Dear You, Dedushka
A/N: Hey guys, this has been a long journey, I finally made it, nine long years of personal problems, writer's block, and annoying obligations. Sorry to cut this chapter short and relocate the epilogue elsewhere because I had to control the content creep. But I can finally give this closure. Halloween looms at the end of the month and CoD: Black Ops: Cold War is released in November. I hope the story promises to be a riveting Treyarch experience as everything after Black Ops 2 was garbage and that Modern Warfare reboot is watered-down booze for the masses. still, I reserve some doubts as what it could deliver, seeing the direction CoD had taken over the years. And I had no idea that Higurashi has season 3, a reboot to be specific. With its very cyclic storyline and the world during 2020, I say it's rather timely and from everyone is saying it's really good.
Disclaimer: Higurashi no Naku Koro ni is property of 07th Expansion. No copyright infringement intended. Call of Duty: Black Ops is property of Treyarch published by Activision. A fan work, no copywrite infringement intended.
Republic of Hinamizawa
December 14, 1989 - Heisei 1
Hinamizawa seemed stark and grey in the middle of winter. The ground and trees were bare of their greenery. There were patches of snow already on the ground like splotches of white paint. The few people outside were bundled in winter clothing. One of them, was a woman arriving home. Her head and neck were draped with a beautiful blue scarf*, which complemented her red hair.
"Rena, good to see you!" a woman greeted Rena Ryuugu as put away her basket.
"It's good to see you too, Mrs. Orimura," she replied, bowing slightly as the packages in her arms allow.
"You seem to have a lot of cakes from Angel Mort," she noticed, "what's the occasion?"
"I just got off from college for a small break. These cakes are on sale so I bought some to bring him."
"You're right on time. Your father and grandfather are with Maebara right now. You can leave him some."
"Oh, lovely!" she chimed.
Before she had arrived from the train station game was already half-way grinding down to a close.
"Can't believe that this year was a wild ride," Mr. Maebara commented, "The emperor died, the Soviets leaving Afghanistan, that American oil tanker spilling off the coast of Alaska, George H.W. Bush and Boris Yeltsin are elected, Rain Man won Best Picture, a tornado tore through Bangladesh, Noriega in Panama having problems holding on to power. Some of the weirdest things I heard is how Ayatollah Khomenei got pissed over a book, declared the author a heretic, even issued a three-million dollar bounty on his head, broke relations with the British because he was a citizen, the Ayalloah died. His funeral had to be cancelled because of hysterical mourners." Everyone laughed at the hilarity of a state funeral being disrupted by crazed mobs mourning their leader.*
"Salman Rushdie's Satanic Verses," Rena's father noted, "is a reference to pre-Islamic Arabian religion, it also contained an unflattering caricature of Khomenei. Rena told me about it after mid-terms. Let's not forget the Noboru Takeshita was caught with his pants down over taking cash gifts from Recruit, LLC. The LDP lost its Diet majority for the first time in many years because of it."*
"Everything about it pales in comparison to one thing," Reznov commented.
"Glasnost? Perestroika?" Maebara asked. "Tiananmen Square?"
The Russian smiled heartily. "The fall of the Berlin Wall. No matter how hard Moscow and its communist princelings pressed the people they lord over and enslave with the heel of their jackboots, they will never stop them from hungering for freedom, thirsting for a new day, be it in Poland, Hungary, Czechoslovakia, or Russia. And those like Gorbachev try to control the pace of change as one would control the water from a dam, but the dam had held that water for so long that; the cracks that were ignored had grown wider until the walls could no longer hold, it's ready to burst with the spring winds thawing away the winter snows. Now the dam broke and it washed over the Eastern Bloc from Vladivostok to Berlin. Communism is finished, and with it the promise of 1917." There was a gleam in his eyes as he placed his winning cards on the table, which caused the two other men to mock wails in defeat.
"Good thing we weren't playing for cash," Mr. Ryuugu observed.
Reznov chuckled. "Indeed, we didn't. Enough about politics and world affairs," he said, "how are all of you this winter?"
Mr. Ryuugu smiled. "The fashion show yesterday was a success," he said in delight, "my winter collection was a smash hit!"
