Sharpe's Reivers
A/N: A simple crossover that has emerged in my mind, combining a manga about a zombie apocalypse with a historical action-adventure book series set in the Napoleonic Wars, both adaptated for TV, into a simple crossover. It had been going on my head for sometime but seeing Vassili Zaitzev's Dead of Harlech, it gave me an urge to write mine. I love both Sharpe and Highschool of the Dead ever since I came across them years ago. I'm sad the manga had not been updated for some time, no Chapter 31. Also, well never know who Sharpe's father is, no one has come with an answer to Cornwell's riddle. It's been a while since I've written for HOTD so you will forgive me for rusty writing.
Disclaimer: Sharpe is the property of Bernard Cornwell and Highschool of the Dead is the property of the Sato brothers. Their respective television adaptations belong to ITV and Madhouse. No copyright infringements intended.
It was just a typical day for Takashi and company, if you could call fighting their way through hordes of "Them" typical. Today, it was a supply hunt gone south. They never expected so many of the dead bastard to show up.
"GO!" he cried out after downing two with a single blast of his Benelli auto-shotgun. "We'll keep them at bay."
"Alright," replied Saya Takagi as she eyed the relatively-free road. "Shizuka-sensei! Follow me!"
"Okay," replied Shizuka Marikawa, the blonde nurse as she scoped up Alice in her arms. That act alone keep her huge "assets" from bouncing all over the place as they retreated to safety up a narrow road in the suburbs, lead by the pink-haired genius. Zeke followed at her heels.
"Damn, there's too many to handle," he said in frustration now that they have no supplies to scavenge for and only more "Them", have to move again. He loaded more shells into the M1014.
A fiend appeared to his right, growling gutturally, arms reaching out for him. He immediately loaded up the last shell and tried to bring his bat to bear.
SWICK!
A quick stab of a bayonet ended its un-life. "Takashi, are you alright?"
It was the concerned voice of Rei Miyamoto, his girlfriend. She took his side with her bayonet-tipped rifle at the ready. Z-Day plus 10 had been hard on them already. Rei, it seemed, has been losing some weight from all the wandering and fighting through the city. Hell, Kouta Hirano had shed a few pounds already. They'll have to rest soon. Keep it up and they'll be toothpicks, with barely any meat in their bones. The thought brought a small sardonic smile in his face.
"I'm fine. Let's keep these bastards back." He knocked one away with the stock of his shotgun.
Rei responded with action, her body began a war dance against their rotting opponents. With a kick, a bash with her rifle's stock, the stab of the bayonet to the head. A graceful kick there or a whip of the stock here with nary a scratch from her own bayonet, she blocked one fiend and knocked it off. Another tried grope behind her but received a face full of rifle stock for its trouble, sending its head into the pavement. Rei backed away from the growing crowd to his right, her body poised to the battle again.
"I've got your back." The cool voice of Saeko Busujima breezed through. Sword at ready, she took Takashi's left flank. Then her blade seemed to have a will of its own, or rather, the blade merged with Saeko's will as it began to gracefully cut at the enemy. Where steel met flesh, it slice away almost effortlessly. She twirled around the enemies around her, blade leveled to the neck, cutting away heads or parts of them from their owners. She gave a crawler a heel the shoulders and then brought her boot to bear on its head, snuffing it with a sickening crunch. One more fiend mindlessly growled at her only for the sword sever its neck.
Another reach out behind but a loud crack and its head spurted blood.
"Great shot, Kohta!" Takashi shouted gratefully.
"Got you covered!" Kouhta confirmed as he hefted up his AR-10 rifle. The boy clambered up a car for a better vantage point and set down a knee. Lining the gun on his shoulders, he aimed the cross hairs and exhaled. The trigger was squeezed almost on its own accord.
One of the fiends' head jerked back by the shot and fell flat on its back. Kouta carefully switched targets to both conserve ammo and to avoid hitting his friends. His marksmanship had even the odds tactically but the noise of the rifle threatened to agitate the dead. They hoped to buy at least enough time for the others to escape. They only gave ground slowly as they went to keep with the retreat and cover it at the same time.
