Elsa Bibat wrote:
>
> I know a bit tooooo long between posts but several
> problems in RL really can't be avoided....
Oooh, I hear THAT....
> *************************************
>
> Beautiful Dreamers
>
> by
>
> Elsa Bibat
>
> A Tale in the Dances of The Music of Time Sequence
Whoo-hooo! Two-Bats is back, and dancin' in the HOUSE!
<ahem>
Okay, serious C&C time. Really.
> June 4, 1927
>
> Dear Sumire-chan,
>
> It is such a good thing to hear from you. I can never say
> how much all these stories you send in your letters please me.
> They give me such happy moments when I read them. You
> have such a fertile imagination! That last story you sent actually
> made me cry! What made you want to retire your namesake,
> for heaven's sake? I want more, Sumire-chan! These stories
> are a joy for me to read and I would not want them to end.
Okay, I'm hampered here by only slight familiarity with ST, but I get
the gist.
> However, I must ask you that you be careful in sending
> such large letters. The Kempeitai probably think I am part of
> some sort of conspiracy, with all these military-themed stories
> you keep sending me.
Kempeitai? Total blank, but obvious from context. (after googling).
Oh. Er. Yuck...
> They are quite an achievement, Sumire-chan. I would
> suggest you have them published but I know your sentiments.
> I can read between the lines, cousin, and I think there are
> quite a few in the Kempeitai who can, too.
Sooo... the ST stories are fiction, here? And treasonous fiction, at that?
> I also have a story to tell you. The next time we meet I will
> tell you the whole story, but for now, let us say that something
> happened to me that is almost as strange and wonderful as the
> stories you tell of the Imperial Capital Defense Force. I even
> have a small memento of the encounter, a red teardrop amulet
> that is like nothing you could see sold in the jewelry shops.
Urk! Kanzaki... oh! Now *there's* a connection I never thought of.
Sakura Taisen and Escaflowne. Heck, and they're even both steampunk
(sorta)....
> I have to cut this letter short. This will undoubtedly reach you
> before we arrive at your home, Sumire-chan, so we will continue
> this talk in person. By the way, Auntie says that you have a
> marriage meeting coming up.I wish you good luck and I hope
> he is handsome.
>
>
> Your cousin,
>
> Kanzaki Kikyou
>
> *************************************
>
> June 8, 1927 Yokohama,
> Japan
>
> Smiling, Kanzaki Sumire adjusted her large horn-rimmed
> glasses as she read her cousin's letter. Kikyou-chan was
> coming to visit!
> Then she frowned.
> Kikyou-chan liked her stories. How was she going to tell
> her that she wouldn't be writing anymore of them.
"Well, you see, my muse got seduced by this minor war-god and decided
to settle down and have kids...."
> She had hesitated at first in sending them to her cousin, but
> the fact that they were both avid readers of Hinawajuh, Bokken
> Sekai and half a dozen of the other story magazines like
> Shin-seinen and Gurotesuku had prompted her decision of
> sending the stories. Added to the fact that it was Kikyou-chan
> herself who had shown her Edogawa-sensei's Kasei no Unga,
"Mars Canal," huh? Google is pretty thin on it, but it looks like some
kind of Golden-Age Japanese SF. Hmm, wonder if Japan ever had a
Gernsback-equivalent...?
> she had ample reason to think that her cousin would enjoy the
> stories that she had written.
> She sighed.
> She would have to tell her cousin everything when she came.
> She couldn't write them anymore.
> The Dream had ended.
And now I'm beginning to get an idea of what's going on.
> She couldn't figure out the how or why, but the Dream had
> ended and she would never see it again.
> Five years of closing her eyes every night and waking up to
> the wonderful life that she had always dreamed of.
> Being beautiful and talented. Being confident and in control.
> Sumire put down her cousin's letter and looked at the mirror.
> Sleek black hair against her dreamself's brown. At least her
> hair was as smooth and silky as in her dream. Of all her
> attributes, it was her hair that was most true.
> A flat freckled visage, framed by ugly glasses bought from a
> street optometrist, instead of the angular beautiful face of her
> dreams.
> Short and flat-chested, she could only hope for the svelte,
> sensuous figure of her dreamself.
Sug: "...long for the..."
> Dressed in a hand-me-down kimono rather than the latest
> and daring styles.
Googled up a few Sumire images to refresh my memory here. Oh dear.
"Daring" is one way to put it...
> Sometimes, when the Dream was most beautiful, she thought
> to herself that she was the dreamself and that she was really
> Kanzaki Sumire, scion of the Kanzaki zaibatsu, actress and
> member of the Teikokukagekidan.
