Shiro clutched his FAMAL, adrenaline pumping through his exhausted body, driving him onwards, out of harm to the next safe zone. A sound of an engine brought him spinning round. He raised the rifle, suqeezed the trigger once, twice, three times, then watched in sickened curiosity as both the driver and gunner of the Britannian transport slumped sideways, pale as the moon that lit the scene. If there was one thing to be said for the EU, they produced good weapons.
The crunch of trees snapping set Shiro's military training into motion. First, locate direction of fire. 9 o'clock. Second, run. It was an M2HB machine gun. Who knew who's side it was operating on, as both the Britannian Army and JSDF utilised them to particular effect, but knowing Japanese luck so far it was likely to be the former.
The war, four days old, had begun due to an aggressive move by the Britannian Empire to capture the natural resources which were being withheld by Japan. The Japanese Ground Self Defence Force, with it's 150,000 personnel, were at a huge disadvantage against the million-strong Britannian Army. Shiro, as one of the bottom ranks, had been dispatched with his company to southwest Kyushu , in an attempt to stop the capture or destruction of agriculture, for the Japenese knew they could never hold out for lack of food should the naval defense of the Sea of Japan fail (as it was so inevitably starting to do).
Elevating the importance of their task, the JSDF command had issued the Kyūshū no shugo sha, or Kyushu's Guardians, as the Chinese, EU and Japanese media had been quick to portray them, with the most advanced EU weaponry and had distributed Chinese advisors for "Accelerated Special Operations Training". They had trained hard, in freezing mud, wind and rain, even going as far as the mountains, all in the space of a week. They were to be Japan's last hope. And yet, 5,000 lay dead, some 9,000 had sustained injuries, and a small number, though taught from enrolment to fight to the death, had deserted to join the Empire. The southern towns and villages were already lost, and who knew how long it would be until the island fell? And when it did, the fun would begin. Osaka was under siege, Tokyo had been fired on and so once the final few defences were down there no was nowhere for the remainder to run to.
Shiro stood, for a moment, at the gates to the temporary base that had been constructed only a week ago. The tattered Japanese flag, though torn and scorched, stood proud, a deliberate defiance of Britannian imperialism- though, from the bodies strewn underneath, the scorched huts sheltering groups of terrified, weakened fighters, the wounded slumped against vehicles, dirty bandages failing to help, it was farcical in every way.
Stumbling into the encampment, Private Suzuki felt himself go cold. The colour had drained from his hands, and pangs of sickness ran through him. Approaching the pile of rubble that had once been the mess hall, a soldier with blankets covering his chest beckoned him, before stretching out an arm. An arm carrying a bloodstained magazine. Exchanging the near-empty FAMAL for a discarded Type 89, Shiro loaded the magazine into the weapon and shakily raised his arm as a salute to the fallen soldier.
"All Hail Britannia?" Croaked the dishevelled man, who's armband revealed him as a medic.
"Fuck Britannia."
Thoroughly haunted, both by the plight of this Corporal Sato and the shame he endured for his feelings- those of surrender, hatred for the JSDF for continuing the fight- He carried on.
Music came blasting through the forest, seemingly from nowhere. The English words, ringing out from the Britannian tanks.
Truth and hope in our Fatherland!
And death to every foe!
Our soldiers shall not pause to rest
We vow our loyalty
Old traditions they will abide
Arise young heroes!
Our past inspires noble deeds
All Hail Britannia!
Immortal beacon shows the way
Step forth, seek glory!
Hoist your swords high into the clouds
Hail Britannia!
They were coming.
It was hopeless. Whichever soldiers could stand rose around Shiro, shouting slogans (Shiro picked out "Kyūshū no shugo sha" and "Nippon Banzai" as the most common) and brandishing their assorted weapons. Yet the sight was pathetic to watch. They stood no chance.
A boy of barely 18 fumbled to load a grenade into his rifle, before finally pulling the trigger and sending it arcing over the treeline. A battered Japanese armored vehicle skidded into the circle of men. It's machine gun angled to the sky, the gunner desperately fired burst after burst at the approaching Britannian crests painted onto the gunmetal grey underbelly of the imperial gunships. One, having taken several hits, spun towards the ground emitting clouds of acrid smoke, then fell another with a distant, repulsive crunch. A bewildered captain, evidently drunk, stumbled from the rear door, murmuring under his breath about 'smashing the invaders', before an enemy cannon shell hit him square in the chest, launching the now lifeless body several yards with a final, horrifyingly quick thud.
Trails were burnt in the air, leaving a smell of smoke and the smack of rockets finding their mark. Shiro pulled off a quick burst towards an inbound gunships, to no avail judging by the crack of bullets on armour, and dived sideways into the remains of the hall. Finding the tables left as they were, overturned chairs littering the flor, the smashed crockery adding to the debris, filled him with an immediate and overwhelming sadness, reaching the deepest recesses of his mind, making him shake uncontrollably, weeping for the loss of his comrades, his home and likely his family. As a fierce battle raged outside, Shiro knelt in an abandoned room, tears streaming down his face, mourning those who had died, those who's deaths were yet to come, and at his own selfish desire to submit.
A Type 90 tank rolled past, swinging it's gun round as it came, and let off two rounds, evidently destroying an enemy vehicle of some description. Had it come to the point where Shiro knew destruction only by sound. A dull, yet deafening thump, the shouts in both English and Japanese, the chattering of automatic fire.
After what seemed like hours but may have been only minutes, the young Private pulled together all the integrity he could summon, and stepped outside, to come face to face with the silent aftermath of a daunting, terrifyingly epic battle. The gunships had been driven back, as was evident by four of their smoking husks lying on the crater-riddled floor. The tank that had saved them had stopped in some ruins, apparently hoping to use them as cover. The flag draped over the turret and tied round the gun was that of the First Airborne Brigade. The best of the best, the most elite soldiers Japan had to offer, and they were serving in this hell hole?
Shiro's vision slowed as the top half of the soldier in front of him seperated itself from the bottom half with a sound like an axe through wood. A cable kicked up wind as it retracted at a considerable speed through the woods. Stunned vision was returned to normal by the impact of several rounds upon the area. Once more, the tank swung it's gun round to fire, but too late. A sound like a gong had several troops clasping their ears, billowing smoke obscured their vision, then the first of the explosions as the ammunition ignited within the beast.
Half human, half robot, all demonic, the three Glasgows whipped past the trees, towards the defenceless Japanese forces still defending the crater of what had once been their base.
It could be seen a mile off, explosions still wracked the place and those soldiers who still resisted were blackened with smoke, tears cutting tracks through the soot, but on they fought, defiant to the last man, fighting for their lives, country, families and honour.
War of Japan Memorial, Tokyo- Kyushu section.
October 23rd, 2010
A tall, well built Eleven strolled through the rows of white tablets that marked the death of those serving in both the Britannian Forces and Japan Self Defence Forces. He stopped at one- conspicuous without the flowers.
Private Shiro Kabe.
Born: March 29th, 1985
Died: August 14th 2010
A name amongst the names, forgotten by all, but to be forgotten was unforgiveable. The Eleven swore that one day, this unknown soldier would have vengeance. The Britannians would pay.
First chapter done :D
FAMAL obviously isn't a real weapon, i just thought that with France under threat from the Britannians they'd move production to London, changing the name of the weapon from FAMAS to FAMAL... clever huh? :P
Possibly more YGO Timidshipping coming soon, but for next chapter, Ryo: Warrior of Hokkaido.
Clearly I dont own Code Geass otherwise i'd be all rich. So please don't sue me!