Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the characters portrayed in this
story. Not like anyone cares.
Comments: Ok, whee. It didn't take me very long to get this part out. I actually have a lot more free time now that orientation is over. Although I have a sneaky suspicion that I should be studying for my Hiragana quiz on Monday. Hmmm. yeah where did I put those flash cards? Anyway this chapter is kinda weird. You get back story! Yeah! Yeah, everything should become mostly clear about Ken's psyche now. See, the way I have this story set up in my head is in three parts. This chapter is the end of the first part. Yeah, I know, is it ever gonna end? The other parts aren't as long, at least I hope they won't be. AH!! And I did something here that I originally hadn't intended to do... Takatori clan cameo! No, they aren't evil, no they aren't the head of the VC, and no they aren't related to Omi. They are just there for a little comic relief... I hope. Anyway, enjoy. I hope you do. And please -please- review, ne?
Notes: Yeah, no real notes. Except that there were actually English teaching facilities set up during the war, I am not just pulling this shit out of my ass, and yes soldiers were often recruited to teach them.
_____________________________________________________________________
Behind the barracks of the 326th AHU there was an emergency stack of firewood. It was actually more like a stack of unused two by fours which resembled all the other stacks of unused two by fours in the camp, but they told us it was firewood. I often wondered why. just incase it ever started snowing? The ground around the pile was littered with cigarette butts and other miscellaneous testaments to the fact that it was a place often used by the soldiers. It was between the back of our bunkhouse and the back of another bunkhouse, making it feel enclosed and private, it was a good place to sit and quietly smoke a cigarette. I didn't smoke, nonetheless this is where I found myself hunkered down with my small pile of mail sitting ominously in my lap. I hadn't even looked at the addresses on my way over from the mail station, I hadn't really looked at anything. Next thing I knew I was sitting on the wood pile, hands shaking, wondering what to do next.
You really wouldn't think that opening a few letters would be all that difficult.
Taking a deep breath I sighed, steeling myself as I reached for the first letter. It was from my mother, her neat, tight handwriting, handwriting that looked like every native Japanese's english handwriting marched boldly across the front of the white envelope. I laughed finding it funny that the envelope was, unlike the others, still perfectly white. My mother was like that. Everything she touched was always expected to stay immaculate, and it usually did. Everything but me, I guess. I tucked the corner of it under my thigh and reached for the second letter. Yuriko. I sighed again and felt like tearing it up right then and there. I didn't want to have to read anything she'd sent me. It would be too painful, too brutally understanding and sweet. All happiness and love and caring. Through everything she'd never reproached me, never said anything harsh or gotten angry. Maybe that's what made it hurt so much. If she could just be angry with me, maybe I could forgive myself for hurting her. I slipped this letter beneath the one from my mother. The next was thin and crisp with the US Army logo stamped in the corner. Something official no doubt. Some letter to boost my morale or just blow sunshine up my ass. I almost tore it up and then slid it under Yuriko's letter.
There wasn't much else for a few envelopes. Something from the IRS, I remember wondering at how they just never seemed to quit, something from some charity organization offering free counseling, and a flyer for an event that had taken place on the base almost three weeks ago.
It was the last letter that I had been dreading. And as I put my hand on it, eyes scanning the return address, I felt my stomach twist and my heart beat faster. All the stamps were marked through with the seal of the Canadian postal service. the red ink was smeared and the envelope was bent and stained, but it was in one piece. My fingers trembled as they brushed over the return address. Kase. It was from fucking Kase.
I closed my eyes and sat back, resting my head against the slat board wall. After a moment I let my eyes open and squinted up into the narrow strip of sky that was visible between my barracks and the one across from me. Without looking at the letter I felt my fingers move of their own accord and gently slip beneath the seal, tearing it open. The letter felt worn as if the paper had been handled a lot. I twisted it gently in my fingers before looking down at it, and folding it open. A picture fell out. I found it odd, but I was reminded of my first night at Pang Nuan, when I had tipped over Fujimiya's photographs and discovered his secret. Why was he always invading my thoughts? Couldn't I do anything, have anything without thinking about him? Why should I care anyway? The guy was empty, cold.
I didn't look at the photo right away, it was probably just some picture of Kase and I didn't need something to remind me of what he looked like. I'd see him in my mind forever. Thusly I began to read.
Dear Ken, I've been trying to write you this letter for almost all day now. My roommates think I'm crazy, because I've used up so many pieces of paper and thrown them all away. Fuckin' Cannooks, what do they know, eh? Ha. Made you laugh? Probably not. I guess I'd be lucky if you didn't just burn this letter when you go it. Knowing you and you're temper I wouldn't be surprised. Just thinking about it. about you. makes me happy. And sad, too, because I know you'll never forgive me. I'll never see you look at me the way you used to, never feel you close to me. And that's my fault, I know. I just couldn't do it, you know? I just couldn't! I know that telling you all this now isn't going to help, I just wanted you to know how sorry I am. I couldn't face you before you left, I couldn't tell you then, so I guess that's why I'm writing this letter. I let you down, I betrayed you after you laid everything on the line for me. I should have told you I had doubts before. well, before you know. Everything. Would it help if I told you that I love you? I do. I always will. Why didn't you come with me? We could have gone together, Ken. You didn't have to go to Nam without me. It's my fault that you're there, you went for me. But I never asked you to! I never asked you to enlist. My draft couldn't be avoided. I just wanted to be with you always. guess I screwed that up, huh? I'm selfish like that. I'm not as strong as you, Ken, I'm not a fighter. I wouldn't have been able to take it. All the guns and the death and the fighting. I know you'll get out of there alive, I know you'll be ok. I feel it, I'm sorry I can't be there. More than you know. Just. just don't do anything stupid, ok? Don't go and -get- yourself killed. I won't forgive myself if you do. Shit this letter is crap, but I can't tear it up again. How are you anyway? I know you probably won't write back to me. I'll probably never see you again, but if you ever find a way to forgive me, know that I will be waiting for you. Find me if you want, ok? Oh, fuck, I miss you. I miss everything about you. You're my best friend, Ken. More than my friend, you are everything. I miss the way out bodies feel next to each other. The sound of your cries when we make love. I want to feel you, Ken, it kills me everyday how badly I want you.. I can taste it. Why am I telling you this? You probably hate me. I would. How does it feel being a gay in the military? Hah, sounds cliché. Did you laugh that time? I'm so sorry about your family, Ken. I mean. shit, everything is my fault isn't it. If I'd just done what we'd planned and gone to Nam like I said I would none of this would have ever happened. But I had to let everyone know before it was over, before I lost you. You understand that, right? I didn't think it would turn out the way it did. I'm sorry if I forced you, asked too much, screwed your life over. But there were people who needed to know. Yuriko for one. It wasn't cool, her just not knowing, thinking it was all going to work out one day. I'm such a fuckup, couldn't even stay around to support you. Do you ever think of me without hating me? Look. I don't know what I'm writing anymore. I'm not coherent. All I can see are the tears that blur my vision and your face. What I wouldn't give to touch it, stroke your cheek, kiss you. I would die for one of your kisses. I swear I would. In case you care, or were wondering, I'm doing fine. I've got a place with a few roommates. They're laid back. I got a job, though it's hard being an 'illegal alien' and all that. My dad still sends me money every month, so I'm not worried. I don't ask you to forgive me, just. try not to hate me too much. I will always love you. You were my first, Ken. My first friend, my first love, and my first lover for that matter. No one else will ever come close. I'll be here if you ever want me for anything.
