Turn 1: Initiation
"There are two Paths to the Innermost: the Way of the Mystic, which is the way of devotion and meditation, a solitary and subjective path; and the way of the occultist, which is the way of the intellect, of concentration, and of trained will; upon this path the co-operation of fellow workers is required, firstly for the exchange of knowledge, and secondly because ritual magic plays an important part in this work...The mystic derives his knowledge through the direct communion of his higher self with the Higher Powers; to him the wisdom of the occultist is foolishness, for his mind does not work in that way; but, on the other hand, to a more intellectual and extrovert type, the method of the mystic is impossible until long training has enabled him to transcend the planes of form. We must therefore recognize these two distinct types among those who seek the Way of Initiation, and remember that there is a path for each."
—Excerpt from Esoteric Orders and Their Work and The Training and Work of the Initiate, Dion Fortune
THE SHADOW
Today had been the day Kumori had waited for her whole life, to be chosen as one of the leading knightmare squadron members. After seven harsh years, the JLF was finally ready to turn its men from sumerais into pilots of the electronic beasts created by the Holy Britannian Empire. They were finally going to give the Britannians a taste of their own medicine, and it would be done with their own creations. General Katase stood at the head of the base with a sheet in his hand. Her uncle glanced towards the eager men who stood close to him, and then to Kumori herself. When his gaze reached hers, it saddened. he smiled, though, as any uncle would his niece. It was in that moment, she knew.
Katase began reading out the names. "Colonel Kyoshiro Tohdoh," he started with the name of the very many everyone with a brain knew would be chosen. He was, as he always had been, Katase's right-hand man. Tohdoh stepped forward and bowed in his respect. "You now hold the position of Field Commander, the leader of our knightmare units, and from now on retains the title of General." Everyone clapped in that moment, most especially Shogo Asahina, the second member of the Four Holy Swords, who cheered as though it had come as a surprise to him to see his leader honoured for his valour. Kumori felt she should clap, but she hadn't been listening at all to what her uncle had been saying. The next few names were the names of the chosen squadron leaders to which there would only be five, and not one of them were hers.
For the longest time she stood still, watching the others around her. In their laughter and happiness, they celebrated those who had been honoured. Kumori smiled to those who looked at her, but she couldn't stay in the room any longer when she spotted her brother speaking to their uncle, both their gazes watching her. She walked out the room in a quickened pace, feeling as though she couldn't breathe past her anger. As a child she had longed for the chance to shine before her uncle, to show him that she was not just the little sister of his protege, that the house name of Urabe was not simply an extension to her inheritance, but that its strength was also in her blood and soul. And yet, she seemed to have clung to Kosetsu involuntarily, remaining forever in his shadow. He had been made the Leader of the Third Squadron, and she had been made nothing. It angered her to be given nothing, but her anger bordered between that and jealousy, the latter being the most likely feeling to possess her now.
"What's the matter, Little Urabe?" a voice asked her from behind, a voice filled with a deep sarcasm that made her even more angry. Kumori recognised this man the moment the first word left his lips. "It must be so frustrating with Kosetsu for a brother. While he and the rest of the heads of the Elitist Faction gets all the honours your uncle claims he deserves, you, a lost puppy, get nothing. Tell me, Kumori, how do you do it – live like a shadow?"
"What do you want, Meiwaku?!" she answered bitterly. She didn't have the strength and the time to deal with the extremist's insults. If Meiwaku was anybody's protege, he would be Kusakabe's, and even the thought was enough to put Kumori off balance.
He stood leaning his weight against the wall, his arms folded at his chest. He chuckled. "Same old, same old Little Urabe." he said. "Didn't the old man teach you any manners after the death of your parents?"
"Don't call me that!" Kumori snapped. She turned to face the man fully, stomping her foot down in the process. "And it's "General Katase" to you. You would do well not to insult him or his name; I may be the only one to hear your words in this moment, but karma will find its way to hit you." For all her anger, she disliked it when her uncle, her brother, or anyone she cared for, were being insulted. They were her family, and were due their rightful respect. "And you didn't answer my question, Meiwaku; what do you want?" she continued in an agitated tone.