At the lead was Kiriko Miyamoto, Rei's mother, with Saya closely behind and Shizuka with Alice in her arms and Zeke. As much as it pained her to leave her daughter with her friends, Mrs. Miyamoto knew that as a stronger fighter, she had to protect the others behind her and open a way for them. Good thing though that her better in was in good hands but whoever said good things last long?
"Wait!" She held up a fist, indicating them to stop.
Saya looked apprehensive. "What is it?"
"Shhh."
The clack of shoes heralded Shizuka and she stopped. "Why are we stopping?" she asked airily.
"SSHHH!" It was a hiss this time, both annoyed and alarmed, from Kiriko. Her ears perked up she heard the faint sounds... of Them. Her head snapped to the right to see of them already. Just a few at the moment but they can become a herd soon. She then looked left and see more coming. This getting serious now. In front of them was a dead end.
"What do we do now?" asked Shizuka, now worried at the growing heard.
Then they heard some cracking sounds to their right. They swung their heads.
"Hey! Look!" shouted Alice. "More people. Living people." And Kiriko knew what she meant. Zeke barked loudly at the new arrivals rushing towards them.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
There was faint gunfire but none they've ever heard before.
"Where the hell was that coming from?" Takashi asked after he ducked behind a car after a short with the girls.
"I don't know but it came from behind," replied Kohta. "Unless I'm wrong, that sounded like musket fire."
"Muskets? At this day and age?" asked Rei incredulously.
"At this day and age, any weapon will do," Saeko pointed out. That was punctuated with more of the strange shots that sounded more like firecrackers than real guns, louder this time. She looked up to see the dead coming towards them, their loud primal growling sounding out their hunger for flesh. Saeko knew that they'll have to retreat sooner or later, they can't hold them back for long. Then a whoop caught her attention.
Rei's mother came running back.
"Cavalry's here!" she cried. "Come on over!"
No prompting was needed as the trio came running back towards her and the new friends she brought with them.
"Where's Saya and the others?" Takashi asked as he halted to a stop.
"They're with Virgilio," one of the newcomers said. "Don't stop, we'll take it from here." He pointed towards the way they came in.
"Thanks," he said.
"No problem." He went into a kneeling position with his Baker rifle at ready.
"Go to Saya!" said Kiriko to her daughter.
"I can't just leave you," Rei blurted back, not wanting to leave her mother behind.
"Takashi needs you! I've got all the help that I've got." With that Rei reluctantly caught up her boyfriend. Brushing past her was the leader, a man of thirty years, a lean, hard Caucasian, broad-shouldered with dirt-blond hair. He trailed a Baker rifle on his right hand and held a heavy saber on his left, the iron scabbard dangling by his side.
"You two get back," he said to Saeko and Kohta in a strange accent. "We've got it handled with Mrs. Miyamoto."
"I'm not leaving," Saeko said. "Not from a good fight."
"Me too!" Kohta agreed with glinted glasses and an eager smile.
The man let out a wry smile of his own. "Can't argue with that." He then turned to his companions already arriving, half a dozen high school kids much like themselves with a different uniform. "Rifles! Hold up here until Makoto can set the bomb."
"Bomb?" Kohta asked, very much alarmed.
"This road's closed to walkers," he replied. "No sense lettin' the buggers up here, eh?" He gestured them to set themselves up. They saw two short boys hefting heavy bags. They must be the bomb carriers. They turned away to attend to the battle at hand.
Kiriko went in first, her spear at ready. The moment she jumped into the fray she stabbed her first victim on the head. Recovering quickly, she swung the blunt end of the spear against another and then made a sweeping twirl that knocked the other on the heads. One ghoul shambled to her right, she rewarded it with a swift stab to the face. Swinging, she gave her latest score a kick to the gut and finished it off with a facial thrust. She swiftly turned around to swipe at the third's feet, flipping it to the pavement face first, then gave it a stab to base of the neck. For once she was reliving her days as the most feared sukeban of Tokunosu, a smile of satisfaction in her face.
