Chapter Ten
Soun Tendo had known great sorrow before this day. The death of his
beloved wife had been the hardest blow he'd ever suffered. That was until
today, when he had to tell his daughter that her fiancee was Missing In
Action, and presumed dead.
The word had come via an officer of the Self Defense Forces. The
officer had been the epitome of politeness and tact, but his message was
a blow none the easier to take for it. The officer bowed formally when he
was finished, and left the dojo.
Once the officer had left, and only then, did the tears flow from his
eyes. Kasumi saw him then, and at once she knew the cause for his sorrow.
Her hand went to her cheek, but no words came. She let a sob escape her
lips, soft and delicate, before she fled for the kitchen.
Nabiki was in the family room, reading a magazine. Akane was home for
the weekend, her college being only an hour's train ride from home. She
was attempting to knit something, perhaps a sweater, although no one was
entirely sure. Neither of his daughters noticed his silent entry into the
room.
Genma and Nodoka did. They also saw the look on Soun Tendo's face.
"What is it, Tendo?" Genma asked. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.
"S-Saotome..." Soun began. Akane and Nabiki looked up now at their
father. "Saotome... An officer from the Self Defense Forces was just
here..."
"What is it, Dad?" Akane cried. There was terror in her voice.
Soun closed his eyes.
"It's Ranma..."
"No! He can't be!" Akane cried. "He promised me!"
Soun could barely say the words. "He has been declared missing in
action..." He couldn't bring himself to add the words 'presumed dead.'
It was too much now to see his daughter this way.
"He isn't dead!" Akane yelled. "I know he isn't! He promised me, and
he always keeps his promises!"
She ran upstairs to her room.
* * *
"Aw man, I feel like I'm dead..."
It was a stupid thing to say. Since when do the dead feel anything?
By saying it though, he knew he wasn't. He wished he was for just a moment.
At least then he wouldn't hurt anymore. He hurt bad.
He tried to sit up. Slowly and reluctantly his muscles responded. It
was daylight out. Maybe it was the morning. It felt like morning. He was
cold.
He was also alive. He knew that much. He hadn't been captured. Where
was everyone else?
Dead.
They must have been. He'd seen Kuno go down with a bullet in his
belly. Ryoga wasn't more than four meters away when the grenade went off.
The other guys had all gone down before then.
He looked around. There were bodies strewn everywhere. Several trees
bled sap slowly from bullet and shrapnel wounds. Five of the bodies were
Japanese. Ryoga was one of them.
He crawled over to him, feeling his muscles cramp and knot with cold
and pain. Ryoga's form was still, no wait, he was breathing! He could see
the shrapnel wounds in his legs and arm. There wasn't much blood, which he
hoped was a good sign.
"Hey, Ryoga..." he whispered. "Ryoga, wake up."
Ryoga stirred as Ranma shook him gently. The man who was sometime
friend and sometime enemy bolted upright with a guttural moan. There was
madness in his eyes. He had his knife in his hand, and he raised it to
strike.
"Ryoga, no! It's me, Ranma!"
Ryoga seemed to come to his senses.
"Wha--"
"Come on, Ryoga, take it easy..."
Ryoga shook his head to clear the cobwebs.
"Uhhhh...."
Ranma went to ease him back to the ground. "Just lay here for a
minute, I'm gonna check on the others."
Ryoga lay back down on the ground. He didn't seem to be in too much
pain, although he was probably in shock.
Ranma crawled over the wet grass to check the others. Nomura was dead.
Very dead in fact, he was missing most of his head. Kenjiro looked liked
he'd bled out every drop of life in his body. The ground was soaked with
it, now jellied and sticky. Hideo he'd seen was dead as well, the grenade
had flung a piece of shrapnel into his throat, and his chest and arms were
now shredded by the bits of steel wire.
That left Tatewaki Kuno. He wasn't a friend, but he was another
person that Ranma knew.
He crawled painfully along the ground, afraid to stand up. The
Koreans had good snipers, Hiroshi had learned that the hard way in the
last two months. He did not want to be a standing target in broad
daylight, woods or no woods for cover.
Kuno lay there white and still. He'd been gut shot, and Ranma could
see where powder burns had stained his fatigues along with the blood. It
had been close range. Still, Kuno had sent four of them to hell first,
which was the lions's share of the enemy.
**I can't believe Kuno's dead!** he thought bitterly. Another
failure for him.
He had to be sure. He picked up the man's cold limp wrist and felt
for a pulse.
There was nothing.
He turned back to Ryoga, who seemed to be the only other survivor
besides him. As for the Koreans they'd fought, those that lay there on
the cold ground were just as dead as Hideo, Kenjiro, Nomura, and Kuno...
"Come on, Ryoga, it's just you and me, and we've gotta get out of
here."
Ryoga tried to stand. The pain in his legs must have been unbearable,
but he managed to stand. Ranma could see where fresh blood now oozed
from his wounds.
"Come on, Ryoga, I'll help you walk." **I'll carry you if that's what
it takes.**
"W-What about Kuno?"
Ranma's eyes dropped. "He's dead..."
"No, he's not!" Ryoga retorted. "I can see him moving!"
Ranma spun around. Kuno stirred slightly. A soft moan escaped his
lips.
"I'll be damned..." he said.
"We'll need to carry him," Ryoga said. "I'll see about making a
stretcher."
"I'll do it, Ryoga, you can barely stand up on your own."
"You get Kuno, I'll worry about the goddamned stretcher!" Ryoga
snarled.
Ranma backed off. "Okay. Okay. Have it your way, man."