"You got the idea from Reznov's casual waistcoat look," Maebara ribbed, "you cheeky bugger, you." Everyone giggled at that. "As for me, I still have to handle the art exhibit next week. Whole place will be crawling with who's who of Japan's art scene and some known names outside."
"Art, as an expression of the human soul, is never meant to be easy," the Russian noted, "a man like yourself should not compromise your vision just to please some plods with pens."
"When you raise the bar for yourself, everyone wants to see where you go with your work next, including the plods with pens," Maebara noted, "I've done some great work there at Gifu City, happy to oblige."
"'Great'? You were the toast of the crowd for your work at Gifu City during its centennial anniversary, Maebara!" Reznov cried in joy. "That was by far your biggest work yet."
"Hey, it was a team effort with my colleagues," he said modestly. "Of course, it's why the pen-pushing plod critics want to see what I'll pull off next."
The door opened and in came Rena. "Dad, Grandpa, I'm home!" she announced, still holding up her packages. "I still see you're playing."
"We just finished the game, Rena," her father, "Reznov won this one."
"What's with all the cakes, my dear?" the Russian asked, amazed at the cakes she brought him.
"Angel Mort had a sale, twenty-five percent off. It's almost crazy crowded over there."
The Russian was mildly alarmed but amused. The Angel Mort cafe and bakery at the town of Okonomiya was known for its provocatively-dressed waitresses as well as its goods. Reznov was scandalized at first learning of that... capitalism was his first thought. He got better, he just wished a little more dignity was considered. It sells cakes and lunches, not cigarettes, for the love of God.
Those thoughts aside, he felt a twinge of nostalgia at seeing Rena the blue scarf which was part of her father's winter collection. She was a spitting image of her grandmother Raisa. His little bird has finally grown up, already soaring high, pursuing her career as a publishing house's translator, with bigger dreams as her gifts would take her further. If only she can see her, he thought, bittersweet this sight was.
Maebara left to take his share of the cakes, giving the Ryuugus springy goodbye, the entire household sat around and began sharing the course of their day over bolo del rei and apple babka, the latter a contribution from Raisa's diaries. Moments like this were trasured by all, for the company they keep was pleasant indeed. Special occassions like birthdays and the festival preparations been held here, as elsewhere if the birthday wasn't of the household's like the Maebaras and Sonozakis. They were like soft candlelight from chandeliers warming their souls with their glow. That feeling would persist into the end of his days.
It felt like centuries had passed since he settled in the village and reunite with what's left of his family. Getting used to the new mundanity was initially something of a challenge. Having survived, even thrived, in danger during much of his life including his years of wandering left vestiges of habit that had been initially hard to shake off.
There was no inherent danger surrounding him but he was careful not to lull himself into complacency. Old instincts die hard as in some of his quiet moments he would see a shadow among the trees that wasn't there or act tense seeing someone in the distance. Sometimes he woke up late night, screaming of dreams, the ghosts of his past, or the spectres of his anxieties, causing a lot of worry for his newfound family.
Getting used to the rythm of the village was no easier as he had to get to know the neighbors, know the norms and customs though he found a few tricky ones pulling his leg. He was initially an object of curiosity but over time he was able to fit in, wowing them with his prowess as a storyteller and his intellectual wit. Of course, the transition was eased by his family and by the Games Club. But the Russian would be more than just a new resident of the village for the boons he would bring were great.
In the later half of 1984 Hinamizawa underwent a dramatic change. Reznov used the pension paid to him by Washington for his role in averting the 1968 Nova-Six crisis to purchase the nearby scrapyard and relocate Rena's van back to their home. He then began selling the scrap. He also helped hasten Oryo Sonozaki's plan to introduce new residents to the village. There was no real estate boom for the village, it was invitation only and offers accepted. Among the influx of new people were traditional metal workers who began to make use of the scrap still left in it. This was followed by honeybee keepers and then traditional more artisans of specializing in crafts like silk, woodcarving, porcelain potters, gardeners, etc.