Jumping to her side was Saeko. She swung her sword at the nearest ghoul, arms upraised to catch her. Those arms were severed and so was the head. Saeko felt the adrenaline surging into her blood as she savored the battle. Another rushed at her but gracefully sidestepped, making it miss and sliced its head in two. She then swung her sword from between the legs of another and split it up from groin to top without missing a beat. She sideswipe another with the blunt end of her katana before cleaving the torso, followed by stabbing the back of the head. The blood spilled has invigorated the warrior woman, sending her to new heights of ecstasy.
A crack of thunder and the smell of gunpowder filled the air. The man just shot at a ghoul, sending it stumbling with a gaping hole. Deftly shouldering the gun, he draw his sword and crashed the heavy blade into the skull of another, ending its rampage. One tried to reach for his arm but he reached for the arm with his gloved hand, grabbed it then punched it in the face with pommel of his sword, earning a sickening crack. He threw the staggered ghoul away so he can finish him off with his saber. Then one more shambled clumsily into his way. With a grunt he gave it a kick to the groin and it fell, allowing him to thrust the blade into its skull. He then gave one more a gut kick, causing it to bowl over, allowing him to attack the back of its neck, almost chopping the head. He made an about face and crashed his sword into his opponent, smashing into its shoulder blade, cutting the arm. The creature lost its head in quick succession to the man with the heavy sword. The man's swordplay was not as refined as Saeko's but it was practical and brutal, befitting a man of his physique and the sword he wielded.
This melee went on as this trio fought hard.
While the melee was going on, the remainder provided covering fire for the trio. Kohta, between shots, couldn't help but notice the rifles, they were muzzle-loaders from the 18th to 19th century, most likely the Napoleonic era. He observed a girl lining up for a shot.
"Excuse me, what rifle are you using?" he asked with a tone of curiosity more common in a classroom than in a fire fight.
"A Baker, Sharpe-sensei says," she replied gruffly. "Now piss off." She let loose a shot, causing a cloud of powder smoke.
A Baker rifle!? Kohta was right and gushed at seeing a historical firearm in action and he ignored the insult. "You mean the Pattern 1800 Infantry Rifle? By master gunsmith Ezekiel Baker?"
The girl was truly annoyed. "What is that suppose to mean? Keep shooting!"
"Uh, yes, right away." He awkwardly and hurriedly went back to sniping. It was only when he spent his last three rounds in the mag did he stop to observe his companion. The girl fired her shot away, killing a ghoul in the head. She quickly grabbed the end of her muzzle and brought it opposite to the middle of her body. Set, she moved her right hand to the cartridge box, yet another historical artifact and pulled out a paper cartridge. Bringing the paper-bound cartridge to her mouth and grasped end opposite to where the bullet was between her teeth. With a tug and a jerk of her head, she ripped the end off the cartridge with her teeth and spat it out.
Following this she then pulled the hammer back to half-cock, and poured a small amount of powder from the cartridge into the priming pan. Then closed the frizzen, trapping the primer powder. She lowered the butt of the musket and moved to a position against her left calf, and held so that she could then access the muzzle of the rifle barrel. Then she poured the remaining contents from the cartridge into the muzzle. The cartridge was then reversed, and the end of the cartridge holding the ball was inserted into the muzzle, stuffing the paper in behind the bullet.
With quick easy motions, she drew her Baker's ramrod, twirled it about over her head, and shoved the head of the ramrod into the rifle's barrel until it was seated on the head of the ball. Then she started pushing the the ball and powder down the length of the barrel, with one more shove to ensure it's right. She then draw it out, twirled it, and inserted it back underneath the barrel.
She then lined up her rifle with her shoulder, aimed at her target and fired. She then repeated the process again. Kohta was awestruck with a gaping mouth. She had just witnessed the operation of a flintlock muzzle-loader in action, down in under thirty seconds. This girl's awesome! he thought.