"A girl dreamed she was a butterfly..."
> She much preferred the dream to the reality.
Oh, yeah. More than the looks, just knowing you can --and are-- Making
A Difference. And the friends. Definitely the friends. They would be
the most painful loss of all....
> But the truth was unchangeable.
> She was Kanzaki Sumire, daughter of a minor government
> official in Yokohama, one of a brood of five. She could not act,
> she could not fight, she could not sing. Friendless except for a
> few female cousins here and there. Addicted to the story
> magazines and the kamishibai and the theater.
Typical girl-geek, IOW.
> Just a dreamer, for awhile, a Dreamer.
Scans awkward. Sug: Just a dreamer, and for a while, a Dreamer, as well.
> And the Dream had finally ended and she was nothing
> more than herself.
> A poor, lonely girl lost in her dreams.
Which begs the question: was it better to have and lose the dreams, or
never to have had them at all? Which fate is more cruel?
> "Sumire-chan!!!"
> A poor, lonely girl who was about to get engaged.
> "Coming, Okaasan!"
>
> Sumire and her parents waited patiently for the other party
> to arrive. The marriage meeting had been arranged by a friend
> of her father and she didn't know anything of her prospective
> iinazuke, a fact that irritated her to no end.
Akane Tendo: "Sister, have I got a story for YOU."
> Pestering her parents with questions had gotten her nowhere.
> No name, no description. Just "you'll like him, Sumire-chan"
> and "he's got a bright future ahead of him" and all such blind
> assurances.
Oooooh, boy. Not good.
> As if she hadn't known better. This was another one of her
> father's ploys for social advancement. Connections were
> important in this day and age,
As opposed to every other age, hmm? Also, I suggest ending that line
with a period. Otherwise, it and the next read like a run-on.
> add the fact that her father was
> a very ambitious man, she had suspicions about her fiancee-to-be.
> The door silently and slowly slid open. The other family
> entered on their knees, a sign of good traditional training.
<wince> Okay, my knees hurt just *thinking* about that. I dunno how
traditional Japanese ever did that as much as they did. Oww.
> The parents did not merit her attention. It was the young man
> she had come to meet that she looked at. A thin, wolfish face,
> topped a rather weaselish frame dressed in the uniform of the
> Kempeitai.
Uh-oh.
Kempeitai: "But you haven't seen my bull-like parts yet!"
> They engaged me to one of the secret police! The thought
> echoed inside her mind as she looked at the young man before
> her. Promising career, indeed!
Usually, when being a member of the Secret Police is a "promising
career," things are gonna get ugly, if they aren't already.
> Chips of black charcoal regarded her with a steely gaze as her
Charcoal is kind of, um, dull and grainy. I'd suggest plain coal,
which can be shiny, and is much harder than crumbly charcoal.
> prospective fiancee gave her a once-over. Even her distaste for the
> man was overcome by her shyness. If I'm lucky I'm too ugly
> enough for him. Her hopeful thought echoed in her mind as the two
> families bowed to each other.
<wince> It's pretty sad when that's a girl's brightest hope.
> "Kanzaki-san"
> "Ogami-san"
> Sumire almost fell over in her bow. Recovering herself, she
> regained her composure. Ogami wasn't exactly a unique name.
Oh ho-ho! The plot thickens.
> "Ichiro, my eldest. He has recently been promoted to second
> lieutenant of his section. He was a constant high achiever in school
> and is on excellent terms with many superior officers in the Army.
> He has shown himself as a source of pride for our family and we
> hope that he would meet with your approval."
> Sumire was trying to control herself. Ichiro! Ohgami Ichiro!
Maybe, just maybe, the world has more Dreamers.
> He doesn't look like-
Well, no, but neither do you.
> "Sumire, my only daughter. She may not look like much but she
Why that SOB! What a thing to say about one's own daughter, especially
to her face! Indicative of the time and culture, though, I suppose.
What a background to grow up in.
> is accomplished in her own right. She is skilled in the domestic arts.
> She has shown herself adept in calligraphy and ikebana. She is
> obedient and knows what is required of her. She would make an
> excellent wife for your son."
<choke> What a... *shining* list of qualifications. See comment above.
> A flash of quickly surpressed surprise appeared on the young
> man's face as he heard her name being mentioned. Her curiosity
> was even more aroused as the young man whispered into his
> father's ear. The elder man nodded, features in agreement to what
> had been suggested by his son.
"features in agreement"? Um. Sug: "appearing amenable" or some such.