Also, the villagers were encouraged to plant vegetables and fruits in small gardens, imitating the dacha and village tradition of backyard growing from Russia. This allowed them a steadier supply of produce to be sold and more to be had during the winter, using pickling recipes described in his wife's notebooks to make up with the surplus. Going with this was the introduction of poultry-rearing, especially ducks, and soon live ducks, dressed ducks, duck eggs, duck confit, homemade duck liver spread began to appear at Okonimiya markets.
At the beginning of 1985 he bought the lands of what used to be the neighboring Yagouchi hamlet to provide more living space for new inhabitants, followed by the forestry department's station and its land, allowing the schoolhouse to be expanded and built to accommodate the needs of the village children. The village itself assumed much of the forestry department's responsibilities of managing the woods around its vicinity. The foresters were also Sonozaki men, patrolling the woods to enforce the 1983 detente between Hinamizawa and the central government at Tokyo.
The elder Maebara suggested establishing an art colony in the village, which was granted and it started with half a dozen former college roommmates who were his mates in art class. They would be known as the Rustic Circle and much of their work took inspiration from the Gifu landscape and culture. They do commissions but also their own passion projects. Their works would gain them some regional recognition.
The Watanagashi Festival of '85 opened to unexpectedly large crowds, who come to see the new festival. The crowds almost doubling and tripling, all wanting to see this unique village. This would be a trend in the coming years, so much that a lot of early summer meetings in the village council would about handling the tourist tide.
Soon word of the self-reliant backwoods village that could and its excellent wares reaching as far as the prefectural capital had spread and a Gifu newspaper called the burgeoning, revitalized village the Republic of Hinamizawa. The micronation movement*, that was based mainly in the country's northern regions, invited Hinamizawa to their ranks, which was politely declined though it accepted honorary "observer" status. Yet, the village created its own orbit, increasing its influence around its vicinity.
Not everyone shared the same sentiment regarding the village's success. Some of them had come from the bad old postwar days, people Oryo had worked with who felt that she owed them a part of the action more than what had been agreed. There were those who held the village responsible for the whole prefecture missing the train on Japan's economic boom, a legacy of the "Dam War", the civil, largely nonviolent (barring the killings) conflict that had Hinamizawa and other neighboring villages embroiled with the Gifu prefectural, and later, the central government, which would have had them flooded. Then there were those in league with the Dammers, but they regard the village and its people in an ugly light, held their customs with disgusts, and thought their right to continue their existence was contemptible.
And they tried to grind the village back in its place, which in extreme cases meant the end of its existence. Damages to Hinamizawan goods occurred under questionable circumstances, people from Hinamizawa had been harassed by being denied services, the village was flooded with lawsuits over alleged real estate fraud with the influx of new people coming over, and newspapers paint Hinamizawa as a seat of criminal power, making hay out of Oryo Sonozaki's ties with organized crime during the postwar years and in connection with the Dam War and mysterious murders.
The village, and especially with Reznov, its latest addition, did not take kindly to this hostility and did not like where its going, especially what this entailed for Rena. Those who decided to express their distaste for Hinamizawans physically found themselves in hospitals bruised up with broken jaws and swollen limbs. Businesses who refused or made difficult any enterprise with the Hinamizawans seem to be facing financial trouble out of left field; and business that didn't had a generous increase in commerce. The newspapers that detracted the village saw a dip in their subscriptions and increased criticism for their coverage over the matter and the lawsuits were filed on libel and breach of journalistic ethical conduct.
The village's successful counter-offensive was made possible via the Sonozakis, through Oryo and her underworld ties which included those furthered by her daughter though the union was not approved by Oryo, thus their relationship was tenuous at best. And Reznov, who can call in favors from the CIA through any of the four men who are his friends. It was through them that they destroyed the bigots who threatened the village's existence, rendering them ineffectual as a political force. Their fortunes went down the drain so fast until they were rendered into laughable irrelevance in a mere matter of months.
The CIA was able to suppress the more inquisitive, more persistent tabloid journalists who were interested in the wheelchair-bound man who took up residence in the village prior to the Republic's rise and may have had a hand in its prominence. The journalists were quietly persuaded to drop the story, often by Hudson himself if they want to keep their careers, who helped them steer their attention to more interesting topics to sweeten the deal. All but one took the hint, the outlier found himself sacked and writing fluff pieces for a daily farther south.