"Oh I wished to taunt you for a while, that was what I wanted. But Kusakabe himself?" he shrugged as he paused. "I don't know what he wants from you. Perhaps he wishes to bond with you over the fact that neither of you were chosen for...anything. Not sure." There was that sarcasm again. "But he does want to see you. Sent me for you in fact." The soldier paused again, looking at Kumori. He was watching her face, she knew, but she would not give him any inclination to her confusion or surprise at the situation. She neither said nor did anything until Meiwaku began leading the way to Kusakabe's quarter, formally known as the Extremists' Quarter among the others that had earned the title "Elite".
It was dark in their quarter, with little light to brighten the halls along the way. Kumori felt a shiver flit down her spine. After all, Meiwaku was taking her to a part of the quarter she had never dared enter before now. The Extemists hardly ever left their quarter outside of when they needed to for training or military meetings, and it dawned on her suddenly, as she followed the male soldier through the darkened halls, how little of everything else she knew of the faction save their profound beliefs that rendered the JLF to the rest of the world as a terrorist cooperation.
When they arrived, Kumori saw that Kusakabe, along with some other members of his faction, sat in the lightest part of his quarter, discussing something among themselves. It at first took them a few moments to realise they had arrived, and when they finally did, they immediately stopped their conversation, each their dark eyes turning to Kumori, who stood in silence, saying nothing. Kusakabe was the first to speak. Though his stare remained on her, he spoke to Meiwaku. "Thank you for bringing First Lieutenant Urabe," he merely said. "That'll be all for now, Warrant Officer." With that, Meiwaku saluted his commanding officer and left.
As soon as he was gone, Urabe felt more out of place as she had originally, if that was even possible. "Meiwaku said you wanted to see me, Lieutenant Colonel."
He nodded, extending his arm. "Please take a seat," She did but not without hesitation. The man smiled at her, yet Kumori knew that such a smile did not reach his grey eyes. He wants something, she thought to herself. But what could that be; what is it that he needs from me? The questions raced though her mind along with other thoughts like how much she wanted to leave this place and return to the celebration at the main Common Room. "I trust you were at the meeting this morning," Kusakabe began, breaking the silence that she only just realised had formed in the time she let her mind take over her.
"Yes," she replied quickly.
He kindly offered her green tea but she politely declined. He stepped away from her and walked to glance through the window. They were at the heart of Narita, nothing but the vast landscape before them and the dim lights of the sleeping village down below. "Do you know that in our ancient society, our powerful ancestors, the Sumerais, they believed in upholding the honour of the family through the practise of revenge killings, katakiuchi." His voice was solemn now. There was nothing of the kindness he had shown her in those earlier moment. "These killings would eliminate not only those who had offended, but also those belonging the them." He turned from the window. "Are the Japanese citizens not our family?" Kusakabe asked, his face tightened in his increasing anger. "And if so, then it is fair to say that the Britannians are the ones who offend us."
"Where are you going with this, Lieutenant Colonel?" Urabe asked, confused.
"You and I both were slighted with no honours today. But you are a daughter of the great house of Urabe; Katase has made a grave mistake in ignoring you. And me? What of my faction? They received nothing for their loyalty." He sat down again and placed a hand on Kumori's shoulder. "But we don't need honours and titles to do what's right for our nation, for Japan, do we? We, regardless of our rank, must fight for those who need us, for those in Shinshiku for instance." he said that last bit as though the thought crossed his mind conveniently. "Your uncle thwarts on the thought of knightmare frames and which of his men should be allowed to pilot them, refusing to acknowledge that they, our family at Shinshiku need their vengeance."
"Katakiuchi."
"Yes. He fails to realise that he has a very skilled niece. But I have not," Kusakabe reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a photo of a young Britannian women. She was young, with bright green eyes like emeralds, and long blonde hair. Kusakabe said nothing about the girl, but looked directly at Kumori. "I believe you can do something for me..."
THE LORD OF MIRACLES
The sun's shine just rose past the Narita Mountains' summit, painting the sky with the colours of pink and purple and orange. Deep within the heart of the mountain where the Japanese Liberation Front's military base lay, Kyoshiro walked the halls after waking into the new day. He seldom slept past seven nowadays, not with all his needed training. Tohdoh believed that it was not enough to become a great swordsman, the art of the katana as if second nature, but that you must also practise everyday the skill to remain the man you had once strove to become. The only thing different about today was that he wasn't the only one awake at this time. Tohdoh could hear in the distance the other members of the JLF training. This day was not only for the training of current members, but also for the training of new ones who had recently joined the army. They were to be initiated, pushed to the limit, fought against to see how well they fought themselves.
