A/N: Finally, the long-awaited rewrite of this mess of a chapter. I might focus more on this story to catch up. But, with more school work and an actual job, I might have a slower writing schedule (by which I mean I write when I'm bored and motivated). Anyways, without further ado, here's the rewrite.
"To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill. Hence to fight and conquer in all your battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting." -Sun Tzu
Summer 20XX, Tokyo, Japan, Ginza Shopping District
A man took his final swig of water from his plastic bottle. It was hot, one of the hottest days on record for Japan. The man finished the rest of the water and recapped the bottle. He looked around in search of a trash can. The street he was on was almost deserted.
The man's name was Benjiro Anderson. Although he was born and raised in Japan, his father was American. He went to school in Japan and learned both Japanese and English. Everything was going good for him until he was around 14 when his father had been given an opportunity of a lifetime to work for a really big and ambitious technology company in Silicon Valley, San Francisco. That was when his family had moved to California. He still lives there now with his girlfriend Hannah Thompson. Now, he came back to visit his hometown: Tokyo, Japan.
Anderson soon spots a trash can. "Kobe." he exclaimed as he tossed the bottle into the trash can as if he was shooting a free throw.
Little did he know that something else was brewing a couple of blocks away from where he was.
On 6th Street, people were shopping at the Ginza 6 Chome shopping complex. Many people had taken refuge under the shade as the hot sun beamed down on them. A couple talked with another person. The wife held her daughter's hand.
The little girl had noticed something that no one else noticed at the time. It was as if someone had put clear plastic on a transparent object. That transparent object was as big as a two-story house in the middle of the road.
Ever so slowly, though, the shape began to materialize. Within five minutes, people stared at the large structure. It had six columns supporting the structure, three columns on each side. A stone triangular roof with a blue crystal had appeared out of nowhere. The structure seemed to mimic a smaller version of the Pantheon in Rome, Italy
This Greco-Romanic-inspired structure had a darkness that seemed to go on forever, even though there was a stone wall on the other side. People thought this was some sort of prop for a movie. But if it was for a movie, why did no one see it before? Why in the middle of one of Tokyo's busiest street?
Meanwhile, Anderson enjoyed his walk down the secluded neighborhood. He passed a playground and a couple of runners. Other than that, nothing. He was minding his own business... until he saw something fly over his head.
The thing looked like a lizard with wings. It was as big as a Huey helicopter. There was a rider on its back. It flew in low and fast. Anderson barely had time to duck.
He turned around to watch the flying thing bob and weave through the buildings before disappearing from his sight. A scream was heard from around the corner.
Anderson turned around the street corner. What he saw would most likely scar someone forever, but not him. He was unfazed when he saw a man raise what looked like a short sword. The man wore Romanish armor, with a skirt of leather showing off his bare legs. His target seemed to be a police officer. He seemed to be crawling away.
Anderson tried to run in to help the officer, but he was too late. The man had brought down the sword right onto the officer's neck, decapitating him. The officer's head rolled away from his severed neck, drawing a blood trail. Anderson ran in to tackle the armored man.
He pinned the man to the ground, sending blow after blow to the man's face. He seemed to be winning until the man had struck back, sending Anderson to fall backward. The man got on top of Anderson and punched him twice. He then had his hands wrapped around Anderson, strangling him.
Anderson, wide-eyed and turning purple, patted around the officer's body, frantically feeling his way to the hip. He felt for the grip of the officer's gun inside the holster and grabbed it. The gun slid out of the holster. Anderson cocked the hammer back with his thumb and pushed the barrel into the man's unarmored ribs. He fired one shot, the man rolling back. Anderson got into a crouching position and aimed the gun right at the man. He seemed to get back up again, but Anderson shot him dead, this time to the head. He also felt a warm, wet sensation on his abdomen. Blood from the dead man was on his shirt and arms. Anderson shrugged and stood up.
The situation was a chaotic mess. Down the street, he saw one woman being cut down by a couple of soldiers. He saw a kid getting his head bashed in with a club by some sort of goblin. "Oh shit," Anderson muttered, "I gotta go."
He patted around the officer's utility belt until he saw extra rounds. He quickly pocketed them in his cargo shorts. Anderson reloaded the revolver so that he had six shots and then started moving to the carnage.
Bodies strewed the streets. Anderson reached the nearest person and tried to feel for her carotid pulse in her neck. Nothing. She was dead. He moved over to the man next to her. He tried to feel for a pulse. Nothing again. Behind him, Anderson heard the clanking of armor. He turned around and aimed his pistol.