He went over to Kuno. He was breathing, barely. He felt for a pulse,
and found one after several minutes of searching. It was weak and thready.
He had a battle dressing in a hip pouch. He ripped at the fatigues,
and placed it upon Kuno's belly. With infinite care he lifted Kuno's cold
limp form into his arms.
"You don't look so good, Ranma," Ryoga said as he went to work.
Ranma looked down at himself. He was hit by shrapnel as well. In
the leg and in the side. Both wounds oozed slowly, but appeared to have
scabbed over. He was covered in blood, splashed from Kenjiro's death
throes. His whole body hurt too much to feel specific wounds.
Ryoga came up with a crude stretcher using two long branches and
the fatigues of their dead comrades. Ranma lay Kuno upon it, and together
they picked up the fallen swordsman.
"He's bad, isn't he," Ryoga said. It was a statement, not a question.
"Yeah..."
"Anything we can do for him?"
"I don't think so. I put a dressing on him, but he needs surgery. And
a blood transfusion."
Ryoga nodded slowly. "We gotta keep him warm, I took Nomura's jacket."
"Yeah..."
They started walking.
"Ranma?"
"What is it?"
"Do you know where you're going?"
"Yeah..."
They walked in silence. Ranma didn't care about snipers anymore, they
were as good as dead no matter who caught them. He still had his carbine,
but that was the only weapon they had left.
"Ranma?"
"Yeah?"
"Why did you come out here after us?"
Ranma was silent a little longer.
"I came out looking for you, Ryoga."
"Me? Why? We've been enemies all our lives."
"'Cause you're the only friend I got right now..."
Chapter Eleven
"Akane?"
There was a pause.
"Go away, Dad."
Soun turned slowly away from the door.
**Akane is still in denial...** he thought. **It's not hard to imagine
why, but she has to face the facts... I just don't have the heart to tell
her. No one does.**
Nabiki had gone back to college. Akane hadn't. Nodoka had been the
only one she would see her during her self-imposed exile in her room, but
she still refused to accept Ranma's death. She stayed in her room, and
Kasumi eventually brought her meals up to her. She ate very little of them.
He walked down the stairs a shambles. He and Genma hadn't been able to
say three words to each other since Saturday, and now it was Tuesday. Such
was his friend's grief.
* * *
"We gotta stop for a minute," Ryoga panted.
Ranma agreed. They set Kuno down in the sun to keep him warm. The
days were getting shorter and the nights colder. Frost covered the ground
at night, and snow was just around the corner. The harsh Korean winter
was coming for them.
There was no way they could get back to their lines now. The North
Koreans had pushed on the morning of their awakening and threw back the
UN lines another seven kilometers. They had narrowly avoided the
advancing troops by hiding in a thicket.
Now they were eight, probably nine, kilometers inside enemy
territory.
Ranma decided to head east for the sea. He hoped to skirt the
majority of the fighting, and perhaps they could find a fishing town or
something where they could find help for Kuno. The swordsman had held on
for over four days now, but even the man's stubborn refusal to die couldn't
last forever.
Both of them were weak. Kuno was a dead weight, and Ryoga's legs hurt
so bad that he could hear his friend's stifled gasps with every step. They
hadn't said much to each other since that first day. Ranma wasn't sure how
much longer Ryoga could continue, because he was running out of steam
himself.
They had no food and hadn't eaten since the day they left the hill.
Ranma knew water was bad for a man with a belly wound, but he insisted on
using some of their dwindling reserves on wetting a rag for the unconscious
swordsman to suck on. Ryoga hadn't objected.
"We need to change Kuno's dressing," Ranma said. "It's looking pretty
bad. Might as well do it while we're stopped."
"I think I still have mine," Ryoga replied. He searched his pouch and
found his battle dressing. The sterile wrapping had been broken, but the
thing was cleaner than the one on Kuno.
Ranma had to stifle his vomit reflex as he changed Kuno's bandage.
The wound was draining heavily and other signs of infection were visible
on the exterior. He used up some more of their water trying to clean the
wound a little before applying a new bandage.
"You ready?" he asked Ryoga at length.
"Yeah..." Ryoga replied wearily. "How much further to the sea?"
Ranma looked at the sky. "I think we can make it by sundown."
"Let's go then. I don't know how much further I can push on."
They got up again, carrying the stretcher between them.
The going was slow, as planes zoomed overhead, and bombs fell in the
distance. Some times the bombs were not so distant. Once a glowing fireball
of phosphorus sailed over their head from an incendiary explosion nearby.
They inched along, and every step was a triumph now.
The crash of the surf was welcome to their dull ringing ears. There
were no fishing towns around, but they couldn't be far. They set Kuno
down in the shelter of a boulder and dropped to the ground, totally spent.
Ryoga was asleep in seconds. Ranma clutched at his carbine, trying to
stay awake. The rhythm of the crashing surf was too much for him, and he
drifted away. He thought of Akane then, remembering her face, and she
was pretty when she wanted to be.
He didn't know how long he'd dozed. The moon was high in the sky, but
he didn't remember when it would rise and set anymore. His head felt like
a big thick blanket was smothering it.
Something woke him up. Some danger sense maybe. He'd been a fighter all
his life, and he was attuned to such things. There was something there.
Someone there.
It was a man. He had a Russian-made rifle. A slender bayonet was
extended upon it, which was dull black against the moonlight.
He probed Kuno with it. Not really stabbing, Ranma saw, just poking.
Kuno was either dead or too far gone to react.
This man was a North Korean, he realized. It was obvious, but he had
to tell himself to get any kind of reaction from his body.
The Korean turned his attention next to Ryoga, who was lying still,
breathing too shallow to see. The sound of the surf crashing nearby
concealed the short ragged breaths.