In the Training Ground, the floor was covered with mats. Half of the recruits, both current and new, were sent outside to test fitness. They were led and goaded by the newly decreed Captain Urabe. Out of all his Four Holy Swords, Kosetsu was the fittest, being tall and lean but built with a lot of muscle. He, Tohdoh thought, was the perfect candidate to push soldiers to their limits; Asahina was far too laid back, taking the idea as a matter of fun rather than seriousness. Chiba was as fit as Urabe, perhaps even more intimidating than he was in getting the men to surpass their limits, but she held a..."hot-headed" temperament, as Shogo Asahina had once put it. Kyoshiro chuckled inside at the thought. The fourth and final member of his Four Holy Swords was instead in the Training Ground working one-on-one with the new recruits along with Shogo. As most people didn't know how to use a katana, the pair both decided to split their groups into two, one group being made of those who could practise with swords, and the other being made up of those who would work off their ability to fight with no weapons but their hands and feet.
"Now," Tohdoh called for everyone's attention. The Lord of Miracles stood upon a raised platform, looking down at all the different faces. "You must all be wondering why we are testing your ability to fight, your fitness. We are getting Knightmare frames now, so why must we fight you may ask. Soldiers," he said this as he looked across the scene at the hundreds before him. He paused on each of their faces for a little while before moving onto the next. Some were young and fresh-faced, though he felt that would change soon, if not by the intensive training, then by war itself. Some of these faces were faces he had once thought never to see at all. "It is important that we do not forget that we are men fighting this war. We are not just the machines we control, and so must be able to fight. We will never know when a man's – or a woman's..." Tohdoh looked at Chiba at that moment, "...strength will be needed after all." And so he set his men off.
From his spot he watched Chiba. Around her rallied all the different men of her group. He knew just by studying their body language that some of them doubted Chiba's ability. She was a women, and many men still believed war to be a place where women never belonged.
"A volunteer," she called out for. She found one in the first few moments. The recruit had a crooked handsomeness, with deep brown eyes that were surprisingly pretty as well as dark auburn hair held back by a simple headband of the same colour. Though he slouched, the man was fairly tall with a small build. Too skinny, Tohdoh thought as he watched him emerge from the crowd to step before his holy blade. But he restrained himself from passing any judgement too early, and watched carefully over the scene. "Name," Chiba asked for.
"Shinichiro," he said, grinning. "Shinichiro Tamaki." He held himself with an air of arrogance, and yet it took one look from Tohdoh to know that he was green.
"Tamaki," She gave him a bow as she replied. Chiba did not take this chance to change her stance, but remained stood still and tall. Despite this, she asked him, "Are you ready?" Tamaki made no reply other than to place his right foot in front of his left, bending his knees slightly and shifting his body to face sideways from Chiba. He extended one arm a fair distance before him, and with his fingers clenched into fists, he left the other close to his face. It was a typical form to take in this sort of fight, but it was weak. "Are you ready?" Nagisa repeated. In those moments before the fight begun, the room fell into a silence. Even Asahina and his group had stopped to look forth onto the battle that was now about to commence.
Tamaki was the first to strike, aiming high. He forced his right fist to Chiba's face, but she simply dodged the blow. This continued for a few more attempts before Chiba no longer dodged, but directly blocked Takaki's punch; she held his fist in her fingers, unwilling to let go. In trying to break free from her hold, Tamaki launched his leg for her chest. He scarcely missed her but she spun away from him just as the force came for her. Tohdoh watched as she did this, thinking she was fought in a completely different style to what he had first expected those years ago in their first encounter. She moved swiftly, gracefully, choosing to dodge rather than to counter-attack. He thought of her almost as a dancer, combining the art with that of combat, which Kyoshiro, of all the times he studied his men, had never anticipated. He had underestimated Nagisa Chiba immensely. Only now did he think back to that day...
Their wooden blades collided in the space between them, creating a friction that bound Kyoshiro from making any further attacks without having to pull away first. And so, he did just that. Breathing heavily and sweating profoundly, he looked forth to his opponent and gave him a smile, something he gave out rarely. "You are losing your touch, Tatewaki Katase," Kyoshiro said, trying to calm his breathing.
