Somedays on her walk to school along the seaside, Izumi didn't even notice the Britannian warships just beyond Japanese waters. Perhaps her eyes passed over them, but they had in the two months of their presence become more like a grey oddly-shaped island than an impending doom.

But when she did stop and truly saw them for what they were, all she could feel was the chill of the wind, all she could see were the darker-than-black shadows that crept across her path. She was only 13 but she knew how to fear the worst. She didn't believe a word of her government, which wanted its citizens to feel reassured in the belief that the Britannians were only here to conduct negotiations with the Japanese government. Yet there was nothing to be done; no matter how many nights she woke up from nightmares of a war to come, she was only 13 and she still had classes to attend.

So every day she walked to school, passing those warships far offshore, not being able to rid herself of the thought that this might be the last time she made the journey; maybe tomorrow there would be no school to go to. At school, her friends liked to make light of her nightmares, telling themselves playful stories of those horrible Britannians, but in spite of the fun, Izumi could see the fear in their eyes. It was in everybody's eyes. It was even in the eyes of their parents.

"Why can't we make them go away?" asked Izumi, one night at dinner. She knew it was a stupid question, but no one was talking about them, not her teachers; it wasn't on the news. Somebody needed to break this silence, and why couldn't it be her.

Her father didn't speak. He didn't even look up from his meal. After a while, her mother had to fill the empty air.

"When the negotiations are over, I am sure they will have no reason to stay."

At this, Izumi wanted to tell her mother that the government was lying to them, that there were no such talks, and yet, after a deep breath, she didn't say it. Because her mother already knew it was a lie. She saw it in her mother's eyes; the woman couldn't possibly bring herself to tell her daughter that a terrible war was coming for all of them. Instead, they told each the lie, because admitting the truth made it real and everyone wanted to hold upon their unreality a little longer.

The next day Izumi decided to ask her teacher. It was after class; it had to be. She waited for every last student to leave and then made her way to the front of the class.

She didn't wanted to ask why the ships were here. She already knew that. So her question took the former for granted: "When they come, what are we supposed to do?"

He almost pretended that he didn't understand her question, instead he said simply. "I don't know."

After that, her nightmares worsened. Every night she would wake, panting, struggling to breathe, and then she cried, thinking of her family, her friends, and all the things she would never get to do. She tried her best to not make a sound as tears ran down her face; she didn't want to wake her parents, didn't want them to find her like this. Because if they did, they would no longer be able to pretend that war wasn't coming.

One night Izumi was awoken by her mother's hands, trembling but firm with determination, and she wasn't sure whether she was dreaming. It felt like a dream. Her body was heavy, refusing to move. Her mother's voice was slurred, words only half-formed. There were sirens outside, some near some far, like in previous dreams; they were always there, an impossible-to-ignore reminder of coming war.

"We need to leave," her mother's words were clear this time, cutting through the dullness of Izumi's mind.

"Where?" mumbled Izumi.

"Put these on." Her mother handed her some clothes. "You can ask questions when we're in the car."

However, when in the car, Izumi didn't need to ask questions; she could see what was happening. The sea was a sickening black like she had never seen it before, but with the pale light of the moon she could make out their shapes, their metallic angular outlines. They were large, not large enough to be warships, but large enough to carry thousands of troops and vehicles. The invasion was beginning.

The sirens sung on. Izumi and her parents were not the only ones fleeing. There was an ocean of cars, or more like many rivers, streaming down every road and across every main street. There were people shouting at each other, only broken up by crying. Those sobbing voices carried their despair above the horns and engines of the cars. Izumi heard them. She thought she would cry too, but her eyes were dry. Then came the realization that her tears had already been shed; she had imagined this a thousand times before. Strangely, the reality of it was less vivid, dulled by her tiredness. As their little town fell away into the distance behind them, she almost forgot about those ships of her nightmares, allowing herself to dream of more hopeful things.

She awoke to morning's light. It took her a moment to realize that the light was not streaming in through her bedroom window, but rather through the window of their car. It was another moment before she remembered. She sat up with a start. The car wasn't moving. Her dad wasn't there.

Her mother was quick to reach back from the front seat and place a smoothing hand on her thigh. "Don't worry. Your dad is just out for a walk. We're safe here."