The Korean decided that Ryoga was alive, and in that instant decided
to end that life. He drew back the rifle for its plunge into Ryoga's
heart.
Ranma tried to scream, but his tongue was swollen and his mouth and
throat too dry to make a sound. He remembered the carbine in his hands.
The safety clicked off. Against the sound of the crashing surf, there
should have been no chance of hearing it, but perhaps the Korean had a
danger sense as well. He turned lightning fast to put his rifle to bear on
Ranma.
Ranma was all reflex in that moment, moving so fast that time slowed
to a crawl. He felt the carbine, now weightless in his grip, come up to
meet the Korean. There was the barest caress of the trigger. There was
an explosion of light. He watched as the bullets in the 3-round burst
spun in their perfect ballistic arcs, so flat at this range as to be
nearly imperceptible. The copper jacketed lead slammed into the Korean's
chest. He could see the shockwaves roll across the man's tunic as each
round struck. A brilliant red flower of blood and disrupted tissue
blossomed at each impact. A blossom even more magnificent erupted out of
the man's backside.
Ranma saw the man begin to fall without a sound. He saw the light dim
in his eyes. The shell casings jingled musically, scattering perfect golden
rays of reflected moonlight as they danced on stones nearby.
The Korean hit the ground like a felled tree, dead before he touched
the sand. There was no sound of gunfire, somehow he hadn't heard the
reports. The surf continued to crash nearby.
Ranma was aware of his scream, but there was no sound.
The figures came out of the night wearing black. They moved well, a
single entity out of the darkness. They glided silently across the sand,
ducked lightning quick around boulders, covering each other with liquid
grace.
They found Ranma and Ryoga and Kuno lying there. Between them was a
dead North Korean. Smoke wafted from the corpse's back. Smoke wafted
from the barrel of an M-727, a weapon that several of the men in black
carried.
They covered the three, but it was obvious that they weren't capable
of any more grief this night.
"What have we got?" their leader whispered.
"Looks like three nips and a dead gook," another replied.
"The nips are all shot up pretty bad. One with a real bad belly
wound," the corpsman added.
"Check the boats," he hissed.
One of the men did so.
"Everything looks intact. Whatever happened here must have gone down
before they spotted them."
"There's got to be more where this gook came from. Time to bag
ass before we get caught."
"What about the nips?" the corpsman asked.
The leader debated that thought. Against his better judgement he
jerked a thumb towards Ranma and the other two. "All right, load 'em onto
a RIB," he replied. "We don't have much time left before the pick-up,
so let's not screw around."
Ranma was awake during all this, more or less. His awareness was
drifting; time seemed to drag on one moment, and then was as fleeting as
summer lightning the next. He remembered the one they called Deuce gently
prying the carbine from his fingers. The ones they called Doc and Easy
lifted Kuno up and carried him towards the sea. Another, unnamed, took
Ryoga, who tried to protest, but was too weak.
Deuce lifted Ranma up into his arms. These men were tall, he decided,
their voices spoke in English. He remembered English. Sort of. They might
have been Americans, or maybe British or Australians.
They carried Ranma towards the sea, the spindrift was cold but
inviting. He wished he could just be swallowed up.
The sea didn't swallow him. Instead he was wrapped in a warm poncho
and placed in some sort of rubber boat. Ryoga was next to him, and so was
Kuno. The one they called Doc was hunched over Kuno as they cleared the
gentle surf and drove out to sea.
He felt Ryoga's hand next to him. He took it in his, and Ryoga
squeezed it in return. The waves rolled them on easily, adding to the
dream state he drifted in.
Finally, the one called Easy lowered something into the water.
There was a very high pitched whistle from somewhere. It pulsed several
times. The whistle was a haunting sound.
He must have dozed again. His head rolled to the side in time to see
something long and slender and green rise out of the water. A glint of
moonlight reflected off the top of it. A second form, much wider, and
covered in large black spots, rose up close to the first.
Something huge, monstrous, rose out of the water very slowly. The
water boiled gently around it as it rose. It was long and black and
glistened with wetness. The sounds of voices reached his ears, more
Americans. They had little red glowing lightsticks pinned to life vests,
the lightsticks he'd played with when he was little. He giggled stupidly
to himself at the thought.
More people appeared on top of the thing, which his mind now
registered as having to be a submarine, even though he'd never seen one
of them in person. The crew of this submarine helped lift them out of
the water. Someone called for something, and a sailor brought blankets
for them.
Slowly, carefully, they were lowered down the small hatch. A man in
a dark blue coverall and a substantial growth of beard took him from the
ladder as another undid the harness catches tied about him. The man had
the most intimidating set of teeth he'd ever seen. He was an orthodontist's
wet dream.
Inside, it was dark, and everyone carried red flashlights or the
lightsticks. They were brought down another ladder and into a long
hallway. More people were waiting for them, medical people he supposed.
They tucked them in a little cubby hole between two great cylinders
that rose from the deck to the overhead, and probably through decks above
and below them too. There were beds here, small but comfortable. The men
wore the same dark blue coveralls. Most of the men he saw were also in
dire need of a shave.
"These guys look pretty wasted," a voice commented. "Let's get some
wide bore IV drips going, 2 liters Lactated Ringers apiece."
"How 'bout that abdominal wound?" someone asked.
"The cooks are prepping the wardroom now for emergency surgery.
It should be ready in a few minutes."
"We're running blood-work on all of them right now."
"Good. Pass the word around the boat that we're gonna need blood in
that belly case's flavor. I don't want to cut him open out here, but he
might not wait much longer, and he needs a transfusion regardless."