Two men wielding spears were running right at him. Anderson aligned the sights of the gun and fired two consecutive shots. Bang! Bang! The two men fall dead. He then heard footsteps to his right. A man wielding a sword charged right at him. Anderson tried to aim for the man, but the man had knocked the gun out of his hands. Anderson dodged a swing from the man. He grappled with him and reached for his knife that hung on his hip. He grabbed it and drove it into the man's flank. The man screamed in pain as Anderson took it out and shoved it back in again.
The man fell down, dead. Anderson tried to regain his wits and bent down to pick up the gun. He turned around once more to see three riders on horseback charge at him with their swords out. Anderson panicked. What was he supposed to do? Those guys were coming fast.
He fumbled with the gun, trying to aim the sights, but he barely got his finger inside the trigger guard in time. He fired two shots, killing one of the riders. The rider fell off his mount, dead. Two more. He aimed the revolver at the man next to him and fired two more shots. The rider fell, dead. One more. He aimed at the last guy and pulled the trigger. Click. Shit!
Out of ammo and was about to be cut down, Anderson could only do one thing. Run! He pivoted around and started running away. Behind him, a unit of archers pulled back their bowstrings and loosed their arrows. The projectiles landed where Anderson was standing. The man on the horse kept charging. To Anderson's left, a park had many dead bodies littering the grass.
Anderson ran and ran until, finally, help arrived. A dark green Huey transport helicopter flew in low at the end of the street and rotated 90 degrees, its door gunner ready to fire. The door bore the red cross sign. It was most likely a JSDF helicopter.
The machine gun rattled on, its barrel spewing hot lead at the targets below. It gunned down the rider chasing Anderson. The archers tried to take down this metal beast, but their arrows either fell short or bounced off harmlessly off of the metal body of the helicopter. Those archers were mowed down by machine gun fire.
Anderson moved out of their line of fire, afraid that the gunner might hit him with a stray bullet. He moved into an alleyway and put his back to the wall. He reloaded his revolver, using the last of his bullets that he got from the officer. He didn't even bother looking to see if the alleyway was clear.
He listened for the machine gun to stop firing so that he can safely get to somewhere safe. Soon, the gun stopped firing bullets, but he heard the helicopter get closer to the ground. It must be landing and deploying troops.
He moved right back at the street. He did not pop out all of a sudden just in case one of these guys have an itchy trigger finger. These guys are inexperienced. The JSDF don't fight wars, they only focus on defense. Hence the name Japanese Self Defense Force. Nothing has happened on Japanese soil since World War Two, so these guys are probably not trained in a combat situation.
Anderson stuck his hand out and waved. "Friendly!" he yelled.
"Come out!" yelled back someone else. Anderson dropped the revolver on the ground and came out slowly with his hands up. He saw a squad of JSDF men wearing green fatigues and matching Kevlar armor.
Just as Anderson was smiling that help has arrived, something blunt hit him in the back of the head. "Ack!" he exclaimed as he crumpled to the ground, his vision blurring and doubling. He heard the sudden burst of loud bangs as the soldiers opened fire.
"Oh, that hurt," Anderson groaned, "What the fuck happened?" He moved his hand to the back of his head and touched what hurt. He felt a warm sensation on his fingers. He winced as he quickly retracted his hand from his head.
"Are you okay? That looked like that hurt." one of the JSDF soldiers approached him.
"Been through worse." Anderson tried to get up but gave up after his legs wobbled. He looked around and noticed that the gun was right next to his head.
"Here, lemme help you." Another soldier approached him. The soldier had a white insignia with a red cross on his helmet and his arm. He took off his backpack and took out a bandage. He used the bandage to stop the bleeding. "Possible concussion. We're going to medevac you on this helicopter.
"Yeah, I've been through worse. Just patch me up. I got a hard head." Anderson tried to get up again. He looked back at the street. Dead bodies of civilian corpses lay with limbs severed and heads crushed in like soda cans. A woman was kneeling and crying over the body of a man and a child. An Apache helicopter flew overhead, firing its rockets mounted on its wings and the minigun below the cockpit spewing lead and brass.
"No sir. Please stay down so we can get you on a stret-"
"Watch out!" Anderson yelled. He quickly sat up and grabbed the gun beside his head. An archer stumbled and fumbled with an arrow, struggling to get the projectile into a correct firing position after being shot at by an unknown beast that killed his friends. Anderson lined up his sights one more time and fired twice, the man writhed in pain and crumpled down onto the pavement.
He then laid back down. A stretcher came by and picked up Anderson. "There is an evac operation at the Imperial Palace. We will take you to the nearby hospital and then see if you can go to the Palace to see if you can find any acquaintances if you need to." explained one of the soldiers.