Reznov's efforts to revitalize the village had made the Ryuugu household the de-facto fourth Great House in the village. The Russian was often called to the council on a number of occasions, especially in regards to business matters. Reznov may not have been educated on the free economics of the West and though he shed much of his communist core leanings, he was still regarded capitalism warily and much of his advise was on the village's social as well as economic well-being. Those kulaks were right, he had thought during one night as struggled grasping the economic prosperity of the free-world with his beliefs, the land was better off when people truly own their land, not the clumsy, brutal collectivization started by Stalin and continued by his successors. The village's commerce was run cooperatively, everyone had a stake in it, so everyone's interests was considered carefully.
But his achievements were pale in comparison to his time with Rena. Secluded from the larger world and his demons finally laid to rest, she was the center of his days in the village. Picnics and outdoor teas under the summer sun, storytelling and board games during the fall rains, mainly very restful sleep for him at night. The nightmares were occurring less and less, instead they featured fonder memories, before that horrid war, before Stalingrad, of his days with Dmitri, and with Raisa, especially of dreams what life would've been if he had not taken this orders, declined and took the train home.
She helped in brush up on his Japanese and his understanding of the country at large, which he came to appreciate as he had with the village. In turn she helped arouse an interest in Russia in her. He would tell her stories of the old country from its tumultuous days emerging from the Revolution and the civil war up to the dawn of the Great Patriotic War. He seemed less interested in telling his old war stories, except maybe to Keiichi was wide-eyed interested. When he did, it's always either anything with Raisa or with his comrade Dimitri Petrenko, those ones were dear to his heart while the Stalingrad ones were a sobering reminder of war's inherent destructiveness. He was sometime guest at the Maebara household and introduce the elder Maebara the taste of fine Russia vodka and strong Russian tea and in turn have a taste of Japanese sake and and the harder-hitting shōchū, a liquor that has less punch than vodka but quite subtle in its intent to intoxicate, which the old Russian found out the hard way where in the mirth of the bottle he wheeled himself to the river thinking himself one of Mikhail Lermontov's heroes* riding across the Caucasus, much the horror of the Maebaras, who chased and then fished him out of the water, with profuse apologies to the Ryuugus. Reznov stuck to sake and vodka since then.
The quiet moments he spent with the painter would evolve to one of patronage as Reznov would have him commission a series of portraits, whose subjects were taken from the journals and diaries in his possession, among the most notable were about Dimitri Petrenko, which was close to his heart.
Under her grandfather's tutelage, Rena learned Russian to better understand the diaries, journals, and books that she inherited. This opened a whole new set of doors for Rena as she delved into the history and culture of her dedushka's country. She spent as much time pouring over everything she could get her hands on and her friends with it. Some of fascinating facts included that Russians sometimes do eat noodles and rice, the former sometimes made at home and the latter often used as stuffing for dumplings called pierogi, which she had come to enjoy making. But besides the culinary and housekeeping knowledge she unlocked, it was her grandmother's diaries she was absorbed the most. This woman whom her likeness has taken fascinated her and thus spurred the fire of learning within, the urge to see answers.
The countless hours spent with Reznov had made her curious about the country of his ancestry. This was what inspired her to take a linguistic course in college. By then she had majored in European languages. Her degree landed her the job at the publishing house, translating documents and books coming in from the Soviet Union to Japan. During her spare time she took it on to herself to translate the diaries from Russian to Japanese, with commentary on the linguistic differences between the two languages and their respective cultures. Her interest compelled her to research and open doors into other subjects.
Rena may be onto something, perhaps a magnum opus? Too early to tell. Reznov could not help but be proud and be happy of the way everything turned out. Kept the world from the brink twice, sorting out the remains of his shattered life and making it whole again with his granddaughter, finding definite peace in the most unexpected place in the world, partaking life in this quite corner of the earth and helping it on its feet.
"What was grandma like?" she had asked one day at the Overlook in 1987. They were having a picnic during that summer with friends, enjoying the breeze and fresh summer scent. Her friends were with them, and at the moment they were preparing a game they invented, leaving grandfather and granddaughter to their own devices.
