This world is an anomaly. Things happen every day that just make no sense. Most of the time, us humans are responsible for it. This is the story of one of the strangest happenings is all of history, and though our Ouran friends play a very big role, the story starts a long time ago, in a town far far away. . .
(NO POV)
It all began in the Great War. The first one, to be exact. In a little French town called Moselle. As this is the year 1916, the town itself is all but decimated. This town happened to be very close to the former French-German border, and was one of the first provinces to be take during the invasion. Now that the tides had changed and the English forces were pushing straight through the German lines, the town had become a pressure point for the war. The Germans, eager to protect the town because of its strategic advantage due to the river, and the fact that several scientific research bunkers had been constructed, (whose task it was to create new weapons and machines for the war) had reinforced the reinforcements with line upon line of trenches, soldiers, artillery batteries, and even an entire tank division. The English, knowing only about the importance of the river, amassed it's own "line-breaker" force of over 25,000 men. . . at first. To be supported by air squads and fast moving mounted artillery. A few tanks had also been given, but only for after the German line had broken. It was a sight to see. Thousands of Germans, thousands of English, all teeth bared and ready to fight for his own ideals and perspectives of life. This is the setting, but where is our main character? James H. Chesterton was being briefed with his squadmates on a special mission. British spies had determined that there was indeed at least one research bunker in the town, and it was their job to find it once the Germans had retreated far enough to search the town. That would not happen for quite some time, however.
On a rainy October day, the assault began. The British forces began with a bombardment that lasted three hours. Heavy stationary artillery pounded the German reserves, while the lighter guns peppered the front. After the bombardment, the charge began. The plan was to break on the line like a tidal wave and crush all defenses. It failed miserably. The charge was mowed down by machine gun and rifle fire almost instantly. A retreat was ordered. Another bombardment, this time longer. So it went for weeks. Bomb. Charge. Retreat. Recycle. By November, the death toll on both sides had struck 50,000. Moral was low everywhere. The British were convinced that the Germans would never break; the Germans convinced the British would never stop. The situation looked like a hopeless stalemate. . . until the 16th. On that day, a British platoon commander was so fed up with the endless cycle that he decided to change things up a bit. He organized as many men as he could and initiated a charge ten minutes before the bombardment was over! The Germans, all underground to hide from the shells, were completely unaware. Not only did the charge reach the lines, half of the men were already inside the enemy trenches before a single German noticed. By then it was far too late. The British soldiers, now fueled with the success of the charge and the anger of the last month, were unstoppable! To make things worse (for the Germans) about that time, the other platoons had caught on to their comrades and began their own charges. Before noon hit, the whole of the German line was a feeding frenzy. By nightfall, it was simply a graveyard. The next day, the British woke to find Germany at little farther than it had been before. Enemy forces had retreated deep into the town (which was not deep, as it was little more than a clustered village). Now it was time for James and his men to route out the research bunker.
(JAMES PAST TENSE POV)
"Shit" That was the only thing I could say. Our boys, who have been at it for a month, break through the line. . .the one day I'm not there. Of course! Of course. Why couldn't it have happened TODAY!? Nope, the day I'm sent to deliver a letter to some bloke, seven miles down the line is the day they choose to finally break through. Huh. Figures.
"Welp. That's that. Anyway, ah think it's time for us to pop in. Wha'bout you Rummy?" I said.
"Aw come on James, you know me. I'd have gone two day before we broke 'em!" Remmy said, grinning his green smile.
"I know you would. Crazy fucker. Oi! Fodder! Quite prayin' will ya? Makin me nervous." I yelled. Fodder was the youngest and newest.
Aside from being the thinnest boy in the whole line, he was also pretty tall, for a 17 year old. He was also a devout christian. As in, he prayed for hours. He's crazy too, but in a different way. He really thought God gave a single fuck about him.
"Why do you deny God so much?" Fodder asked, as full of concern as always.
"I don't deny God. I jus know he ain't lookin' thinkin' about me." I replied.
"God loves even you James. He loves all of us. Soon, he will take all of us away. To safety." Fodder smiled to himself.
"Oh come off it you fuckin' loon." I said, angry now, "If God loved us, he'd ah stopped this war. Hell, us being here proves he doesn't, no, he COULDN'T care less about us!"
Fodder shrunk deeper into the corner. A few tears had rolled down his cheek. He was clutching his little cross harder than ever.