"Aye," the older man breathed. "I'm growing old, Tohdoh." At first, Kyoshiro believed his remark to have upset his master, but that thought changed as he saw a grin form across Katase's face. "But I'm not done yet," he continued, driving his wooden blade towards Tohdoh to which he blocked just in time. He pushed Tatewaki away, and in response to the distance created between them, he swung his weapon to the senior's side. He would have hit the man's ribs if it had not been for Tatewaki's quick reflexes who used his own blade for his protection. Their fight continued on this way for what seemed like hours, swing after swing, dodge after dodge and collision after collision. This was until Tohdoh swung his wooden blade to Katase's head, and, knowing that the older man would jerk backwards in attempt to salvage his face, Tohdoh kicked his foot into his broad chest, forcing him back a few steps.
Tatewaki laughed at this. He looked as though he were about to attack again, but was stopped by the intrusion of one of the other men of newly formed Japanese Liberation Front. "Colonel Katase," the man saluted before continuing. "New recruits in the Training Ground!"
"Thank you," Katase replied. "We'll be there in a few moments."
When they arrived at the scene, the place was filled with men and women alike, each wearing the simple attire of white and grey vests and sweats. "Grab a wooden blade, everyone." This was the first thing he called out to the new men and women. He did not even introduce himself, likely because someone had already done so for him, but Kyoshiro knew that he himself believed that a simple name would not give someone their authority, they must also show it. Once every man held in their hands a wooden blade, Tatewaki placed a hand on Kyoshiro's back. "This is Captain Kyoshiro Tohdoh. Be sure to remember his name. And if not, remember him for his other name: The Man of Miracles." This ignited a frenzy among the people, who were both excited and amazed to stand before the hero of Itsukushima. "He will be the one sparring with you today," Katase said cheerfully, patting Tohdoh on the back again."Who will be the first to fight?"
There was no reply at first. Had all the excitement suddenly turned to fear of the man? Kyoshiro did not know. He then thought to pick on someone, but from the crowd came forward a lone soldier. "I will." they said.
To both Kyoshiro's and Tatewaki's surprise, the voice belonged to a woman. Tohdoh looked forth to the one who spoke. She had a slender figure, slim and tall for a woman. She had a fringe that levelled at her eyes, her shoulder-length brown hair tied loosely in a ponytail. Aside from that, it was her eyes that caught Kyoshiro's attention. They were of an unnatural colour; brown at first glance, like any other woman of Japanese lineage, but beneath the glint of light, her eyes became a deep red, too dark to be crimson, but not the right shade to be auburn. As he looked into them, he realised that it was not only their unnatural beauty that intrigued him, but also the look in her eyes that did so. She stared at him, with no less than determination, and it was with this determination that her raw power was channelled. She continuously dodged Tohdoh's blows, spinning and twirling around him as she did so before striking with first her blade that she held loosely in her fingers, and then with her limbs. She'd either kick or throw a punch at the captain, and just as Tohdoh was knocked off balance, she attempted a final strike. But it was because of this the woman lost. She shifted to strike, to finish the battle, leaving her centre undefended. Tohdoh saw his chance and forced his foot into her stomach, pushing her to ground, and with his own blade, he beat hers from her grasp. It fell to the ground with a clank.
Lowering his sword so that it pointed to her neck, the lord of miracles spoke. "Is she one of yours?" he asked, turning to his old friend who he'd noticed to be sitting by Katase as the fight went on.
"She sure is," Ryoga Senba answered proudly.
Kyohsiro extended his hand out to the fallen woman. "I underestimated you when I shouldn't have. My apologies..."
"...Nagisa." she finished, taking his hand and smiling.
"Welcome to the Japanese Liberation Front." said Chiba, who pulled Tamaki from the ground.
"She has grown a lot in the last seven years, Kyoshiro." Katase joined him on the platform, and he too looked down upon the scene Chiba was apart of.
"She has, I agree. But that isn't what you came here for, is it, General Katase? You wanted to speak to me, but not about my men." Tohdoh turned to look at his commanding officer. "I've known you long enough to realise that."
"Aye," the general replied. "As you know, your Four Holy Swords along with another chosen member of the JLF have been selected to become squadron leaders. Today's training session was not to outline who will be part of which quarter or faction, but in fact who will become a member of those squadrons I intend for your men to lead. Today is not only these men's initiation into the Japanese Liberation Front, but also, for at least a select handful, their initiation into being knightmare pilots."