"Some of the off-going watch section are waiting on the mess-decks
for that," a corpsman replied.
Ranma listened in a daze as the men worked around him. Someone was
getting his clothes off while another inspected his injuries. A third
was cataloguing them as the second dictated.
Something pricked his arm at the inside of the elbow, and he slept.
The last things he remembered before he slipped away were the sound of
an intercom from somewhere in the direction he had come.
"All Ahead Two-Thirds."
Then...
"Dive! Dive!"
Some awful noise followed, like a horn being strangled a couple times,
then "Dive! Dive!" again.
The most haunting and musical sound entered his mind then, and if
he'd have known better, he'd have said it was the sound of air rushing out
of the ballast tank vents as the submarine slipped beneath the waves...
Chapter Twelve
When Ranma awoke, he was no longer on the submarine. He was in a
hospital room, the sterile smell and spartan appointments were a shock
to his system. It was no hole in the ground, and those had been his home
for the last several months.
He felt like he'd been run over.
There wasn't much pain, only a weakness he hadn't felt since the
little pervert's moxibustion trick. He doubted he could even sit up at
the moment. He also had the worst cotton mouth of his life.
Looking around the room, he realized that he shared it with another.
His roomie was swathed in bandages and seemed to be sleeping. Someone
had left a small vase with flowers next to the man's bed.
An army nurse came in then to check on them.
"Ah, Corporal Saotome! You're awake I see. How are you feeling?"
Ranma didn't know what to say.
"How is your arm?" she asked, checking the bandages on his left arm.
"No need to worry, I'm sure you'll have a nice scar to show off when you
leave here."
"Huh? What happened to my arm?"
"You were shot. The bullet passed clean through. You were fortunate
the bullet missed the bone."
He sure didn't remember being shot.
"What else happened to me?"
"Oh, a few minor wounds. You were very undernourished and severely
dehydrated when they brought you here."
"How did I get here?"
"I'm told that you were picked up by an American submarine. They
transferred you by helicopter and flew you to a hospital ship. From there
you were flown to Yokosuka, and here you are."
He looked over at the bandaged soldier.
"Who's he?"
The nurse smiled. "Oh, that's Private Matsushita, he's recovering
from burns. He's stabilized, so we moved him down here."
He tried to sit up. "H-Have you seen a Corporal Hibiki or a Private
Kuno?"
"Oh yes. Corporal Hibiki is in the next room."
"What about Kuno?"
"I don't know anything about a Private Kuno. I'm very sorry."
Ranma felt his heart sink. All that struggle, and still Kuno didn't
make it.
The nurse brought him a small pitcher of orange juice.
"You should drink some of this, unless you want to stay hooked up to
an IV."
He looked up to the wire stand next to him. A clear plastic bag
slowly dripped into a tube that ran down to the needle in the back of
his hand.
"I'll be back to check on you in a little while," the nurse said as
he inspected his surroundings further. She bowed once for him, then left
the room as he lay back on the bed.
A heavy gasp escaped his cracked lips.
**I'm home. I made it.**
He took some of the orange juice the nurse had poured into a paper
cup for him. It was so good. He drank it down, and then had two more cups
as well. The taste of the orange juice helped his cotton mouth a little,
though he wished he could brush his teeth.
**How'm I supposed to go to the bathroom when I'm hooked up to
this?** he thought, gently tugging at the clear plastic tubing of his
IV.
Ryoga poked his head in then. Ranma had never been so happy to see
him before. He was wearing a hospital-green gown and trailed an IV drip
stand of his own. He had bandages on his legs and arm. He leaned against
the door frame for support.
"Hiya Ryoga!"
Ryoga gave him a slow and thin smile.
"Finally woke up, eh?"
"Yeah. How long have you been up?"
"Since they brought us here. You slept the whole flight from the
hospital ship."
"Do you know what happened to Kuno?"
Ryoga tried to remember. "I think they kept him aboard the ship. I
guess they operated on him when we were on that submarine."
"So he's not dead?" Ranma asked hopefully.
"I don't think so. Gosunkugi, Daisuke, and Hiro made it too."
"Yeah?"
Ryoga nodded. "Gosunkugi lost some motor function in his right
arm. Hiro's in pretty good shape, I guess. I saw him walking around
in uniform this morning. Daisuke..."
"How bad?" Ranma asked pensively.
"He's blind," Ryoga said softly. "You knew that. There might be
brain damage too, but it's too soon to tell, I guess. His face is
pretty bad."
"I think a boulder exploded in his face. One of the RPGs."
Ryoga nodded.
"He's alive," he said, sensing Ranma's discomfort. "You did that
much for him. I don't think anyone else would have bothered after the
hit he took and what was going on at the time."
Ranma bowed his head.
"It can't ever be enough."
A long and uncomfortable pause followed.
"So we really were on a submarine," Ranma said after a bit of silent
stewing. "It all felt like a dream. I guess I was pretty much out of it."
Ryoga closed his eyes. "Yeah... You talked a lot in your sleep, it
sounded like you were having nightmares or something."
This perked Ranma's interest.
"Oh yeah? Like what did I say?"
Ryoga tried to remember. "It sounded like you were apologizing to
someone or something. I was pretty groggy myself. Sorry."
**Apologizing?**
Ryoga looked him in the eyes. "I don't know how to say this, Ranma...
But thank you for what you did back there... I-I owe you my life..."
Ranma was silent. It had taken a lot for Ryoga to say something like
that to him, and he appreciated the humility of his words.
"Aw, come on, Ryoga... You woulda done the same," he said quietly.