Yours forever, Kase
PS. I found an undeveloped roll of film in my camera the other day. I took it in. I almost died when I got them back. Do you remember this day?
-K
I had just sat there, staring at the letter until I couldn't make out the words anymore. He was such a liar! Such a fucking liar! He has the balls to write me, -me-, a letter like this, to profess his love for me. Tell me that he'll always love me. Where was his love for me when he ran away? When he left me alone to go to Nam by myself? He swore that he'd die for one of my kisses. and yet he couldn't even -risk- his life for my love. Where was his selfless desire for us when he decided we should tell our families that we were together, that we. that -I- was homosexual? Did he stay with me then, try to help me explain as my world crashed down around me, as my family disowned me? I suffered all that for him and in the end it was for nothing. He pushed me off a cliff and then just let me fall. He was too afraid to jump himself, he just turned and ran away. Ran to Canada. His fear was more powerful than anything he ever felt for me, love or otherwise. That is why I hated him, because he was such a coward. Hate him? No, resent him at best. In truth I still felt that I loved him in some capacity. If he showed up with open arms and begged me to come back, even after all the pain he'd caused me all the shit I'd gone through because of his weakness, would I go to him? I couldn't be sure the answer was no. But. no. He was no longer a part of my life. Never would be again. I couldn't forgive him for his betrayal of my trust in him. He was just a jumble of emotions and memories now. It was better that way.
Kase had started an avalanche of pain and loss through my life. When the destruction was finally over there was nothing left but a huge, barren scar devoid of all meaning and feeling. That's why I'd come to Nam anyway. I was there because it no longer mattered where I was, if I lived or died. Everything I'd had to live for was gone. Vietnam was all I had left.
With this thought in mind I turned over the photograph and felt my stomach drop out. Did I remember that day? That's what Kase's letter asked. How could I not?
It was one of those pictures you take holding the camera up in front of your face to get a sorta close up. The kind you take with your friends when you're young. Kase had taken this picture of himself and I, holding the camera up as we stood together, kissing. the first time he'd ever kissed me in public. The whole picture was just our faces, so close, so happy, kissing. I remembered the day, one of the last days we spent together. He'd forced me to come to the park down by the waterside. We'd spent all day down there, fooling around, making asses of ourselves on the green. We'd gotten a lot of looks, but it didn't really matter all that much. San Francisco was, even then, a Mecca of homosexuality. Yeah, I remembered that day.
As I focused my eyes on the image in my hands I felt my chest begin to constrict and before I knew it I was crying. Silent, small sobs, warm tears, hard breathing. It all came up on me so fast. I sat there, my head resting against my arms, which were folded over my knees, and clenched the photo between my fingers. Life gets so fucked.
And then suddenly all I could think about was Ran and Yuushi, whoever Yuushi had been. Did they have a relationship like Kase and mine? Their story sounded so familiar. Yuushi came to Nam to be with Ran after his draft, just like I'd meant to do for Kase. But Kase turned his back on me, ran away, left me in the lurch after I'd already enlisted to go to Nam by myself when I could have been free from the beginning. Yuushi died in combat, like all the rest of Ran's pilots. The guilt must have been intense. I couldn't imagine. As far as I could tell both of our lives were pretty fucked. Ran and I had both lost the people we loved and trusted the most. His was dead, gone forever. Mine left me still loving him, betrayed me. Somehow he felt just as dead. or I did. I wondered which way was better.
Then I started ripping open the other letters. Yuriko's was just as I knew it would be. All friendly words and concern. She didn't seem to care that I'd screwed all of her plans by being gay. Screwed everyone's plans, my mother's included. It was all such a sick joke. I'd never asked to be practically betrothed to the daughter of my mother's best friend. It had always just been assumed that's how it would work out. I'd thought so too, until things had changed with Kase. But that was ancient history. Such ancient history. The letter was brief and referred to me as 'friend.' She was a much better person than I could ever be. Oh, Yuriko, what was I going to do with you? She, too, had included a picture. Just a picture of herself smiling and waving from what I recognized as the Asakawa's patio.
My mother's letter was briefer still than Yuriko's, and was written in dark, angry looking Japanese. The characters flowed and blurred before my eyes. She referred to me as the 'stranger who was once her son.' She told me to be careful, because it would dishonor the family if I died without resolving my conflicts with them. She said everyone was fine, and then signed her name. On the back, printed very lightly was one character. The character for love. It made me smile sadly and then I began to cry again.
It was thus that I sat, my letters and photos scattered on the ground and boards around me, weeping silently into my knees. I didn't notice the clouds as they chased swiftly across the sky or the sounds of camp life go on around me outside of the world between the barracks buildings. And I didn't notice the sound of booted feet approach from the side of the building. I didn't notice anything at all until I heard his voice shatter my reverie.
"What the fuck is your problem?"
I had been startled, and my head snapped up. I sucked my breath in sharply as I looked up to meet the piercing gaze of two indigo eyes. But they weren't looking at me. They were ducked, focusing on the end of the cigarette he was trying to light. When he had it lit he snapped his lighter shut and dropped it into his jacket pocket. Only then did his eyes meet mine. I just sat there, tear streaked, staring up at him. I couldn't think of anything to say. I couldn't think of anything at all.
"Tell me, Hidaka, what is your problem? It seems like you spend half your time sobbing to yourself, and the other half preaching at people about how they should live their lives. About how they shouldn't lock people out. So what the hell are you doing huddled behind the barracks indulging yourself in misery?" he asked flatly, and then took a long drag, blowing the smoke at me.
"What the fuck should you care? You don't want to know anything about me anyway," I hissed. I wondered where the hell he felt he got off telling me that I was -indulging- in misery. He made himself miserable every single fucking day as far as I could tell.
"What if I did?"
I stared at him for a moment and then laughed shallowly. "Nothing to tell. I'm just a Japanese kid from the bay area." I looked away, hiding my eyes back in my arms.
"People like you shouldn't be here, Hidaka," he indicated the letters around me with a wave of his hand, "if a few words from home gets you crying like a girl you should just ship out now. Go back home to mommy."
I looked at him and felt like wringing his neck. "What the fuck do you know? You like to think I'm so weak! Why? And so what if I am? I have nothing to go back to. Fuck home! Fuck Nam! And fuck you! I'm not sitting here crying cause I want my mommy, Fujimiya. Vietnam is all I have anymore, when this war is over, these letters will the only things I have left of these people. I am nobody to them anymore!"
I didn't catch his movement until it was too late. Before I could stop him he'd reached over and snatched the photograph from right between my fingers. I don't know why he did it, what possessed him, and I never bothered to ask. In the end it wasn't important.
I saw his features slowly change as he looked at the photograph. At first there was confusion and then realization and finally understanding as he looked up from the image to me, back and forth with those intense eyes. I held my breath. I didn't know what to do or if I should try to stop him from seeing. I didn't figure it really mattered since I already knew the truth about him. I just sat there and let him look, wondered what he was thinking. After a moment he sighed and inexplicably sat down beside me, leaning back against the slat boards. He took a drag and then began to laugh, smoke swirling, dancing from the corners of his mouth and dispersing in the air. I'd never seen him really smile before, much less laugh. His eyes crinkled up in the most amazing way, the wideness of his grin was startling. I was so surprised, so entranced by his carefree beauty that I suddenly found myself chuckling along with him. I didn't know why. I couldn't find anything funny, except the irony, but that was funny in a painful way. Maybe that's why I was laughing and crying.