"Oh Christ now ah'v done it." I said to myself, "Ah jeez. Come here Fodder. Ah'm not mad at you. . .or God. Ah'm mad about me. The war. Everything. Ah didn't mean it. Come on, give us a hug."
I pulled him into a tight hug. He needed things like that. It was the least we could do. After all, we didn't give him the name Fodder for nothing. . .
"Alright lads! Up and Adam! Let's go! Nobody's got all day to wait for you fat arses." came an all too well known voice from the bunker doorway.
"Fuck yerself Trent." I called back.
"Aww. The little babe aving' a fit? How cute. Fucks he cryin for?" said Trent, motioning to Fodder.
"Poor lad had a nightmare he was on a date with your fuck ugly mum." I said with a little smile.
"You shut your mouth!" Trent yelled, trying badly to take a swing at me.
I moved a little to the left and he tripped over the box I was sitting on. His stubby legs went in the air as he toubled over smack into Tower, who was sleeping in the other corner.
"Now you've done it Trent. Ya woke up Tower. You know how much Tower loves his sleep." I said, trying not to laugh.
Tower was the biggest in our little squad, hence the name. Only man among us who could wield a Lewis Gun by himself. A man of few words, he liked to sleep as much as possible. It was the only thing he liked more than roughing up Trent. And he loved roughing up Trent. His eyes
burst open to find a mop of short, bright blonde hair lying on his chest.
"See somethin ya like there Trent?" said Tower, in his deep yet smooth voice.
Trent, upon realizing who he was lying on, slowly raised his head to meet Tower's stair. A cheeky half smile was plastered on his face.
"OH! Hey there Tower! Funny seeing you down here. Well. . .I gotta go. BYE!" Trent said as he scrambled to get away from the now enraged Tower.
Trent flew out the bunker door like Death himself was chasing him. Tower simply got up and calmly walked out to go find him. I was rolling on the floor laughing the entire time. Knowing them, they'll be back in about thirty minutes. It always take thirty minutes. Trent runs till he trips. Tower walks calmly over, picks him up and flings him in the mud. Tower walks back. Tower goes to sleep. Trent gets yelled at by the Commander for having an "unacceptable amount of filth" on his uniform and for "disgracing the British army". Though today It would have to be different.
I stopped Tower before he could toss Trent. Organizing our little gang, we reported to the Commander's bunker. We were to go into the city under cover of dark. The research bunker was most likely in the basement of one of the saloons. Our mission was to scope out the location of the bunker and get as much information about what the Jerries were doing in there as we could. Simple enough. That night we left. I lead, with Fodder behind me, then Trent, Tower, Rummy, Smith, Lockey, and a John, a field sniper, complements of the Commander. The main road lead right through the heart of the town. Slowly we stalked in the shadows, noting every guard that was on patrol. Eventually we passed by a tavern that had a full line of soldiers around it. That had to be it. Carefully we came around the back and slipped through a little window that lead to the basement. It looked like a regular cellar. Barrels of ale, sacks of various goods, and an array of fine-sih wines. I order everyone to search for a doorway. We all began to quietly look through the cellar. It was John who found it. A stairwell, lightly covered by an empty crate, lead down to a long hallway. We ran down, trying to find a way to hide from any prying eyes. John looked round the corner. A huge room opened up. In the middle was a machine. It looked. . .like a bell? No, that couldn't be right. I looked myself. Goddamn if it didn't look like a bell! An odd, mechanical bell with lots of wires and dials, but a bell. Scientists were scrambling everywhere. A few soldiers were there, mostly for physical labor. Fodder was writing like mad in a notebook. We put him in charge of recording everything.
"Alright lads. We've done everything we can. Let's be off." I whispered, but apparently not quietly enough.
