It was the third day following the end of the Great War.
The Empire was still undergoing a rebirth into a thriving republic. The city had thrown a festival that night, with fireworks, lanterns, and everything that could keep one's spirits held up high. It would seem that all was well.
However, all was not completely normal. Some of the residents questioned the unannounced disappearance of the bludgeoned carcass of the former prime minister, Honest, set to be displayed at the town square as a supposed victory medallion to the public. If he were to have been reborn, his whereabouts and destination had remained unknown.
Even more strangely, the day that followed, notorious individuals from the war thought to have been dead were sighted, alive and well: the Imperial Army commanders who were reborn, however, didn't appear as their old selves anymore; it appeared as though a change of heart had taken shape upon them. Even the former Jaeger general Esdeath had abandoned her cold personality. The only reason they had for their sudden reappearances, when questioned, were of a cloaked figure.
Although it would seem that in the abundance of cloaked men and women among the higher quarter...they would perhaps never be found.
Four years passed since then. And during those four years, I remained hidden in plain sight. Sure, I was recognised by the many who supposedly "reappeared" out of a common conspiracy, but they were the only ones so far who actually knew who I was. A tall young man with a fair white complexion, spiked, black shoulder-length hair and sharp, narrow aegean eyes; an outfit consisting of a perfectly ironed jet black suit complimented by a black belt outlined in a gray "synthetic" fabric, all concealed by a black cloak. That was me, a young adult man hailing from the downtown district of the now-reformed Empire, now merely one hidden among the shadows.
These last four years I kept hidden, I worked as a blacksmith alongside one of those who were resurrected, a young war hero named Tatsumi. This was a job I was quite familiar with, since in my days under the command of General Esdeath (yes, I was an Imperial Knight for some time), whenever I wasn't dispatched, I was the one in charge of crafting, cleaning and repairing weapons. Up to this point, I still didn't know why I was so devoted to this job; then again, I never even found out why I tapped into metallurgy starting from the middle of my childhood, up until the point where I was recruited into the first generation of the Imperial Army division known as the "Jägers"; I'm sure that's a means of saying "hunters", but while I have so little of a clue, it may as well be a unanimous statement that it was modernised from some ancient dialect lost over time. Tatsumi, on the other hand, originally used this job as a cover while he was in Night Raid, a group in the Revolutionary Army consisting of perhaps the deadliest assassins in history. Whenever he worked, I always saw a happy grin appearing on his face, almost as though his dedication to this job was unparalleled. (Sometimes, it made me quite jealous that a young man his age could get so into something that paid so little compared to most other jobs.)
Today, however, was different. As I rearranged the place before I took my leave for the day, I saw Tatsumi sitting at the stairs leading to the attic (which, if anyone reading this was wondering, is filled with nothing but scrap and tools), wearing a distraught look as he just...stared at the wooden floor. Feeling that he was hiding something these last few years, I came up to him and, like an older brother, rested my right arm on his shoulder in an attempt to console him.
"Tatsumi...is there anything that I can help you with?" I asked.
"You told me you would...didn't you?" he asked in response.
"I didn't tell you when I would be able to take care of that...but save the thought, Tatsumi. I assure you, they'll be here soon."
Tears streamed down his cheeks. Whether or not they were for joy or not, I couldn't tell, but tonight I wanted to make sure they were the former. I've had to live a life of darkness and regret and from what I've seen him go through, I didn't want Tatsumi to go down the same path. With a faux grin that hid the emotional scars of an almost emotionless man, I gave him a pat before getting up to leave the old shop.
"Wait," he called to me, taking out a long rifle assorted with multiple specialised components, one of which looked somewhat like a sword's edge, carried in a long storage case. "Take this with you, please." (I heard a slight sense of concern in his voice, which meant this had to mean something to him...or at least of someone he knew.)
The rifle could be easily recognisable by a war veteran. This was the Teigu known as Roman Artillery: Pumpkin, a rifle that shot concentrated beams of spirit energy. The power of said projectiles was based on the level of danger the user was in. As it was mainly used for sniping purposes, a scope was a mandantory attachment, but under special circumstances, its most recent user carried a pink optic that could telescope (though not through physical means) to aid her in her missions. As it was previously destroyed by prolonged overheating during a last stand, Tatsumi gathered every one of the parts of the weapon and reforged it exactly as it was. (Again, with the jealousy!) Though I was initially skeptical as to why he'd want me to take that along (already, I had a Teigu of my own), I knew that he was talking about a certain girl who, although quite stern, was his short-lived love interest during the Revolution. Hence, I accepted his offer, taking Pumpkin along, and headed out the door, making a left towards the outskirts of town.
A promise I had once forgotten was to be fulfilled.
And now I wanted to make sure of it.