He took one last look at the pictures as he began to stifle his laughter. "Guess that makes two of us," he said under his breath, and this only made me laugh harder.
He looked at me and then dropped the photo in my lap. Ran seemed to take it for granted that I already knew about him. Maybe it was all the hints Schu had been dropping, or maybe he just figured I knew anyway. I thought about telling him that I knew about Yuushi, but decided against it. There was no real point.
After a while he glanced at me and sighed deeply. "What's the story? Who is he? Is he in Vietnam somewhere?"
I waited for a few moments before I answered. "Kase. A friend, who became more than a friend. We were supposed to come to Nam together, but he went AWOL, and left me in the lurch. Suffice to say he's not even a friend anymore. My family disowned me thanks to him," I said, not without bitterness. "So here I am in Vietnam with nothing to go home to and nothing to live for. I guess I'll just have to pray that the war never ends."
He stared hard at me for a few moments, his eyes so intense that I found myself drawn into them as I had those times before. It was strange, I remember that for the first time I found more behind them than just the void. He seemed distraught, confused, full of an unnamable fear and an unbearable loneliness. All of this was to be found in his eyes, those deep, indigo spaces that I would find myself swept away in so often, that is where he kept himself. His face betrayed nothing, not a trace of what was inside. No, it was all in his eyes. Those endless eyes. I felt as if I was spying on his soul and looked away hastily, staring off into space.
I wondered absently what he saw in my eyes. Was he even looking? It didn't really matter.
Finally he stood, and took the photograph from my lap again. No words were spoken, there was nothing more to say anymore, at least it seemed to me. He held it out with one hand and with the other he reached inside of his jacket pocket, producing his lighter. I watched, unmoving, as he lit the edge and let it burn. The flames chased slowly up the picture, burning it away, eating it into nothingness. The wind took the ashes and scattered them. Before it burned completely he turned his hand over and held the last smoldering bit in his palm, letting the ashes settle there. Then he came to stand in front of me. Without thinking I held out my hand to him and he dusted the fragments from his palm to mine, I felt his fingers touch and linger gently on my wrist. Before he withdrew he said simply, "Or find something else to live for."
I fought desperately to make sense of his words, to grasp at his meaning, searching for more than just a string of mindless sentiments. As his fingers pulled away I looked up sharply, knowing there was pleading in my eyes, but he had already turned away, he could not, or would not see me.
He said nothing else, only walked away. I watched his back move towards the corner of the barracks and saw him exhale another thin line of smoke. I thought he might have paused, but then he was gone, disappeared behind the barracks.
Then I had started to cry again. I didn't know why. I felt light and empty, something was gone, some weight was lifted. My tears now were tears of happiness, thankfulness, joy. With that simple gesture he had made everything so clear and absolute. Kase was nothing anymore, just burned away memories. All I had to do was find something else to live for, and life would go on. And so in the end I did find something else. Only thing is. what do you do when you lose that too?
After all that I thought that things were going to be different. I guess maybe they were in some ways, but whatever I'd thought or hoped for from Fujimiya was not what I received. When we were alone together, which wasn't often, he was, admittedly, less reserved, warmer than he had been before, but with the others nothing changed. I guess that's the way things had to be. He was still the person he had been when I met him. Meeting me, knowing me, couldn't change his character, I was stupid to think it could.
The flight out to the transport station was uneventful. The vastness of the jungle always made my head spin as is spread out beneath us, the river our only guiding light so to speak. Ran sat quietly behind the door- mounted gun, smoking and gazing listlessly out into the sunlight. We didn't talk much, there wasn't much to say really, but these days I found that just being with him made me feel better. It was that detached sense of kinship, I think.
We had landed behind the far hangars and sat on the lip of the doorway, swinging our feet above the mottled and cracked cement landing pad, waiting for out cargo. The transport station was eerily empty. It was such a drastic change from the last time I had been there. God it seemed like an eternity ago that I arrived. It didn't take long for a group of lost looking civilians to catch our eye. Two older men, and to us older was going on forty, were sweltering under the intense heat, trying to look dignified in sweltering suit jackets. They looked comical, and Ran and I exchanged an amused glance as I silently pointed them out. Behind them another, younger man with obnoxiously narrow eyes and a look that belied a tendency towards violence struggled beneath what must have been the group's collective luggage. Behind him still trailed another young man, an enlisted man, a marine if I wasn't mistaken. A semi-automatic rifle, it was rumored the marines slept with theirs, was slung over his shoulder and a camera dangled from around his neck. Every few steps he would pause, bring the camera to his eye, focus on something, and generally decide not to take a picture. We watched them parade around in a disordered and confused manner for a few moments and then exchanged amused glances again. We hopped down from the Iroquois and headed towards the milling men. As we came closer I could begin to make out their conversation.
"Don't you think we should just find a place to wait, brother?" the younger, more distinguished man in a suit asked, fanning himself with his hand.
"What? No, I don't think so. Shut up, Shuichi, who's the senior partner here?" the other man, slightly more portly and with the most distracting facial hair I'd ever encountered answered, huffing up along side the hangar.
"*sigh* You are, Reiji."
"Father?! Can't we just find a place to put the bags? I'm can't feel my arms any longer," the sickly looking young man asked pleadingly, stopping in his tracks.
"No, Masafumi, shut up! Don't make me deal with you."
"Yeah, *click* stop whining," the marine bringing up the rear replied, taking a picture of nothing in particular. As we drew closer I could see that he had the words 'The Most Dangerous Game'* tattooed on his forearm.
"I don't see -you- carrying any of the baggage, Hirofumi!"
"I'm in the army, I don't -have- to carry your bags. I actually have a job that I didn't get from daddy."
"Oh yeah?! Then why are you here with us now?"
"Because, I requested this assignment, so that I could be with -you- dear brother," the marine answered.
I leaned over towards Ran and hissed, "Dysfunctional family much?" under my breath.
Suddenly the marine journalist spun on his heel, whipping up his camera and snapping a shot of Ran and I as we drew closer. He did so with such a vicious, angry, maniacal manner that I immediately felt violated.
"Our ride is here already," he called out. All of the men paused and turned towards us. The guy with all the baggage dropped it and sighed in relief.
The man with the facial hair hustled towards us, smiling a sickeningly false smile. I held out my hand, feeling it's what I should do, and nearly recoiled at the feel of his sweaty, greasy palm. He squeezed my hand as if he wanted to crush all the bones into powder.
"Hah! Reiji Takatori, senior partner of Takatori Communications. World famous, you know," he said heartily.
I was so distracted by his facial hair that I didn't think about what I said before I opened my mouth. "Never even heard of it."
The man paused, his smile fading, his eyes growing dark. Slowly he let his grip on my hand slip away. The other man slid in next to him and took my hand in his place, shaking it firmly. He smiled, I liked him much better. For one thing his hand was dry and for another his facial hair was trimmed. "You wouldn't have. We've been contracted by the military to help set up the English teaching program in some of the occupied urban areas," he said in a firm voice. "I am Shuichi Takatori, junior partner, and this is my nephew," he indicated the tall, creepy looking guy with the bags, "Masafumi, and his brother, Hirofumi. Oddly enough Hirofumi is a field journalist with the marines, and has come to cover the development of the program in Pang Nuan. It's a pleasure to meet you.."
