-cropped brown hair, regular features with the first signs of a mustache and beard, which he began to shave off, and penetrating tiger eyes. Yes, if not for these predator's eyes, he could be called a very nice young man. But this strange look with yellow sparks frightened those looking at him and made his face cruel. There were tightly compressed lips, on which a smile rarely showed, and the unyielding character of the undisputed leader. They were afraid of him. They respected, but more were afraid.

During this brief period of his adolescence-to-youth transition, he had two more occasions when he had killed. And this left an imprint on him: although he was young, his soul had long ago become stale, and this was imprinted on his appearance.

One evening, still in their basement, Prokhor called Kai into his so-called office, into a recess in the wall, closed by a curtain, where there was a small table, a couple of chairs, and an armchair for Prokhor. Here he usually planned secret operations, not for everyone, and dealt with each member of his gang separately, if the situation required.

Kai sat across from him at the table and waited for what he would say.

"You know, I've killed a man," Prokhor said simply, peering into his face, looking for condemnation or self-loathing in him after what he had said.

Kai was silent for a long time. Then he got up, walked over to Prokhor, who was sitting in an armchair and hugged him by the shoulders.

"I'm so sorry that you have such a life where you have to do it. You are so good, so kind. I'll always be with you," said he and returned to his chair.

That moment Prokhor was shocked to the core. He expected anything his friend would say upon learning about it. But this still boy just hugged him by the shoulders and absorbed his pain into himself. But even Prokhor did not allow himself to think about it. He did not allow himself to admit that after that his soul was languishing with the pain of what he had done. He was moved by the fact that now he was understood and accepted as he was.

After that, Prokhor told his friend everything, and Kai also told him everything about his life there, behind the wall in his house.

His life was still the same, but with an even greater tightening of control over himself. After his parents began to find him regularly with a broken face and torn clothes, they began to put him under house arrest more often. But this only added to his knowledge, since he did not waste time. He studied. And at the same time, his desire to find freedom from them grew every day.

Now, being a teenager and entering their apartment, Kai could already afford not to come home for the night. He could stay here overnight or hang out here for several days. Returning home, he listened distantly to lectures about his behavior. But now it didn't bother him, he didn't care what they said to him. This was followed by another punishment in the form of arrest for several days. Sometimes he sat out these days at home if his studies required it, and sometimes he ran away - and no one and nothing could stop him.

Realizing that their son had contacted a bad company, his parents decided to send him to Rostov to a distant relative for the whole summer. Deciding that this isolated area away from people, and most importantly, from his dubious friends, would benefit him.

It was isolation, but not for him.

Being met from the train, he was taken by car for a long time through the Rostov steppes. Kai looked out of the window with delight, he had never seen such a huge space. And then a fabulous picture opened up in front of him - it was a herd of horses rushing across the steppe. The teen's eyes lit up.

"I want to fly with them over this steppe!" he decided firmly, seeing the galloping horses.

My strange friend. Volume 1. "The Book of Flame" Chapter 1

 

The garrison was quiet. Relative calm on the fronts brought regularity to the life of the military.

Kai spent the second day in Bartholomew's tent.

He was reclining on a soldier's bunk with a pillow under his back. He was wearing a protective military uniform, casually buttoned up with several bottom buttons. In the open neckline, one could see an undershirt and cross glittering on a chain. Camouflage trousers were tucked into rough army boots. Kai put one foot on the bed to make it easier to play the guitar.

They drank, taking advantage of the moment of calm the second day. It was rare. They were lucky.

Kai ran his fingers over the strings once again. The guys at the table looked in his direction.

"Come on, give us ours," - said Pepper. "What are you pulling?"

In the tent, in addition to Kai's acquaintances, there were many officers - those who were admitted here from other units.

The news that Kai was also with Bartholomew made everyone happy: he always told the news about which they had not even heard, and it was interesting to talk with Kai, so everyone almost came to Bartholomew with gifts, so that only he would let in and allow staying.

It was the second day of such gatherings. Some people came, others left.