Ryoga bowed once to him, very slightly, and ducked back around the
door frame to his room.
A doctor came into the room. He saw that Ranma was awake and smiled.
"Ah, here's our other Jusenkyo twin! How are we?"
Ranma spat out a swallow of orange juice. The doctor laughed.
"Oh don't worry about it. I've seen stranger things," he said with
a grin. "Gave those Americans a shock though! Wish I could have seen it."
Ranma wiped at the orange juice on his chin and lip. "How'd you know
about what happened to me?"
The doctor gave him a sly smile.
"A colleague informed me."
That had his curiosity piqued. "Oh yeah? Who?"
"Doctor Ono Tofu. He and I went to high school together. All of our
wounded come through this hospital, so he had me keep a look-out for you
in case you showed up."
Ranma nodded in understanding.
"So then my folks know I'm all right?"
"I can assume so. Tofu told me you had been listed as missing in
action. He was very relieved to hear that you and your friends Hibiki
and Kuno had been found."
Ranma felt better knowing that his family didn't have to worry about
him anymore.
"So how long have I been here? What day is it?"
"You arrived early this morning. It's a little past noon right now on
Thursday the 26th of November."
**It's been six days then since I left hill 1127. I wonder how long
they waited before they listed me as missing?**
The doctor made a cursory examination of him before moving on to
Matsushita. He seemed satisfied with both of his patients' progress, so
he left the room with a wave and a wish for Ranma to smile a little.
"You're going home Saotome," the doctor had said. "The Diet issued
an order to the military to release all soldiers who were wounded and
sent to Japan for treatment after the 25th of November, so you slipped
right in. You'll be discharged from this hospital in two days or so, and
then you'll get a little leave. From there you'll probably do some odd
jobs back at the base and be out of the Self Defense Forces by Christmas."
The news hit Ranma like a ton of bricks.
**Out by Christmas!**
* * *
After supper he sat in his bed thinking. Ryoga's words came back to
him. 'It sounded like you were apologizing to someone or something.'
**What was he apologizing for?**
He tried to remember that night. He thought harder and harder; trying
to reconstruct events, match faces with those events, match names with
those faces. He remembered going out to look for Ryoga and the others. He
remembered the ambush that was sprung when he found them. He saw Kenjiro
die again and again before his eyes, almost felt the blood splash all over
him as the man went down -something he hadn't noticed when it happened, but
came back to him in a rush now.
He recalled with sick horror as Kuno was shot and fell. Of seeing
Ryoga so close to the grenade when it exploded.
**Hideo must have taken the brunt of the blast for him, Ryoga should
have been killed.**
He remembered checking each of his fallen comrades for life, of
nearly abandoning Kuno for dead.
**Was I apologizing to Kuno? No. That couldn't be it. What happened
later?**
He went on, recalling their four day ordeal trying to reach safety.
Of carrying Kuno with their makeshift stretcher. He relived the terror
of dodging the advancing units of North Korean troops as they threw back
the UN lines, of cowering in holes as jets and helicopters blew the
countryside to pieces around them.
He remembered their sense of triumph as they reached the sea. They
hadn't found help for Kuno, but reaching the ocean had seemed like an
impossible goal. He remembered something else...
He saw a face. It was a face he couldn't put a name to. But he could
put an event with that face.
He'd killed that man. Shot him to death at point blank range because
he was going to stab Ryoga through the heart. The man had somehow heard
him flick the safety off his carbine and had turned on him. He watched
again in the theater of his mind's eye as the three bullets tore into
the man's chest.
**I killed a man...**
He went cold all over his body. Vertigo washed over him, and for a
moment he felt as if he was going to fall out of his bed.
**I've seen men die out there, but never by my hand.**
He steadied himself as he tried to come to grips with the truth.
**I'm not a killer!** he pleaded with himself. His memory argued
otherwise.
**But I am...**
* * *
He was discharged from the hospital two days later. Ryoga had to
stay a few more days because of infection in his legs. He still had no
word on Kuno, only that he hadn't died. All of the deceased came through
the hospital as well.
He ran into Hiro Ohata the day he was discharged. The man was up and
about, sore but ambulatory. He explained that his chest wound had been
miraculously minor.
"Missed everything important," he said to Ranma. "It just hurt like
hell. They saved the bullet for me."
"You are one lucky bastard," Ranma replied quietly. "I don't care
what you say."
"Not really," Hiro said. "You know that clause about releasing any
wounded who are sent back to Japan?"
"Yeah?"
"I came in before the order. They're going to certify me fit for
full duty soon, and then it's back to the lines I go."
"You're kidding me!"
Hiro smiled sadly. "I wish I was."
There was a strained silence between them.
"So, now what?" Hiro asked.
"They gave me fifteen days leave."
"Great," Hiro said with a grin. "Any plans?"
"Not really," Ranma admitted sullenly. "I guess home."
"Need a lift?"
"Huh?"
"I'm limited duty right now, so they've got me as one of the duty
drivers. I'll give you a ride wherever."
"Uh, okay."
They started on the drive to Nerima. Ranma hadn't told anyone that he
was coming, because he didn't want them to have a party waiting for him or
something. He didn't feel like celebrating. Not now.
Most of the ride was spent in silence. Hiro had run out of things
to say, and without Ranma's interest in conversation there was nothing
else to be said. Hiro knew something was bothering Ranma, but he wouldn't
talk about it. Nerima couldn't come soon enough.
Ranma continued to stew. He didn't know what to think of himself. He
had killed a man. He had proven that he could fight that stupid war without
taking lives, and then at the end he had panicked and killed someone. A
clumsy coward was what he felt like. Worthless.
