************************************************************************
I was born in fire. It sparked my life, the heat and flame
rendering me into what I am now.
I was tempered by steel. Hammered by nonliving hands and a metal
heart, yet there was a hint of love as they molded me into my form. Love
of a job well done.
I was quenched with water. The fire in my heart was silenced and
my flame dimmed. But I felt whole and complete.
The last I heard before I went to sleep was the prayers of holy
men, I know not how I knew they were holy but that was what I felt,
asking the spirits to give me protection and their blessing. And my
heart soared as I felt myself sinking deep into oblivion.
And I slept and dreamed.
************************************************************************
Tasogare Densetsu:
Kaeri
By Elsa Bibat
Based on the world developed for the TK1940 project.
Initial concept by Nathan Baxter et. al.
Many concepts, fandfoms, works are used without permission.
The TK1940 forums can be found at Bob Schroeck's Drunkard's Walk
Forum:
http://p087.ezboard.com/bdrunkardswalkforums
************************************************************************
I dreamed of a woman (what is a woman?). Her hair (hair?) was
black as coal and reached to the small of her back. (yes, now I
understand)
Her skin was smooth with youth and her eyes were alight with
amusement. (do I know her?) A smile that would break a man's (man?)
heart graced her oval face, cheeks suffused with warmth. (who is it for,
that smile as warm as the furnace?)
I see a thousand little things: playtime (did I play?), school
(did I go to school?), memories (mine?) both good and bad.
Always with her by my side (by my side? who is she?).
She wore a uniform now. (soldier?) Wings graced her epaulettes
(flying in the sky?), striped bars marking her rank (rank? what is
that?). She held a cap in one hand, a stiff white thing, a flower
(flowers? I know flowers) insignia with a spiral embossed on the metal
front of it. (kazegumi?)
A small town (city?) was behind her. We are on a hill (a high
place), underneath our favorite tree. The stars shine bright and my
heart (is it really mine or someone else's?) aches as she tells me
something. It aches because of one simple thing.
She is special.
I love her.
Her name is Kirari and I love her.
And she is going away.
And that is what I dreamed as I slept by someone's side.
***********************************************************************
First Lieutenant Kenji Tsukishiro rubbed the hilt of the sword
by his side, feeling worry slip into his thoughts as he looked out at
the dark, night-encased field beyond the perimeter line he was currently
inspecting. He had developed nervous habit in the months he had been
first issued it, finding in the reassuring solidity of the leather-
wrapped wood a source of comfort in the loneliness that he felt. It may
have not been one of the old temple blades, swords polished, refurbished
and re-issued to the higher ups, just a Kanzaki Heavy Industries
shinkatana, but it had that reassuring feel to it.
He needed that reassuring pretty much most of the time as he
moved through the defenses of Korean Defense Station C, Sector One.
Japanese troops had reinforced the Korean Royal Army when the news of
the invasion had come. They were already there to begin with since the
Korean queen was no idiot and had sensed the rapaciousness of the Russo-
Chinese hordes across her country's borders since the early thirties.
She had asked for several thousand support troops and armaments. The
Meiji Emperor responded by relocating the Japanese garrisons in Chinese
territory, who were assigned to defend Japanese interests that had
already pulled out, into the Korean border, setting up joint defenses
with the Korean Royal Army. The Nationalists in the Korean Parliament
had howled and there were grumblings of a royal impeachment. But that
piece of forethought paid off, when in 1937, simultaneous with their
Polish invasion, Russia had crossed the border and declared war.
The Korean-Japanese forces held out long enough for more troops
to be called up and ferried across. Every year now, Japan had shored up
Korean defenses with a sizable troop deployment. The Emperor was also
sending troops to Sakhalin and the Aleutians in preparation of a Russian
attack in that direction, but Korea was Japan's primary focus, since it
was the closest supplier of much needed food and resources.
The line had been pushed back a few miles since 1938 and had
settled into the current arrangement of hill and mountain forts that
supported each other. Three sectors, each with twenty eight defense
stations according to the western alphabet, maintained watch over the
one hundred sixty kilometer last defense line before Pyongyang. Defense
Sector one's main HQ was in a little seaside town of Sinanju, twenty
miles directly behind Station C, making it one of the worse spots to be
in. Especially now that the Third Army and the Korean Royal Army, the
screen that patrolled the border between China and Korea, had not had
any contact with any Russian forces for quite awhile. Defense Station C
was on red alert and that put the young lieutenant on edge.
It had also set his superiors on edge, that's why he had been
sent on a little inspection tour of the outer line of defense. Ten lines
of defense trenches, foxholes, watchtowers and berms surrounded what the
Japanese soldiers, even the Koreans who had learned Japanese from their
comrades, called Oka no Okonomiyaki, referring to the low flat hill that
was the center of the defense station. Kenji was currently checking out
the first line. He had started at nightfall and, now, it was almost
midnight.
Several privates saluted him when he approached and he looked
them over. They looked a bit bored, but they had their guns at the ready
and all were wearing their standard-issue shinkatana.
"Sir!" Interrupted from his inspection, Kenji looked around and
saw a young Korean in the uniform of a communications officer striding
towards him.
Kenji blinked in surprise as the Korean stopped and held out a
communique to him. He looked at the young man, puzzlement in his eyes.
"It's a bit late sir, but this just came through from the
Japanese commo office in Seoul. It's been delayed for a month, but with
the war..." The young tough-looking Korean, Kenji finally recognized him
as Corporal Choi, trailed off his explanation and just offered it to
Kenji.
A telegram letter. Great. Maybe something from high command. Or
worse, maybe from home.
Taking the envelope away from the young man, Kenji saluted him
and sent him on his way. He also saluted at the three soldiers and had
them return to their guarding. Walking away a bit from the troops and
crouching low, he looked the letter over in the light that a nearby
watchtower provided.
From the Teikoku Kagekidan? Why would they be sending him-
A cold fist took hold of his heart and squeezed. Kirari. She
must have-
Fumbling with the envelope, he drew out a folded piece of paper.
Reading it was painful. It was all in upper-case and the large
blocky kanji seemed to glare out at him.
FROM THE OFFICE OF AIR COMMODORE KASUMI SUMIGAWARA
DEAR LT. TSUKISHIRO, 7
AUGUST 1940
ON BEHALF OF THE KAZEGUMI TEIKOKU KAGEKIDAN, IT IS MY SAD DUTY TO INFORM
YOU OF THE UNTIMELY DEATH OF COLONEL KIRARI NAKAGAWA. SHE DIED IN ACTION
ON 30 JULY 1940 IN THE INDIAN FRONT. HER FAMILY HAS BEEN NOTIFIED AND
ACCORDING TO HER WISHES YOU WERE TO BE NOTIFIED AS WELL. THE OFFICE OF-
(India?! What would she be doing in India!?)
He couldn't continue. He wanted to cry. But a superior officer
breaking down in the trenches wasn't exactly good for morale even if
they weren't under attack-
(She was safe. The Teikoku Kagekidan was one of the safest units
in the world. She can't be gone. Kirari can't be gone.)
An explosion ended the silence as a nearby watchtower exploded
into flames.
(Kirari's gone.)
"Shit." He did not need this now. He really did not need this
now.
(Kirari's gone. They took her away from me.)
"SOVIETS! INCOMING!!" The shout came from a nearby
machinegun/flamethrower nest, which immediately started spewing bullets
into the darkness. He started moving, low and fast towards it.
(They took _me_ away from her.)
He arrived at the nest and immediately asked for a status
report.
(Her parents. Her sisters. They must be hurting.)
"We're doing fine, sir. But Central just called." The sergeant
gestured, shouting over the sound of a chattering machinegun and
screaming explosions, to the commo gear in the corner. "There's an
attack on most of C station's first line. Most of the watchtowers are
gone. No support from the other stations. Every defense station in the
sector's under attack, sir."
(I want to go home. I want to see them. I want to see her.)