Now, towards the morning, there were fewer people in the tent. Someone was lying on the beds, someone was sitting at the table, on which there was still seas of ​​snacks and drinks. Empty bottles rolled underfoot, which the most conscientious ones picked up and took to the trash.

In general, the picture did not correspond to army discipline. All were not dressed according to the regulations: tunics unbuttoned, many were simply in T-shirts. They smoked here. The canopy of the tent was folded back to let in the morning freshness and to get rid of some smoke.

Kai took a drag and put out his cigarette. Once again he ran his hand over the strings. The lad remembered that he had not played the guitar for a long time. He half-closed his eyes and slightly bowed his head to the strings, because of which a rebel lock fell on his handsome face; in a low, incredibly beautiful voice, he sang:

"The order came - and on an alarm, we get up.

Taking the machine gun, we sit down silently on the plane.

In the dawn hour, when the earth is still sleeping,

We were brought to Afghanistan by the will of the order.

Afghanistan is a beautiful wild mountainous land,

The order is simple: go ahead and die.

But how is it possible, spring has been in the yard for a long time,

And the heart is full of sadness and bitterness.

Afghanistan - a machine gun rumbles somewhere

Afghanistan ... A platoon of boys died yesterday.

Their commander fell to the ground with lead in his chest,

"Russia, Mother" - he whispered before his death."

His voice trembled slightly. He fell silent, having stopped playing. There was silence. Everyone was also silent; those who first heard him singing were amazed by such a voice.

"Should I pour you a drink?" Bartholomew realized that Kai remembered something of his own, was thinking. And he had something to remember: so many years in the war.

"Pepper, pass him a glass. Should I give you a snack?"

Kai drank the already warm vodka in one gulp.

"No," he said, then bent over the guitar, as if squeezing it, then leaned back on the pillow. He also continued with half-closed eyes:

"It's a Beautiful wild mountainous land

The order is simple: go ahead and die.

But how is it possible, spring has been in the yard for a long time,

And the heart is full of sadness and bitterness.

My friend fell, his beautiful face covered in blood

He was dying away from mother earth.

The last time looking into foreign skies ..."

"Great! It gives the creeps!" - Pepper was always unrestrained and expressed his emotions violently.

"Why are you singing this? Do you like tearing your soul out with memories?" Frol stared at Kai, who was still reclining on the bed.

"I do not care. There are no memories! For a long time already there is nothing."

"Do you like to play the hero? You are cool, of course, we are no match for you, and you don't even have memories! Willpower is great! And we have, we are no match for you, oh great Kai, our superhero!" finally losing his temper, shouted Frol, enraged with the words of Kai, again finding a reason to grapple.

Kai jumped out of bed, tossing the guitar away. Frol got up from the table with a crash, threw up his hand sharply, hitting Kai in the solar plexus. The blow was weak: Frol was drunk and poorly coordinated his movements. Kai grabbed the table but immediately regained consciousness, catching his breath.

Between them, instantly assessing the situation, Bartholomew arose.

"Stand down, officers!" Bartholomew said in a commanding voice. "What are you doing? Have you drunk completely?" he looked at Frol, seething with anger.

"Why are you doing that, Frol? I’m sorry if you really think I’m no match for you. You are my friend!" there was no offense in Kai's voice for the blow. He wanted, really wanted, that peace reigned between them. What a pity that Frol constantly finds fault with something.

In order not to annoy Frol with his presence, Kai went to the exit from the tent.

"Wait, where are you going?" asked Bartholomew.

"To my place."

"Torpedo, cut off the exit, return this superhero to his place," ordered Bartholomew.

The huge torpedo completely blocked the exit from their tent with its mighty figure. The military jersey did not hide his powerful biceps, which were now swollen with exertion.

Pepper stood behind Kai's back, he was slightly lower than Torpedo, but also resembled a closet. There were two hefty paratroopers and between them Kai, who looked like a short, thin teenager.

He definitely didn't want to fight them, although he could put them on the shoulder blades in a split second. Now he wanted to leave: he was touched by Frol's words and his behavior. It was always unpleasant for him to realize that everyone considered him different, special. But what was he to blame? He just did his job - he fought and that was it.