"Ah. er. Hidaka, Ken Hidaka. I'm a pilot with the 326th AHC, and this is Ran Fujimiya, my door gunner," I finally managed to say.
"Ah, so you are also the 'volunteers' for the teaching positions, correct?"
I exchanged a glance with Ran. He looked like he'd started to block the whole thing out. "More or less," I answered. Shuichi Takatori looked confused for a moment and then nodded, smiling absently.
"Shuichi, I was supposed to say all of those things, why are you always butting in?" the older gentleman burst in, his face growing rather red.
"Because, dear brother, you were too busy being put out to get things moving," he answered and then indicated the helicopter. "Shall we?"
I nodded and turned, leading the way. Ran jogged ahead to make sure there was room in the helicopter and to move anything that needed to be moved. When we got to the hold I saw the older Takatori Communications partner pause and fix Fujimiya with an odd look.
"What did you say your name was again?"
"Ran Fujimiya," he answered harshly. And for some reason it seemed to me as if their eyes locked. Somewhere a dog barked, thunder clashed, and lightning struck. I was just starting to feel uncomfortable when Takatori shrugged.
"Myah. I think I once knew a Fujimiya. Common name though," he said nonchalantly. Ran nodded curtly.
And that was the end of that.
As we made our way back to base, the marine journalist sat jump next to me. The others huddled uncomfortably in the hold with Ran, who didn't seem amused when Masafumi was ill out the open hatch door. He gave me a look that said, 'I aint cleanin' that up.' I chuckled to myself and then concentrated on keeping the flight as steady as I could. When we landed I could see Crawford, Kudou, and even Schu and Farf milling around, waiting for our return. I knew that the two officers had to be there, but I figured that Max and Jei must just have been really bored. Either that or they wanted to come and mock us, I wasn't sure which one was more likely. It took me a moment to realize that Omi was there too, hovering in Youji's shadow. I smiled. Poor kid, I'd been so out of it lately, so busy that I hadn't been able to spend much time with him. He must have been bored out of his wits.
As we landed the wind power from the chopper blades blew the grass back in ever widening ripples, and tossed Kudou's hat from his head, leaving his long, blonde hair to whip around his face blinding him and getting stuck in his mouth. Omi took off after it and in the process lost his own hat, Crawford started yelling, but of course I couldn't hear his words over the chopper noise. Jei and Max were laughing so hard they were trying to support each other. I wished then that I'd been able to get a picture of the whole scene it was priceless.
As we unloaded and I shut the blades off, the rhythmic thwacking sound dying down to a pathetic whine, Crawford came forward, followed by the others, finally recovered from the hat escapade. The Takatori clan hopped down from the chopper, Masafumi nearly falling flat on his face.
Crawford smiled thinly and held out his hand. It was taken and introductions were exchanged. Then even as the talking was going on the marine journalist guy began to idly push all of us towards the chopper, arranging us without our realizing what he was really doing. Before we knew it we were all posed by the UH-1 Bell. *click* Picture taken. I think we all know where at least one copy that picture went.
Youji sucked air through his teeth and hissed to me, "Oh, he's good. Sneaky. I like that."
Crawford looked more disgruntled than was necessary, I had the feeling that he didn't like having his picture taken. He stepped forward and ushered the Takatori Communications company away towards their quarters.
Kudou shrugged and tagged after them. The rest of us idled by the helicopter, no longer having any pressing matters to take care of. The sky was turning gray. It was going to start raining soon.
Omi pushed up beside me and leaned against my arm. He looked up at me, his deep blue eyes smiling. "Hey, Ken."
I chuckled and smiled back at him, ruffling his hair with my free hand. "Hey, Omi."
With that he sighed and rested his head on my shoulder. Ran gave us an odd look and then pushed off from the helicopter, heading away.
"Hey, Fujimiya! Let's go play some cards, hey?" Schuldich called after him.
"No," he answered flatly, still heading away.
Jei cackled softly and then came to stand next to Omi, resting his hand on the kid's head. Omi looked up at him askance. "Hey, don't be getting jealous now, Randy-boy," Farfarello he called harshly, and then rumpled Omi's hair some more.
Omi shifted awkwardly and tried to pull his head out from under Farf's hand, he failed. "Jealous of what?" he asked absently.
At this Jei grinned at him, his odd yellow eyes glinting fiercely in the diffused light. "Innocence is so endearing," he mused and then walked back to Schuldich. They joked with each other for a moment and then waved to us and headed towards the rec center.
I didn't say anything through the little episode, only stood there with my arms at my sides. Finally Omi stood up straight and looked up at me quizzically, then glanced after Ran and the others. "What was that about?" he asked.
I shrugged, turning my face away. "I don't know."
"Hey, Ken?"
"Yeah, kid?"
He giggled, "How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?"
I sighed. "Sorry. Yeah, -Omi-?"
"I got my papers back this morning. I'm out of here in three weeks!" he said excitedly.
I grinned down at him. "That's great!"
He smiled and then it started to fade. "Yeah, but I'll probably never see you again..."
"Don't say that. I'll see you on the flip side. I promise, as soon as this crazy war is over I'll come visit you in Chicago."
"Whoa! For real?!"
I nodded and put out my hand for us to shake on it. He grinned and grabbed my hand. "For real. I've got nothing better to do after all."
He looked at me for a moment, his blue eyes filling with concern. His hold on my hand lightened and I felt him twisting his fingers in mine until he was holding my hand again. Why did he always do that? "You still haven't told me about your family. Before I leave, you promise you will?"
I ducked my head and smiled sadly. It didn't really seem like that big of a deal now, not now that Fujimiya already knew. Well... most of it anyway. I nodded. "Yeah, sure kid. Before you leave. Promise."
He squeezed my hand and then began to drag me off towards the far field. "Let's get in on that card game. I'm almost out of smokes again!"
What could I do, but let him drag me along?
That night as I lay in my bunk sleep would not come. My thoughts chased themselves around in circles, making me dizzy as I stared up at the picture of Yuriko that I had tacked to the bottom of Fujimiya's bunk. Seeing her smiling face, even though I felt guilty every time I looked at it, made me feel closer to home. Not that I particularly wanted to be at home, not with the way things were. As I lay there in the darkness I heard Ran grumble in his sleep, toss once and then gasp. The bed squeaked as he shifted his weight. Sitting up, I imagined.
"Fujimiya, are you awake?" I hissed.
There was a pause several beats long and then a stifled grumbling. "I am now."
"No rest for the weary, eh?"
He sighed. "Something like that. No rest for the wicked is more what I was thinking."
"Mm. What do you think about our communications instructors?"
Another pause and then he began to chuckle. I did the same. We lay there chuckling to ourselves for several moments and then tried to quell our amusement.
"Freaks, all of them."
"I agree. How are we supposed to take those people seriously?" I giggled.
"Look who's talking, you're the one who giggles like a girl," he grumbled.
I scoffed. "Excuse me?!"
"Well you do."
"And what about you?" I demanded under my breath.
"I have a very manly chuckle," he answered seriously.
Then we both started to laugh again.
I took a deep breath and sighed. "I ought to wake you up in the middle of the night more often. You're much more pleasant this way," I commented.
He was silent for a while again. "You didn't wake me up. I almost never sleep the whole night anymore. Dreams."