Then, the gunner's head exploded as a Soviet bullet found it,
sending brain and bone flying. The flamethrower crew started up,
lighting up the night with flaming death.
(Kirari. I've missed you so much.)
And something fast and deadly jumped into the nest and all hell
broke loose.
************************************************************************
Emotions intruded into my sleep.
Hate.
(You took her away from me.)
Anger.
(She left. She just left.)
Loneliness.
(She's dead.)
Regret.
(I didn't get to tell her I was sorry.)
But in the end, it was the tears that woke me up.
(Why!? Why before I could say I was sorry? Why before I could
see you again?)
(Why'd you have to die!? I was going to call... I was going to
send a letter... I was going to visit when I went on home leave... I
wanted to see you again. I wanted to say so many things to you. WHY!?!
WHY !?!)
I was in Kenji's (how did I know him?) hand, slicing through the
air, singing a song of metal death as I cut a man from shoulder to hip
in a clean stroke.
(WHY!?!)
Tears mixed with blood on my body as Kenji whirled and let me
sing through the air once again, decapitating another man.
Pieces of lead flew around us at incredible speeds. One was
heading straight for Kenji and I twirled in his hand and swiped it out
of the air, slicing it in half.
(WHY!?!)
A low growl and red eyes. I did not see but felt the thing's
unnaturalness. There were four of them.
Kenji just leaped forward and laid into them. I was a glimmer in
the air, a piece of lightning from the sky. Not one of the things even
touched him. I made sure of that.
(WHY!?!)
More lead flew at him. I swatted them out of the air with
careless abandon.
I cut through a rifle brought up to fend against me and divided
the body behind it. I caused fountains of blood to rise in the air. I
claimed their lives with my deadly metal song.
I wasn't happy. Kenji wasn't happy.
We weren't happy as we ploughed through the enemy like a furrow,
leaving a wake of dead bodies that sometimes twitched and tried to crawl
away.
Kenji was weeping. The battle roars he unleashed was his heart
being torn apart.
And I wanted to help him so much. To take away the pain.
A man came at us. Kenji's hands, one near my tsuba and the other
at my handle's edge (a proper swordsman's hold), twirled me around and
came in a deadly arc.
"Tsukishiro! Get down!"
I stopped the motion from cutting the man's (Colonel Masa) head
off.
He tackled us and Kenji and I fell deep into a hole.
************************************************************************
"Are you crazy, Tsukishiro!? You trying to get yourself
killed!?"
Colonel Masa was pissed, but Kenji just looked down at the dirty
foxhole floor and ignored him. The colonel was taking none of it. He
took Kenji by the collar and slammed him against the trench wall,
dislodging dirt and pebbles that showered the both of them. Gunfire and
explosions still echoed across over the sounds of dying men and things.
Masa's Osakan accent was harsh and cruelly noticeable as he started his
tirade.
"Look here, Tsukishiro, I don't know what's going on and I don't
fucking care. You've been good troop so far and managed to make a damn
good junior officer. And that's who I need, not some maniac with a death
wish. If you haven't noticed we've got a small piece of hell opening up
here and I need every man I got. Kurogane's dead, Jeon's crippled and
Ohta and Gyun are with the artie and the Takedas. You, me and Kitano are
with the troop.
"Do you understand? I am going to need my people at their best
and you know why? I swore to the Emperor that I would hold this hill,
that's why. That's the same reason why you're gonna take a fucking rest
and be back at a hundred percent and back to fucking normal when you
wake up. Because the Emperor doesn't care about your fucking problems,
all he cares about is the fact that you promised to hold this hill. And
if don't think you can help me keep that promise you better just stick
that sword into your gut and kill yourself right now because I will if
you don't."
Kenji looked the colonel in the eyes. Old man Masa was serious.
Kenji looked to the sword, seeing the gleaming deadly edge through the
blood and gore. He could do it. Just stick it in and pull down. Kirari
was gone and there was no reason anymore.
(You still haven't gone home.)
For a moment, Kenji could swear that he heard Kirari's voice.
There was a strange metallic tone to it, but it was her voice. He'd know
it anytime. That low gentle reasonable tone reminding him of something.
He looked at the sword in his hand and pulled out one of the
cleaning papers issued with it from his breast pocket. He drew it down
the blade, removing the dirt and blood and gore. Then, he looked Masa
straight in the eye.
"I'll be here when you get back. Just need a bit of rest."
Masa's tough granite face cracked into a grin.
"Then take a nap. I'll send a squad here to watch over you. I
think they'd like that."
Kenji blinked and looked at his superior officer.
"Why?"
"Because, kid, everybody's seen the crazy stuff you did awhile
ago. Took out that sword and started swinging down the line. I think you
beat back that attack all by your lonesome. We'd have lost a lot more if
it hadn't been for your damned heroics. Now get some sleep. You've
earned it. Don't worry about the enemy. I know just the squad to send."
Kenji just blinked again as Masa moved out, crawling out of the
foxhole and back into the war. Shaking his head he just laid his head
back and stretched out his legs as much as possible in the cramped
space. He laid the sword, unsheathed, across his stretched legs and went
to sleep.
************************************************************************
He was sleeping. I watched over him and I knew I could never
return into oblivion's embrace.
His face was impassive. His bangs covered his eyes and in the
dark he looked dead. But I could feel his heart beat and I sensed his
breath. He was not dead.
Not yet. There was a wrenching in my heart (heart? How does a
sword have a heart?) as I felt his pain.
He still wanted to die. The pain was still there.
I wanted to take it away, cut it out like what I did to those
people (Russians, Chinese, wampyr) out in the dark, in the war. I want
to cut out the pain and leave him free.
Suddenly, I sensed another presence near us.
It was a spirit. I could feel it (her?). I think I should know
her.
I sent out my senses and saw a familiar image of a woman in
uniform. She seemed surprised at first, then she smiled.
(I see he's picked up someone to take care of him.)
The spirit reached out with a feather-light tracery of power and
touched him on the cheek, caressing his face. I bristled, sending out a
warning.
(Do not worry, sister-spirit. I will not harm him. I just want
to say goodbye.)
Kirari kissed him on the forehead and I felt her give him a bit
of warmth, enfolding him in an embrace.
Kenji smiled in his sleep. The sight was so beautiful it hurt.
The spirit swirled around us and settled for awhile beside me.
(Take care of him, sister. Please.)
Yes. Yes, I will. I promise.
I saw an image of the woman smiling, sad but happy.
Then, the spirit twirled outwards, reaching for the sky.
Goodbye, Kirari.
"Sayonara, Kirari."
************************************************************************
Kenji.
The voice, Kirari's voice, was calling him.
Kenji.
"shut up, Kirari... trying to sleep..."
Her response was the whine of a falling shell and a nearby
earth-shattering explosion.
Kenji's eyes snapped open and looked around. Dust and dirt
showered him and his companions in the foxhole. Right, Masa told me to
sleep. The overcast sky was extremely appropriate for the current
atmosphere. Looking around, Kenji recognized the squad that Masa
promised him.
Private Kyong, the base wrestling champ, was using a trench
periscope to survey the surroundings. Riki, as most of the Japanese
soldiers called him, had a heavy-set build that was obvious by his
uniform's tight fit. He'd probably be able to break one of those damn
Wampyr's across his knee.
Privates Kirigawa and Hayakawa were having a game of Hanatotte.
Both were ignoring the shelling that seemed to rain down endlessly.
Private Geon, little rat face grinning madly, was tying something into a
necklace. It took Kenji to realize they were human ears. Everyone was
ignoring it so Kenji ignored it too. Besides, Geon was good troop. The
Chinese recruit, a Lou Duo, was cleaning that non-standard issue sword
of his.
Corporal Han-jyung and Sergeant Ishi, he of the constantly
stubbled face, were taking a nap. Kenji smiled, Masa wasn't kidding.
Ishi squad, the roughest, toughest and craziest bunch of soldiers in the
sector was assigned to him. No need to worry about disturbances in my
sleep. Kenji ignored the fact that Rendo, the last member of the squad,
was missing. He had enough problems as it was.