The wide body of the olive drab Humvee had a little trouble getting
through the narrow streets of Nerima. Hiro managed a curse or two as he
whipped the big vehicle around a corner. Ranma sighed as he saw how the
neighborhood hadn't changed a lick. He had not been gone long, but it had
seemed like years.
The Hummer stopped outside the dojo. Hiro waved good-bye to him as he
lifted his bag out of the back. He waved back weakly as the Hummer zoomed
off Yokosuka bound.
He was in his dress uniform, spit and polish from head to toe. A UN
general had pinned a medal on him at the hospital, as had two Japanese
generals. Two medals for valor, one campaign medal, one for getting shot.
They jingled on his breast pocket as he opened the outer gate wide. For a
moment he wanted to rip them off right there along with his Corporal's
insignia. What did they really say about him, anyway?
When he reached the door, he got his wish. No one was expecting him.
He let himself in. Kasumi came down the hall to see who it was, and
didn't recognize him at first.
"Can I help you, sir?"
Ranma smiled weakly.
"Kasumi, it's me."
Her face brightened as recognition set in at last. She threw her arms
around him and gave him a sisterly hug.
"Welcome home, Ranma!"
By this time Soun and Genma had entered the foyer to see what was up.
"My son!" they both cried, and joined Kasumi in a welcome hug.
The rest of the house heard them and came running.
Ranma wasn't ready for this; as Nabiki, his mother, and even Doctor
Tofu joined the press. He was cheerfully crushed into a corner. Their
happy voices filled his ears and their smiles melted his depression away.
"You do your mother proud, Ranma," Nodoka said to him. Then she
hugged him again and tried not to weep.
They led him into the family room, chattering away. It was all he
could do to try and answer their questions. He kept looking around for
Akane, but she was nowhere to be seen.
Kasumi and his mother brought out food for all of them, and Ranma
found that his appetite had returned with a vengeance. He doubted he'd
eaten an entire meal in the three days he'd spent in Yokosuka. He
finished off everything placed before him.
Nabiki rubbed at the short black hair atop his head. "It's going to
take some getting used to, but at least they let you keep the pigtail."
Ranma brushed at his head. "Oh, I dunno. I might keep it short. They
tell me I'll be discharged by Christmas, so if I get tired of it, I can
start growing it out if I want."
This news brought a fresh round of cheers. He looked around for Akane
again without success.
Kasumi set glasses of beer down before him and the other men. It was
the first time he'd ever drank in the house. His prior drinking experience
amounted to having a few in Korea with his buddies the day before moving
out to the lines.
Doctor Tofu clinked his glass with Ranma's. "So, how did they treat
you in Yokosuka?"
Ranma shrugged. "Your friend Doctor Mitaka was great. He really
patched me up good." He rolled up his sleeve on his left arm to reveal
the bandage.
"What happened to you, dear?" his mother asked.
He shrugged.
"I got shot, I guess."
Nabiki smirked. "You mean you don't know? What happened out there for
you and Ryoga and Kuno-chan to end up as missing?"
Ranma didn't want to be reminded, but went on anyway. "Well, Ryoga got
lost out in no-man's land with Kuno and some others in the platoon, and I
went out to find them."
"Ryoga getting lost? Go figure," Nabiki cracked.
"Alone?" Kasumi asked worriedly.
"Well, no one was going to risk sending anyone else out, so I just
went on my own," he replied like it was no big deal.
"You're a hero, son," Soun said. He clapped him stoutly on the
shoulder.
"Someone thinks so," Ranma said evenly, jingling one of his medals.
"They gave me this for it." He looked down at it and shrugged. It was a
piece of metal and a gaudy ribbon to him. "I was just looking out for my
buddies, that's all."
**Sometimes better than others...**
"You and Ryoga were always such good friends," Kasumi noted.
Nabiki stifled a laugh. "You even went after Kuno-chan? I'm surprised."
Ranma winced. Nabiki would never understand.
"Aw, he can be a real pain in the neck sometimes, but he was really
worthwhile to have around in a fight," he replied. He remembered Kuno
standing defiantly in the middle of that tremendous firefight at the base
of the hill. He didn't get a scratch, and yet his stance and his taunts
had directed the majority of the enemy's fire at him. And more importantly,
away from Hiro long enough to call for the artillery barrage that saved the
day and allowed them to retreat without getting massacred. He then
remembered that last night when Kuno's luck had run out, and he saw him
crumple to the ground with a near fatal bullet wound once again.
Genma and Soun saw the look that came over Ranma then and decided to
change the subject.
"Perhaps he should tell these stories at another time. When they
aren't so vivid in his mind, eh Saotome?"
"I couldn't agree more," Genma replied.
Ranma shrugged again. It felt good to get it all out in the open with
people who cared about you. "Ryoga's okay, he should be out of the hospital
in a couple of days. I haven't seen Kuno since we were on the submarine. I
guess you guys know about Hiroshi and Daisuke..."
There was a muted agreement from the family.
"So what was the submarine like? Was it like in the movies?" Nabiki
asked after a bit of silent reflection and prayers of thanks that Ranma
had come home safely.
"I dunno. I didn't see much of it, and I wasn't in the best shape
when they brought me aboard. I think they operated on Kuno there, I heard
them talking about getting blood donations from the crew."
"How badly was he hurt?" Nabiki pressed. Her concern seemed a little
unusual for Kuno.
Ranma looked around the room and wondered how much he should tell
them. Watching Kuno fall, and later trying to care for him was horrible
enough, and he was the combat veteran here.
"He was shot in the belly at close range."
He watched as they winced at the thought.