I wondered why he was suddenly so open. Why was he telling me this? "I used to get dreams too, maybe you should take some of those anxiety pills... you've been here a whole hell of a lot longer than I have."
"I don't fuck around with that shit. And you shouldn't either," he growled.
I shrugged. "They help me get to sleep."
"And they seem to be working so well," he commented sarcastically.
"Tonight is different," I snapped. "I'm thinking about this whole English teaching thing we have to do."
"Hn."
"What do you dream about?" I asked suddenly.
"I'm not going to tell you," he answered flatly.
"Fine." I rolled over and pulled the blanket up to my ear. "Don't. Good night." Why did I even bother?
The training went by quickly. Two weeks passed without incident. The Takatori clan was the source of endless amusement. Crawford got in the habit of wandering around mumbling, "Takatori is an idiot..." He was really starting to stress the commander out. He just didn't understand why we couldn't have a private chef brought in to prepare the meals for himself and his associates. After all he was doing us a favor. Ran and I did our best to just nod and smile during the training sessions. Well, I did my best to nod and smile. Ran did his best not to make it blatantly obvious that he was falling asleep. The best part was that Kudou had to endure the training with us, because he was our commander. And he didn't care if it was blatantly obvious he was sleeping or not. More than once we heard: "What is that idiot doing? Is he snoring?! This is not a joke, teaching language requires training and diligence! How will we ever hope to make the world a glorious democratic empire if all the heathens speak heathanese and not English?!"
At this point I usually felt very frightened and wished I could run away from the domineering facial hair of Reiji Takatori. His brother spent most of his time writing things down on a small pad of paper and rolling his eyes. The son just stood around and fanned himself. I don't think I actually learned anything during those two weeks, except that Ran had a tendency to drool when he slept with his head on a table and that sunglasses were and effective way to disguise disinterest.
On the day before they were scheduled to leave the Takatori Communications people, Kudou, Fujimiya, and I drove into Sang Cho-na to see where we were going to be teaching. It was a side room on a house by the river. It was cramped, dirty, unventilated, and generally unpleasant. I tried to imagine spending the entirety of the monsoon season in that tiny room with the one door propped open, but couldn't. There were a series of makeshift desks set up and a cracked black board on wheels in the corner. By the look on Ran's face he must have been thinking the same things I was.
"Looks good to me," Reiji Takatori said glibly after about thirty seconds and then turned to leave.
I turned to Youji and glared at him. "Kudou..."
He put up his hands. "Hey, this is punishment, remember?"
"I think we got the dirty end of this deal," I hissed.
Kudou chuckled. "That was kinda the idea."
Ran and I glared at him in tandem and then made to leave. The lieutenant followed after us. "Hey, c'mon, you two. Just think of it this way: you could be doing this with Jei and Max as well."
We both groaned audibly.
"Just do your best. It isn't like anybody really cares anyway. We'll just head back to base. Relax, and prepare for tomorrow," he said nonchalantly.
We both rolled our eyes, but did what he said. I gave the small building one last glance before I hopped in the back of the vehicle. How bad could it possibly be?
_____________________________________________________________________
* 'The Most Dangerous Game' is a short story that was written by Richard Connell in 1924. It is about a man who abducts people to hunt them on his private island. The title is a play on words having the 'game' be the game of hunting and also the 'game' as in the sense of prey. I thought this also worked for war. 'War' being the most dangerous game and of course once again man being the most dangerous game hunted in wartime. Does this make any sense? Anyway I thought it would be a funny little inside joke for anyone who got the reference and also watches the show, because we all know that Hirofumi is the guys who likes to hunt people... yeah. Ok, that was just my ironic sense of poetry kicking in. Ignore it if you will.
REVIEW!! *points at review button*
Comments: Ok, whee. It didn't take me very long to get this part out. I actually have a lot more free time now that orientation is over. Although I have a sneaky suspicion that I should be studying for my Hiragana quiz on Monday. Hmmm. yeah where did I put those flash cards? Anyway this chapter is kinda weird. You get back story! Yeah! Yeah, everything should become mostly clear about Ken's psyche now. See, the way I have this story set up in my head is in three parts. This chapter is the end of the first part. Yeah, I know, is it ever gonna end? The other parts aren't as long, at least I hope they won't be. AH!! And I did something here that I originally hadn't intended to do... Takatori clan cameo! No, they aren't evil, no they aren't the head of the VC, and no they aren't related to Omi. They are just there for a little comic relief... I hope. Anyway, enjoy. I hope you do. And please -please- review, ne?
Notes: Yeah, no real notes. Except that there were actually English teaching facilities set up during the war, I am not just pulling this shit out of my ass, and yes soldiers were often recruited to teach them.
_____________________________________________________________________
Behind the barracks of the 326th AHU there was an emergency stack of firewood. It was actually more like a stack of unused two by fours which resembled all the other stacks of unused two by fours in the camp, but they told us it was firewood. I often wondered why. just incase it ever started snowing? The ground around the pile was littered with cigarette butts and other miscellaneous testaments to the fact that it was a place often used by the soldiers. It was between the back of our bunkhouse and the back of another bunkhouse, making it feel enclosed and private, it was a good place to sit and quietly smoke a cigarette. I didn't smoke, nonetheless this is where I found myself hunkered down with my small pile of mail sitting ominously in my lap. I hadn't even looked at the addresses on my way over from the mail station, I hadn't really looked at anything. Next thing I knew I was sitting on the wood pile, hands shaking, wondering what to do next.
You really wouldn't think that opening a few letters would be all that difficult.
Taking a deep breath I sighed, steeling myself as I reached for the first letter. It was from my mother, her neat, tight handwriting, handwriting that looked like every native Japanese's english handwriting marched boldly across the front of the white envelope. I laughed finding it funny that the envelope was, unlike the others, still perfectly white. My mother was like that. Everything she touched was always expected to stay immaculate, and it usually did. Everything but me, I guess. I tucked the corner of it under my thigh and reached for the second letter. Yuriko. I sighed again and felt like tearing it up right then and there. I didn't want to have to read anything she'd sent me. It would be too painful, too brutally understanding and sweet. All happiness and love and caring. Through everything she'd never reproached me, never said anything harsh or gotten angry. Maybe that's what made it hurt so much. If she could just be angry with me, maybe I could forgive myself for hurting her. I slipped this letter beneath the one from my mother. The next was thin and crisp with the US Army logo stamped in the corner. Something official no doubt. Some letter to boost my morale or just blow sunshine up my ass. I almost tore it up and then slid it under Yuriko's letter.
There wasn't much else for a few envelopes. Something from the IRS, I remember wondering at how they just never seemed to quit, something from some charity organization offering free counseling, and a flyer for an event that had taken place on the base almost three weeks ago.
It was the last letter that I had been dreading. And as I put my hand on it, eyes scanning the return address, I felt my stomach twist and my heart beat faster. All the stamps were marked through with the seal of the Canadian postal service. the red ink was smeared and the envelope was bent and stained, but it was in one piece. My fingers trembled as they brushed over the return address. Kase. It was from fucking Kase.
I closed my eyes and sat back, resting my head against the slat board wall. After a moment I let my eyes open and squinted up into the narrow strip of sky that was visible between my barracks and the one across from me. Without looking at the letter I felt my fingers move of their own accord and gently slip beneath the seal, tearing it open. The letter felt worn as if the paper had been handled a lot. I twisted it gently in my fingers before looking down at it, and folding it open. A picture fell out. I found it odd, but I was reminded of my first night at Pang Nuan, when I had tipped over Fujimiya's photographs and discovered his secret. Why was he always invading my thoughts? Couldn't I do anything, have anything without thinking about him? Why should I care anyway? The guy was empty, cold.
