Chapter 1 – The Compound

The cold chilling air bites away at my face despite my face protection; a mixture of snow and ice cascaded above the ridge in which I was perched. It felt as though spiders with daggers for legs oppressed the entirety of my body, but especially my eyes as they were the only part of my face that was exposed. They wanted my eyes to freeze shut; to attempt to block out the cold. However, I would not listen. There was a mission to carry out; and, despite my philosophy, I must work or I will certainly lose. The rifle I clenched in the thickness of the snow was aimed directly at the head of a lone guard, barely illuminated by the white flood lights on the interior of the compound while he watches vainly in the deep forests of Siberia for the faintest sight of danger. I study his facial features very closely. He is a bearded man, seemingly in his early 30s. He is somewhat overweight, which is still noticeable with the thick fur coat. His eyes, however, are what draw interest. Because it is through them that I can justify pulling the trigger. Before I had fired my weapon, his eyes reeked of a passionate fanaticism; and an ultimately crazed and unhinged person was what was behind those eyes. But now, in the wake of a red mist, the body drops and the eyes are no more.

The sound of my rifle, with the help of my silencer, found itself drowned by the vicious howling of the wind. Though I would identify myself as being like a bear, solitary and dangerous, I was more akin to a wolf. My spotter and Duo, one simply known as Jack, hums in approval at my actions.

"Nice shot, Deadeyes."

There is no emotion in the nickname; no hint of humour or endearment were behind the use of the name. The nickname was born out of understanding of particular traits; and born out of a need to keep our identities confidential. This unit was covert; a violation of Japan's constitution. Japan was not supposed to have a formal military, but, in the secret recesses of the JDF, joint military operations have been orchestrated with the help of the Americans and the South Koreans. This is one of many that I found myself cast into; and one that I will continually accept and not question. I cannot muse on this, however, there is a mission that must be completed.

Jack rises from his position and begins to slide gently down the ridge. His black body armour was barely noticeable from the lack of light and the nearly 3 meter drop down. But, without reluctance, I follow after him. Despite the thickness of the snow, we are trained to move in absolute silence. We were only around 300 meters from the target, so creeping through the snow is only made time consuming by navigating a web of trees. The compound is surrounded by barbed wire, however, due to negligence of the cultists that occupy this wretched hive, a small breach in it provides easy entry. At the center of the compound is a massive three-story warehouse; and the entire place is covered in empty shipping containers. Their metal hulls stand at over 10 meters high; and likely contain high concentrations of illegal contraband. This group is obviously dangerous; but it is not the contraband that we are after. Rather, a high value Japanese citizen has been taken hostage by the cult.

Creeping silently through the storage containers, we nod to each other as we go our separate ways. He has his task; and I have my own. I am to enter the main compound and extract the hostage. He is to disable the alarm and kill as many cultists as possible. However, due to the size of this compound, we are vastly outnumbered. A 100 to one. But the impossible is levied on us by the nature of this job, and yet somehow, we find a way to succeed. No matter the cost.

I creep silently behind a cultist who is rounding a corner towards a side door of the main compound. My knife finds itself buried into his neck, and a hot pool of blood covers my gloved hand. It covers it in a sickening warmth that is all too hauntingly familiar. My hand covers his mouth, preventing him from crying out his last gurgled and bloody cry. He was not my first victim; and he would certainly not be the last. Prying the keys from his pocket, as well as pocketing some of the 9mm rounds that he was carrying, I enter into the compound silently. Inside is a vast network of storage, and the air is thick with the heat of furnaces. Hiding the body is not difficult, nor is finding my way to where the prisoner is being held hostage. After all, this prisoner is not alone.