> "It seems that my son wishes to be alone with your daughter for
> awhile."
> Her father smiled at that, though one could see the surprise in his
> eyes as he looked to his daughter. The fact that she and this
> young man would spend some time alone was part of the meeting,
> but for the young man to request it himself and this early?
> Sumire could only imagine what thoughts were running through
> that mind of his.
Me too. Feh. He's probably hoping that Ichiro'll try out the ride and
that Sumire gives him a good one.
Okay, so I don't like her father. Sue me.
> The two pairs of parents bowed and silently went out in the
> traditional manner, an almost-slide of knees on tatami.
> The two were left alone looking at each other, Sumire in
> confusion while Ichiro's eyes looked her over. He stopped his
> inspection and looked into her eyes. Sumire didn't know what to say.
> It was him who broke the silence.
> "Where's the off-shoulder purple kimono?"
YES!!!!
(after checking image) HELL, YES!
> Sumire glared at him for a moment before, eyes starting to
> become wet, she crossed the space between them and engulfed
> him in a hug.
> "You should be the one to talk. I thought you were a Navy
> man... and much more handsome at that."
Wotta thing to say. But under the circumstances....
But it has to be incredibly wonderful to find him, here, in drab ol'
reality.
> "I am as handsome as you are pretty, Sumire-chan. I assume
> this means that you _are_ Kanzaki Sumire, the Hanagumi
> Teikokukagekidan's top star?" The smile on his face made his
> sharp features friendlier, softer.
> "And you, Ogami Ichiro, the Imperial Theater's ticket boy?"
Let's hope the 'rents aren't listening in right now....
> Her glasses were starting to fog but she didn't care.
> He took off her glasses and wiped the tears from her eyes.
> "I thought I'd never see you again. Well, technically, I'm not
> seeing you again. You are definitely different here, in the real
> world."
> Sumire smiled shyly as she realized her close proximity with
> him. Loosening her embrace, she took her glasses from his
> hands and set them over her face once again.
> "You are different, too. Look at the pair of us, people who
> dream themselves a better life."
> They disengaged and they sat, looking each other over.
> "I would think you would be pleased with your life as it is,
> Second lieutenant Ogami." Sumire said, gesturing with her
That comment seems to come out of nowhere. Was the previous line
supposed to be Ohgami's?
> hand at the uniform. Ogami frowned.
> "The uniform and the pips on my collar are not exactly
> indicative of my feeling about working in the Kempeitai."
> An eyebrow peeked out from under the frame of her
> large unwieldy glasses as Sumire arched an eyebrow. Ogami
> smirked and continued.
Heh. Her mannerisms haven't completely changed, I see.
> "When I joined the Kempeitai, I was expecting to work
> against those who would threaten my Emperor, not those
> who threaten his toadying cronies. Not against those who
> are nothing more than honest men and women who seek
> my country's betterment and the cause of peace."
Don't say that too loud, Oghami.
I wonder how many idealistic young people naively joined up like this,
to wear the uniforms of organizations blacklisted by later history? The
SS, the KGB, the NKVD, who knows how many others....
> "That is a strange sentiment to hear from one of the
> secret police."
> Ogami barked out an ugly laugh. "I would be shot or
> at the very least 'disappear' from sight if I was ever heard
> to say that. But I trust you, Sumire-chan."
> Sumire blushed. "Already calling me that after a few
> minutes of talk, how shameless."
> A gentle smile was on Ogami's lips as he looked at
> the slight young woman kneeling before him. "A few minutes
> and a few years worth of dreams, Sumire-chan."
Well, if you're gonna count dreamtime....
And it must have been more than just a few years, if Dream-Sumire
retired, as mentioned early on. I just can't see her retiring young.
> Sumire looked up into those hard eyes twinkling with
> amusement. The spark of joy in them could not mask the
> toughness in those two orbs. What horrible sights they must
> have seen in their time.
> She smiled.
> Diamonds were hard, too. In her own way, she had
> managed to find a bit of the Dream in the real world.
> A slight thought nagged her at the back of her mind
> as she hugged this man who was to be her husband.
> If he was here, then that would mean the others
> should be here also, wouldn't it?
One can hope.
But... what about Sakura? I thought she and Ogami were an item. What
happened there? And it would seem like the first thing that would leap
to mind, if Sumire's thinking about marrying Ogami.
>
> *************************************
>
> February 19, 1938 Manchuria,China
Oh, hell.
>
> Ogami Ichiro looked up from the report on his table.
Oh, Hell. Him, there, THEN....
> "Are you sure about this?"