"Okay! Charge is set!" shouted Makoto to his companions. They then repeated it down the line to their leader, still fighting.
The shouts knocked him out of revelry. "Huh?"
"You heard him?" the girl said, "let's go!" She ran off. Kohta then shouted away the warning, louder in his alarm.
At the shouts of "Charge is set," the leader stopped fighting. He turned to Saeko and Kiriko. "Bomb's set up, we gotta go now."
"Okay," the former replied. "Let's go, Miyamoto-san."
"Got it." All three ran as fast as they can, skipping over the bomb and the few dozen-looted vehicles strewn around. They got around the bend to catch with the others when the bomb exploded into a conflagration which shook the earth underneath their feet. They can hear the sounds of crashing debris from the explosion site.
"What was that?" cried out Kohta.
"Makoto's advance chemistry class at work," the Baker-wielding girl said proudly. "Took us a while to get one done." The air was punctuated with secondary explosions from the vehicles. It caused Kohta to tremble, much to her delight.
Everyone was catching their breath. It was tense fight and they made it out just in time. Saeko wiped the sweat of her brow and looked at their saviors, the blonde and his friends, all armed with muzzle-loader rifles.
"We thank you for helping us," she said. "It is good to see people like you at a time like this."
"Not to worry, ma'am," replied the blonde. "We heard the commotion over we're we found you. We thought you could use a hand there."
"And for that we are in your debt." She bowed gracefully, a lady even times of peril.
He smiled a bit, happy to have escaped with his life. "You'd done the same thing for us."
Then one of his companions approached him. "Sharpe-sensei, we're down to half our powder and shot now. Aiko's spotted a herd about two hundred meters from here. We gotta go."
"Sorry to cut this conversation short," he apologized in a pant. "Time's a-wasting and there'd be more of Them coming if we don't bugger out."
"Agreed." She said. "We are our friends?"
"At we're where staying, I wager. There's some hot food waiting for us all."
At this point Saeko, Kohta, and Kiriko felt their stomachs grumble at the mention of stew. They all nodded in reply. Then they continued on in safety.
They arrived at there destination, a two-story house. They all entered the living room and settled down. The man wasn't kidding about hot food and smell of cooking filled the room. It was the most welcoming aroma yet. Takashi was found with Alice, Rei, Saya and Shizuka, with a few of their newly-acquired friends. He got up in a flourish, a worried look in his face.
"Saeko, Kohta," he said, "are you alright?"
"We're okay," the swordwoman said. "It was a very close call but we made it."
"It's nice to see you-" They heard Rei cleared her throat audibly. There was a tension among of them, especially between the two girls most of all. It's an unspoken sentiment that both of them were after his heart. Rei always had jealousy whenever Saeko and Takashi were together. It wasn't like she was any better when she went out with Hisashi but she was trying to make for lost time. Saeko, for her part, wants nothing but the best for him and she clearly believe in her code of honor of loyalty and faith, which Rei might misinterpret as something else. He needs to have a handle on both of them before they, he feared, would be tearing at each other's throats, especially at a time like this.
"Don't worry, we're still in one piece. We have our new friends to thank for that."
"Take a seat," he said, "we've finally got ourselves a hot meal." He gestured them to join the little knot that they gathered. He turned to Kohta. "This is something."
Kohta had an eager smile of a kid in a candy store. "Hell yeah! I expected all sorts of things in Z-Day but muzzle-loaders? It's like a dream come true." His body felt giddy with anticipation. He never witnessed any such historical weapons in action, only in movies and documentaries. He trained with rifles and shotguns but never held a musket or flintlock rifle in his hands. So his excitement was all the more palpable. He then quickly took his place among their friends.
Takashi then turned to Kiriko and felt a pang of embarrassment. Oh crap, he agonized, realizing he had forgotten her in midst of seeing Kohta and Saeko back. "Uh, Miyamoto-san, it's to good to see you..."
"Don't sweat it, kid," she said amiably in a manner reminiscent of her delinquent days. "It's Kiriko, by the way. You did a pretty good job back there."