Kenji.
Kirari's voice again. Damn, I'm going nuts.
"Hey! LT's awake! Good morning, sir!" Riki, having put away the
periscope, saluted with a small gesture and brought out his canteen to
offer it to Kenji. The other privates followed suit and went back to
their amusements. Kenji sipped from the canteen, his parched throat
thanking him for the attention. He returned it to Riki with gratitude.
His legs were numb, so he moved them, feeling the pinpricks of sensation
returning. The sword he sheathed, laying it, sheath and all beside him.
"Situation?"
Riki hesitated, looked to his sergeant, saw him sleeping and
decided to give the report himself.
"Five hours since the attack, sir. Their artie's been hitting
us- how the hell they sneaked those pieces through is what I want to
know- for a bit of softening, but the hill's countering. First line's
been abandoned. We're in a foxhole in the second. Old man Masa thinks
we're in for more rough stuff in a few hours or so. No movement yet up
top. That's all I know, sir."
Thanking the private, Kenji decided to stretch a bit more,
cramped space of the foxhole be damned. It was while massaging his neck
that he heard it again.
How are you doing, Kenji?
It was Kirari's voice. It was definitely her voice. But, it
seemed to be coming from
He looked to his sword. Kenji groped for Private Kyong and
tugged at his sleeve.
The private looked at him and followed his gaze.
"Riki...is my sword glowing?" Now, _that_ sounded really crazy,
Kenji thought to himself. But, it was, at least to his eyes. A light
blue flickering aura that managed to manifest itself in the cloudy day.
"Er... no, sir."
Kenji, don't worry. It's just me.
The words echoed in his ears and, for a moment, he hoped it
really was Kirari, come back from the grave to help. No, it's the sword.
Kenji'd read the reports and he knew procedure. He needed confirmation
fast.
"Shit. Where's the old man and Hino?"
Like the western Devil, the two Kenji referred to dropped into
the foxhole, their arrival being heralded with a nearby artillery
explosion. Old man Masa was carrying a Hellsing Arms Mark III shotgun,
the silver bayonet gleaming dully in the weak daylight. Mitsui Hino,
short haired and bespectacled like all the other priests assigned to
military units seemed to be, carried a Shinto battle staff, the silver
top obscured by blackish ichor that was still smoking. The station
commander and the station Shinto priest had obviously gone to the
trouble to get to Kenji's position and the young lieutenant had a
suspicion on why they did it. Their arrival woke up the napping corporal
and sergeant, who immediately saluted along with everyone else, though
all of the men in the foxhole stayed in their lying positions.
"Morning, Tsukishiro. Just beat back a probe a bit down the
line. They'll be coming in awhile."
"Colonel-" Kenji didn't get to finish before Hino was peering
down at his sword. Masa waved off whatever Kenji was going to say.
"Yeah, I know. Hino's here to check it."
Kenji! What's he doing he's-
"Hey, Hino! Stop it!" Kenji grabbed the sword, taking it away
from the young soldier-priest's eerie gaze. "You all right?" Kenji felt
the sword in his hand warm up and he knew it was. Clamping it to his
belt, he glared at Hino, who was looking at him with that same look he
gave the sword.
"It's nemuranai, colonel. Powerful. Very powerful. And very
connected to the lieutenant."
Masa whistled, long and low. He smiled and looked at Kenji.
"First good news I had for the day."
Kenji was about to respond when the shelling suddenly stopped.
Everyone looked up. Riki pulled out his periscope again and looked at
the direction of the enemy.
"Something's moving, sir!"
"Crap." The old colonel spat on the ground and Ishi squad was
looking tense. Kenji folded into a crouch. He was surprised when Hino
pulled a Nambu Type 15 service pistol out of his robes and offered it to
him with wry smile.
'We're in a modern war, lieutenant. Swords, magic or not, won't
always win the day."
Kenji thanked him and checked it. Fully loaded.
The sound of machinegun fire started up from somewhere near them
and Kenji knew that it was going to be a long day.
************************************************************************
For quite awhile afterwards Kenji would draw me from my sheath
and I would sing in the air, drawing blood as his hands guided me in
deadly arcs.
Sometimes, he ignored me. Sometimes, he listened. But he always
wiped me clean afterwards, the clean white paper drawing down my body,
taking all the blood and grime away, leaving me shining.
Sometimes, we talked.
I knew it hurt him. My voice, Kirari's voice, is what he would
hear and he would remember. But he still talked to me.
I think he just wanted to hear her voice again.
I hate her. He hurt her so much when she left.
I love her, too. A part of it was because Kenji loved her and
another part of it was the fact that she trusted me enough to take care
of him.
And all through that slaughter, I fought for him and sought to
heal his pain.
************************************************************************
Seven days. Seven unending days.
Most of sector one was under attack, but from the reports that
commo was able to get, station C was getting the worst of it. Sectors B
and D were pinned down and unable to give support.
They were down to the final two lines of defense. The station's
artillery was running out of ammunition, not to mention the troops.
Sinanju was sending in reinforcements but the Russians had set a screen
of infantry to block their advance. Command was telling them that the
Master of the town was with the reinforcements, but Kenji doubted what
the odd old man could do, no matter how spry he seemed. Air support was
doubtful with the weather down in Pyongyang. Seoul was more than a
hundred miles away and the dirigibles based there wouldn't be able to
help. The Navy was trying for long range coastal bombardment, but could
only reach A and B.
Colonel Masa was dead, a Russian bullet punching through his
chest like a bolt from the blue, when they were backing to the fifth
line. The Russians' zombies had fell on his corpse like it was a feast.
Hino, the arrogant young jackass, had died a day afterward. Wampyrs had
swarmed over him when he had held the sixth line with his wards. He gave
them a farewell present with what Kenji recognized as a jisatsu bakudan
ward, that thunderous explosion completely halting the fifth day's
attacks. Ohta was with the artillery and Gyun's Takeda had gone up in
flames when a Russian grenade managed to luckily land in the mechanized
walker's cockpit. The other junior officers were at the left, right and
aft positions in the defensive circle around station C. Besides, he had
seniority.
He was the ranking officer of the defense of station C and the
thought weighed heavily on his shoulders.
Kenji stroked the sword's hilt as he walked through the trench,
carefully sidestepping the sleeping and the awake, sensing the spirit
within it send out a responding touch of warmth. It troubled him a bit
that it talked in Kirari's voice, but he'd gotten used to it. He was a
bit embarrassed and ashamed that he'd even liked it. It was nice to hear
her voice even though it was just the sword.
Are you worried?
The thought flashed through his mind and he gave the sword a
neutral look. Though it didn't have eyes, he had the feeling it was
looking at him.
"Of course, I'm worried." Kenji sighed and massaged his temples.
He had only just woken up after three hours of sleep. Life in the
trenches was no party. A corporal had woken him up from his sleep in one
of the trench bunkers, Sergeant Ishi wanting him to see something.
He smiled when he found who he was looking for. Sergeant Ishi
and Ishi squad had been through the ringer in the past few days. They
had lost Geon on the second day, a pack of zombies bringing him down.
Only one casualty and that made them the luckiest squad so far.
Riki was napping and the terrible twosome played their
everlasting game of Hanatotte. Lou Duo and the corporal were sharpening
their blades. They saluted when he arrived and their sergeant looked
away from his surveying of the landscape with the trench periscope to
look at the new arrival. Stubble-faced Ishi saluted with a grim look on
his face. Kenji's smile disappeared. The sergeant usually had a nasty
smile pasted on his face. For him to react like this
"You better follow me and take a look, sir."
Ishi led him down the trench line to an advanced foxhole,
several yards away. Kenji took the offered trench-periscope, this one a
binocular model, from the sergeant and looked to the front. The whizzing
of shells and their explosions made appropriate background music for
what he saw.
