Splinter Cell
Remnants Rising
Prologue
Welcome. Before we begin there are a few things I would like to make note of. This is my first fanfiction and I thought really hard to make this plot. I put it off for at least a year to make some modifications and attend to other things, like school. Heck I'm still having issues on how to keep it flowing. But I WILL manage. Let's start with this. I do not own any characters that were already created by their rightful owners. Otherwise this story would never have been made. It will be told from a third person point of view, with some changing of perspective. As in we focus on one character's view and switch to another's as the story goes. It may be a bit confusing. But as the story goes you'll get it. Oh and if you don't know the history of Splinter Cell, stop what you're doing and go to the Splinter Cell Wiki. I don't want to spend TOO much time on description and backstory. This fanfiction will be a multi-crossover fic. Meaning several other games and animes will make an appearance, but expect a big dose of realism here and there. Finally, there will be three prologue chapters before we really get to it. So without further ado. Let us begin.
In memory of Tom Clancy.
1947-2013
Rest in peace.
Rural home in Tokyo, Japan. March 28th, 1945
"How can this be happening?" He asked himself. "We had a mighty army. A sleek air force. The mightiest navy afloat and many carriers. How can this be happening?"
Captain Sadao Osamu stood at the doorway of his home, looking towards the wide blue, partly cloudy sky. Hoping to find answers, maybe even a hint of a miracle from the gods. All he saw was the blue and white colors of the endless sky. He hung his head. It was unfathomable to imagine what was going on. Imperial Japan was losing the war. Defeat after defeat befell the army. The air force lost more planes than it shot down. The navy was reduced to only a handful of ships. The Americans with their island hopping campaign were almost at Japan's doorstep. If a miracle isn't found, whatever else Japan had would be lost. What would they do then? How would the soldiers cope with their honor stained? What would become of the people, the culture, the military?
The emperor?
What would happen?
Sadao clutched his sheathed katana tightly, biting his tongue at the thought of defeat. He turned hearing footsteps. Standing there was his lovely wife, Kumiko, with the one other thing he would always fight for. In her arms wrapped in a soft cloth, was their newborn, and only, baby boy. Ryuu. The day he was born was the happiest day of their lives. But it was also the day Iwo Jima fell. March 26th. The reality dawned upon Sadao since that day. The Americans would surely move to Okinawa next. And he would fight. Sadao knew that he may never get the chance to see it. His son's first steps. His first birthday. His first… anything. Not even the chance to teach his son about Bushido and honor. He cried on the inside, and it was evident by the look on his face.
A loud honk was heard. In the driveway was the troop truck, ready to take Sadao into battle. Sadao desperately wanted to say no. To throw down his uniform and sword, and stay with his wife and son. But that would be disgraceful not only to himself, but his family name, and he would rather die. But that didn't mean he would like it. Taking a calming breath, Sadao turned to his wife, wrapped his arms around her, and held her tightly.
"Goodbye Kumiko-Chan. Remember that I love you. And always will." He whispered, knowing full well this battle may be his last. His wife held back tears, trying to keep a straight face. He looked down unto the tiny infant that was his son, who looked back with pure innocence. "Goodbye Ryuu-San. Be good for your mother, and be strong on the road ahead of you." He said, placing a gentle hand on his son's cheek.
"Papa."
His first word.
Sadao couldn't fight it anymore, and began to cry. As did his wife. His son's first word was his name, and here he was being taken to the front lines of war. All men have their limits. Trying once again to fight his tears, he smiled at his son. "That's right. I'm your papa," He said as best he could, drying his tears, "and I'm going to keep you safe by fighting. Remember me my son. Be strong. Like the samurai." The tears had dried by then and he turned to the truck. Grabbing his bag of essentials, he walked to the truck and climbed in with his fellow soldiers. Exhaust belched from the exhaust pipe and the truck drove off to the next soldier.
"Papa."
April 1st
Okinawa
It never ended.
Artillery pounded the land, destroyed the vegetation. Sending bodies, blood, and dirt everywhere. American planes swarmed the flak filled sky, dropping bombs and spewing machine gun fire. Marines with flamethrowers moved through the area, scorching hot flames belching from their weapons, leaving only death and destruction in their path. Endless waves of charging marines followed from the sea. And the battleships shelled the land with their mighty cannons. Okinawa was truly "The Gateway to Hell."
Sadao looked upon the American forces closing in on them. The beaches have fallen, letting the landing craft unload marines and tanks. It was time. This was the moment, if they could not be beaten, they would be bloody and battered. That was the plan. Make it harder for the Americans to take the island to the best of their abilities. Deep in his heart, Sadao wanted to believe that the Americans could be beaten, that this was the last battle. No more would fall to their hands. He and his men could go home.
And he could see Ryuu again.
But in his mind, he knew it wasn't. This would be the last battle for him perhaps. But for Japan? No. More Americans would come and take the island. Japan would be defenseless.
But he will fight nonetheless. Because he is Japanese. He would rather die than surrender.
"Men," he began. "This is it. This is the moment we've been waiting for! This is where we take the fight straight to the Americans! They will advance, and they will not stop until the island falls, then move to our homeland. They will bomb our cities! Destroy our homes! And erase our identity as warriors! THAT MUST NOT HAPPEN! This is our moment! This is where we make our stand and strike them down! But if we cannot beat them, then let us give them reason to be afraid, to run, to fear the rising sun! Remember men: We are Warriors! We are Samurai! WE ARE JAPANESE!"
Cheers of approval and readiness flew from the mouths of his men, ready to fight and die for the empire. Sadao turned to face the now closer American assault force, knowing that they heard his speech as well. He grabbed his katana and unsheathed it, ready to fight. He heard the sounds of his men readying their bayonets.
"TENNO HEIKA BANZAI!" He yelled rushing forward, killing several marines.
"TENNO HEIKA BANZAI!" His men repeated, following him and rushing the Americans.
…
"How many did we lose?" The general asked grimly, observing the carnage around him. American and Japanese dead everywhere. "At least 3,500 men sir, an additional 3,910 injured, and a third of the vehicles destroyed." The LT replied. The general looked upon the corpse of the Japanese captain, still clutching his katana. "They just don't let up" He whispered. "Relay the info to command. We'll call for a proper body retrieval in time, but we need to continue the assault." "Yes sir."
Captain Sadao Osamu was one of many brave Japanese warriors to fight on Okinawa to defend against the onslaught of America and her allies. He led one of the most successful banzai attacks of the entire war. With a force of 2,500 men, he charged an assaulting hostile armor column with infantry escort, leaving numerous wrecks littering the field and many Americans dead or wounded.
Sadly. Neither he, nor any of his men, survived. They would not see the fall of Japan, the Cold War, the new millennium.
Nor the movement to avenge their sacrifices and restore Japan.
That's all for now. See ya later.