Izumi didn't think to ask where here was; looking out the window, across a plateau of cars, she saw the towers of various-colored shipping containers, which marked this place as a harbor. She could just make out the docks, but there were no ships; the only thing she could see that resembled a ship was only a blur on the horizon.

"What are we doing here?" she asked.

"You know how you said you wanted to visit China. Well, that's where we are going." Her voice almost sounded cheerful. Izumi wanted to thank her mother for at least trying. "The government says it will be safer there; they have worked out a deal with the Chinese Federation."

There was nothing reassuring about what her mother said. Britannia might have been launching their invasion from the east, but if Japan was already sending its citizens to a foreign country, it meant nothing but the inevitability of Britannian forces pushing beyond the coastline. What then? Britannian destruction would bring down ruin upon all of Japan. Civilians caught in the warzone would not be able to rely upon international laws to protect them. Wasn't it said of Britannian soldiers that the more noncombatants they killed, the more they were rewarded.

There was nothing she could do but hope that in those two months the Japanese government had actually been talking with the Chinese Federation. For all her economic power, Japan could not stand alone against the military might of the Holy Britannian Empire.

Izumi suddenly needed to breathe; she wanted to be outside, for that was now the only freedom she had. Opening the door, she pretended not to hear her mother's protests. The day was beautiful. The sky was cloudless and the breeze warm. She almost wished that it was overcast and drizzly. But then again, she didn't.

She decided that the ocean of cars was nothing short of a maze, and immediately started her twisting journey through it, without a destination in mind. Her mother was already running after her, calling for her to stop. But Izumi didn't stop. She felt like a child again. She dodged this person, jumped over this car, then squeezed between those two. The game exhilarated her, purging all the worries from her mind. She even heard her mother laughing, as she tried to still be angry.

Then it came with a sound so piercingly loud that it destroyed all other noise. There was a numbing pain along the left side of Izumi's body, then the next moment she was lifting her face from the dirt. She looked up just in time to see the second missile flash past. It should have struck, but there was no sound. There were no screams of pain or horror, no cries for help. The world was quiet.

Izumi struggled to her feet. She turned her gaze to the sea. Instantly it consumed her view, forcing her to concentrate all her attention on it. In those few moments, her world contained nothing but that enormous Britannian warship, so close she felt as though she could reach out and touch it.

Then it unleashed its might. The angry hiss of machinery as a thousand missiles were launched. She felt the ground tremble as they struck, the air crackle as it burned, and this time she heard her people so clearly that their pain was her pain, their wailing and sobbing was hers as well.

She started to run back; her parents the only thing in her mind. However, before her was not the maze of cars of moments earlier, but rather a scene of twisted burning metal, forming mountains and valleys where the missiles had struck. In spite of everything, Izumi only thought about forcing her way through it, no matter what stood in her way, but as her hands touched the metal, the blistering pain sent her recoiling backward, her skin already scarred.

She looked back in anger, able to do nothing but release all her frustrations and griefs upon that ship, but even that was denied her; as she turned, it was already leaving, slipping back, becoming smaller and distant. Its indifference felt like a final wound inflicted. It did not care about her life, whether she lived or died. It was a god of death and they were but ants that had somehow managed to attract its attention for the briefest of moments. But in their world, those few moments would extend into lifetimes.

Izumi sunk down onto her knees. Despair had sapped all the impetus from her body; just moving felt like a task unachievable. She just wanted to stay there, hoping that this terrible dream would end and she could wake up again in her comfortable bed, so she could go down stairs and meet her parents in the kitchen, say those brief farewells before she headed to school for the day. She knew her friends must be waiting for her; they would start worrying if she didn't come soon. Oh why can't this dream just end.

But the world of devastation around her persisted, long painful moment after moment. The smell of burning filled her nostrils. Gentle, distant sobbing was the only thing that carried across the eternal silence. Her hand still stung, her whole body ached. She knew this was no dream. She knew she would never wake up to a better world. Finally, she collapsed, not wanting to wake up ever again.

Izumi did wake, but for a long time she didn't open her eyes, hoping that those strange voices in foreign languages would disappear, replaced by the call of birds that sung every morning outside her window, that the sound of medical instruments would become the sound of her mother cooking downstairs. Opening her eyes would surely make that impossible; she was prepared to wait an eternity to return home.