Oktobyar. Onitetsu to the troops. They were taking fire from the
station's artillery but they were slowly inching forward. One exploded
outright but that wasn't enough to make a dent on the forces that were
advancing which numbered, after a quick count, thirty of the Arcanotech
monstrosities.
He was going to ask the sergeant if he had notified the hill
when he saw the Arcanotech monstrosity.
On four stilt-like legs, it towered over the metal mass of its
troops. The legs supported a conical, hut-like platform studded with
blades and other sharp implements. X-shaped metal crosses were set along
side them. Grapplers, Kenji thought to himself, to pick up the soldiers
targeted. Then he saw two flailing metal tentacles emerge out of the
dark opening and scoop up a dead body, quickly retreating into the
command capsule, like a cobra striking.
The troops called it Aruite Uchi, Walking House. A Soviet Baba
Yaga 1 class Arcanotech walker. If there was anything on the planet that
could rightfully be called a terror weapon, this was it. Ineffective
against other walkers or armor, it was basically anti-infantry,
snatching soldiers from the field of battle and butchering them right in
front of everyone with those sharp blades and razors that protruded from
the pilot capsule's walls.
Some were even left alive.
"Shit. The Russians really want us down."
He heard Sergeant Ishi grunt. "And they timed it right, too.
We're running low, sir. Called the hill and told them about it and
they're sending a few anti-armor up, but they've only got a handful of
rounds for the Hiryuu available. Supply fuck up, they say. The Takedas
are out of armor-piercers and we can't exactly set _them_ against
Onitetsu."
Kenji shook his head. Mishima-Mitsubishi's Takeda Shingen class
of armored walker was nothing more than walking machinegun nests, made
for the three Rs: Raiding, Reconnaissance and Response, not for armor to
armor battle. Besides, there were only six left of the original twelve
assigned to the station.
"When?" Kenji was already making his own calculations when he
posed the sergeant that question.
"That's a Kanzaki Binocsope, sir. At maximum range. Thirty,
twenty minutes. Troop haven't seen them yet on their scopes."
Kenji rubbed the sword's hilt once again, warmth and confidence
seeping into his system. He almost laughed at that. I'd probably be a
quivering wreck by now, Kenji thought to himself, without the sword.
Command decisions of this level were new to him. But he thought about it
and, a few moments later, had a plan.
He turned to Sergeant Ishi with a grim smile.
"Notify the line. Then send a man to the hill. Tell Ohta to try
and keep pumping on that artie until he can't help hitting us. Have the
mortars pounding on them, too. I'm guessing this is only happening here
so we can move a few of the guys from the left to support us. Have the
troop ready their grenades and the Hiryuu crews prepped up. Tell the
squads to pick their best shooter and throwers for blinder duty."
The sergeant nodded. In the art of infantry against armored
walkers, one of the few advantages that an infantry man had was his
unobstructed field of view. Blinders hit the walker optics mechanisms
and usually forced the pilot to either maneuver blind or open up to see,
both deadly choices. Even if the armor had no optic mechanism and just
used slits, a bullet fired through the slit could ricochet around inside
and do some major damage. A grenade managing to enter the pilot
compartment, like what happened to Gyun in his Takeda, was even worse.
"We gonna make a stand, sir?"
Kenji looked at the grizzled older man, a veteran of the China
Retreat and the Korean Defense, giving him an appraising look.
"Yes. We'll have to hold here. Any more falling back and we're
screwed. Zombie chow."
The sergeant smiled wryly. "Everything is zombie chow. As long
as it's meat."
Kenji chuckled. "That's right, Sarge. But they'll be paying for
their dinner this time. They still haven't paid for the entire thing
yet. We can gouge them for a bit more. This ain't no Yoshinoya beefbowl
they're going for."
The grin on Ishi's face was a nasty, predatory one as he looked
up at the trench horizon, a few inches up. "Yes, sir, they'll be paying
for it all right."
Then he blinked and glanced at his superior officer. "Almost
forgot, Pyongyang called the hill. Weather's been clearing up and
they'll be trying to send out some air support."
Kenji spared the sky a glance. The dark clouds hid the blue
skies from view. "Can't depend on them, Sarge. We'll have to try and
deal with this on our own."
"Besides," The young lieutenant smirked as he returned his gaze
to the older man, "I've got a plan."
"It better be a good one, sir," Ishi said with a grim smile,
"I'd rather not die before they release the next Benitokage movie."
Chuckling, Kenji told his subordinate the plan. The idea had
come to him a few moments ago, as he watched the lumbering gait of the
BY-1 through the binocscope. It was pretty half-baked and might sound
crazy, but it would probably do.
By the time, he finished describing it to the grizzled old
veteran, he _knew_ it sounded crazy.
The sergeant was grinning ear-to-ear as he called Kenji a crazy
nut. "But, hey, I like crazy nuts. My squad's full of 'em, as matter of
fact. I'm guessing we'll be part of this mess since you told me?"
Kenji put a hand on the Sergeant Ishi's shoulder and said, in
all seriousness, "There's no one else I'd want watching my back."
Guffawing, the older man performed a smart salute. "You better
trust us, boy. Coz, we're the only idiots who'd do what you're asking.
And probably succeed, too."
Then, he walked away to get the rest of his squad, leaving Kenji
to get ready.
************************************************************************
Kenji looked down at me.
"You really think you're good enough to protect me?"
Yes, I am. (I don't know. Please, you don't have to do this.
Help is coming. Don't do this.)
Kenji drew me out my sheath and looked at me in the early
morning light.
"Why are you doing this, sword?"
Because you woke me up. (Because I made a promise.)
Because you are special. (Because I love you.)
Because you want to go home. (Because I want to see you happy.)
Kenji just looked into the depths of my sharp edge, tracing the
wavy lines with his eyes. What was he thinking, I wondered.
"Sword, I promise, if I manage to get out of this alive, I'll
give you a name. Just wait for us to get home."
Home? Us?
"Yes, sword, I'm going to bring you home." Kenji's smile was
happy-sad one, the same sort of smile I had seen on Kirari's face in my
dreams, on her face when she visited him in that foxhole that seemed
ages ago.
I would like that, Kenji.
"Well, sword, time for us to earn our pay."
A mischievous thought danced across my mind as he sheathed me.
But, Kenji, I don't get paid.
He stopped and laughed a small light laugh, as if we were in
some faraway place, far from the death that approached. He sheathed me
lightly, leaving enough clearance for an easy draw.
"Don't worry, sword. You will be."
He approached the older man with a stone face (Sergeant Ishi).
He carried a long-barelled gun with a large round barrel (submachine
gun) under it. He offered it to Kenji while the men around him were
preparing themselves. Some of them were bundling up heavy looking packs.
"That sword'll get the job done. But I think you might need the
Aritaka to get there. Loaded it with heavy armor piercers. Hundred
rounds, good to go."
Kenji gingerly took it into his hands while the old man smirked.
"Sure the old lady won't get jealous?"
Old lady?
Kenji shared me puzzlement and blushed after a moment. "I think
she'll bear with anything that keeps me alive."
I was still puzzled when the grizzled veteran leaned down and
looked at me with a surprisingly gentle smile. "Heard that, little lady?
The LT just called you a 'she'. Take care of the bastard so we can rib
him about it later."
She? What did he mean
Oh
I noticed Kenji was smiling. "I think you've managed to
embarrass her, sarge."
The old man grinned. "Heh. That's all right. She can stick it to
me later."
Groans came from all around us and the muscled man (Riki)
smacked his hand to his face. "That was bad, sarge. Real bad."
"Well, at least, you heard one last one. Okay, you assholes know
the plan. Time to do it."
Then we were running down the pits dug into the ground
(trenches) seeking the enemy.
The whizz and bang of explosions (artillery) punctuated our
approach. The pits (trenches) had been abandoned in the past days by the
attacks. The Russians were still wary of boobytraps and only occupied
the first three outer pits. It left us with an area of five abandoned
trenches (good).