> "Yes, Captain." Standing at attention, his subordinate
> looked like a stick. Ogami looked down again at the
> report on his desk.
> "She has been confined?"
> "Yes, sir."
> "Has she been interrogated?"
> "Yes, sir."
> Ogami looked down at the report again. "Properly?"
> "Er..."
"Define 'properly.'"
> "Lieutenant, if you just beat the answer out of her then you
> may have the wrong person. Again, did you interrogate her
> properly and had her investigated thoroughly?"
> "Captain-"
> "Lieutenant, they may be teaching you differently now in
> Kyoto, but the last time I was there we did things in a
> civilized and logical manner. Now is there any other proof
> corroborating your report?"
There's something dreadully ironic about a Secret Policeman talking
about "doing things in a civilized and logical manner," but this *is*
Ogami we're talking about. Going about his duties in the most humane
fashion possible is about all he can do against the madness gripping his
world.
> Hesitation blanketed the room with silence.
> "Damnit, lieutenant, I will handle this investigation! If she
> is not the person we're looking for then the individual that
> we're supposed to have captured is still out there doing
> mischief! Personally, I think you made a mistake, so I'm
> sending you out to look! Again! GO!"
> The lieutenant walked out of the room so quickly that it
> was almost a run.
> Ogami looked down at the report again. Looked at the
> name written there. He leaned back into his chair and looked
> up into the wooden ceiling. It was a bit blurry.
Uh oh. I have a bad feeling about this.
> He covered his eyes with his hands and wiped the
> sweat from his face.
>
> Ogami Ichiro took a deep breath as he stood before
> the door of the interrogation room. The guards by the door
> studiously ignored him.
> Looking one of them in the eye, he glared. "No one
> is to disturb me."
Hard to make eye contact with someone who's studiously ignoring you.
Sug: "He fixed one of them with a flinty glare."
Interesting hints, here: to avoid being seen as treasonously soft,
Ogami has to be so scary on the things where he *doesn't* have to hold
back that no one is willing to question him. That's a hard, fine line
to walk.
> The guard nodded in response.
> Ogami put his hand on the doorknob and took another
> deep breath. He opened the door and stepped inside.
>
> The woman before him had the look of the prematurely
> aged.
> She should have looked younger. He knew why. He saw
> the effect of the world's harshness, of the burdensome pain
> of reality, on him every time he looked into the mirror. Even
> Sumire had the slight mark of it on her features.
> The world was hard on Dreamers.
Even with the Enemy, the Dream world was a brighter, *purer* place.
> But this was worse. Purple bruises knotted her face.
> Swollen and split lips barely covered imperfect and incomplete
> teeth. Ratty hair streaked with grey framed a stone face that
> had been battered by hammer blows of fist and wood. The
> sight of the pounded face angered him and he realized what
Sug: "...of that pounded face angered him as he tallied..."
> methods his subordinate had used. Ogami knew all the
> techniques, after all. Had used them on many men and
> women in his time.
And that says about all that needs to be said, about how Ogami's
managed to survive in this viper pit for so long.
> He never cursed himself more in his life for his knowledge
> of the arts of blood and pain than that moment when he
> looked into the face of Li Kohran.
Ah, makes sense, since she was Chinese. Could be worse, though --
could've been Sakura. Or (shudder) Iris. Now *that* would have been
*nasty.*
> Kohran tried to glare at her captor. That was rather
> difficult since her left eye was covered by a bruised and
> bloody eyelid and her right eye only gave her back a blur of
> light and shadow. She tried not to wince as she felt a
> twinge of pain tug at her back. Her interrogators were
> rather thorough.
Sug: "...had been rather thorough."
> She had awakened from her light sleep when the sound
> of the turning doorknob had woken her up. Muscles aching,
A tad redundant. Sug: "She had been awakened from her partial doze
when the sound..."
> she resigned herself to another session, though she wondered
> what her captors wanted from her.
Sug: "...what more her captors..."
> She had confessed, after all. Saboteur, arsonist, bomber.
> Li Kohran turned the thoughts around her head. Not bad for
> a half-Japanese partisan with nothing but a bit of knowhow
> and a penchant for explosives.
For explosives, or just making things explode? I swear, that girl
could make a gallon of milk go nuclear just by looking at it....
> She tried not to smile. Smiling hurt.
> Silence. Then the sound of the chair across her being
Sug: "...across from her..."
> dragged back and paper landing on the table. A good sign.
> They'd have pushed the table away to the side if it were
> going to be a 'rigorous interrogation'.
Again.
> The sound of someone sitting down.
> "Your name is Li Kohran?"