"I'm gonna go to the American embassy instead after the hospital." said Anderson.
The stretcher went across the street to the park as a helicopter came in and landed in a clearing. Another squad jumped out and got into action. Anderson was loaded onto that helicopter and passed out right after.
Three weeks later; Camp Pendleton
"Why the fuck were you even in the country, Anderson?" yelled the man, slamming his hand down onto the desk. The computer that rested on the man's desk rattled. The silver bird signifying the man was a Colonel shone in the sun that peeked through the window. Anderson put his hands behind his back and gulped.
"Sir, with all due respect, I-" Anderson was cut off.
The man stood up. He grabbed a newspaper from his desk and waving it around. It read "Off-duty JSDF Officer to the Rescue in Ginza." A picture of a Japanese man in dress blues saluting was shown on the front page. "The American embassy in the city had to hold you until the shit going down at ground zero had died down. At least word didn't get out to the public about you." The man threw the paper down back onto the desk.
"You're lucky I didn't court martial you. President Dirrel actually heard about your actions and wants to give you a commendation privately. A Purple Heart for your head and a promotion. None of this goes public. This stays within the chain of command. First Lieutenant Anderson, you are hereby promoted to Captain. Dismissed. Get outta my office."
Two months later
Anderson grabbed his tray of food from the serving table: steak with mashed potatoes and gravy, a side salad and a small cup of grapes. He also had a mug of steaming hot coffee. Anderson quickly took his seat next to his friends, Sergeant Jack Price and his girlfriend: 2nd Lieutenant Hannah Thompson.
He set down the tray onto the table, taking his seat next to his girlfriend. Price was nibbling on a croissant at the other side of the table. Around, soldiers were milling around, eating and laughing. A bunch of privates was playing what looked like Blackjack at the table nearby.
"Ah, there they are, the two lovebirds." Price commented, a smirk growing on his face. He picked up a nearby butterknife, scooped some cream cheese, and slathering it on his bread before taking another bite.
"Ah, there he is, the virgin for life." Anderson snapped back.
"Alas, I guide people to a treasure I cannot possess." Price quoted a certain supervillain.
As a response, Thompson leaned in and gave Anderson a small peck on the cheek. "You didn't guide me to my treasure." The trio chuckled a little bit before an awkward silence descends down onto them.
"So," said Price, breaking the silence, "I heard rumors about you going along with the Japanese military to help out in their new campaign to this so-called Special Region."
"Yeah? What about it?" asked Anderson. He tossed a grape up and tried to catch it with his mouth, only for Thompson to snatch it just as it was about to touch his lips and ate it.
"I heard that you are going alone. Your unit, that includes us, isn't coming along." Price explained.
"That sounds improbable. I'm just a guy. I can't handle the job of an entire unit." Anderson tried to explain. As much as he wanted to go, he didn't want to leave his friends like this. He didn't want to leave them to cope by themselves after what happened.
"Well," said Thompson twirling her hair with her finger, "you are Japanese. You've been in combat. You've been at Ginza. Dirrel wants a man on the ground, even just one."
"I just don't wanna leave you guys here. You know what happened back when we were deployed." Anderson grumbled as he took a sip of his coffee.
"Ah, come on! I heard that the other side has D&D crap there when the Japanese Diet stated they were sending troops there. Nothing bad'll happen."
"That's just rumors. But if you are gonna leave, I want you to stay with me for a little while longer." Thompson flirted.
"That's right! We got the day off! Let's just go to the beach!" Price enthusiastically suggested. Thompson shot him a rough glare. But, Anderson thought, I do need some quiet time. The beach is just perfect.
The trio went to the beach. Anderson didn't have clean shorts, so he just wore his PT uniform. Thompson wore a blue and white sundress while Price wore his grey swimming trunks and a white tank top. Price and Thompson went to play with a volleyball while Anderson sat down at a nearby bench, listening to music with his headphones connected to his iPhone. He heard the steady drums of Johnny Cash as he sang "you can run on for a long time, sooner or later, God'll cut you down."
He was just minding his own business until his phone rang. Anderson took out the phone out of his pocket. He saw the caller ID. Colonel Bennett. Anderson's commanding officer. This has to be good for you to be interrupting my day off.
"Sir." Anderson spoke into the receiver.
"Captain Anderson, I got bad news for you." the colonel spoke.
"Is this about the Ginza Incident?" Anderson asked.
"Yes."
Anderson's face drained and turned pale. "Am I being court-martialed?" he whimpered.
"No. Worse."