"You choose now to start our counter-attack, General?" Tohdoh asked.
"Yes," It was all he said for a little while. Perhaps he was thinking of what to say, Tohdoh did not truly know, but this thought was displaced as Katase spoke out once more. "There is growing friction between the E.U and the Britannians. If we don't strike now, when they are busy dealing with the Europeans, then this war will never end. We will have our own knightmares, and our own men who will pilot them." Katase looked back down on the men below, and Tohdoh followed his gaze. Then, after another moment's silence, he said the words Kyoshiro had longed to hear for years. "Japan will see its salvation soon." was what the general said, and for the first time, Tohdoh believed them to be true.
THE FOURTH HOLY SWORD
Nagisa Chiba had finally finished with her group of recruits. It had taken hours to get through them all, fighting them while giving them critique, but it was over now. She was giving orders for them all to return to their bunks to rest for the night when she heard someone clapping. It was Asahina. "Finally done?" he chuckled, knowing full well the answer. He was sat on one of the side benches watching the crowd disperse, but he slouched against the wall with his hands behind his head as if he had been there all day, waiting.
"I had a bigger group than you," Chiba defended, smiling at her ally and friend.
"I had to fight with a katana," Shogo shrugged. "It's harder to beat someone with a weapon than to beat someone without one."
"Are you saying I'm a better fighter than you are a swordsman?" Nagisa joked. She herself was beginning to laugh, but she saw a change in her friend's face. The cheerfulness seemed to drain from his face, his smile fading. Chiba also sensed a change in the atmosphere, but she remained silent out of a fear of disrupting it. But there had been no need for her to speak, as the silence was broken anyway with the opening of the door. The captain turned to where the noise had come from and spotted a teenager standing alone in the distance.
"A Britannian!" one of the new recruits that had lingered in the Training Ground shouted.
Even from afar, Chiba could see the fiery red hair and shocking blue eyes, but while her recruits felt an immediate disdain for the girl, she didn't know what she felt. There was no anger in her, but Chiba didn't feel happy either at the sight of her. "What are you doing here?" she asked her over the shouts of her men.
The red-headed girl did not answer her question, but looked to the very man that had called her Britannian. "I'm not a Britannian," she stated firmly. "I may look like one but I'm not. I'm Japanese." At this, another burst of shouts came. Some called out, "Liar!" and others just laughed. Even in Chiba's point of view, it seemed unlikely that this girl was anything other than Britannian. Perhaps European, but not Japanese. She breathed before continuing, the frustration evident on her face. "Look, I came for recruitment. If there's no place for me..." She turned and began walking away.
"There's room," Chiba called. She waited for her to turn back around before speaking again. "You may be a Britannian, you may be Japanese. It doesn't matter." Nagisa looked directly into the girl's blue eyes when she said that, making sure that she knew that she meant her words. "You came here to fight for Japan, and that's all that counts." Chiba thought to continue, but something stopped her. Where she thought that this girl had been looking directly at her, she had been looking somewhere else. The Fourth Holy Sword followed her gaze, and found that she had been instead looking at Asahina. He, in response, whose face remained serious and solemn, returned that gaze.
"Shogo Asahina," Nagisa introduced her fellow captain. But something told her that there had been no need, that she, whoever this girl was, already knew the identity of her friend. Chiba now introduced herself, stating her name and position.
The girl smiled slightly. "Kallen Kozuki," she said.
THE BRITANNIAN
As part of the security of the Lake Kawaguchi Hotel Centre, Thompson sat in the headquarters, watching the surveillance. He saw nothing out of the ordinary so far but he couldn't ever be too sure. And today was an important day, so he had to be extra careful today. Lake Kawaguchi was a very famous Britannian tourist spot, and on this day, it was also the site of the Annual Summit of the Sakuradite Producing Countries. Many important representatives from all the different countries came to Area 11 for this meeting, one of them being Chairman James, the Britannian in charge of the Sakurradite allocatione. Thompson not only watched the screen in front of him, but also the others around him, even though there were others watching them as well.
Everything was fine. Or so he thought.