Reznov breathed the memories returned. "She... was one of a kind... she was a wonderful woman."
Her grandmother had been a fascinating character. Her journals and diaries revealed much insight to her life in Russia. In life she was pretty much like herself, who loved life, who enjoyed its simple pleasures. She also endured its cyclic melancholies, the falls and winters of the soul, as a young girl during the 20s and 30s when the country underwent rapid modernization though some things never seem to change like the log cabin she lived, the winter chores, the woods at the edge of the village. And she was a deeply-intelligent, deeply-sensitive soul, the flower of the peasant stock whose cause that, along with the worker, the Union ostensibly championed. She did well in school, which earned her scholarships for university education, and off to Stalingrad she went where she met Reznov.
She saw in Viktor Reznov a kindred soul beneath the boisterous wildman he sometimes presented himself as. She realized how much she liked Keiichi in spite of his own wild antics. Mustered as part of the militia, she served in Stalingrad with distinction as a radio operator but in the vicious, brutal battle no quarter was given so she never ventured unarmed, narrowly avoiding many close calls the combat entailed. Also, the attrition put stress on her unit, often making her pull double duty as medic and nurse. That earned her a decoration for committing to her duties. After the fighting her unit was demobilized and she worked in a factory to fill in for the battered Soviet economy's labor shortage, then she returned home to the Urals to be with her own parents and raise her daughter there while waiting for her beloved to return.
He never did.
Tears seem to glisten from both of them as they reach the part were she recieved the fatal letter that told them he met his death in an accident on the way home.
Then she learned the truth through an old friend that Reznov met his death at the Arctic, along with Dmitri. That shocking news, contrary to the official letter that was sent to hear, had left her distraught and shaken, putting her in what she described as a listless "trance" for days, thinking about why her husband died in the Arctic, why did the official letter said they died in a train accident at Smolensk. She had entertained thoughts, thoughts deemed treasonous when she considered Viktor's enmity with the general Nikita Dragovich. By the end of September, she could not deny those hunches any longer, dangerous as they may be, and sent her to plan and then carry out her harrowing escape.
It took immense courage and cleverness on her part to organize and conduct the exodus, which included her entire family - her parents, her own grandparents, her brother, and uncle. Her experience in the war helped her, especially during the brief times of clerical duty in Stalingrad that enabled her to understand administrative functions, allowing her to forge papers, find shortcuts, and witness the rot that existed within the Soviet system, adding urgency to her planning; and her status as a war veteran who, after the war, were a close-knit bunch, able to call in favors to prepare for the arduous trek. The choice of an eastern passage was a gamble on her part, her diary revealed, which meant sneaking their way through the heart of the Soviet Union, its rationale being that going west to Europe was a road full of pitfalls set up by the KGB and the security services of the Warsaw Pact nations, even in western Europe was the danger of Soviet infiltration, no defector or emigre was completely safe. On the other hand, after breaking through Siberia, was Japan, with an American military base, and through it, the United States and freedom, a place safe enough to raise a daughter, to raise a family.
What happened was a terrible, tragic, and bittersweet end.
"She was brave...," she noted, her voice filled with sadness.
"She is... and you take so much after her," Reznov added, his voice sharing the same feeling.
"She is a hero, and so are you and Dmitri," she added.
"She and Dmitri, and Chernov are heroes... but I was not... have I told you about Vorkuta?"
Rena remembered. She had not expected to hear from him of the cruel, horrid life he had survived in Vorkuta. Thrown in jail, his crime being to deny his enemy the terrible power of Nova-Six, eighteen years of hell in northwestern Russia, eighteen years that pushed him to think of revenge. "Traitors are never forgiven, Rena," he added.
"You did nothing wrong," she said, "how can they say such a thing? Surely, they should know the truth of what happened."
"I know... but can my country forgive me for my part in it?" Russia was, and for the most part still is, a bittersweet place to be. He knew he would be a traitor to the nation he held nothing but love in his heart, whom he, Dimitri, and Chernov bled to save her; but for corrupt men like Dragovich and the Party held sway, destroying the land and breaking the people, using them to break the world. How many heroes have died for their Rodina, only to be used and cast out by the men who ruled her? "I had to leave her to save her, join forces with people who we were told were our enemies... People who I found out where no less devote patriots as I."