"You weren't so bad yourself," he said in agreement.
"That's nothing compared to the punks I busted." They let out a chuckle. "These are some characters."
"Very much." It was only now that they got a good look of their hosts. They were high school students from another school. The boys were dressed in dark forest-green blazers with brass buttons, white buttoned-down shirts and red neckties underneath, and black slacks. The girls wore similarly, only with red bow ties and tartan skirts of blue and green, with thin lines of black. A few of them including the blonde were obviously exchange students from other countries. They were mostly armed with the same muzzle-loading rifles but they noticed the big fellow conversing with him hefting what looked like monstrosity of a gun, a seven-barreled musket. Both of them had to blink theirs eyes twice to see that they were not dreaming. Of course, accompanying these weapons, so as not to break character so to speak, were era-appropriate gear and accoutrements, leather cross belts with cartridge boxes and bayonets. They must have plundered a museum or movie set for those.
A shot boy approached them. He had fair skin with a slight olive tinge, dark hair, and deep set dark eyes. "Welcome, Señora Miyamoto," he greeted in his Spanish accent. "Come sit down."
"Kiriko, this is Virgillio Sharpe," Takashi introduced. "He was the one who lead us here."
"Pleased to meet you," she said. "You're from..."
"Spain. I came here at recommendation of my uncle."
"You're uncle?" she asked.
"Yes. Luc Castineau. He's also known as Sharpe."
Kohta marveled at the Baker rifle, holding almost as if it was a delicate instrument, as it is such. The Baker may have been rugged weapon for its time but the ravages of time have taken its toll on it. He has read much about it but never expected to hold such a weapon in his hands. As he did so, both Saya and the rifle-girl who was the owner looked on him oddly.
"Is he always liked that?" the girl asked curiously.
"Trust me," Saya said disdainfully. "Once he sees something like this, he'll act like it came from heaven. He knows his stuff a little too much. Once he starts, you'll never hear the end of it."
Then Kohta began his spiel. "This weapon was made in response to the fighting during the American Revolutionary War, when the British Army was in the receiving end of militia skirmishers equipped with rifles. They anticipated war with France so they have skirmishers but the rifles available to them were not up to the job, usually because their too fragile, clumsy, and or expensive except for use by irregular forces, who more often purchased their own weapons. They bought rifles from Prussia, which has used skirmishing tactics but there was no consistent design." He examined the weapon's brass butt plate, opening it to reveal some cleaning tools.
"Careful, that's mine," grumbled the girl.
"Oh, sorry." He apologized, closing the plate and handing it over to her. She grabbed it like it was a precious possession. He continued, fervor growing in his voice. "They held a competition for the rifle designs and Ezekiel Baker's was chosen. Eleven out of twelve shots fired were placed in a 6-foot circular target at a distance of 300 yards. That's close to three hundred meters. Further refinements were made until the third model was accepted into service. Still refinements and modifications continued into its services. In the hands of Wellington's skirmishers, they were devastatingly effective against the French, sniping at officers and NCOs. It was also used by cavalry, albeit in carbine form, and was privately purchased by many militia and volunteer units whose rifles differ from the standard issue. The rifles continued to see service well into the 1830s, when they were replaced by the Pattern 1853 Enfield but retained longer in reserved formations."
"Thanks for the bedtime story," Saya butted in, as was her manner. "I think we didn't introduce ourselves properly to her."
Kohta was stunned, realizing his manners. "Ah, sorry. I think I got a little excited." He scratched the back of his head with a smile. "I'm Kohta Hirano. What's your name?"
The girl grunted a little. "My name's Miwa Kogara. East Ishimura High."
"I'm Saya Takagi, from Fujimi Academy. Girl genius."
This caused Miwa to grin. "Girl genius, huh? Tell me, did you invent a cure for this goddamned plague?" It caused a slight chuckle among their companions.
"Nice punchline." Shizuka clapped her hands. That caused a vein to pop on Saya's forehead a glare on the girl.