"Oh, this is bad. Can you tell me what it is?" Anderson was well past worried. He doesn't know if he ruined American/Japanese relations because of his actions. Army protocol states that any active members that are off duty and visiting another country that gets attacked are supposed to leg it to the nearest American embassy. But Anderson couldn't just let those innocent civilians die. He thought he could help, even though he did not save many lives that day.
"I need you in my office when you come back to base to give you the details, but in short, you are being deployed along with the JSDF as a combat advisor."
Sounds like Price and his rumors was right. "Yes sir. When I come back from the beach and change into uniform, I will report to your office by the end of the day."
"Good. I'll see you later. Dismissed." The line went click as the colonel hung up. Well shit, Anderson thought, might as well just relax for the rest of the day.
Later that day
"Sir." Anderson saluted when he saw the colonel sitting at his desk. Both of them were wearing the multicam MARPAT uniform with matching field caps. The colonel opened his drawer and pulled out a yellow folder.
"Here are your official orders straight from President Dirrel and Minister Tarō Kanō themselves. You can read it here if you want."
Anderson opened the folder and began to read the letter inside to himself. "To Captain Anderson of the United States Marine Corps, you are picked to be sent in with the JSDF forces from Japan to the Special Region on the other side of the Gate. President Dirrel and I have chosen you to go with our forces because of your Japanese descent, your knowledge of the Japanese language, and your heroics in Ginza. We will embark for the Region in one month. If you accept, respond immediately to the Ministry of Defense. Thank you in advance for your service. From: Tarō Kanō, Minister of Defense and Minister for Problem Measures of the Special Region."
"So I really am going." Anderson muttered to himself.
"Yes, son, you are going to the Gate. The only thing is that you are the only American that will be deployed. Reasons are unknown at this time. But, at least you can get off my ass for the time being." the Colonel remarked.
Anderson liked his comment and smirked. He and Price together is not a good combination. Those two boys would mess something up in a room before they leave. Sometimes, they ask Thompson to babysit the two boys just in case one of them fidgets with something. It became a little competition at one time, where the two tried to see who will be the first one to give the poor man paperwork. Of course, they have to do paperwork themselves, but they never really got in trouble. Their offenses were just very minor pranks.
"Wipe that smile off your face, ya prick." the Colonel smiled a bit, "And get outta my office. Dismissed."
One month later, Ginza
Anderson sat inside one of the vehicles, a Type 96 Armored Personnel Carrier, that was waiting for orders to mobilize to possibly engage the enemy as soon as they cross over. Lieutenant General Hazuma of the JSDF gave a speech/debrief outside to the troops standing in formation.
Anderson was given the Scar-SC subcompact carbine, an unusual gun not typically used by the normal Japanese soldier. But, when he was sent Japan as the only American, he was classified as a part of a special forces unit. Those types of units have a bigger variety in the armory, including the carbine that rested at his feet.
Another squad had been sitting with the American in the APC. They all wore a different uniform than Anderson, who was still wearing his standard USMC MARPAT woodland uniform. On top of that, Anderson was slightly bigger than the rest of the Japanese soldiers with him. He really stuck out like a sore thumb.
"So," the soldier in front of him spoke up, "you're that famous American Marine who is deployed with us, right?"
"Captain Benjiro Anderson, at your service." Anderson tipped his helmet as if he had a fedora. The other soldiers in that squad laughed at his mocking gesture.
"I just have to ask, why only you?" another soldier asked.
"Well, I guess the President wanted troops on the ground but the Prime Minister didn't want to have an entire American unit, make the invasion force as Japanese as possible. I guess I was the lucky man, or unlucky man, however you want to see it, to be deployed."
"Huh."
"I might just help you boys as a combat advisor."
"Oh." the soldier shifted in his seat.
"Yeah, I've seen combat in Afghanistan, so I know what to do in a firefight."
As soon as Anderson said that, the driver bellowed a command. "Five minutes! We move out in five minutes!"
Anderson reached into his pocket and took out his phone. He was allowed to bring it to deployment and he could use it in his free time. He had the rest of his personal belongings stuffed in a crate at the back of the APC. He played a song out loud to get himself ready for a firefight. He listened to the lyrics.
You can run on, for a long time
Run on, for a long time
Run on, for a long time
Sooner or later God'll cut you down,
Sooner or later God'll cut you down.
A/N: Again, sorry for taking a while to actually rewrite this chapter. I know it was a total clusterfuck, but I got it done. Also, I might not be cranking out a lot of chapters, but I can try to get this done. I might rewrite the next few chapters as well to improve the quality. I'm actually surprised about how many people are following this story after the worst intro ever. Oh well. Anyways, see ya.