"Helena!" Thompson heard security member Richard shout. He always seemed happy to see the woman, Thompson had noted one day whilst on duty, and today was no different. Richard smiled as he usually did and embraced the woman. His behaviour did not seem out of the ordinary, but... "Helena...?" Richard murmured, pulling away from her. She said nothing in return, and only remained silence as if she had become mute. "What's wrong?" the security member continued to ask, but still he received no response. She simply looked around. Her eyes paused on each and every one of their faces as if she were memorizing them, or as if... As if she did not even recognise the people around her.
"Hey, is everything okay?" Samantha, the coffee girl asked, her concern evident on her face. She touched Helena's shoulder lightly with her hand. But, as if disgusted by the sentiment, Helena quickly shifted from Samantha's touch, drawing out a gun.
Thompson had not been watching the scene, but too busy watching his screen, and yet he could see everything. On the surveillance screen reflected the image of Helena holding a gun to Samantha's head. For a moment, it seemed all surreal. At on point Thompson thought himself dreaming. Helena was one of the sweetest and kindest person he knew; she would never hold someone at gunpoint unless it was absolutely necessary. Yet...Thompson did not understand. Slowly turning to the woman, he held his hand in the air. "C'mon now," he started. "You're mad. Something's made you mad. But we can talk about that, just put the gun down." He said the last words slowly, hoping they would reach her somehow.
For a while it stayed quiet, and Thompson thought that maybe she had listened. A feeling of relief crossed his senses, but that all disappeared just as quickly as it came as he stared into the barrel of the gun. Thompson jumped back. He had his hands pressed down on the desk behind him. It was as though that was all that was keeping him up; he had never been held at gunpoint before. And then Helena spoke, but it wasn't her voice he heard. The voice he heard was of a different woman, with a very thick Japanese accent. "I want everyone to move to stand over there," She pointed to the far left of the room, away from all the surveillance and computers and any communicative devices. No one moved at first, caught frozen in their fear, and this only added to the anger in the woman's voice. "Now!" her voice roared, pointing the gun away from Thompson and to the others in the room.
Everyone did as she bid then. When she spotted Thompson moving to follow them, her eyes darted back to him. "Not you," she stated. "You stay there." He looked into her eyes at this moment. This woman looked so much like Helena – she had her long flowing blonde hair, her emerald-green eyes – and yet she was not her. What happened to you? Those were the words on his mind. But "Why are you doing this to us?" was what he said aloud. "You're Brit—"
"No!" she interrupted. With her other hand, she pulled at the top of her head, pulling away the blonde wig and revealing a mop of dark blue hair. Then, using her long white fingers, she pressed at her cheeks until the mask detached from her face. She was indeed no Britannian. She was Japanese.
"An Eleven!" Samantha screamed whilst Richard shouted out, "Call the Head!" One of the other members ran for their phone once this was said, handling it with fumbling fingers. They dropped the phone unfortunately, and they dived to retrieve it. Their fingers were inches from achieving this when another man, wearing a black mask over his face kicked the phone from arms reached. "Wrong move," he said bitterly, stamping on the man's fingers.
"Another...Eleven...?" Thompson asked. This one was much more violent than the first. Unlike the woman, he did not hold a simple handgun, but a rifle with which he pushed the end into Thompson's neck. This is it, the Britannian thought. This is it. He shut his eyes, waiting. He did not have to watch to know that the male Eleven began to aim the barrel of his weapon. Thompson must have heard at least a dozen shots. Perhaps that was the sound of him dying, he unconvincingly told himself. But he felt no pain, for the bullets were not aimed for him. He was not the initial target. His colleagues were. When he realised this, he screamed at the sight of their blood painting the floor with its thick red lustre.
"You didn't have to kill them!" the female screamed at her partner.
He said nothing to her, but continued to look into Thompson's eyes. "You're going to turn off all the lights in here." he said, moving his aim from the Britannian's chest to in between his eyes. "You're going to make it all go black. Do you understand?" As if to force the answer from Thompson's lips, the Eleven pressed his barrel harder into his head. He squinted as he nodded. "Make it go black!" he repeated, and Thompson did. All the lights in the hotel were turned off. Everything turned to darkness; the surveillance footage, the lights in the hallways, in the different rooms; and then, after one final shot of the gun, even Thompson's mind as well.