Kohta asked, eager to know how she was able to use an old weapon. "How'd you learn how to use those?"
"Sharpe-sensei and Harper-san taught us a little how to use those them." She cradle her rifle. "Took us a day to learn but we managed. If it wasn't for them, I'd be dead."
"Lovely story tellin', isn't it?" They looked up to see a big man, a huge, seven-barreled musket hung by leather strap on his shoulders.
"Sure is, Harper-san," Miwa agreed.
He grinned and turned to their new companions. "My name's Michael Harper. I'm an ornithologist of the Irish Wildlife Trust. I was here doing as part of a symposium for the status of migratory birds in East Asia. I went with Professor Sharpe to meet my colleagues. Then all hell broke lose." The grin disappeared. To say thinking back of it wasn't a pleasant experience for him or any of them was an understatement. They had to survive it. Then Sharpe appeared, along with Virgillio, Takashi, Saeko, and Kiriko and they all got seated.
"Thank's for saving us, Sharpe-sensei," Rei said gratefully.
"Oh, please, call me Sharpe," Lassan said for the umpteenth time since the outbreak, a smile on his rugged face. He wasn't used to honorifics. He got along with his students and treated them professionally. "I'm a professor of history at the University of Sheffield but I lived in Normandy, France. I spent time travelling between them for my research although I occasionally go to Virginia. I'm here as part of research into for a book series on the social changes worldwide during the 19th century."
Shizuka looked confused. "'Sharpe'?"
"A bit of complicated family history," Sharpe explained. "My ancestor was a British soldier named Richard Sharpe. He was famous for capturing a French Eagle at Talavera. He met and married a Spanish partisan named Teresa Moreno and had a child. Sadly, she was killed by a deserter, an old enemy of his. Well..." He wasn't about to mince words. His ancestor wasn't exactly a saint to begin with though by all accounts a decent man. "He left the child. Her brother Ramon adopted the baby but retained the surname. Sharpe later married a woman named Jane Gibbons but she was unfaithful and absconded with a friend of his with all fortune he worked hard for. He later settled down in Normandy with the widow of a French officer whom he met earlier. And that's how we came to be."
"That explains the accent," Saya noted thoughtfully. "A mixture of French countryside and British close to the Scottish border."
"Touche', Miss Takagi."
Takashi spoke up, "You're a university professor, right? How did you get a bunch of high-school students together, not to mention procure some historical weapons?"
"Well, lad," Sharpe answered, "when the news of the outbreak hit, we began to evacuate. I helped out and was the last one when Harper appeared."
"Yup," Harper joined in, "I wasn't so lucky since mine's a packed house. Managed to help a few hundred escape before I went in and fetch one more..." He paused. The one last person he was trying to rescue had kicked the bucket already. "He didn't make it... It left me a bit of mess when a wandered out, to see that everyone left and I met Sharpe as he got out of the building. Help me come to my senses." He gestured to the flask jutting out of his vest pocket. "Just like old times, like back when Dick Sharpe and my own ancestor ol' Paddy Harper did kicking Bonnie outta Spain and back to France."
Kohta looked stunned. "Wait, you and Sharpe-sensei are..."
"Family friends," Harper answered. "Richard Sharpe and Patrick got off at a wrong foot initially but they survived the war with honors and each other's backs. He became an lieutenant colonel and ol' uncle Patrick became Regimental Sergeant Major. That kind of bond doesn't go with age."
"Sharpe-sensei and Harper-san did it again," Miwa spoke out. "They'd saved us from those bastards. We'd be filling their bellies if they didn't come on time with these." She held up her Baker rifle and its accompanying sword bayonet.
"OH! A sword bayonet! A real one!" Kohta stared at the weapon in its scabbard. 19th-century goodness to the last. He looked at Harper. "Is that a Nock gun?"
"Yes it is," he chimed.
"Oh for the love of..." Saya sighed. "How did they manage to steal or smuggle those historical weapons!?"
"Uh..." Kohta looked sheepish.