The desolation of the trenches was strange. This was the quiet
before battle, the calm before the storm and I felt fear creep into
Kenji's heart, but I lent him some of my fire and it was gone. He would
need courage to do his plan.
Kenji and the men around him (Ishi squad) slowed down as they
entered the fifth layer of trenches. They were now trying their best to
be stealthy as possible. The sound of explosions was louder and dirt and
gravel sometimes rained down on us.
The old man stopped and raised a closed fist. The sound of
scrambling feet was the only warning before the dead fell on us.
************************************************************************
Kenji emptied a short burst into the resuscitated Russian's
face. The explosively decapitated body slumped to the ground, writhing.
The young lieutenant turned and sprayed the narrow trench with his
submachinegun, the armor piercing rounds tearing into dead flesh. The
Aritaka Type 43 was originally designed for use against armored walkers
and the tougher kouma that were encountered, the rate of fire and
special rounds assuring at the very least a chance of hurting them.
Against the unarmored resuscitated casualties, it cut through them like
a hot knife on butter.
The click-boom of Ishi's Hellsing Arms shotgun was punctuated by
the familiar spurts from the other Aritaka the squad had, held by
Corporal Han-Jyung. Kirigawa and Hayakawa cleaned up after them,
shinkatana beheading the bodies that were only incapacitated.
Lou Duo was doing that duty for him and Riki. The young Korean
pumped spread after spread of silvershot into the writhing mass of
death. Kenji could smell the cordite and decay in the air as they moved
through the trench.
A long low whistle sounded in the air, as if from the distance.
In what seemed moments, everything was silent once more
punctuated by the explosions of artillery. The dead were gone.
Corporal Han-Jyung narrowedf his eyes and voiced the thought of
everyone. "Overseer call."
Kenji nodded grimly. A Soviet commissar with the authority over
the dead soldiers of his country was with the attackers. The ghoul pack
must have been a wild one or more of the dead would have piled on.
As it was, the dead had been called back to the advancing enemy
force.
"Find the bunker." Kenji ordered as he checked the bullet
counter at the Aritaka's ammo barrel. Five sticks. Fifty rounds left.
More than enough. Besides, the sword would finish the job.
Minutes later, he and Ishi squad were entering the low bunker
that had served as Line 5's command center. Riki and Hayakawa had
disarmed the highly explosive booby trap was set for any enemy trying to
claim it and were now resetting it.
The room was a mess, caused by the hurried departure of the
staff. Kenji quickly went toward the furthest wall and started knocking
on the wood.
He was halfway across the wall when he heard the sound he was
expecting. Kenji had found what he was looking for.
He turned around to see Ishi squad prepping up. Sarge and Riki
had discarded the Hellsing shotguns for Nambu Type 4 grenade launchers,
light and easily carried infantry weapons that packed a punch, the
weapon of choice when soldiers went up against armored walkers. Han-
Jyung and Lou Duo were assembling the Aritaka Type 10, the heavy machine
gun version of what he carried. Hayakawa and Kirigawa were packing
improvised satchel charges, heavy explosives and a timer wrapped up in
an infantryman's carrying bag.
"Sergeant! Found the tunnel hole! Follow me through when you're
ready." With this, the young lieutenant turned and sprayed the wall with
bullets at the section where he had heard the hollow echo. Forty rounds
left.
Two thunderous kicks later and a dark entrance had been
revealed. Groping into the darkness with one hand, Kenji found the
switch. A flick of his hand and weak light blossomed to show a tunnel.
By the sputtering frequency of the wide-spaced lights, the young man
judged they had ten minutes before the battery ran out.
Moving quickly, he entered the dimly-lit warren. This was
technically an emergency bolthole, to be used only when being overrun by
the enemy. In theory, you used it to escape _behind_ enemy lines, a
concept that most sane infantrymen found vaguely idiotic. Still, a well-
armed and trained soldier behind enemy lines could wreak large amounts
of havoc. Which was why escape holes like these were used quite often in
Japanese positions.
Kenji was going to use it in a rather non-standard manner in a
few minutes.
He skid to a halt when he reached the end of the tunnel. A
trench periscope's lower eyepiece was set in the low ceiling. He saw
that the Oktobyar were still distant. Luckily enough, it seemed, the
upper half of the periscope had survived and was clear of obstructions.
As he looked, he pulled a gas mask out of his field bag. The sight of
the Aruite Uchi approaching soon filled the periscope sights. Kenji
smiled as his supposition was correct: the path it was travelling did
take it past the exit point; Masa's insistence that the junior officers
memorize the Defense Station's layout were about to pay-off.
"Sir!" Turning, Kenji saw that Ishi Squad was ready for action.
The Aritaka 10 was being carried in the regulation manner by the
Corporal and the terrible twosome, Hayakawa and Kirigawa. Lou Duo was
loaded down with satched charges and grinning nastily, his Chinese
peidao in his hand and, surprisingly, a Ryuusen arcanotech pistol in the
other. Riki and Sarge held their grenade launchers at the ready.
Signalling with a closed fist, the young lieutenant pointed
upwards with a finger. He then waved them back, while putting the gas
mask over his head. The entire group nodded and moved back while Kenji
turned to the periscope and groped around the base that was set in the
ceiling.
He touched wood and carefully slid his hand around a small
square box. He could feel the wire leading away from it. Gingerly, he
looked behind him.
Ishi Squad had donned their gas masks. He nodded again and
pulled the mask tight over his face. The feeling of breathing though the
filters was almost suffocating but soon passed.
Two minutes had passed since he had glanced into the periscope.
Russian walkers were notoriously slow.
Give them five minutes.
************************************************************************
It was once human.
Now, it was nothing more than an engine to a monstrosity.
The thing that was once was Konstantin Boulinikov, a man who
only sought to escape the horrors of the European Front by deserting,
knew only two things for certain: terror and pain. It was the fear that
drove it, its fuel and sustenance. The scourging hurt was what urged it
to do things. These two feelings made it into, what Comrade Doctor West
had approvingly described, something more than human: a miracle of
science.
As it shambled across the dirty landscape, bearing its pilot, it
also vaguely sensed other things. The tortured screaming of chained
souls from the spirit furnaces bound into the black ungainly machines
around it, the gnawing hunger for living flesh that radiated from the
undead that marched beside it, these sensations washed over it like a
dark sea.
The ground was pockmarked and they were gaining good ground.
Occasionally, the pilot would send out the tentacles: dragging dead
bodies from the ground to be consumed by the necrotaphic furnace,
rendering the body to its vital essences, providing it with mundane and
magical power to keep it marching.
It was marching to spread terror; the fear that was gathering
inside its mad soul would soon need release. It had found that it would
be better to give others the shame of cowardice than to keep it within.
It only found true peace in that moment, after the cathartic unleashing
of fear, before new dread flowed into its consciousness.
It was already anticipating that blissful second of freedom when
it felt the ground rumble and clouds of smoke suddenly swept around it.
That was no artillery round.
The explosion came from behind it. It started to turn, hearing
the chatter of a machinegun. The accompanying cacophony of grenade
detonations were like symphonic accompaniment. A bolt of lightning
crashed into its chassis.
Ordinary metal would have turned into a slagged heap. But magic
would not touch arcanotech armor that it bore. The actinic flare of
electricity dissipated into blue sparks that danced across its limbs.
Whoever had sent the lightning bolt learned quickly as it felt the ozone
trail of another lancing strike pass by and turn one of the blocky
machines into a pile of scrap.
Another bolt and another one of its escorts fell. The grenades
were doing their part also, as blinded and crippled machines fell into
each other . The dead were faring no better, as it finally turned to see
who had dared attack it, and surveying the scene.
A group of men dressed in the greenish browns of the troops that
it had fought in this area were set up near a hole in the ground. All of
them wore gasmasks, a protection from the clouds of smoke as it finally
realized what it was: tear gas mixed with incense, devastating towards
unprepared troops. Two men were manning a machinegun that cut through
the living dead like a reaper's scythe. Another two were aiming grenade
lauchers, disabling, crippling and sometimes outright destroying a
several of the black machines. One of them was throwing bags which made
large explosions several seconds after landing while laying about with a
saber, while another sword-wielder watched his back.