"Misters Mason, Woods, Hudson, and Weaver," she recalled.
"Yes, especially, Mason." He smiled as his eyes glint, recalling his memories of the American. "He reminds me so much of Dmitri. He would've been his long-lost brother." Their time spent together in Vorkuta, the worst of times, was the best of times. Having outgrown the initial suspicion of his nationality, the two have effectively became brothers just as he had with Dmitri. He also recalled with shame how he used his friendship to gain his revenge on his enemies Dragovich, Kravechenko, and Steiner. He sighed. "I had been a terrible friend to him during his troubles and on our last day in that hell."
"But he forgave you, right?" By now Rena had become privy to the full story of that day, the day when the world was entwined by the cruel poison of Nova-6 whose tendrils dragged good men to their deaths, nearly brought the world to the flame, just for ambition of evil men, which ended in the day when they prevailed over the mad man.
He nodded. "Yes, he did."
"I think my grandmother would forgive you too, you did what you had to do. Like she did what she to do."
Reznov was struck by the revelation of Rena's words. A small portion of him had been gnawed for years at having used the American as his proxy, his swift and terrible sword, his avenging angel, to redress Dmitri's ignoble betrayal and death. He knew Mason had forgiven him for that but the guilt of having used him still remained. He realized he would never had done that had his wife been still alive, nor we would he confess it to her if he did.
"She might be upset about what you did," she added, "maybe even scold you. If she knew he lived in spite of all that, she'd forgive you and understand why you've done it."
He nodded in agreement. "She most certainly would... Thank you, my little snow maiden," he said with a breathe of joy, bring his lips to her head with a peck.
"And what of Dmitri?" she asked, always remembering how fondly he remembered him as his best friend.
"I've thought of a way. I had Keiichi's father, the brilliant artist Maebara to help."
"The paintings?"
"Yes. The paintings." He referred to the set of stored cancases in their house. The Dmitri sub-series of paintings chronicled the man's life between what he shared with Reznov before Stalingrad up to his untimely, heart-wrenching death in the Arctic Circle. Those paintings were kept close to the Ryuugus, not to be seen until the time is right. "We will let those pictures speak the truth."
"Rena!" Keiichi called out. "We're ready! Game on!"
She called back happily, "Coming, Keiichi!" She turned to Reznov. "We've got a new game to try, Grandpa. It's Emerald Grasshopper."
"Ah! Your friends really outdid yourselves. Go on, my snowmaiden!" he encouraged heartily. "Your friends await."
With that Rena dashed across the summer grass on bare feet joining her giggling and shouting friends. Reznov watched them play and gambol around with their invented game. He laid back on the grass to look at the clear blue sky. He took a deep breath and exhaled. He looked at the clouds and smiled. He thought he saw a familiar face, then another. In the sun's light, he fancied them smiling back.
A/N: I had a discussion with a friend over the state of fanfiction in FFN, it is sad that not everyone would write fics that they want to write, things they feel passion for, but write stuff that people want to read, good, well-written, well-researched fics are toppled by steaming tripe that's even lower than the lowest-common denominator of mainstream media, and that doesn't even try to be really interesting or stand out, just regurgitated, sub-par, and formulaic rubbish. Admittedly, this is a place where one unleashes their imagination and by the principles of the free market, should have something for everyone. I just wish that some people would give some love to good stories and good authors, and share tips. It's how met some of the best people in this archive. Most of them have left now, and at least three that I know of have passed away, one who I chatted with years ago, learning of his death back in 2016 was saddening. Don't let your gifts and your friend and loved ones be taken for granted, my fellow readers.