I had entered through the main hallway and found myself overlooking a series of floors of cells. Luck would have it that it was only three levels down. I've spotted 3 guards patrolling on the first floor. One guards the staircase to the second level, while the other 2 walk the square catwalks that connect every cell. I can also make out the forms of numerous other captives, mostly women, from the cells. Most are sleeping or weep silently, and the faint sound of whispers can be heard barely over the steam of the nearby furnaces. I scan the platform around me for a means to get their attention. I spot a half empty beer bottle hanging over the railing, and I quickly drop it to the ground. I move quickly from sight, but keep my eyes fixed on the guards. They've noticed the sound and are speaking to each other in Arabic, so I can't understand them by their words. One of the patrolling guards disappears from sight and is coming up the steps, so I quickly hide myself by the doorway and wait.

He turns to me, startled, but is instantly silenced by my knife entering his throat. Needless to say, he was dropped with silent efficiency. The blood sprayed over my body and covered my chest piece with a warm sticky crimson. But I was not perturbed, as this had become a regular occurrence. One can certainly feel troubled by becoming numb to it, as I do, but I nonetheless recognise its efficiency. I pull out my silenced pistol and drop the remaining guards with 3 shots. Their bodies fall heavily to the ground, likely getting the attention of the guards downstairs. However, as one of Japan's recently trained special operations units, I was trained to anticipate this. I launched myself over the metal railing, and used my momentum to swing quickly down to the second floor. I grabbed a submachine gun from one of the fallen guards, a silenced Mini-Uzi, and ran quickly towards the stairway. I could hear about 3 people thundering up the stairs. But I spray down the stairway, and hear the bodies bounce and clang against the metal base. The hostage should be on the second floor, and I descend down the stairway carefully stepping over the bodies.

"Help us, please…"

Time was of the essence; these prisoners would grow excited with my presence here. I was a false beacon of salvation for them; as I was not here to save them. We were under strict orders that this was a stealth operation; a quick extraction of the target. Countries are willing to break their own self-declared rules to save those of the higher class, but nothing would be spared on an innocent human life. A bitter reality, but I had no choice in the matter. The target was on this floor, on the second cell to the right if intelligence served correctly. However, cells could have changed. I approach the cell slowly, as more of the prisoners begin to rise at the commotion. Inside there appeared to be about 13 women of varying age. Some were as young as 7 and others were in their mid-twenties. However, in the back, nursing a series of bruises lining her exposed stomach was a girl of flowing raven hair. She radiated beauty, had eyes of an icy blue, and despite the heat in this compound, I found my blood running cold. Command had remained tight lipped on the identity of the target, only remarking that simple physical characteristics, such as hair length and eye colour. At first glance, it would seem illogical to not tell your minions precisely all that you knew about the mission they were to undergo. But, due to political machinations, it was apparent why we were not told the identity of the target. Afterall, the daughter of the Prime Minister being kidnapped would certainly cause an uproar if the word got out. Hence, it was apparent that they counted on us not knowing her identity; or are merely planning to execute us after we had extracted the target. Afterall, this was an incredibly delicate political matter. Within my mind, I could hear the anguished screams of the monster of logic. He had no time to think; as the situation has left him flooded with a torrent of emotions. I felt my focus waver, and, without thinking, I opened the cell in which she was resting. Some of the women quickly rushed towards the door, but their frantic charge was halted as I aimed my weapon towards one of them. Their eyes followed me with weariness and distrust. Many of them were malnourished, but they could easily pose a threat towards me if I let them encircle me. I took a breath before speaking.

"Does anyone speak English here?"

The prisoners all became excited at once, a mixture of shouts conveying various emotions ranging from relief to boiling hatred. The room was in chaos, meaning that I would have to act quickly. It would be normal for one to pause, at least for a moment, when they approached someone that was… formerly close. Yukinoshita's eyes carried with them a sea of burden; it was apparent. The clothes, what seemed to be a simple winter ensemble that I vaguely remember from the past, was left tattered in many parts. Luckily, however, her privates weren't on full display; which made me feel at ease. My mind wanted to wonder about everything that was happening, and perhaps it was, but I wasn't aware of it in this moment. She gazed at me with similar fear and distrust as her fellow prisoners, and, as I stepped closer still, I was grabbed and pulled back. My instincts kicked in, and I delivered a swift kick to the leg of one of the women, dropping her to the ground. She screamed in agony, but I don't believe I had done severe damage. However, before chaos had further broken out, Yukinoshita interrupted the cries with a simple, but desperate answer.