THE SECOND HOLY SWORD
Though Tokyo was the capital of Japan, Asahina saw few Japanese people. He looked about him through his dark sunglasses. Along with this, he wore an oversized coat, its collars long enough to cover the sides of his face, a hat, a scarf and carried a large basket in his right hand. He wouldn't risk being caught back in Tokyo, and it seemed neither would anyone else. He saw no one around he could call Japanese. And by law, he couldn't. They were all called Elevens now, and Asahina found it all the more ironic that, because of this, they were all stripped of their nationality. But it was by their nationality they were degraded and mistreated. There was a part of him that felt relieved to see no one Japanese. He had seen, throughout the last seven years Japan was under the rule of Britannia, many being kicked and abused, shouted at for the simple fact of lineage. But his relief soon grew into sadness as he drew closer to the Aoyama Cemetery. Even from the outside Shogo saw the place had been ruined. Perhaps by Britannian teenagers who had been bored or had nothing to do, he did not know, but it was ruined all the same.
There was a dirt path that cut straight through the graveyard. Before he continued down the path though, he stopped and looked to the ground beneath his feet. I remember that you were once sandy yellow, he thought. It sounded pathetic, Asahina told himself, but he could not help but think them. The last time I visited granny, you were yellow, the voice in the back of his mind continued regardless. And now, you are grey and littered with rubbish. He kicked a piece of old newspaper into the air with his foot. It tore in the wind into smaller pieces it was that old.
Finally, he walked the old pathway. While he did this, he looked at the gravestones on each side. They were in a worse state than the land itself, having been vandalised. On one grave he saw two long lines marked out in red spray-paint. To anyone else outside of Japan and Britannia, they would have seen the marks as being somewhat random, but what Asahina saw was far different. "11" was what he saw. It angered him to see this done. A grave was to memorialise the dead, something of great sacred value in Japan, and yet it was made the subject of abuse just as those still living were.
He knelt by the gravestone, brushing the dead leaves and weeds away. Each Japanese gravestone was made of three main components; the top had engraved on it the name of the deceased; below that was written things about the person; and at the very base stood two flower vases to each side of the grave, a small incense holder at the front. Asahina tried to make out the name engraved but the symbols had been scratched out. Shrunken and brown, the flowers had long died, along with the Japanese tradition of honouring the dead. Just one look at the state of the gravestone and Shogo could see that it had been a long time since anyone had visited. But he couldn't blame his people. Even he hadn't returned for years. This was because of his duty, to the army and to Tohdoh, and as for his people, they were frightened. A Japanese person walking through the Tokyo Settlement, where many Britannian civilians lived and worked, were either insane or asking for death. Asahina liked to think he was neither, but he wasn't sure all the same.
The sun was beginning to set by the time Shogo made it to his grave. It stood at the top of a hill beneath a beautiful cherry-blossom tree. As he drew closer, it was as though the sight was bathed in sunlight, beams of orange and pink light gracing the stone. He pulled from his basket everything he needed. Firstly, he brought out the water and a small bucket. Normally the cemetery provided the water in small fountains, but they had long run dry. Then, he brought out a small white cloth, incense, a lighter to light them with, and finally, the flowers. Taking the cloth, Asahina dipped it into the water until it was completely soaked, the cold of the liquid touching his hand. He wiped the gravestone gently, letting the water drip. No matter what condition it was in, good or bad, the stone had to be cleaned. Cleansed. Once he had done that, he lit the incense, placing them in their holder at the front, and then carefully placed his flowers in their vases. They were blue and red, the colours Asahina remembered to be this person's favourite.
He didn't know how long he sat there for. Minutes? Hours? But he did so in silence. In all honestly, he didn't know what to say. It had been years since his last visit, and yet Shogo Asahina still hadn't the courage to speak. His words would mean nothing, he told himself, and that would've been even worse than if he had spoken. He opened his mouth nonetheless to say something, anything. But the words did not come, and when they finally did, his voice was replaced by another.
"It has been a long time, Shogo, since you've visited my son's grave." he heard a woman with a soft voice say from behind him. He turned. "So long I thought you'd forgotten. Six years, it's been."
"Yes," was Asahina's only reply at first. Like before, he didn't know what to say. He stood up and smiled at the woman. It had been long, too long. But she remained very much the same as she had been; she had not changed in Asahina's mind. "It's lovely to see you again, Mrs Kozuki..."
Author's Notes: Hope you enjoyed this, my Christmas present to all my fellow readers! Please review. I'd like to know what you think so far. Thank youuu!