I didn't look at the photo right away, it was probably just some picture of Kase and I didn't need something to remind me of what he looked like. I'd see him in my mind forever. Thusly I began to read.
Dear Ken, I've been trying to write you this letter for almost all day now. My roommates think I'm crazy, because I've used up so many pieces of paper and thrown them all away. Fuckin' Cannooks, what do they know, eh? Ha. Made you laugh? Probably not. I guess I'd be lucky if you didn't just burn this letter when you go it. Knowing you and you're temper I wouldn't be surprised. Just thinking about it. about you. makes me happy. And sad, too, because I know you'll never forgive me. I'll never see you look at me the way you used to, never feel you close to me. And that's my fault, I know. I just couldn't do it, you know? I just couldn't! I know that telling you all this now isn't going to help, I just wanted you to know how sorry I am. I couldn't face you before you left, I couldn't tell you then, so I guess that's why I'm writing this letter. I let you down, I betrayed you after you laid everything on the line for me. I should have told you I had doubts before. well, before you know. Everything. Would it help if I told you that I love you? I do. I always will. Why didn't you come with me? We could have gone together, Ken. You didn't have to go to Nam without me. It's my fault that you're there, you went for me. But I never asked you to! I never asked you to enlist. My draft couldn't be avoided. I just wanted to be with you always. guess I screwed that up, huh? I'm selfish like that. I'm not as strong as you, Ken, I'm not a fighter. I wouldn't have been able to take it. All the guns and the death and the fighting. I know you'll get out of there alive, I know you'll be ok. I feel it, I'm sorry I can't be there. More than you know. Just. just don't do anything stupid, ok? Don't go and -get- yourself killed. I won't forgive myself if you do. Shit this letter is crap, but I can't tear it up again. How are you anyway? I know you probably won't write back to me. I'll probably never see you again, but if you ever find a way to forgive me, know that I will be waiting for you. Find me if you want, ok? Oh, fuck, I miss you. I miss everything about you. You're my best friend, Ken. More than my friend, you are everything. I miss the way out bodies feel next to each other. The sound of your cries when we make love. I want to feel you, Ken, it kills me everyday how badly I want you.. I can taste it. Why am I telling you this? You probably hate me. I would. How does it feel being a gay in the military? Hah, sounds cliché. Did you laugh that time? I'm so sorry about your family, Ken. I mean. shit, everything is my fault isn't it. If I'd just done what we'd planned and gone to Nam like I said I would none of this would have ever happened. But I had to let everyone know before it was over, before I lost you. You understand that, right? I didn't think it would turn out the way it did. I'm sorry if I forced you, asked too much, screwed your life over. But there were people who needed to know. Yuriko for one. It wasn't cool, her just not knowing, thinking it was all going to work out one day. I'm such a fuckup, couldn't even stay around to support you. Do you ever think of me without hating me? Look. I don't know what I'm writing anymore. I'm not coherent. All I can see are the tears that blur my vision and your face. What I wouldn't give to touch it, stroke your cheek, kiss you. I would die for one of your kisses. I swear I would. In case you care, or were wondering, I'm doing fine. I've got a place with a few roommates. They're laid back. I got a job, though it's hard being an 'illegal alien' and all that. My dad still sends me money every month, so I'm not worried. I don't ask you to forgive me, just. try not to hate me too much. I will always love you. You were my first, Ken. My first friend, my first love, and my first lover for that matter. No one else will ever come close. I'll be here if you ever want me for anything.
Yours forever, Kase
PS. I found an undeveloped roll of film in my camera the other day. I took it in. I almost died when I got them back. Do you remember this day?
-K
I had just sat there, staring at the letter until I couldn't make out the words anymore. He was such a liar! Such a fucking liar! He has the balls to write me, -me-, a letter like this, to profess his love for me. Tell me that he'll always love me. Where was his love for me when he ran away? When he left me alone to go to Nam by myself? He swore that he'd die for one of my kisses. and yet he couldn't even -risk- his life for my love. Where was his selfless desire for us when he decided we should tell our families that we were together, that we. that -I- was homosexual? Did he stay with me then, try to help me explain as my world crashed down around me, as my family disowned me? I suffered all that for him and in the end it was for nothing. He pushed me off a cliff and then just let me fall. He was too afraid to jump himself, he just turned and ran away. Ran to Canada. His fear was more powerful than anything he ever felt for me, love or otherwise. That is why I hated him, because he was such a coward. Hate him? No, resent him at best. In truth I still felt that I loved him in some capacity. If he showed up with open arms and begged me to come back, even after all the pain he'd caused me all the shit I'd gone through because of his weakness, would I go to him? I couldn't be sure the answer was no. But. no. He was no longer a part of my life. Never would be again. I couldn't forgive him for his betrayal of my trust in him. He was just a jumble of emotions and memories now. It was better that way.
Kase had started an avalanche of pain and loss through my life. When the destruction was finally over there was nothing left but a huge, barren scar devoid of all meaning and feeling. That's why I'd come to Nam anyway. I was there because it no longer mattered where I was, if I lived or died. Everything I'd had to live for was gone. Vietnam was all I had left.
With this thought in mind I turned over the photograph and felt my stomach drop out. Did I remember that day? That's what Kase's letter asked. How could I not?
It was one of those pictures you take holding the camera up in front of your face to get a sorta close up. The kind you take with your friends when you're young. Kase had taken this picture of himself and I, holding the camera up as we stood together, kissing. the first time he'd ever kissed me in public. The whole picture was just our faces, so close, so happy, kissing. I remembered the day, one of the last days we spent together. He'd forced me to come to the park down by the waterside. We'd spent all day down there, fooling around, making asses of ourselves on the green. We'd gotten a lot of looks, but it didn't really matter all that much. San Francisco was, even then, a Mecca of homosexuality. Yeah, I remembered that day.
As I focused my eyes on the image in my hands I felt my chest begin to constrict and before I knew it I was crying. Silent, small sobs, warm tears, hard breathing. It all came up on me so fast. I sat there, my head resting against my arms, which were folded over my knees, and clenched the photo between my fingers. Life gets so fucked.
And then suddenly all I could think about was Ran and Yuushi, whoever Yuushi had been. Did they have a relationship like Kase and mine? Their story sounded so familiar. Yuushi came to Nam to be with Ran after his draft, just like I'd meant to do for Kase. But Kase turned his back on me, ran away, left me in the lurch after I'd already enlisted to go to Nam by myself when I could have been free from the beginning. Yuushi died in combat, like all the rest of Ran's pilots. The guilt must have been intense. I couldn't imagine. As far as I could tell both of our lives were pretty fucked. Ran and I had both lost the people we loved and trusted the most. His was dead, gone forever. Mine left me still loving him, betrayed me. Somehow he felt just as dead. or I did. I wondered which way was better.
Then I started ripping open the other letters. Yuriko's was just as I knew it would be. All friendly words and concern. She didn't seem to care that I'd screwed all of her plans by being gay. Screwed everyone's plans, my mother's included. It was all such a sick joke. I'd never asked to be practically betrothed to the daughter of my mother's best friend. It had always just been assumed that's how it would work out. I'd thought so too, until things had changed with Kase. But that was ancient history. Such ancient history. The letter was brief and referred to me as 'friend.' She was a much better person than I could ever be. Oh, Yuriko, what was I going to do with you? She, too, had included a picture. Just a picture of herself smiling and waving from what I recognized as the Asakawa's patio.