"Well, you got the stealing part right," Sharpe replied. "Those guns and kits were in some restoration shop we passed by. It'd be a shame to leave those weapons behind at a time like this. Beggars can't choosers, eh?"
"Anything is deadly in the right hands," Saeko agreed.
"Had to teach the kids how to use 'em too. Not easy but they learned pretty quick enough to fight." Miwa gave a thumbs-up to Sharpe for that statement of approval. "Have to get new weapons sooner or later."
"That's a shame." Kohta felt crestfallen at having to ditch such artifacts. Yet the need was quite pressing at a time like this. Muzzle-loaders don't always win, especially against quick-firing breech-loaders, which are dominant firearms.
"It is," Sharpe added. "But good blades we can keep." He patted on the sword at his side.
Saeko looked at the weapon with interest. He had seen that man fight like the devil himself with the raw power of his blade. "That is an amazing weapon. It's bigger than any European sword I've seen from except for the Middle Ages."
"This wasn't in any part of the shipment we jacked," he explained. "This one's mine." He drew it for everyone to see. "Richard Sharpe's Pattern 1796 Heavy Cavalry Sword. This was given to him by a dying officer of the 95th Rifles as symbol of his authority to convince the doubting troops to rally around him during the retreat to Corunna. It wasn't a gentleman's weapon of choice, rather an unwieldy and ill-balanced butcher's blade that spoke the language of war more forcefully and directly, can crush lesser blades in an instant. That suited him fine. He never was one. He'd rather end it than savor it." Sharpe seemed to be absorbed with the weapon, as though he was contemplating its history of use in his ancestor's hands, of battles fought and lives taken, and that he if was truly worthy of it or that he should have never held it all. Saeko seemed to feel the same way, knowing her bloodlust. While her own blade, Murata-tou, handed to her by Saya's father in gratitude for the kendo training he received from hers, was a much elegant weapon yet it too had drank blood. Blood from the dead and not of French soldiers, maybe but the constant still holds true.
A voice called out from the kitchen, "Dinner's ready." The caller a girl came out. "It may not be much but I think we're gonna have the best meal in days." It brought everyone out of the storytelling spell they were under.
"Ah, thank you Mikoto." Sharpe drew his sword back to its scabbard. "We managed to make up something of a decent meal, perhaps the last one we will ever see. Come on, hot food's on us." Everyone all agreed heartily to that. They thronged in the kitchen to get their meals. This was one of the precious breaks they all have from survival in a world that had darkened in less than a week. There was always a time for everything, a time for rest from horrors of the present so they can prepare for a time of scavenging and war. The old life they knew may never come back again but they have gained new friends in the end, people who will help to their place over the hills and far away.
These new friends are Sharpe's Reivers.
A/N: I've done my best to be faithful on the details to both HOTD and Sharpe, though I took a few liberties with canon such as Sharpe's descendant by Teresa, Virgilio. Harper's descendant choice of profession is a reference to Patrick Harper's love for bird watching in the books. Kiriko was first featured in the manga in Chapter 29. I tried to make the practice of muzzle-loading as accurate as possible. The uniforms of the high school kids where inspired by the colors of the 95th Rifles, the unit Sharpe fought for as a rifleman before joining the South Essex, today known as the Prince Consort's Own. This unit achieved fame in Wellington's campaign in Spain and Portugal, using the famed Baker rifles and skirmishing tactics that where encountered in America during the revolutionary war. The colors of the their uniform, black and green, gave them camouflage against their French opponent, who named them grasshoppers for their leapfrogging tactics. The girls' skirts where based the tartan of the Black Watch regiment from Scotland, still part of the British Army to this day. The title was derived from naming convention of the Sharpe books and reiver comes from an early English word for "to rob", from the Northumbrian and Scots verb reifen from the old English rēafian, and thus related to the archaic standard English verb reave("to plunder", "to rob"), and to the modern English word "ruffian". The ending is also a title drop from the novels and the phrase over the hills and far away refers to Over The Hills and Far Away, an English folk song that has become a theme for the Sharpe series on TV.