"Are you awake?" came a voice in Japanese, though with a heavy accent.

Izumi almost opened her eyes. She struggled to get the words out over her dry lips, wanting and not wanting to know the answer to her question. "Where are my parents?"

The person's reply was not immediate, which only set Izumi's fears deeper inside of her. Then she said. "Can you please tell me your name?" Her Japanese was broken and awkward, but Izumi understood.

"I am Shibata Izumi."

Again, the reply took too long. But this time, it seemed that the woman—or perhaps still but a girl—was in the middle of turning through papers. "Your mother is alive. Your father has not been found."

Instantly, Izumi's eyes were wide open. It was a girl, truly only a handful of years older than Izumi. There was a Japanese look about her, with gentle brown skin, a roundish face with small eyes and lips, but at the same time her hair was light brown, almost blonde, and she was tall, a bit lanky.

With a warm smile, she reached out her hand, offering it for Izumi to take. She did. She allowed herself to be led across the campsite. Somehow she didn't notice the bustling of activities as European doctors transported patients and their medical supplies, somehow didn't hear the sobbing of those left behind, bundled into groups, with nothing to occupy them but their sorrow, and most of all, her eyes never flickered over to the long rows of motionless bodies, arranged unevenly, covered hastily by white sheets, for all of this was secondary to the hope that sustained Izumi, that everything could still be okay.

However, when her eyes fell upon her mother, inside another medical tent, she knew that everything would not be okay. Her mother was dying. She had been wrapped up, so Izumi could not see her wounds, but in her eyes, it was clear that she only hung onto life by the thinnest of threads. Izumi ran to her.

She collapsed beside her mother, tears taking the place of the words she wanted to saw. Her mother stirred from a light sleep, recognizing her daughter's sobs immediately. She managed to reach out a hand and touch Izumi's face. She looked into her daughter's eyes.

"I am sorry," her mother moved her lips, but barely made a sound. "I am so happy to see you are alright."

Izumi cried and cried. She wanted to go back to her bed, to return to the delusion that this was only a dream, that she could still wake up in her family home, with her parents there; the invasion still only a thing of her nightmares. Her mother cried too, for what words she could say to reassure her daughter; the war had only begun, and the Chinese Federation had not come to their aid.

That night, she died. Izumi hadn't left her bedside. Sometimes the girl—who she had learned was called Katherine—had visited her; now she was by Izumi's side, a warm embrace as she cried. By now Izumi had be told that her father had been found among the dead. All she had left in the entire world was this stranger, with whom she could barely communicate, but whose compassion was the only thing keeping Izumi going.

With the morning, Izumi was to be placed with the other survivors. Someone who spoke her language could have told her a thousand meaningless words of reassurance, but Katherine did not have such a vocabulary; instead, with a final embrace, she said. "I will not forget about you."

"You forgot about me," exclaimed Izumi, louder than she had intended, as the two of them sat at a sushi bar in London.

"I..." Katherine fumbled over her words, as embarrassment coloured her face. "I mean... it was a very stressful time. Everything that happened then is now only a blur."

"I forgive you," Izumi said, with a warm smile. "After all, it was what you said to me then that has kept me going since. I just needed to believe that I wasn't alone, that my life still meant something to somebody."

"I wish I could have done more. Us volunteers tried to stay as long as we could, but the EU wasn't prepared to get caught up in a war in Asia. I was so angry that they had no qualms about leaving the survivors like that, with nothing as they country collapsed around them," Katherine said, with the anger of five years ago returning to her cheeks.

"It was enough, truly. You couldn't have saved us from Britannia, but you did give us hope that there were still people out there who cared about our plight. It was a European people smuggler who ended up helping me escape from Area 11 and making it here. I would never have trusted a foreigner, if not for you. I would have never survived that first year after the war, when Britannia worked us like dogs to reconstruct what they had destroyed. Now somehow that journey has taken me here. It certainly isn't over, but I feel at least that the worst is behind me, that finally I can start looking forward and dreaming again of something better."

"You can make it through these years of service," said Katherine, hopefully.

"I have been through too much to give up now. Whatever Akito has planned for us Japanese, I will survive it. No matter what, I will reclaim the life that I lost to Britannia. Whether it is here or Japan, I don't care anymore; I just want my life to no longer be defined by that war. Surely that isn't asking too much?"