*1989 was a pivotal year in world history as it saw a wave of largely peaceful revolutions throughout the Warsaw Pact, culminating in the fall of the Berlin Wall, marking the end of communism in Europe, the Soviets finished their withdrawal from Afghanistan, ending their disastrous nine-year adventure and hastening the final blow to communism by dissolving the Soviet Union in 1991, but China would crush its student revolution at Tiananmen Square in 1989. Both George H.W. Bush and Boris Yeltsin would preside in this turning point in history. Other events include: the death of Emperor Hirohito, marking the end of the Showa era, his son Akihito would succeed him, beginning the Heisei era. The oil tanker Exxon Valdez was shipwrecked off the Alaskan coast, releasing a massive amount of oil and creating an ecological disaster that would mark a profound change in environmental regulation and transportation protocol. The disastrous Daulatpur–Saturia tornado, which ravaged Bangladesh and would go on to the deadliest tornado in the country's history. Ayatollah Khomeini issued a fatwa against author Salman Rushdie for his controversial The Satanic Verses. The controversy is such that a bounty of 3 million dollars was placed on Rushdie's head (surprised they promised that) and Iran broke off relations with with the United Kingdom, which Rushdie, of Indian birth, was a citizen of. Khomeini himself would die, after leading his country through the 1979 Iranian Revolution and the Iraq-Iran War, in June 3, 1989. His funeral was initially called off after hysterical mourners went into a frenzy, trampling ten of them to death. Most notable would be the events in Panama led to Operation JUST CAUSE, the US invasion in 1989, over allegations of election fraud and his involvement in the drug trade.
*The Satanic Verses refers to words of "satanic suggestion" that infiltrated the teachings of the Prophet Muhammad until he realized the mistakes, noted by early biographers such as al-Tabari. This attracted great controversy among Muslims even today. One particular sticking point was in the last of three dream sequences in the book features an allusin to Khomeini in his Paris exile, making him the firebrand fanatical cleric as he was remembered nowadays. Tragically, the fatwa issued caused a series of murders of those involved with its publication and translation including the murder of Japanese-language translator Hitoshi Igarashi in 1991. No suspects were pursued, to this day Tokyo does not call for an extradition of a suspect from Bangladesh for fears of reigniting controversy. Speaking of that, Japan was rocked by the Recruit scandal (リクルート事件, Rikurūto jiken) was an insider trading and corruption scandal involving the Recruit human resources and classified ads company that forced many prominent Japanese politicians to resign in its wake, many of whom were given stocks of one of its subsidiaries before going public, among of them then-ruling Noboru Takeshita. Though across political circles, it was the Liberal Democratic Party, practically Japan's ruling party since 1945 until the 90s, which was hardest hit, and for the first time in party history , lost its majority in the Diet, In the ensuing "twisted Diet" (nejire kokkai), it must cooperate with the Socialist-led opposition as it does not hold a two-thirds majority in the House of Representatives. The cabinet of Takeshita's replacement, Sosuke Uno, resigns.
*The micronation movement in Japan was inspired by Hisashi Inoue's 700-page magic realism novel, Kirikirijin, about a village that secedes from Japan and proclaims its bumpkinish, marginalized dialect its national language, and its subsequent war of independence, which in turn was inspired Leicester Hemingway's "New Atlantis". The impact of the novel was such that it made created the movement in Japan, where towns and villages "declared independence", in order to raise awareness of their customs and crafts to an increasingly urbanized Japan, who saw the countryside as anything but backward and parochial. A "boom" in micronations occurred in 80s Japan, where they held even held "international summits" from 1983 to 1985, and some of them formed confederations. Then the bubbled collapsed, causing the merging of villages and cities, which made up the micronations, with each other or the larger cities and the confederations dissolved. This inspired the chapter's title.
*Mikhail Lermontov, one of the leading figures of Russian Romanticism in the 19th century, was writer, painter, and one of the greatest poets after Alexander Pushkin's death. He was known as "the poet of the Caucasus" for much of his work was based having lived in the Caucasus twice in his life: first as a frail young boy when he and his family went to the famous mountains for the health benefit of its climate and mineral springs, which gave him long-lasting impression throughout his life; then after being entangled to the intrigues of Russian high society in St. Petersburg, he was exiled to the region, serving in the army. A lifelong romantic, his life is as passionately, even stormy, as his works, his magnum opus being The Hero of Our Time and through his prose and his brooding hero created the basis for psychological realism in Russian literature.