My mother's letter was briefer still than Yuriko's, and was written in dark, angry looking Japanese. The characters flowed and blurred before my eyes. She referred to me as the 'stranger who was once her son.' She told me to be careful, because it would dishonor the family if I died without resolving my conflicts with them. She said everyone was fine, and then signed her name. On the back, printed very lightly was one character. The character for love. It made me smile sadly and then I began to cry again.
It was thus that I sat, my letters and photos scattered on the ground and boards around me, weeping silently into my knees. I didn't notice the clouds as they chased swiftly across the sky or the sounds of camp life go on around me outside of the world between the barracks buildings. And I didn't notice the sound of booted feet approach from the side of the building. I didn't notice anything at all until I heard his voice shatter my reverie.
"What the fuck is your problem?"
I had been startled, and my head snapped up. I sucked my breath in sharply as I looked up to meet the piercing gaze of two indigo eyes. But they weren't looking at me. They were ducked, focusing on the end of the cigarette he was trying to light. When he had it lit he snapped his lighter shut and dropped it into his jacket pocket. Only then did his eyes meet mine. I just sat there, tear streaked, staring up at him. I couldn't think of anything to say. I couldn't think of anything at all.
"Tell me, Hidaka, what is your problem? It seems like you spend half your time sobbing to yourself, and the other half preaching at people about how they should live their lives. About how they shouldn't lock people out. So what the hell are you doing huddled behind the barracks indulging yourself in misery?" he asked flatly, and then took a long drag, blowing the smoke at me.
"What the fuck should you care? You don't want to know anything about me anyway," I hissed. I wondered where the hell he felt he got off telling me that I was -indulging- in misery. He made himself miserable every single fucking day as far as I could tell.
"What if I did?"
I stared at him for a moment and then laughed shallowly. "Nothing to tell. I'm just a Japanese kid from the bay area." I looked away, hiding my eyes back in my arms.
"People like you shouldn't be here, Hidaka," he indicated the letters around me with a wave of his hand, "if a few words from home gets you crying like a girl you should just ship out now. Go back home to mommy."
I looked at him and felt like wringing his neck. "What the fuck do you know? You like to think I'm so weak! Why? And so what if I am? I have nothing to go back to. Fuck home! Fuck Nam! And fuck you! I'm not sitting here crying cause I want my mommy, Fujimiya. Vietnam is all I have anymore, when this war is over, these letters will the only things I have left of these people. I am nobody to them anymore!"
I didn't catch his movement until it was too late. Before I could stop him he'd reached over and snatched the photograph from right between my fingers. I don't know why he did it, what possessed him, and I never bothered to ask. In the end it wasn't important.
I saw his features slowly change as he looked at the photograph. At first there was confusion and then realization and finally understanding as he looked up from the image to me, back and forth with those intense eyes. I held my breath. I didn't know what to do or if I should try to stop him from seeing. I didn't figure it really mattered since I already knew the truth about him. I just sat there and let him look, wondered what he was thinking. After a moment he sighed and inexplicably sat down beside me, leaning back against the slat boards. He took a drag and then began to laugh, smoke swirling, dancing from the corners of his mouth and dispersing in the air. I'd never seen him really smile before, much less laugh. His eyes crinkled up in the most amazing way, the wideness of his grin was startling. I was so surprised, so entranced by his carefree beauty that I suddenly found myself chuckling along with him. I didn't know why. I couldn't find anything funny, except the irony, but that was funny in a painful way. Maybe that's why I was laughing and crying.
He took one last look at the pictures as he began to stifle his laughter. "Guess that makes two of us," he said under his breath, and this only made me laugh harder.
He looked at me and then dropped the photo in my lap. Ran seemed to take it for granted that I already knew about him. Maybe it was all the hints Schu had been dropping, or maybe he just figured I knew anyway. I thought about telling him that I knew about Yuushi, but decided against it. There was no real point.
After a while he glanced at me and sighed deeply. "What's the story? Who is he? Is he in Vietnam somewhere?"
I waited for a few moments before I answered. "Kase. A friend, who became more than a friend. We were supposed to come to Nam together, but he went AWOL, and left me in the lurch. Suffice to say he's not even a friend anymore. My family disowned me thanks to him," I said, not without bitterness. "So here I am in Vietnam with nothing to go home to and nothing to live for. I guess I'll just have to pray that the war never ends."
He stared hard at me for a few moments, his eyes so intense that I found myself drawn into them as I had those times before. It was strange, I remember that for the first time I found more behind them than just the void. He seemed distraught, confused, full of an unnamable fear and an unbearable loneliness. All of this was to be found in his eyes, those deep, indigo spaces that I would find myself swept away in so often, that is where he kept himself. His face betrayed nothing, not a trace of what was inside. No, it was all in his eyes. Those endless eyes. I felt as if I was spying on his soul and looked away hastily, staring off into space.
I wondered absently what he saw in my eyes. Was he even looking? It didn't really matter.
Finally he stood, and took the photograph from my lap again. No words were spoken, there was nothing more to say anymore, at least it seemed to me. He held it out with one hand and with the other he reached inside of his jacket pocket, producing his lighter. I watched, unmoving, as he lit the edge and let it burn. The flames chased slowly up the picture, burning it away, eating it into nothingness. The wind took the ashes and scattered them. Before it burned completely he turned his hand over and held the last smoldering bit in his palm, letting the ashes settle there. Then he came to stand in front of me. Without thinking I held out my hand to him and he dusted the fragments from his palm to mine, I felt his fingers touch and linger gently on my wrist. Before he withdrew he said simply, "Or find something else to live for."
I fought desperately to make sense of his words, to grasp at his meaning, searching for more than just a string of mindless sentiments. As his fingers pulled away I looked up sharply, knowing there was pleading in my eyes, but he had already turned away, he could not, or would not see me.
He said nothing else, only walked away. I watched his back move towards the corner of the barracks and saw him exhale another thin line of smoke. I thought he might have paused, but then he was gone, disappeared behind the barracks.
Then I had started to cry again. I didn't know why. I felt light and empty, something was gone, some weight was lifted. My tears now were tears of happiness, thankfulness, joy. With that simple gesture he had made everything so clear and absolute. Kase was nothing anymore, just burned away memories. All I had to do was find something else to live for, and life would go on. And so in the end I did find something else. Only thing is. what do you do when you lose that too?
After all that I thought that things were going to be different. I guess maybe they were in some ways, but whatever I'd thought or hoped for from Fujimiya was not what I received. When we were alone together, which wasn't often, he was, admittedly, less reserved, warmer than he had been before, but with the others nothing changed. I guess that's the way things had to be. He was still the person he had been when I met him. Meeting me, knowing me, couldn't change his character, I was stupid to think it could.
The flight out to the transport station was uneventful. The vastness of the jungle always made my head spin as is spread out beneath us, the river our only guiding light so to speak. Ran sat quietly behind the door- mounted gun, smoking and gazing listlessly out into the sunlight. We didn't talk much, there wasn't much to say really, but these days I found that just being with him made me feel better. It was that detached sense of kinship, I think.