A soldier who had stopped to rest just out of my field of vision, had heard me. Before we had even moved, he grabbed his rifle and fired a shot. It whizzed past my cheek and struck Fodder in the shoulder. He cried in pain, and fell back. Tower, who always had a soft spot for Fodder, became enraged and let loose with his Lewis Gun into the whole room. Before I could stop him he lit the place up. Gunning down soldiers & scientists like it was a new 'hip' dance. "Fuck it" I said and started shooting my own rifle; only I actually took time to aim. Tower just sprayed the whole place. Before we knew it, it was a firefight! Soldiers had come down the hallway and were shooting at us too. We had to clear the bell room and shoot round the corner back down the hall! Rummy, who always played the explosives-expert role, lob a grenade at the ever growing crowd of Germans. The explosion took out a few, but more came. Eventually they got the bright idea of lobbing grenades at us. I threw them back as fast as I could. One got off before I could get there and sent me flying into John. He landed hard on his back, firing his scoped rifle on accident. The bullet went straight into the bell. Wherever it hit, it did something. The machine started up, making noise and flashing bright lights. Then it started spinning! Slow at first, then faster and faster, all the while growing brighter. My group stopped shooting, mostly to shield our eyes from the light. We stared in amazement. The humming from the machine was now a roar. Germans had come round the bend, seeing the light. None even looked at us. All of us, Brits and Krauts alike, just stood there. I was closet. Then, I suppose it exploded. A flash brighter than the sun. White noise all around me. Then it's over.
(JAMES PRESENT POV)
My head is spinning. I can't open my eyes yet, the flash was so damn bright! I call out for the other. Nobody answers. I kneel down and rub my eyes.
"Oi! John? Tower? Are you alright? God my eyes sting. . ." I say.
I try to regain myself. Something's wrong. The room feels different. Almost. . .wider? No. It can't be. I open my eyes a bit and notice that, while it is still bright, the light in the room is different. Instead of coming from the bell, it's everywhere. Things are very blurry, but I make out what I could swear was a. . .table? Yes. A pink table. And people? No way. Again I rub my eyes. Now I can see almost clearly. . .there are people! Not soldiers, regular people. Kids, no older than me. It can't be. I raise my rifle and point it everywhere. All seven of the people in front of me look at me like I've grown a second head. . . as if I'M the weirdest thing about this place.
"Where am I? Who are you? WHERE AM I?" I shout.
I look around for the first time, really taking in the room. It's huge! I realize that it's not the table that's pink, it's the whole fucking room! Everything is elaborately decorated. There are more tables, but they're mostly empty, except for a few silver platters. There are marble sculptures on pillars around the room, and even a grand piano! One entire wall of the building is glass. . .no, a window! I run to it and look outside. 'Dear God' I whisper. It's a fuckin castle! Everywhere there are people, dressed like the seven in the room, walking and talking. Wait. . .is that, a horse and buggy?
"You've gotta be kiddin' me" I say.
Shaking my head I return to face the people in the room. It's clear from their faces, they have no idea what I'm saying. Looking at them, I doubt any of them speak english.
"Ok. Well. Um. Let's see. I was in France a few moments ago, so you probably speak French! Shit. . .how did it go?" I say.
I blurt out a semblance of a greeting in broken French; rueing all the days I spent ditching my French classes. One of the strange kids, the blonde one, seems to understand me, and responds in French. I know enough to understand him. He asks me who I am.
"HA! That's fuckin rich. He wants to know who I am!" I say to myself, slipping back into english.
I respond by asking where I am. He says I'm at a school. A music room? Host Club? What's he on about. I ask if anyone knows english. He points to one of the others, a tall, slender kid with glasses and an odd looking clipboard with a pineapple on it.
"Wait. You can understand me?" i ask, turning to the mentioned man.
"Yes. I am fluent in English and German." he says, calmly.
"So why didn't you answer me when I asked the first time!?" I shout, getting pissed.
"Aside from the shock of a strangely clothed man appearing out of nowhere. . .you were pointing a gun at us." he replies.
I pause for a moment. Yeah, that's a good reason. "Whatever. Look. Where am I? I'm probably not still in France. . .or Germany. So, let's start with that. What country am I in?"
"You are in Japan sir. Bunkyo to be exact."
"Japan? You mean, like, across the entirety of Asia, Japan?"
"Yes. I assume you don't know what the date is either?"
I scoff. "I'm lost, not confused. It's November 19, 1916"
The dark haired guy seems taken aback. "Oh my. Sir, I'm afraid you are mistaken. The year date is January 7, 2006."
My heart skips a beat. I pause for a moment, unable to process what the fuck he's saying.
"No it isn't." I say, eventually.
"Here. Look." he says, handing me a newspaper. It's an American stock paper. He points to the date in the corner. January 7. . .2006. My knees give and I fall back. Impossible. It's just impossible. Again my head is spinning. I feel like i'm going to vomit. Blackness overtakes me.