> Her mother had taught her the language. A mail-order
> bride bought by a rich merchant has to have a few joys. Her
> mother was the only good Japanese she could think of. She
> used to dream of going to Japan when she was little, meeting
> friends, singing...dreams made to ashes when the Imperial
> Army marched in.
Oh, my poor Li.
Mail-order bride *from* Japan, *to* China? That seems a bit odd, but
maybe that stuff happened in those days. Come to think of it, the other
way 'round is even less likely, given certain inherent Japanese racial
attitudes.
> "Yes."
> She had to stay focused. There must be a way to get
> out of this. She looked at her captor and could see a flesh
> coloured blotch of a face and a green blotch that was a
> uniform.
Sug: "...of a face above a green blotch of uniform."
> Once again, silence. Then he, her interrogator,
> started to hum.
> After the first few bars, the memory came back and
> she knew the song.
Ohhh. Clever, clever boy. Just as smart as in the Dream. And
probably more cunning....
> She had heard it in her dreams. She had sang it with
Um. "sang" or "sung"? I dunno....
> others on a stage, a dream she had thought she had
> forgotten. It all came back to her as the song continued.
> She ached to sing, but her throat hurt and her mouth felt as
> if they were filled with cotton. Her eyes hurt. The salt in
> her tears, tears she had thought were long exhausted, tasted
> like the sea.
"It's just a bittersweet... symphony... that's life...."
> How does he know? The question ran through her mind
> mixed with hate, fear and loss. Was there nothing safe from
> the grubby hands of these marauders? Her country pillaged,
> her life shattered, now they took away her dreams.
She's not making the connection. But then, she's not at the top of her
game.
> She was sobbing. She hadn't noticed it until she
> felt a hand running through her hair and patting her back. A
> voice was telling her he was sorry. So sorry.
> She lashed out. Her hands could not hurt him but her
> words still could.
> "Sorry! You kill my mother, rape me, leave me for
> dead, torture me, and you Japanese are sorry! Sorry does not
> bring back my life! Sorry does not bring back my mother!
> Sorry does not bring back my dreams!"
Right at this moment, it must truly SUCK to be Ogami.
> The hands stopped. The voice stopped. When it
> returned, Kohran could almost swear that there was slight
> hitch in that voice.
> "I... Li-san, you are to be released. You are
> obviously not the one we were looking for."
> She could not believe her ears. The man continued.
> For some strange reason, Kohran thought she knew him.
Ow.
> "However, because of your harsh treatment, you will
> be unable to be released just yet. You will be treated for
> your injuries and, as means of reparation, you will be given
> employment."
That could get him in trouble. Not that that'll stop him....
> "My wife will be visiting me in a while. She will
> need a maidservant. I know this is not enough to repay your
> suffering, but it is just a first step. Me and my wife will
Sug: "My wife and I..."
> try to help you as much as we can. Please accept my
> apologies."
> The man walked stiffly away, his feet clicking on
> the floor giving him away. In the few seconds that it took
> him to reach the door, Kohran finally remembered where she
> had heard that voice.
> The long tunnel of her life had finally revealed a
> light. A bit dim and distant, but a light nonetheless.
> She raised her head and saw nothing but shadows and
> heard the slight turning of the doorknob. She summoned her
> voice.
> "Captain!"
And that was like a lightning bolt down his spine. I can only imagine
what is would be like, to have her remember, to call him by the rank he
holds *here* and held in the Dream -- to be two people so simultaneously
in her eyes. One she trusted, maybe even loved a little, and who owed
her everything a commander owes his soldiers, opposed to the other, a
living symbol of everything and everyone who made her real life an utter
hell. To owe her so much, and be able to do so little....
Ghod, Ogami, I'm sorry.
> Silence.
> "I'll see you around, Kohran."
"After I punish myself for my relative good fortune with a major
drinking binge. Maybe then I can look you in the eye again...."
> The doorknob completed its turn and Kohran was
> blinded by the light.
Nice little turn of phrase, there.
> *************************************
>
> December 24, 1938 Paris, France
Oh, Iris, where arrrre youuuu?
> Iris Chateaubriand sighed and brushed away a lock of
> honey-blonde hair from her face. She slipped the jeweled
> necklace down her dress in a specially prepared pocket and
> drew in a great big breath.
Sug: "...into a..."
> Then she screamed.
> It was a scream that echoed all through the large
> manor of the Vicomte d'Alembert, as it was supposed to.
> One minute before the other guests arrived and found
> the open safe and, of course, Lupin's little calling card.