The sight was magnificently terrifying.
Then, it noticed one of them was running at it, sword flashing
blue with an unnatural fire.
The thing that was once Konstantin Boulinikov had known terror
in many forms in its brief existence. Disturbingly enough, only now did
it know the terror of death.
It, the engine thought, was not so bad after all.
Then, it let loose the fear.
************************************************************************
Kenji's heart pounded as he felt it pass over him.
It was like being plunged into the ocean, into the abyss. Night
terrors clawed at the back of his mind while the small nagging
inadequacies blossomed into full-blown regret. In those seconds, his
mind would have broken into a thousand pieces, leaving his body a shell
for the ghouls to devour.
KENJI!!!
Kirari's voice - the sword's voice - broke though the tidal wave
of horror and pulled him back into the present. The machinegun was
silent now, but he could still hear the click boom of the grenades and
Lou Dou's satchel charges exploding.
He had gauged it right, after all.
Self-congratulation was not in order as suddenly the BY-1 took
one step towards him and the two metal tentacles streaked towards him.
The sword turned in his hands, slicing one of the steel
appendages while turning the other one away with with bright yellow
sparks. He did not see but felt the ghoul jumping behind him, cutting it
down with a turning downward slash.
Shifting his foot, he sliced though another living dead Russian.
A turning twist, decapitated a body and he cut through two of them with
a follow-up stroke. He leapt out of the way as the Aruite Uchi's
remaining member lashed out at him. The leap turned into a rising cut,
cleanly halving another resuscitated casualty.
He moved again. He was stronger and faster, no doubt the sword's
work. He really had to thank it later. An Oktobyar blindly lumbered out
of the tear gas cloud. The Russians were notorious about not fitting
them with air-filters and the tear gas had obviously leaked into them.
It raised a gun arm to aim it at him.
It was pure reflex to slice the arm off and to neatly bisect the
armor as if it was made of wet paper.
The BY-1 had attempted to catch him again by the act of whipping
the remaining tentacle around him. He felt some of his ribs break,
beaing too slow to stop the initial attack. He cut the remaining
tentacle in retaliation before he had to defend himself from another
ghoul attack.
The living dead were keeping him away from his objective, the
BY-1's legs, and he was getting tired. He felt the claw marks in his
back and the bite in his leg acutely as he pushed himself to go for the
legs again. He couldn't hear Ishi Squad anymore through the roaring in
his ears.
Kenji
"Damn it, Kirari! I'm busy." He hacked through another ghoul.and
twisted to evade a grasping claw.
Light laughter. Sad and happy at the same time.
Well.
If you really want it done that much
Blue fire erupted down the length of his sword. The dead cowered
back. The BY-1 seemed to take a step back.
Cut it now.
Kenji wearily smiled as he drew the sword up in a textbook
hidari-jodan-no-kamae stance. He let the slice flow down from the
highest mountain to the lowliest stream.
A cut of flowing water.
The metal monstrosity before him seemed to freeze for a moment.
Then, it broke diagonally in half.
Kenji fell to his knees breathing hard.
You did it, Kenji. There was pride in that voice.
"Yes, I did."
The dead were around him, hesitant. The animal brain of theirs
was still calculating the odds. But even they knew how to add things
together.
"It was nice knowing you."
He felt the lumbering crunch of an Oktobyar step behind him. He
could almost feel the gun arm being raised.
Oh, Kenji. You always were a bit slow.
A flash of yellow before him and he heard the sound of smashed
metal. The dead were gone. Only a smirking old man, yellow robes
slightly aflutter, before him, with a sword as tall as the white-haired
wielder.
Wasn't he the master of the village?
"For a Japanese dog, you have done passably well."
That was when he lost consciousness.
************************************************************************
Kenji opened his eyes and saw the clear blue sky. Sunlight
peered through the branches of the blooming cherry tree. It was summer
and he could feel the breeze on his face.
I'm dreaming, Kenji thought to himself, delirious in some dank
field hospital. He remembered the crunch of gravel and the wet sensation
of his face landing on the moist battlefield soil.
Wasn't there supposed to be a tunnel of light?
"You're here!"
It was her voice. He sat up, seeking her, turning to face the
speaker. It made his head ache, but the sight of her in a scarlet
patterned kimono, hair tied into a low ponytail that trailed down her
back, was worth the pain. She was sitting beside him, legs spread out in
an immodest manner. That was Kirari, a tomboy to the bone. He knew he
looked like an idiot as he gaped at the woman beside him. The rolling
hills of northern Kanto made a perfect background to the profile of the
one he loved.
She was beautiful.
She was...No, it wasn't her. Kenji couldn't explain it beyond a
minor feeling. Maybe, it was the eyes. Kirari loved him, but her eyes
never held that much devotion.
"You're not her."
He knew who this must be. It was disturbing to know that he wasn't
angry; just feeling the minor sting of disappointment.
She blinked then averted her eyes from her gaze. She even had
the good grace to blush.
"I'm sorry. I-," the thing - no, she was a person like any
other, as human as any like her could be - the person who looked like
Kirari began, then trailed off. She knew him well enough, and him her,
that explanations between them were not needed. Taking a deep breath,
she repeated her apology.
"I'm sorry."
Kenji sighed. Did everyone who had a nemuranai experience this?
Maybe not, maybe he was just this unlucky. I probably massacred a
monastery in a past life, he thought grimly, and this was divine
punishment.
He looked around. A dream, this was a dream and he was stuck
here.
"You're going to live."
She smiled with Kirari's face as he raised an eyebrow in
inquiry.
"The doctors say you're going to live. A bit banged up, yes, but
you'll be fine."
"Er..." He was going to broach the subject on how she knew when
she grinned. Kirari's eyes twinkled in joy as the sword told him.
"You wouldn't let me go. They were able to put my sheath on, but
you wouldn't let me go. I'm with you in your bed and I listened while
they talked."
"Oh."
Well...that was embarrassing. Though, he could have done worse
than having a sword as a security blanket.
Kenji turned to the tableau before them: Wakasa, in all its
provincial glory. A small town with an average population, it was the
very model of rural placidity.
A dream wind blew and he just knew that cherry blossoms floated
on that wafting zephyr towards some unknown destination. He sighed and
sneaked a glance to the person beside him.
She really looked like Kirari. She even had that smirk that the
real one had. She must be enjoying this.
Kenji sighed and returned to gaze down at his hometown. He was
going to live. They're probably going insane at home with worry. The
mental image of his mother nagging father about getting information on
him made him chuckle. Another sigh escaped him. Dreaming about his and
Kirari's favorite spot was getting boring really fast. He sent another
furtive look towards his companion.
She seemed to be blushing for some reason. It made her look more
like Kirari. Kenji remembered the summer when they were sixteen. His
childhood friend looked just like that when he confessed his love.
He sighed. The past was past. Kirari's dead and you're in some
dreamland with the psychic representation of your sword, who remarkable
looks and sounds just like the woman you loved.
You're just lonely.
Another quick look at his companion and he knew what he had to
do.
She had noticed his nervous stare and turned to look at him. Her
cheeks were red - did she know?
"Er... I don't-"
"Kenji, I-"
They had started at the same time and stopped at the same time.
They blushed at the same time, each knowing the other's
thoughts. She nodded and Kenji opened his arms.
She was a perfect fit, though he should have known that - Kirari
was, too. She was warm and soft and smelled faintly of lavender.
They stayed that way until he opened his eyes to white ceilings
and her saya in his hand.
************************************************************************
Some time (two weeks, that strange other voice said) later, a
man entered while Kenji was sleeping. White streaked the red of the
man's long hair and, in the early morning light, a faint pair of scars
could be seen meeting across one cheek. He was dressed oddly; a
traditional gi in pink and a white hakama. He carried a sword with him,
though the blade seemed mismatched in a way; like a new saya, still
needing a few more attempts for the katana to sheath properly before it
became a smooth partnership.