"At first I thought he was dead... He didn't seem to have a pulse."
The assembled family looked horrified.
"We were going to have to leave him," Ranma continued. "But Ryoga saw
him moving a little, and so we carried him with us. We carried him for
four days. I think he's on a hospital ship until they think he's strong
enough to be moved."
"Good old Ryoga," Nabiki said. "He may have no sense of direction,
but he's a stubborn one."
"That ain't the half of it. Sometimes I didn't know if the enemy
would kill us or each other. In the end though, we really got along. It
was kinda weird."
He looked around again, hoping that she'd slipped in somewhere. Akane
was still nowhere to be found.
**Where the heck is she?**
"Uh, has anyone seen Akane?" he ventured.
"Oh, she went out for a walk," Kasumi answered him. "She's been doing
that for awhile now. She'll be home soon."
The night went on, and he talked and joked with them. The war was so
far away now, like a bad dream. It felt so good to be home.
He also got quite drunk. Unlike his father and Mr. Tendo, he was a
rather quiet drunk. The women decided to call it a night, and left their
men out on the back porch.
It was late by the time Ranma decided to go to bed. He had spent the
last three days trying to regain his strength, and the beer had hit him
like the proverbial ton of bricks early on. He was just starting to sober
up when Akane appeared across the yard from them and entered the dojo. The
two fathers were too far gone to notice. Doctor Tofu had excused himself
and gone home twenty minutes earlier.
He crept across the grass so as not to roust the two men from their
stupor. As he reached the dojo he looked back over his shoulder to see
Kasumi and his mother collect the two and help them upstairs. His mother
pointed to the dojo and winked at him.
He stepped into the dojo. It was dark, but in a beam of moonlight sat
Akane. She had her back to him. He crept up to her and sat down next to
her.
She turned to him and tried to smile.
"You smell like a brewery," she said softly. "But I'm glad you're
home."
He shrugged. "I kept my promise."
"I know you did," she said, and started to hug him. "But you had to
worry me sick first!"
"I'm sorry, Akane," he replied. He pulled her tighter against him.
**Since when was this so easy?**
"Where were you tonight? I was going crazy waiting for you," he asked
after a moment.
"I had to stay away for awhile," she answered. "I wanted you all to
myself, and I knew I'd get the chance eventually."
"You spied on us, didn't you?"
She laughed. "Well, just a little."
Her hand came up to rub his head. "I kind of like it short," she
giggled.
"It was time for a change I guess," he said.
"You have changed," Akane admitted. "I saw it right away."
Ranma sighed deeply. "You're right. I have changed. Not all of it for
the better."
She sensed something wrong within him. Felt him grow suddenly cold in
her embrace.
"What is it?" she asked softly. "Is it about Hiroshi?"
He began to wave his hands as a drowning man would.
**How do I tell her?**
She put a hand in his.
"It's more than just Hiroshi. I've seen things Akane," he managed.
"Done things. Stuff I never want any part of as long as I live."
"I don't understand."
**I don't either!**
He tried to think of something to tell her.
"I'm not the same Ranma you knew this summer. Part of me died over
there."
"What do you mean?" She gasped.
He shuddered at the thought of it. Saw for the ten thousandth time as
the Korean fell, the light in his eyes waning to emptiness.
"I killed a man." The words were like a hammer blow.
Akane felt the wetness on his face and kissed his forehead even as
she embraced him with renewed strength.
"You were in a war," she whispered.
**Like that justifies anything! I was clumsy and I was afraid -and a
man paid for it with his life. How many firefights was I in? Too many. But
never once did I kill someone, until the end.**
"It hurts just the same," he said to her.
She kissed his brow again.
"Oh Ranma, when they told me you were going over there I hoped and
prayed that you wouldn't have to do something like that. But I also knew
that I wanted you to come home alive, and to bring Ryoga and Kuno, and
even Hikaru Gosunkugi home alive with you! It doesn't matter, Ranma! You
did what you had to. You're here with me now, and you saved the lives of
your friends where you could."
"It's not that simple," he pleaded. His throat began to burn as tears
stung at his eyes.
"It's a start. I know this will hurt for a long time, but I want to
help you move on."
"It's not something I can just forget."
"I'm not expecting you to, but you have to move on. You have your
whole life ahead of you. Don't throw it away because of something you
may or may not have been able to prevent."
He began to cry silently, and he felt utterly ashamed. The tears
against his hot face ran even colder.
Akane held onto him then, and together they rocked slowly in each
other's arms. Ranma wept, and Akane wept with him and for him.
"I stumbled along without you around," she whispered. "I cried when
I found out you were going to Korea. And I nearly died when father told me
you were missing." She sobbed once. "But one thing kept me going on, one
thing gave me strength, and that was your promise to me. I knew you would
keep it and come home safe no matter what... I want to make you a promise
Ranma, and I hope you can draw strength from it as I have from yours."
Ranma nodded against the cool skin of her cheek.
"I promise to you that I will be with you no matter what. We may be
separated by distance, but never in our hearts. I love you, Ranma, and
all I can do is love you."
The tears continued to spill down his face, but his shame was gone.
He looked into her eyes and saw the love that had always been there, but
for one petty thing or another was always missed.
"You better keep that promise, Akane, 'cause I love you too," he
replied.
**So simple, those words... Why had it been so hard to say them for
so long?**
A long silence followed. The tears were gone, and the heat upon his
face was replaced by one deep within his heart. Akane was there, closer
than ever before, and he never wanted anything to come between them
again.
"Where do we go from here?" he asked her.
Akane shrugged with a wan smile. "I don't know, Ranma. But we'll go
there together. We've got our whole lives to figure it out."