> She had managed to palm one of them after her little run-in
Rep of "little." Sug replacing the first one with "signature" or
something.
> with the arrogant popinjay. Another jewelry theft blamed on
> the Son of the Wolf would be both be investigated thoroughly
The "both" really doesn't belong there, given the structure of the rest
of the sentence.
> while the Surete would be blind to the fact that someone
> else could have possibly done it. After all, Lupin placed
> his card there didn't he? Who else could have stolen it?
Wonder what Lupin will do about this abuse of his reputation?
> Iris thanked the Lord in Heaven for idiotic policemen while
> she surveyed the scene one last time before she went into her
> little "faint".
> The safe's cast-iron door was thrown wide in the shadowed
> room, bereft of its main occupant and several other trifles which
> Iris had secured in a secret compartment in the newly delivered
> mahogany table of the room. The window was open and a rope
> tied to the casement showed an easy avenue for escape.
She covered all the details. Nice trick with the table. Just hope she
was careful about fingerprints (not that it's likely to matter, with
Lupin's calling card in evidence).
> She nodded in satisfaction and proceeded to "faint",
> slumping down to the floor with an audible plomp.
> As she lay on the plush carpeting, Iris Chateaubriand thought
> of another place and another time, when her acting drew applause
> and her strident voice moved men and women to tears.
> All gone now, the Dream had ended the day her father
> blew his brains out and she and her mother got thrown to the
> poor house.
Sug "were" for "got"
> She had not thought of it for years now. The letter
> must have caused her errant thoughts to stray in that
> direction.
> A letter from Japan. From a woman named Sumire
> Kanzaki.
Does she recognize the name? How much does she remember?
> When she was little she dreamed of going to Japan.
Sug: "had dreamed"
> That was the time of the Nouvelle d'Orient and China, Japan
> and the Far East had held Paris in thrall. The fad had come
> and gone, but in her heart of hearts the dream had stayed
> alive for years.
> Japan. The name and address on the envelope was
> written in French but the letter inside was in the chicken
> scratches of the Japanese. She could not understand...no,
> that was not true. She had felt the spirit of it.
> Come. Come here. I want to meet you.
But in the Dream, she must have had *some* Japanese language skills.
How much crosses over? Could Sumire handle a naginata (minus muscle
memory, of course), for example?
> Japan. Her lips twitched into an unnoticeable smile
> as the room was discovered. One place was good as any to lie
> low for awhile.
"Discovered" seems a bit off. Perhaps "the room's condition was
discovered"?
> And she would like to meet this woman who had a name
> from her dreams.
>
> *************************************
>
> November 5, 1942 Stalingrad, Russia
Oh. Oh, no.
> It was snowing in the City of Steel.
> In the ruins of buildings, in the realms of
> shattered steel and broken concrete, a huntress waited for
> her prey.
Oh, crap. Of course, where *else* would you find Maria, in the '40s?
> Maria Tachibana looked through her binoculars and
> spied her targets.
> Grey Wehrmacht uniforms and helmets. Five. Three
> were around a small fire and a cookpot. One was answering
> the call of nature. One was separate from the others,
> ostensibly on watch.
> She set up her rifle and looked down the scope, down
> the crosshairs.
Sniper. Of course.
> Comrade Zaitsev had praised her riflework, telling
> her she was a natural.
Vasiliy Zaitsev? *The* Sniper of Stalingrad? Damn. In this world,
was his legend true, or just propaganda?
Not that the *real* Zeitsev was anyone to sneeze at. But the story
about his duel with the SS sniper instructor is supposed to be a myth.
> She should be. She had been doing this since the
> Revolution.
Whoa. That was, um, 1918? Close on 20 years, then.
> First, the most distant.
> Take a deep breath. Like Papa taught you. Like Aniki
> taught you. See the head. See the middle of his eyes.
> Bang!
> Pull the trigger and another Nazi devil went to
> hell.
> Shift.
> Bang!
> He was zipping up his pants as the bullet went
> through his chest like pencil through paper.
> The three had noticed and were scrambling for cover.
Sug: "...remaining three..."
> Bang! Bang!
> One through the heart and another through the back.
> The last one had managed to reach cover and was
> crawling through debris.
> Feel. Make a guess, Maria-chan. Left or right?
> Are you feeling lucky?
> She let go of the breath she was holding and drew in
> a quick one as she shifted the rifle a couple of centimeters
> to the right and pumped a bullet through flimsy wood.
Actually, IIRC you want to be exhaling very gently when you pull the
trigger. At least, that's always worked for me.
> The soldier fell down dead.
> She sighed as she closed her eyes and relaxed.