He moved smoothly, silently, like one of the cats that
occasionaly strolled into the room at night, seeking for food.
He smiled when he saw me in Kenji's hands and I felt the age in
the gaze that settled on me.
This man was old, old and powerful in only a swordsman could be.
Strangely, he didn't look that old; a few (laugh lines) and (crow's
feet) at the corner of his eyes were the only indications of age other
than the streaks of white in his red mane.
He settled himself into a nearby chair and waited.
It was a bit embarassing to be watched like that. I wanted to
nudge Kenji awake, but had no hands to do that. I also couldn't wake him
in his dreams; the last time was probably just a one-off occurrence.
So, I wheedled him in his sleep.
Kenji...
Kenji...
KENJI!!!
"Wha!?" Kenji sat up, almost drawing me in surprise. The older
man's placid smile greeted him.
"Hello there, Tsukishiro-san." The man's voice, though mild,
held an echo of his power. "I apologize for your companion waking you. I
did not think it was that powerful."
Kenji blinked and I knew what ran through his mind: did the
strange older man hear me? The visible surprise on his face must clued
in the old man. The red-haired swordsman chuckled.
"No, I did not hear -" the man left his statement hanging.
Kenji smiled and spoke.
"Her."
The man's smile deepened and he continued his explanation. "Her.
Of course. As I said, I did not hear her, but rather felt her. I have
had experience with nemuranai in the past and with my training in the
martial arts, you could say that I'm a bit of a sensitive when they're
concerned."
Kenji's face brightened. "You know nemuranai? Finally! I need
someone to-"
My partner's face slackened as he gaped at the smiling man before
him.
What is it Kenji?
"You're-"
"I see that my reputation precedes me." The elder swordsman
shook his head with a chuckle.
Kenji seemed to leap out of bed, suddenly bowing low before the
man.
"Kamiya-sama! I apologize for not recognizing you earlier!"
Kenji, who is this man?
"He's-"
"An old student of the blade, o-hime-chan." Their was a twinkle
in those mischievous blue eyes. He may not have been able to hear me,
but he did understand my moods. "Who, incidentally, has been drafted to
deliver two messages."
Standing up, the man's head only reach Kenji's shoulder, though
my partner seemed to think highly of him. He reached into his gi and
pulled out a letter, presenting it with a flourish.
"My wife is rather interested in meeting the man who could
destroy an Aruite Uchi with a single stroke."
Kenji blushed and glanced at me in his hands with a meaningful
look as he took the paper, gingerly.
"I had help, Kamiya-sama."
You're welcome, Kenji.
Another pleased smile and a gentle nod.
"A weapon can only do so much, Lieutenant. The wielder also does
his part. Besides, every nemuranai holder in the Empire will be sent to
our dojo by Imperial decree, anyway. Might as well give you advance
warning."
Kenji blinked as he took in what Kamiya-sama said and nodded.
The though of others like me made me curious. Would they be able
to hear me? What would they look like? What were they?
My thoughts were interrupted when Kenji asked for the second
message.
"Oh. Yes. Here." Another message pulled out from the pink gi.
"Home leave - after the awarding ceremony, of course."
Kenji looked at the piece of paper blankly.
"Home? Awarding ceremony?"
"Yes. Home. A good rest after what you went through. The
awarding ceremony is with that squad you did that daring assault with. A
medal for bravery and a commendation."
Taking the other message in his hand, he bowed respectfully to
the redheaded older man.
Kamiya-sama nodded and, sensing the need for us to be alone,
excused himself and left.
Kenji stood ther holding his leave form in one hand.
Kenji?
"Yes?"
Is there something wrong? (He'll lie. But that's all right.)
"No. Nothing wrong." Still he stared at the message that
contained his leave.
I was silent and, moments later, he sat down heavily on the bed.
"Home."
His voice sounded so lost.
************************************************************************
Kenji had expected his homecoming to be a simple, family affair.
The operative word in that statement was 'expected'. But, as the
train pulled into the small train station that serviced his hometown of
Wakasa, his hopes of a quiet return were dashed by the noticeably large
crowd that could be seen from his cabin window.
Surrendering to the inevitable, the young officer sighed and
stood to get his bags, slinging the sword case over one shoulder. He had
left Yokohama immediately after the awarding ceremony. It was nice to
see old Ishi and the others of Ishi squad, who all miraculously
survived, but he had decided to go home directly.
Like the old saying went: when drinking poison, lick the bowl.
Kenji licked his lips as he felt the train slow down.
Time to lick the bowl.
The kindly old conductor, Hataki-san, met him with a smile when
he opened the door.
"Town's come out to greet you."
Kenji smiled in response. "I noticed."
As they walked down the train corridor, the click and flash from
waiting cameras made the lieutenant raise his hand to cover his face.
"Don't you have a secret escape panel for celebrities?"
The conductor chuckled and shook his head. "Only on special
trains."
Kenji glanced at him. The calm bespectacled face was totally
serious. He laughed quietly and composed himself when they reached exit
door.
"Thanks, Hataki-san. Here's a tip." Kenji slipped a five
thousand yen note deftly into the conductor's coat pocket.
"No trouble, young man. Now off to meet your adoring public."
Kenji shook his head and stepped out of the train onto the
station. Bulbs flashed and a few waiting reporters threw out a few
questions. He steeled himself into politeness and smiled as graciously
as he could. He went into his prepared speech as quickly as he could.
"My apologies, but I'm in a bit of a hurry. I'll grant you all
interviews later - I do have a long leave coming up." Polite laughter
from the crowd. "I think everyone here's aware of where I live so just
send your request there. Now, excuse me, I think my family's waiting." A
smile and a wave and he decided to risk entering the crowd.
Thankfully, courtesy still ruled the day as they let him
through. Well-wishers, most of them people he knew from town, bowed
politely as he passed by and a few young women, in rather daring
gestures, offered him bouquets of flowers. He accepted them with a
gracious bow and a few compliments.
He finally saw his family sitting near the ticket window,
dressed in traditional clothes. Surprisingly, they weren't being
bothered. Seeing his father's stern face, he made a guess at the reason
why. Kaji Tsukishiro was a hard but fair man. He would not have
countenanced anyone disturbing him or any member of his house. Mother
looked as calm as ever. Maya Tsukishiro was the counterpoint to her
husband's brooding storm, though she herself was wont to her own fits of
temper. His two younger brothers, Jingoro and Hachi, and his sister,
Ran, were having an argument, as always.
It was Ran, of course, who noticed him first.
"Onii-chan!" The crowd parted before the ten-year old bundle of
energy which quickly latched onto his leg. Kenji smiled down at her.
"Imouto-chan!" He leaned down to give the girl a quick hug,
which soon turned into a hold that carried her to his shoulders.
Kenji returned his gaze to his family and noticed that they were
all standing and coming towards him. Jingoro had that adoring look in
his eyes that faintly disturbed him, while Hachi's open-mouthed gape
that would have floored him.
His mother had faint tears in her eyes. Kenji brought his sister
down to the floor from her perch and smiled at the Tsukishiro matriarch.
She needed no words as he hugged him tight, an embrace he returned with
equal strength.
Kenji could feel his father's gaze seem to burn into his back.
Letting his mother go, he turned to face the older man.
The head of the Tsukishiro clan had a face that was often
described as being carved from stone; harsh and craggy, with smooth
planes word down by the wind. It was like looking at a mountain,
forbidding and dark.
Kenji.
It's going to be all right.
The sword's warmth flowed from behind his shoulder. The priests
had told him the bond he shared with her was one of the most powerful
they had ever seen. It both frightened and warmed him.
Kenji smiled and bowed in the most proper way possible.
"I'm home, father."
"So you are." Kaji rumbled.
Then, he felt hands on his shoulders which raised him from his
bow.
Kenji almost fainted from the sight of his father smiling. The
hug that followed weakened his knees.