"One day this will all over. When that day comes, maybe... we can start a life together." Katherine lifted her gaze to meet Izumi's eyes. "I think I can be the one to give you a normal life."

(new scene)

Chen Wumai in the flesh was not the wicked mastermind that Mura had expected and wanted him to be. He appeared awfully regular. Now in his late fifties, he suffered from a bloated belly and receding hairline. In the hot climate of Yuenan (old Vietnam), he dressed causally in shorts and a t-shirt. He laughed and talked loudly, in a crowd becoming just another local. Even his three bodyguards were in plainclothes and gave the impression that they were no more than friends or colleagues. It would have been impossible to suspect that Chen used to be one of the most powerful people in Beijing.

However, even as Mura doubted the veracity of the information that they had been given, she caught the intensity in his eyes as he scanned the lengths of the restaurant and noted every movement of every customer, including his companions. She saw that he didn't sport an expansive branded watch, which could only draw unwanted attention, but as he drew a new cigarette, Mura recognized the pack's design; she knew it to be the one popular among the Beijing elite. This man was indeed Chen Wumai and tonight he would die.

"Let's give that bastard what he deserves," said Mura to her team. They all knew what her words meant; it was time.

They pulled the masks down over their faces. It was late evening and there was nothing immediately obvious about their black attire as they marched towards the restaurant. They made it all the way to the entrance doors before someone noticed the metal in their hands. But the doors were already being slammed shut.

Chen's bodyguards were half out of their chairs when guns sounded and then there were holes in their chests starting to turn their shirts red. Mura had no idea it would be this easy. She marched in a straight line towards Chen Wumai. He had the stillness of a man who didn't have any plan, but no panic showed on his face. He at least wouldn't allow himself to die sitting down. He started to rise to meet Mura. She stopped, with her arm outstretched and the pistol pointed at his head.

She stared into those predator eyes of his as she spoke the words that she had practiced as much as she had practiced taking the final shot. Now, she could only hope that the Chinese customers of the restaurant were too startled to pay much attention her imperfect pronunciation. "Chen Wumai." His name alone sent ripples of interest through the people, who had just moments earlier been only concerned with their own lives. "We are the Five Dragon Gang." A Chinese terrorist group that loathed the Chinese Federation for its inability—or as they perceived it, unwillingness—to correct decades of decline. It would surprise no one that they had a hand in the assassination of a disgraced defence minister.

She had intentionally said as little as possible, but it wasn't little enough, for she could see in Chen's eyes a flicker of realization, that Mura and her people were not Chinese, and if they were not Chinese, he was beginning to think about their true identity. But it wouldn't matter, Mura would pull the trigger, and the other customers of the restaurant would report the incident as planned, and no one would ever suspect the Japanese, and the Chinese Federation would have no cause to punish them.

Chen began to open his mouth, but she was never going to allow him to speak. The bullet sunk into his skull. He toppled back, collapsing into his table. For a moment, no one moved. Mura didn't move. Then, slowly, she stepped back, almost as though to examine the lifeless body of Chen Wumai in front of her, overweight and visibly aged, even more underwhelming in death. The realization struck her then, that she and those she had recruited for this mission had trained for months, spent months to acquire their weapons, and spent precious money to acquire the information of his whereabouts, and yet, in the end, it had been so easy.

Mura nodded to her team and they started to disappear. They would separate, scattering into the bustling streets of Henei (old Hanoi). Later that night, the plan was to regroup for a celebration, to toast their own heroism in restoring justice. However, Mura lingered. She was telling herself that she had to leave, that the police would have likely already been alerted.

Without trying to understand her actions, Mura torn the mask from her face. It wasn't just the feeling of being able to breathe again that exhilarated her.

"I am Japanese," Mura declared in Vietnamese, a language that she had picked up more willingly and easily than Chinese. "This is for justice. This is for Japan." And she fired her pistol again. This time the thud of the bullet into Chen's flesh was sickeningly satisfying.

A Vietnamese customer rose to his full height, trying to stand tall and proud. His eyes burned. But Mura did not fear him. She knew that that fire was not directed at her.

"For justice. For Vietnam," he cried, as he launched himself at the nearest Chinese customer. He didn't have a weapon, but he thought his fists would suffice.