> Her sensitivity heightened by adrenaline, she could
> hear the snow fall and her heart beating in that familiar
> one-two rhythm. She eased her rifle from its perch and lay
> there in the quickly-gathering snow.
> Father. He had come to Russia from Japan as a member
> of the Communist Party, seeking a new life after the
> oppression and censorship of the Meiji. Up the Siberian
> railway to Moscow.
Emmigrating to pre-Soviet Russia in an attempt to escape oppression and
cencorship. There's a dreadful irony in there somewhere.
> He had met her mother in the ghettoes of the capital
> of Tsarist Russia.
> Brother was born shortly afterwards. Then her.
You used "Aniki" before. Doesn't bug me, but some readers might be thrown.
> She rolled over and looked up into the grey skies
> distributing white flakes of ice. She smiled a cold little
> smile.
> Maudlin at your old age, Maria-chan? Maybe it is the
> snow.
Usually "in", not "at", in my epxerience.
> It's snowing like the day Aniki died.
Sug: "It was...."
> For awhile, after the Revolution, she had dreamed
> comforting little dreams. Maybe it was the headiness of the
> success of the Communist dream. Lenin and the Party were in
> power and everything was going to change.
> Si nging, dancing, a small little family of sisters.
Extra space.
> Then Djugashvili- no, he called himself Stalin,
> nowhad come.
Missing end hyphen. "...Stalin, now-- had..."
> She felt a drop of wetness on her cheek. She raised
> a hand up and wiped it away with her gloved fingers.
> Maudlin at your old age, Maria-chan?
Repeated line?
> Her father had gone to the gulag and she and her
> mother barely escaped, mostly because her father had asked
> Rakhmetov for protection for the two of them.
> Her thoughts wandered to the man they called the
> Iron Colossus and sighed.
Ah. This would be the "Dances" analogue of Doc Savage, correct?
> For all his popularity, it was a close thing for him
> and his associates. He was still under suspicion and that
> had meant his assignment here, to the City of Steel. A
> rather easy way for that madman Stalin to get rid of him
> without raising the ire of the Russian people. She had
> followed him in the hopes of repaying her debt to him, but
> she had ended up being assigned to another sector.
Assuming the Doc Savage parallels remain strong, she would have fit
right in with his merry little band of madmen.
> She was getting tired of all of it. And for some
> strange insane yet sane reason she wanted to sing.
The Floral Defenders always *did* sing when things got bad, didn't they?
> You are getting old, Maria-chan.
> She shook her head and prepared to move.
> That was when she made her first mistake.
Oh no. Please, dont...
> When she had rolled over, her binoculars had come
> out of their sheath and the glass glinted in the weak light.
> That was when she made her second mistake.
No...
> She forgot to check her surroundings immediately.
> Maybe her melancholic thoughts distracted her. But, she
> delayed surveying her surroundings for a few seconds.
> That was when she made her third mistake.
> She stood up.
...
....
If there was one thing the movie "Enemies at the Gates" was good for,
it was conveying the *atmosphere* of Stalingrad. The rubble, the grime,
the grinding hoplessness... the quickness and cheapness of life in the
City of Snipers. I can SEE this, with a clarity I wish I didn't have.
Oh, Maria...
> There is an old soldier's saying that was oft-repeated
> by veterans of the Stalingrad siege.
> You were only allowed three mistakes in the City of
> Steel.
> After that, you die.
Well, techincally (he said, in a desperate attempt at gallows humor),
if she's made three misakes, and is *allowed* three, then only the
fourth should get her killed. Right?
> It was as if an enormous hand had slammed into her
> chest with the force of a locomotive. It threw her several
> feet backwards and knocked her into the ground.
> Surprisingly, it was all so strangely painless.
> All over the world, seven people felt as if a part
> of their soul had been ripped away. For them it was a moment
> of indescribable sadness.
And this is where I lost any hope. Right here.
> And a woman sleeping in a shrine in Sendai wept in
> her sleep.
<blink> Okay, I'm missing that one.
> And for Maria Tachibana, moments before her vision
> left her, she thought she heard women singing.
Dammit, it shouldn't have to be this way.
> Snow fell gently on her body, a white shroud for her
> funeral. An unmarked grave in the city of broken concrete and
> shattered steel.
> In the City of Steel, an angel had found her peace.
Goodbye, brave one. Wherever you are... don't forget to sing.
> *************************************
>
> August 6, 1945 Hiroshima, Japan
Oh no. Not again. Not after Maria.
> Sister Leni Milchenstrasse sighed and stifled a
> yawn.