"Welcome home, son."
Kenji smiled as he returned the embrace to the applause of the
crowd. Most of them were from town and they had probably heard the
entire story of his joining the Imperial Army. They were probably going
to talk about this long after the war was over.
See. I told you.
Kenji nodded, knowing that she would know. Patting him on the
back, his father had moved back with a smile on his lips.
"We better go now. I'd like to get unpacked and everything.
Also, I think Mother has probably something nice planned for dinner."
"She actually has been fretting about it since the day before
yesterday, when we received the telegram." His father was treating him
like an equal. That was new, though Kenji chalked it up to the heady
atmosphere of his home coming. "Well, let's go."
Leading the way, the Tsukishiro clan patriarch cleared the path
for his family.
The family car, a Kanzaki Model '28 steamer, waited outside the
station. Greeting more well-wishers, something caught his eye.
"Mother, tell Father to wait for awhile. I have to talk to
somebody." Before she could protest, he had slid away and was halfway yo
his quarry.
"Nakagawa-san!"
Gen Nakagawa was an aging school teacher and he looked the part.
Wireframed spectacles graced a long, aquiline face. His salt and pepper
hair was cut short in the Tokyo style and his western clothes fit him
well. Popular among the students of Wakasa's middle school, his eyes
always had a mischievous twinkle to them when he taught his young
charges. There was sadness in those eyes as they looked at him now.
"Kenji-kun...good to see you safe and sound." There was faint
bitterness in that voice.
Kenji bowed low before the man, Kirari's father.
"My apologies, Nakagawa-san, but-" He hesitated and he
considered what he was about to do.
Lick the bowl.
Kenji smiled. She did not know what he was planning and yet she
still gave good advice. He continued.
"I apologize if this is a bit abrupt but I would like to invite
your family to dinner tonight. It would be my pleasure, and my family's,
to be graced by your presence. I would also like to ask your permission
for something at the dinner."
The older man's face evinced surprise, confusion, then
surrender. He did smile though, a beaten man's grin.
"Of course, we would be honored to accept your invitation."
Nakagawa bowed.
"Thank you very much." They parted with a smile.
When he returned to the car, Kenji's father, who had been
looking on from a distance, put a hand on his shoulder. Respect was in
his eyes as he looked at his son.
"That was well done."
Kenji smiled at his father in response. Praise was a hard-earned
commodity in the Tsukishiro household and he just had two in quick
succession.
Maybe, it wasn't as poisonous as I thought it was.
"Let's go home."
************************************************************************
Kenji had laid me by his side at the head of the table. His father had
asked him to sit there for the evening. He said that his son deserved
it.
If I had a face, I would have (smiled).
On the right side of the low table was Kenji's family, from Kaji
to Ran sorted according to age. The left had the Nakagawas, Kirari's
family, following the same pattern as their counterparts: Gen-san's
scholarly mien was offset by his wife Yoko's vivacious personality,
though her smiles seemed a bit forced; the three remaining sisters, Jun,
Hirako and Seiko were polite but hesitant in their dinner talk.
The dinner was strange. There seemed to be a strange tension in
the air.
This was my first formal dinner and it seemed to have been
friendlier in the (trenches), where everyone joked and a smile and a
song always seemed to be ready.
I think Kenji knew this, too.
He was happy. He was also sad.
It seemed to be the best way to describe people: happiness and
sadness mixed together in equal parts.
Kenji sighs. He is about to do something and he didn't know what
would happen afterwards.
I know this because I'm his partner, my bondsman. I am bound to
him, the priests at the base shrine had said, and that meant many
things.
My connection with him, as the days pass, grows stronger and
stronger. I've come to know my Kenji, I think, in the ways that only
Kirari knew him.
The dinner is almost over and the polite small talk has reached
a point where it either broke or snapped.
Time to do it, Kenji.
He smiled and I felt a faint pulse of emotion that turned into
(meaning).
(You don't even know what I'm going to do.)
I should have been surprised, but I wasn't.
No. But I trust you. That's all you need to know.
He smiled then and cleared his throat.
"Excuse me."
Everyone turned to look at him.
"I have something important to ask of Nakagawa-san...and I wish
for everyone present to be witness of it."
Turning to his left, he bowed low. Then, picking me up, he
presented me to Kirari's father on two hands; (the way a samurai would
present it to his lord).
"I would like to ask your permission that I name my sword after
your daughter, Kirari."
Kenji!?!
(Trust me.)
I felt shock. I felt awe. I felt joy. I felt grief.
"Kenji-kun-"
"Before you answer, please take the sword first."
Puzzlement.
Kenji?
(Do your best, dear.)
Oh.
I felt Kirari's father take me into his hands.
I felt his loss and the emptiness of his soul.
I felt failure and pain and the loss of cherished memories.
Like Kenji wanted me to, I reached out.
Hello...
Her father's jaw dropped.
"I can hear-"
Kenji was looking at him, face serene.
"It's not her. But... that's all I can do."
I felt anger. I felt joy. I felt sorrow to drown a thousand
worlds.
I'm not her. I'm just all he can give.
Please...
Then, Nakagawa-san smiled and I felt the morning calm.
Everyone else was looking at us in wonder and silence.
Gen nodded and said in a voice that almost trembled, but stayed
firm.
"I think my family would like to hold this sword - no, her name
is Kirari now - with me." A deep breath, steadying his nerves. "You
managed to keep your promise, after all, young man.
"Thank you."
Thank you.
Then, five pairs of hands held me and I knew elation and
happiness and sorrow and melancholy all at the same time.
(is that not what people are?
joy and sadness mixed in equal parts, that strange little voice
said with tones wisdom)
************************************************************************
He could not sleep and decided to go for a walk. He dressed in a
traditional hakama and gi, then picked up Kirari, sheathing the saya in
his obi in the traditional manner. He got the sword license from his
field pack and folded the futon carefully.
The dinner had ended in happy tears and friendships renewed.
Though, I could have lived without the engagement part.
Gen and Kaji, in all their infinite wisdom, had decided to unite
the families.
"A sword is all well and good, but it won't cook you meals or
have your children."
That sealed it and under the glare of three of the eldest
children, the approving smiles of two mothers and the amusement of the
four youngest, a simple agreement was made to engage Kenji to either Jun
or Hirako at the earliest convenient time i.e. as soon as the war is
over.
It didn't help that Kirari was vocally supportive of it.
"Traitress," he mock-muttered as they walked down Wakasa's empty
early-morning streets.
Gen-san and Kaji-san were right. I'm not exactly housewife
material.
He smiled.
He didn't mind all that much. He had plenty of time to change
those two's minds before the war was over. As a matter of fact, he had a
pretty long leave as a reward for his efforts and he could make some
headway using that. He absently concocted his plans as he continued his
walk.
He was in the middle of a rather convoluted scheme that involved
several unmarried women, a bathhouse and a face towel when he saw
something that tickled his fancy.
Kenji smiled and quickened his pace, now having a goal for his
sojourn.
Is that it, Kenji?
"Yes, Kirari." Strange to call her that. But, fitting in a way.
They were both silent as he walked up the path.
He panted a little as he reached the top and promptly plomped
his ass down to gaze at his town. No lights, gas was being rationed,
illuminated the streets of Wakasa. It was a place of peace.
Leaning back, he felt the rough bark of the cherry blossom tree
through his gi.
Pulling the sword, saya and all, out of his obi, he set it on
his knees and gazed up at the stars through the branches of his favorite
tree.
"Welcome home, Kirari."
The sword seemed to consider it for a moment then answered.
It's good to be home.
Man and sword were silent as they contemplated what that meant,
starlight their only guide.
************************************************************************
Note:
I distinctly remember not posting this to the FFML. Anyway, this is one of
the pseudo-original works I wrote/am writing in the TK1940/Tasogare Densetsu
World. Check the forums out for some of the other stuff.
Warning though, everyone's kind of in hibernation. I'll try to post more of
the finished stuff there in the forums in a little while but no promises.
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