Taking advantage of Kai's momentary confusion, Torpedo and Pepper pounced on him and, practically on their hands, returned him to his place.

"Sit here," said, smiling, Torpedo, "no fucking thing to suffer! Frol drank too much, with whom it does not happen."

Kai, realizing that it was foolish to resist, remained sitting on the bed.

Silence hung in the tent, no one else interfered with this showdown.

Major Batulin appeared at the entrance.

"Well, what's going on here? Have you got drunk and put up a fight?" Major managed to catch the end of the showdown between Kai and Frol.

All who were in the tent jumped up to attention.

"At ease," the major looked around the audience. "Well, what a state, officers. Just a rabble," he sighed. "Bartholomew, Kai, urgently to the headquarters, everyone has already gathered there, there is a task. Put yourself in order. I'm waiting in the car."

"What has happened? Why did he come at an unearthly hour?" said Torpedo, watching as Kai and Bartholomew put their uniforms in order.

"We’ll find out now," said Bartholomew, leaving the tent.

When they entered the headquarters, everyone had already gathered there. In addition to the colonel and his assistants, there was a company intelligence captain Denis Vladimirovich Davydov, nicknamed Gusar, with two officers, and battalion commander Petrenko Sidor Ivanovich, nicknamed Sidr, with his men.

"Have a seat, officers," the colonel gestured everyone to sit down at the table.

"Somehow the main characters don't look fresh?" he reproachfully looked at Kai and Bartholomew.

He heard that Bartholomew's tent had been reveling for the second day, and now he saw from their faces and appearance that the guys had a good rest.

Kai, out of habit, reached into his pocket for cigarettes.

"I forbid smoking," the colonel said sternly.

"Do you have soda or beer for the guys, otherwise it's a pity to look at them," the always cheerful Cider joked.

The Colonel turned a deaf ear to the joke and got to the point of collecting them. It turned out that a gang of Mujahideen descended into the valley and began to nightmare a peaceful village. The task of Bartholomew's group was: by coordinating actions with reconnaissance and infantry in the person of the battalion commander Petrenko, push back the jihadis from the villages in the valley and drive them into the mountains. The gang is large, but, sensing the hunt, it will go to the mountains. There was no order to destroy them, only to scare them, let them get out.

The plan is simple, reconnaissance will give accurate data on which village they are in, the battalion commander arranges a noisy attack, and Kai and Bartholomew with their guys take three armored personnel carriers and drive the retreating to the mountains.

It was necessary to act immediately. The APCs should be at the checkpoint by ten in the morning. In the morning, the spirits do not wait for an attack, they are relaxed, and so they should not miss the time for a surprise.

Kai managed to drop in to change his clothes. He put on a bulletproof vest, a helmet, weighed himself with a weapon and wrapped an Arab scarf on top, knowing how dusty it would be on the road and in the valley. If you breathe through a scarf, much less sand will get inside.

Oh, this sand! How he hated it! It was everywhere, and in addition to it, there was also the scorching sun!

An APC drove to take him. Bartholomew and Frol were in one APC, Torpedo and Ivan were in another, and Kai and Pepper were in the third. Kai assumed control. Pepper kept in touch by radio and coordinated his movements.

They were already close to the point of arrival. Suddenly, in front of them, they saw an armored Mercedes and a jeep, the way of which was blocked on both sides by the cars of the militants and the fighting people.

"Kai, how do you hear?" the radio hissed. It was Bartholomew.

"I hear you!"

"Ahead Mujahideen are polishing off the Japs. We seem to be friends with the Japs now. Maybe to help the cross-eyed?"

"Let's help, otherwise they are trapped," Kai also realized that the armored vehicle belongs to the Japanese, by the flag.

Torpedo's armored personnel carrier, at full speed, crashed into the militants' car and pushed it into the abyss. Kai did the same with the second car. The armored personnel carrier of Bartholomew poured fire on the bandits fleeing into the mountains.