Had to look her up. I'm only familiar with the original six(?) girls,
plus Ogami.
> She had been awakened earlier by Captain Hino, a
> strange little man who didn't exactly fit anywhere in
> military hierarchy of the local government, and was
> questioned on the disappearance of Doctor Mizuno from the
> military stockade.
Hm. The Hino family has a history in the super-secret organizations
handling paranatural stuff, in this universe, IIRC. Wonder if he could
be Kishin Corps?
And what was Doctor Mizuno doing to get landed in the stockade?
> The officer obviously thought she had something to
> do with the woman's escape. She was quite glad that Megumi
> had escaped, of course, and she was planning to do exactly
Sug: "..had been planning..."
> what the Captain had accused her of, but it seemed that
> someone beat her to the punch. She had the impression that
> Captain Hino would have beaten her to find the truth out of
> her had she not been a nun and a German citizen. He was that
> kind of man.
Don't anybody tell Rei about this particular relative.
> Hopefully, Megumi Mizuno would be safely hidden away
> by her rescuers, whoever they may be.
Sug: "...Might be."
> Leni sighed. It was things like these that made her leave
> Germany and her old career. Not that she was going anywhere
Sug: "...had been going..."
> acting. Her childhood dreams made it seem so easy to be a
> success, but the real world was a lot more demanding.
> Plus, the Gestapo did not like her for being outspoken
> against the Reich.
> Better to be a nun and halfway around the world, even if
> it were in Japan.
> Well, being in Japan wasn't as onerous as it seemed. She
> had dreamed of it too when she was young, but then it was
> more friendly...
Another Dream crushed.
> Pfah. Enough wool-gathering.
> Turning her thoughts to other things, Leni checked
> off her mental to-do list for the day.
> Visiting Himeko Kino in the infirmary would be the
> first order of business. Having a child out of wedlock was
> something Leni frowned upon, but one cannot force people
> into things they didn't want to do. The poor girl must expect
> the father to come back for both of them. Who can say?
Another Sailor ancestor?
> Maybe, maybe not. But still the woman needed emotional
> support and Leni could offer that to her.
> Kimiko Aino was going to visit again and help with
> the children. Her family was in the United States when the
> war started and the worry about them had almost driven her
Sug: "...might well have driven..."
> insane had not Leni suggested that she work off her nervous
> energy with the younger children. Nearly twenty years of
> age, the young woman had boundless energy and her
> rollercoaster of emotions would hopefully be on the upside
> today.
And another. I sense a pattern.
> The Tsukino family had moved out of the loft and
> into the countryside. They were thankful for her help and
> offered to pay the Sisters for their kindness with what
> little money they had left. She had refused and just asked
> Ichiro to carve an icon of Jesus Christ as payment,
> deliverable anytime he felt like it. Ichiro Tsukino was such
> a superb artist that it would be more than enough.
That's all five Inners. But if this Kino, Aino, and Hino (look they
rhyme!) are critical to the family trees, how are they going to survive
today?
> The loft was free now and she thought of offering it
> to Himeko, knowing that the young woman had lost her housing
> during a recent bombing raid. And it would have the mother
> and child within easy reach of the orphanage and convent.
> The children were playing in the courtyard as she
> entered the orphanage grounds. Leni smiled as they
> recognized her and waved at her, bright grins appearing on
> their faces.
> Some of the layworkers bowed in acknowledgement of
> her presence.
> Leni looked at her watch on her left hand while she
> waved her hello to the children with her right.
> 8:15 a.m.
Goodbye.
> She heard shouts of warning from some of the
> layworkers at the orphanage and she looked up.
> Then, there was a flash of light as bright as the
> sun.
> *************************************
>
> End of Part 1
>
> The Hanagumi Teikokukagedan will return in...
>
> Beautiful Dreamers Part 2
>
> Author's Note:
>
> I know, I know, a bit too scanty for a return post. I'll finish
> off part 2 and sent it out ASAP. A complete annotation
> will be supplied in Part 2.
>
> BTW, if Ed Becerra is reading can I borrow your sig for the
> epitath in part 2? (Yes, totally spoils the ending, but you know
> by now everyon's going to kick the bucket)
*I* didn't! Dammit.
But what *purpose* do the Dreamers serve, in this universe? There has
to be *something.* Damn it all, all this suffering and loneliness
shouldn't be for nothing. Somehwere, somehow, it has to be for something.
> Anyway, see ya!
Another good chapter, if awfully heart-wrenching. I suppose I get too
attached to fictional characters, sometimes. I'm just a sucker for good
writing....
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