Even though a few of Mura's team still remained with their guns, the Chinese customers no longer cared about the hostage situation, as more Vietnamese picked up the cry for justice. Chen's two companions were Chinese and they were beginning to look very nervous, but Mura blocked their exit.

She didn't know whether these men had betrayed the Japanese people as Chen Wumai had done. But a righteous hatred was welling in up inside of her and it felt good. Mura raised her gun again.

Within two hours, half the city of Henei was rioting. It was a simple task for the rioters to locate Chinese businesses with their bold Chinese characters; they looted without restraint. However, for many, this wasn't enough. Some formed gangs that marched from street to street, demanding the ethnicity of anybody in their path; few Chinese escaped their clubs.

The Federation military was mobilizing. But it was a slow machine. Often, when the sun set, its soldiers would leave their camp, to eat, drink and fuck their night away in the city. The sirens were blaring throughout the city, but drunken soldiers were of little use against the highly motivated rioters.

Mura watched all of this unfold with great satisfaction from a rooftop bar. She was indeed in the mood to celebrate with her fellows, though not all of them were present. Some were not pleased with Mura. The plan had been to direct responsibility for the assassination to the Five Dragon Gang, not the Japanese people. They told her that she had made a terrible mistake. But Mura was too high on destruction to consider the ramifications. She had hated the Chinese Federation since the moment they had turned their back on Japan and watched on as Britannia planted its flag in her country.

By the morning, the military had suppressed the riot. Only a few rioters had actually been arrested, instead the military had opted for beating each rioter to a bloody mess on the spot and leaving them there for everyone to see. As Mura crept through the streets, their broken bodies were still there; some had dragged themselves to a sidewalk, others lay in the middle of the road, probably dead.

She told herself that this was not her doing, but she had enjoyed it before it turned bad, and that only made the feeling of guilt worse. She knew what a military, not matter how poorly trained, could do to a civilian population, after all she had seen these very same scenes in Japan. But that didn't make it any easier.

It wasn't evening before Japanese people started disappearing. Not anyone Mura knew, but it felt like they were. She imagined those who had faced great risk to escape Area 11, some even leaving behind family members, if only for the chance to not live under Britannia's merciless rule, and even though they didn't find any kind of home waiting for them in the Chinese Federation, they nonetheless strived to make a new life here. Had she just torn all that apart?

Then there was a knock on her door. The soldiers outside demanded that the door be opened in curt Chinese. Mura rose from her bed slowly. She took one soundless step after another towards the door. The knocks came again. The end felt inevitable, but in its inevitability, Mura allowed herself to accept it. She would turn herself in, tell them that she was Chen Wumai's murderer, perhaps then the disappearances would stop. She had wanted to fight for Japan, at least she would die for her people.

"But they didn't knock a third time," said Mura, slowly. "They just moved onto the next apartment. There must have been lights on inside, because I heard them smash down the door and take somebody." Mura drifted off, as though recounting a dream but had forgotten what came next.

"You never turned yourself over to them," said Akito, sitting on the bed, not facing Mura. "They never found the woman that had been described as shooting Chen Wumai dead, and so in the end, the Chinese Federation used it as a pretext to exile all Japanese."

"Yes," the word barely passed Mura's lips. She had closed her eyes.

"Why tell me this?" questioned Akito, now getting to his feet. "This knowledge could bring you to ruin. No Japanese would ever speak to you again. I am sure there would be those who would see taking your life as some kind of justice."

"My fate is in your hands, Akito," she said, with a faint smile, eyes still closed.

"I don't deserve your trust. Not yet." He looked at her now. She was still naked, her body only half covered by the sheets. Akito had never been with a woman before, but he found it hard to imagine that any could be more beautiful.

She sat up. She opened her eyes. Those deep emerald eyes held Akito's gaze. "It is my fate to die for my country."

"You don't actually believe in destiny, do you?"

"We will all die one day. I refuse to allow my death to count for nothing. Now I have entrusted my life to you. What will you do with it?"

"You want to know what I plan?"

"I do," said Mura, very seriously. "My own plan to kill Chen Wumai was nothing but self-righteousness, even though it was based on the delusion that I was serving Japan. I need to know that you are more than a hot-headed soldier intent on revenge."

Akito almost laughed. "I plan to do what no one else can. I plan to defeat Britannia and retake Japan."