"Please, stop. Everyone please stop fighting."

Eyes of recognition dawn from several of the women, who seem to respect her as their leader. This in turn causes most of the women to stand down. I look back to the cell door and see that it's gates were wide open. Meaning, a prison break and thus a full state of alarm is going to befall this compound. Everything was spiraling out of control fast. But I've learned that as shit falls, you have to get those around you working together.

"I'm from the Japanese Special Defense Forces. This situation, however, is volatile and if any of us want to get out alive, you all need to follow exactly what I say." Yukinoshita's eyes flash with understanding, but also a faint hint of recognition. I need her to be calm if I want her to get out of here alive, and such a thing cannot be accomplished if she were to recognise me. We would both be too emotional. She stands from her position with a slight limp but looks around to the various girls in the room. She nods to them and the few that seemingly can understand English watch me. I waste no time moving towards the door, beckoning everyone to follow me.

"I have killed several guards in the above floors, all of which have weapons. Anyone that is able to carry a weapon needs to group in front with me, and we're going to cleave our way back to a relay point 2 kilometers from this compound. We will need to be fast and furious." Of course, I understood that this was only going to lead to a massacre. As horrifying as this fact is, the many innocents that will die by this decision, it a decision that must be done. My actual plan was to set loose a prison break as a means to distract the cultists and to extract Yukinoshita in the midst of the chaos. The efficacy of this is something that can certainly be questioned, especially in my own circumstance. However, what I believed was right or wrong was irrelevant to this decision. The nature of this line of work is ruthless pragmaticism, the types who are praised as the elites of the nation's fighting force, but nonetheless profoundly versed in brutality as a means to an end. We were not a regiment of the law, and thus the law applied not to us. There exists but one law and one code for the man who sells his soul to the war machine, and that is his right to claim to be in the right is suspended until either his service ends in stars and bars or in a gold laden casket. Most of the women scattered across the floor, relaying in a variety of languages what I can only guess to be my orders. Their voices are laden with hope and determination, a painful irony in the face of certain death and subjugation. Yukinoshita followed quickly behind me as I made my approach towards the stairwell, that is until she witnessed my handiwork. I wasted no time stepping over the bodies, and allowed her to face that horror on her own. As cruel as it was, I needed to relay Jack.

I pulled out a tiny radio and dinged a vibration to get his attention, but not draw attention should he be hiding. Luckily, however, he responds quickly.

"You called?"

"We have a situation. There's a prison break and it's about to cause a massacre. I need you to make the call for additional troops, we have to take the compound." This call, despite what it may imply, was not something that would save the women leading this charge, but rather as an insurance should we fail. Yukinoshita will likely not be harmed, as they understand her value.

"Understood. I'll make the call and make my way towards your location. I'll at least be able to slow them down before I reach you."

With that brief exchange, I descend quickly back to Yukinoshita. Her eyes brim with tears, not only of horror, but of hatred. She's looking at one of the men, a fatter one with a gruffy beard and dark hair. He looked to be in his 30s and his body reeked besides the obvious smell of death. I felt bad for her, but I know that she will, in time, come to view this man's particular death in a positive light. I had to be the one to ensure that for her, so I quickly approached.

"We need to get moving, can you shoot a gun?"

I ask as I reach into my side pocket, revealing my side arm. It was a silenced M9 with a laser sight, making it an ideal weapon for close corners combat. Yukinoshita's effectiveness with the weapon, however, would only be needed in a last resort. As I gazed back into her eyes, however, that look of recognition only seems to grow. I cannot let this happen, so I bark out the question again.

"Can you fire that weapon?"