To make it easier to fire at the people running up the mountain, Kai and the guys got out of the armored personnel carriers and climbed onto the armor of the vehicles. They fired at the retreating jihadis in automatic bursts, they stood off, but heavy fire and the factor of surprise played a decisive role in the battle, the enemy retreated. Pepper and Torpedo “poured” them in long bursts, knowing that in the crowd the bullets would reach their target.

Kai shot aiming while keeping everything that happened under control. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the sight of the gun aimed at Frol.

He fired first, saw the jihadi fall from the stone on which it had been standing.

Soon the shots died down. Bartholomew finished off several writhing bodies on the slope with control. Judging by the scattered corpses, hardly anyone managed to escape.

Bartholomew turned to the Japanese, who were standing at the Mercedes, looking at their saviors. For them, everything that had happened was a complete surprise.

In good English, Bartholomew said:

"I'm glad we made it on time. I hope no one was seriously injured among you. You can go. Don't linger here."

Kai's armored personnel carrier stood practically in front of the doors of an armored Mercedes. Kai sat down on the armor, put down his machine gun, rummaging in his pockets for cigarettes.

One of the Japanese opened the back door of the Mercedes, the others bowed respectfully. A tall young man with a not entirely Japanese appearance got out of the car, but slightly more than a European's slanting eyes betrayed his belonging to this nation. He looked about thirty, maybe less. He was dressed like in a Japanese engraving: harem pants tucked into boots, a kimono, a silk belt, and swords at the waist. He was handsome with an enigmatic oriental beauty.

Glancing attentively at all those present, he turned to Bartholomew in almost pure English with words of gratitude.

After listening to him, Kai replied in perfect Japanese:

"You need to be more careful! You shouldn't ride here with such a few guards."

Everyone turned to Kai, who, having said this, finally found cigarettes and lit one.

The tall Japanese man stared at Kai without stopping, and then answered also in Japanese:

"You speak my language perfectly. I will take your advice into account. Thanks for the help. My name is Toyami Takeru." He bowed and gazed into Kai's eyes.

"Gray eyes, it is surprising for Japanese," Kai thought.

The radio next to him hissed.

"Guys, Cidr is driving them, where are you?" came from it.

Kai replied:

"We'll be there in twenty minutes!"

"Have you heard? Turmoil has already begun there! That’s all we need," he shouted to the guys.

Already getting into the car, he turned to Toyami and said in the same Japanese:

"It was nice to meet you, but I can't chat: we will have fun in another place."

His armored personnel carrier jerked off.

Toyami remained standing, watching the cars leaving in the distance along the road.

He was amazed. Hearing from a Russian - yes, he was definitely a Russian, such a perfect pronunciation! This young man amazed him. Such aristocratic features and such eyes - they were like precious emeralds, fascinated, flashing green lights.

"He is very young, much younger than me. I don't even know his name. "

As if reading his thoughts, Isoa, standing next to him, said:

"This is Kai."

"Oh, yes, many told some mythical stories about his military exploits," he thought. Though, now he was ready to believe in their plausibility, having seen how he famously shot the fleeing bandits. But he could not imagine that Kai looked like that and so young.

Toyami gave the order to go: it was really dangerous to stay here.

All the way, thoughts about this young man did not leave him.

"Yes exactly! I've heard so much about him, but I've never given it any importance. They say that Kai is excellent with a sword, he has no equal in this. And these stories are about his heroism! It seems he has been here for a long time. But why? What keeps him here? Does he like it all? How many questions at once I would like to ask him!"

Toyami smiled: "I would like to ask - looking into those green eyes ..."

He listened to himself: a strange feeling, he hadn’t felt it for a long time - a desire to see someone again.

He became indifferent to everyone. He learned and experienced a lot over the years, gradually losing interest in everything. Rather, he just lived: he did his job well, in his free time he met with friends and allowed himself to be entertained as he wanted.

Where does this desire come from now in him again?

Toyami turned to the window, looking out at the flickering dusty landscape.

"I'll see you again, Kai!"