The winter of 1995 had come to Nerima the way it had for years past
count. The end of the year wasn't far away. But then again, the future never
is...
THE END
Author's Rant:
A Second Korean War is something most people don't even think about.
Most of those that do write it off as being alarmist fantasy. The quote in
the story about "this next year will prove to be the year of North Korea's
discontent" were not my words. They were the words of an intelligence
specialist spoken in the late fall of 1995, spoken in my presence while
we were doing joint exercises off the coast of Korea.
At the time, the famine and chronic fuel shortage that continues to
this day was just a year old, and international relief agencies would soon
level accusations against the North Korean government that they were
hoarding food and fuel oil (including donated aid) for their *million-
strong* armed forces. (By way of comparison, the United States, a country
far larger and with numerous defense commitments world-wide, has a total
armed forces of 1.4 million plus a reserve force of about 1 million.) Their
people starve and freeze to death so that Pyongyang can keep their invasion
army fed and their war machines ready. I say "invasion army" because their
cousins in the South have a total armed forces of about 600,000 plus the
37,000 American Troops who enforce the Armistice for the UN. The North has
nothing to fear from an invasion from the South.
A desperate war was averted only by the Clinton Administration
knuckling under to demands from Pyongyang for food, fuel oil, and the
technical support and economic aid to build several commercial nuclear
power reactors, and they've been happy to jump at any sign of a weak
American resolve to press their demands since then. In August of 1998 they
brazenly launched a nuclear capable Scud-E (No Dong-1) missile over the
northernmost tip of Japan. The U.S. sent them a diplomatic reprimand, but
did nothing to deter them from further actions such as increased sanctions
or the suspension of their foreign aid, an action soundly criticized by U.S.
allies as encouraging Pyongyang to further adventures. (Japan did rescind
economic aid in protest, the only concrete action of any allied nation in
the Western Pacific.)
In the late spring of 1997, a senior North Korean diplomat defected
to the West in Egypt. His debriefing was disturbing to allied intelligence
agents to say the least, and included the confirmation that North Korea
possessed the nuclear fuel for up to *SIX* fission bombs. One of which was
possibly smuggled *INTO* Japan for a preemptive nuclear strike on the U.S.
Naval Base at Yokosuka or the Marine Amphibious Force based out of Okinawa.
(The only rapid deployment forces in the Pacific that could reach Korea
within the projected 30 day time frame planned by North Korean stategists
for the conquest of the peninsula. Remember that it took upwards of six
months to mobilize and deploy ground forces for the Persian Gulf War.)
Even as recently as November 20, 1998, North Korea has been accused
of cheating on its nuclear arms agreements. Inspections of their
undermountain weapons facilities were demanded by UN inspectors, and the
North made a counterdemand of $300 Million just for the privelege of
looking.
In an era when the Great Enemy to Peace In Our Time seems to be the
bluff and bluster of Saddam Hussein's Iraq, it is chilling to think that
such a potent and unpredictable enemy remains beneath the notice of most
of the world.
End of Rant.
Author's Notes:
1. The two warships in the beginning of the story are actual ships home
ported out of Pearl Harbor. The _USS Lake Erie_ in particular has a
reputation for being 'locked and loaded' at all times (ask me about the
time their Phalanx gun went off *twice* sending 20mm cannon shells across
Pearl Harbor and into the Aiea hills, where they destroyed an old lady's
gardening shed. Nevermind, I just told you...) I figured it would be
appropriate if the _Lake Erie_ was on station to let a few SM-2's fly
against Scuds.
2. The Scud-E (known in Korea as the No Dong-1) is a missile North Korea
developed and has attempted to export to any and all takers. It is fairly
accurate (more so than its previous models by a factor of about 50%.) It
has sufficient range to reach any part of Japan, including Okinawa.
(Maximum range with a 1000 kg warhead is 3500 kilometers.) The Scud-E can
carry nuclear, chemical, and biological payloads like its less capable
siblings over in Iraq.
3. The Spratly Islands are located in the South China Sea, right in the
middle of the major sea lanes. Seven countries have claims to them and
the oil deposits believed to be there. Japan is not one of the seven, so
I made up an eighth claim for the hell of it.
4. For those of you who doubt Japan's resolve to send troops abroad,
please recall their invasion of Cambodia in the early 90s.
5. For anyone sharing Ranma's curiosity about those big ugly green jets
that tore holy hell out of the North Koreans, they were none other than
the A-10 Thunderbolt II. (Also known as the Warthog.) Most if not all of
the remaining A-10 squadrons in the U.S. are based right here in Tucson,
Arizona, at Davis Monthan AFB.
6. The guys who rescued Ranma and company at the end of the story were,
of course, SEALs. Probably from Team 5, as they are forward deployed in
the Western Pacific. They probably wouldn't have batted an eye at our
fallen heroes, but then again, where would our story be?
7. Ryoga with GPS? Come on, we're talking about Ryoga here... Might as
well have given him bread crumbs.
8. Yes, I know that Ranma's hair curse is no longer valid in the post
Volume 38 time frame that this story takes place.
9. What's the sound of air rushing out of ballast tank vents? Sorry pals,
you're just gonna have to sign up to find out. (Unless you live near a
submarine base and have a friend who'll take you on their next dependents'
cruise.) I wouldn't recommend the first option.
10. If you have any other questions, comments, flames, or oddities to
share... Drop me a line at <wildeman@psn.net>. I would especially
appreciate the inputs of the old grunts on the Mailing List, as I'm just
a poor dumb ex-submarine sailor.
Free The Nukes!