Her focus is broken, and she gives me a nod.

"I've been to a shooting range a few times… I will…"

With that matter dealt with, I quickly put the weapon in her hand and turn off the safety. "Follow me and pick your shots. You have limited ammo." Most of the prisoners have gathered to the first floor, so I move quickly with Yukinoshita in tow. I have to keep her focus broken if I am to get her out of this compound. I move towards one woman, who was carrying an Ak-47, and exchange it with the Mini-Uzi that I pocketed from the guard. I didn't care that it didn't have but 2 shots left in it. Before the typical event of the final push could be relayed, however, a giant explosion rocked the compound causing us to all stumble back. A chorus of fright then erupted from the women, and some of the children began to dash around the catwalks as the rest of the unarmed women tried to gather them together. Whatever Jack did, it certainly awoke the beehive. I find myself smirking, but I focus my attention towards the pathway leading further into the compound, towards the main square. The sounds of men shouting in Arabic can be heard, and some of their voices come ever closer to our location. And as a viper lines his strike with frantic pray, I turn my rifle to fully automatic fire. Four men appear down the corridor and just as quickly do I launch a volley of bullets that lays them all to the ground. As we near the entrance, however, the sounds of outside activity indicate a full-scale battle. Through the opened doors of the main entrance of the compound this battle is revealed in all of its glory with the presence of an American Blackhawk flying over the center of the compound and a number of 40 US marines charging into the center compound. However, I have no reason to ponder the whys of this now. I have to get Yukinoshita to safety. And, as luck would have it, I would be able to save these prisoners. I flicked my radio to the general frequency that I knew the Marines operated on.

"This is Captain Hikigaya of the JSDF Spartan Regiment. There are friendlies and hostages inside. I repeat, there are friendlies and hostages inside." I pull out from my pocket a flare and begin to wave it through one of the windows, which catches the attention of the marines as they secure the main entrance to the compound. The bright red light colours the darkened main entrance, revealing at the windows the bodies of a number of dead cultists. However, my eyes turn back to Yukinoshita. She is obviously tired, she is obviously traumatised, and she has obviously been beaten. But I'd have been willing to tolerate that if it weren't that look of recognition in her cold blue eyes. They echoed a volley of emotions, of a past that I ran away from. It was a lie to say that I needed her to be calm in order to protect her. Rather, it was the otherway around.

Author's Notes:

So yeah, hello boys and girls. Your boy onethirdparty is back from the grave. What happened? What went down? It would be too long to detail, but I am a fundamentally different person than I was when I first wrote Rebuilding. I still like the idea of Rebuilding, and with my interest now sparked once again in this fandom, I had the idea to approach this story again and refine the story to fit something more realistic and also something more grim. This chapter, however, I cannot say will be like the rest. I wish to carry this fanfic with the focus of that act of rebuilding what Hachiman had destroyed in his joining the military. This means, consequently, that this fanfic will not follow Season 3 canon. It will rather follow the canon of Season 2. Some of you might note the change in my writing style in a variety of ways, and this is reflective of my consumption of more archaic literature. However, the realistic methodological flow of actions and graphic details that this chapter evokes will not be something that will play out regularly through the course of the fanfic. This chapter, despite my feeling of it being clunky, is merely to serve as exposition for the larger story. and I intend to focus more on the dialogue and thoughts of the characters involved with subsequent chapters, and what their pasts and current controversies mean for them. Despite the darker undertone, I will be providing some fan service to keep writing this enjoyable. Not in such a way as to unnaturally manifest a relationship in a short period of time as I did with the first version of Rebuilding, but rather of moments of tenderness and physicality as a means for them to cope with their issues. They are, after-all, rebuilding.

EDIT: Got rid of elect in Prime Minister elect because I initially thought I wanted Yukinoshita's father coming into power, I think this story will flow better with her father being the Prime Minister.

I would appreciate it heavily if you left a review, as it is the primary thing that keeps me motivated to write.