We had landed behind the far hangars and sat on the lip of the doorway, swinging our feet above the mottled and cracked cement landing pad, waiting for out cargo. The transport station was eerily empty. It was such a drastic change from the last time I had been there. God it seemed like an eternity ago that I arrived. It didn't take long for a group of lost looking civilians to catch our eye. Two older men, and to us older was going on forty, were sweltering under the intense heat, trying to look dignified in sweltering suit jackets. They looked comical, and Ran and I exchanged an amused glance as I silently pointed them out. Behind them another, younger man with obnoxiously narrow eyes and a look that belied a tendency towards violence struggled beneath what must have been the group's collective luggage. Behind him still trailed another young man, an enlisted man, a marine if I wasn't mistaken. A semi-automatic rifle, it was rumored the marines slept with theirs, was slung over his shoulder and a camera dangled from around his neck. Every few steps he would pause, bring the camera to his eye, focus on something, and generally decide not to take a picture. We watched them parade around in a disordered and confused manner for a few moments and then exchanged amused glances again. We hopped down from the Iroquois and headed towards the milling men. As we came closer I could begin to make out their conversation.
"Don't you think we should just find a place to wait, brother?" the younger, more distinguished man in a suit asked, fanning himself with his hand.
"What? No, I don't think so. Shut up, Shuichi, who's the senior partner here?" the other man, slightly more portly and with the most distracting facial hair I'd ever encountered answered, huffing up along side the hangar.
"*sigh* You are, Reiji."
"Father?! Can't we just find a place to put the bags? I'm can't feel my arms any longer," the sickly looking young man asked pleadingly, stopping in his tracks.
"No, Masafumi, shut up! Don't make me deal with you."
"Yeah, *click* stop whining," the marine bringing up the rear replied, taking a picture of nothing in particular. As we drew closer I could see that he had the words 'The Most Dangerous Game'* tattooed on his forearm.
"I don't see -you- carrying any of the baggage, Hirofumi!"
"I'm in the army, I don't -have- to carry your bags. I actually have a job that I didn't get from daddy."
"Oh yeah?! Then why are you here with us now?"
"Because, I requested this assignment, so that I could be with -you- dear brother," the marine answered.
I leaned over towards Ran and hissed, "Dysfunctional family much?" under my breath.
Suddenly the marine journalist spun on his heel, whipping up his camera and snapping a shot of Ran and I as we drew closer. He did so with such a vicious, angry, maniacal manner that I immediately felt violated.
"Our ride is here already," he called out. All of the men paused and turned towards us. The guy with all the baggage dropped it and sighed in relief.
The man with the facial hair hustled towards us, smiling a sickeningly false smile. I held out my hand, feeling it's what I should do, and nearly recoiled at the feel of his sweaty, greasy palm. He squeezed my hand as if he wanted to crush all the bones into powder.
"Hah! Reiji Takatori, senior partner of Takatori Communications. World famous, you know," he said heartily.
I was so distracted by his facial hair that I didn't think about what I said before I opened my mouth. "Never even heard of it."
The man paused, his smile fading, his eyes growing dark. Slowly he let his grip on my hand slip away. The other man slid in next to him and took my hand in his place, shaking it firmly. He smiled, I liked him much better. For one thing his hand was dry and for another his facial hair was trimmed. "You wouldn't have. We've been contracted by the military to help set up the English teaching program in some of the occupied urban areas," he said in a firm voice. "I am Shuichi Takatori, junior partner, and this is my nephew," he indicated the tall, creepy looking guy with the bags, "Masafumi, and his brother, Hirofumi. Oddly enough Hirofumi is a field journalist with the marines, and has come to cover the development of the program in Pang Nuan. It's a pleasure to meet you.."
"Ah. er. Hidaka, Ken Hidaka. I'm a pilot with the 326th AHC, and this is Ran Fujimiya, my door gunner," I finally managed to say.
"Ah, so you are also the 'volunteers' for the teaching positions, correct?"
I exchanged a glance with Ran. He looked like he'd started to block the whole thing out. "More or less," I answered. Shuichi Takatori looked confused for a moment and then nodded, smiling absently.
"Shuichi, I was supposed to say all of those things, why are you always butting in?" the older gentleman burst in, his face growing rather red.
"Because, dear brother, you were too busy being put out to get things moving," he answered and then indicated the helicopter. "Shall we?"
I nodded and turned, leading the way. Ran jogged ahead to make sure there was room in the helicopter and to move anything that needed to be moved. When we got to the hold I saw the older Takatori Communications partner pause and fix Fujimiya with an odd look.
"What did you say your name was again?"
"Ran Fujimiya," he answered harshly. And for some reason it seemed to me as if their eyes locked. Somewhere a dog barked, thunder clashed, and lightning struck. I was just starting to feel uncomfortable when Takatori shrugged.
"Myah. I think I once knew a Fujimiya. Common name though," he said nonchalantly. Ran nodded curtly.
And that was the end of that.
As we made our way back to base, the marine journalist sat jump next to me. The others huddled uncomfortably in the hold with Ran, who didn't seem amused when Masafumi was ill out the open hatch door. He gave me a look that said, 'I aint cleanin' that up.' I chuckled to myself and then concentrated on keeping the flight as steady as I could. When we landed I could see Crawford, Kudou, and even Schu and Farf milling around, waiting for our return. I knew that the two officers had to be there, but I figured that Max and Jei must just have been really bored. Either that or they wanted to come and mock us, I wasn't sure which one was more likely. It took me a moment to realize that Omi was there too, hovering in Youji's shadow. I smiled. Poor kid, I'd been so out of it lately, so busy that I hadn't been able to spend much time with him. He must have been bored out of his wits.
As we landed the wind power from the chopper blades blew the grass back in ever widening ripples, and tossed Kudou's hat from his head, leaving his long, blonde hair to whip around his face blinding him and getting stuck in his mouth. Omi took off after it and in the process lost his own hat, Crawford started yelling, but of course I couldn't hear his words over the chopper noise. Jei and Max were laughing so hard they were trying to support each other. I wished then that I'd been able to get a picture of the whole scene it was priceless.
As we unloaded and I shut the blades off, the rhythmic thwacking sound dying down to a pathetic whine, Crawford came forward, followed by the others, finally recovered from the hat escapade. The Takatori clan hopped down from the chopper, Masafumi nearly falling flat on his face.
Crawford smiled thinly and held out his hand. It was taken and introductions were exchanged. Then even as the talking was going on the marine journalist guy began to idly push all of us towards the chopper, arranging us without our realizing what he was really doing. Before we knew it we were all posed by the UH-1 Bell. *click* Picture taken. I think we all know where at least one copy that picture went.
Youji sucked air through his teeth and hissed to me, "Oh, he's good. Sneaky. I like that."
Crawford looked more disgruntled than was necessary, I had the feeling that he didn't like having his picture taken. He stepped forward and ushered the Takatori Communications company away towards their quarters.
Kudou shrugged and tagged after them. The rest of us idled by the helicopter, no longer having any pressing matters to take care of. The sky was turning gray. It was going to start raining soon.
Omi pushed up beside me and leaned against my arm. He looked up at me, his deep blue eyes smiling. "Hey, Ken."
I chuckled and smiled back at him, ruffling his hair with my free hand. "Hey, Omi."
With that he sighed and rested his head on my shoulder. Ran gave us an odd look and then pushed off from the helicopter, heading away.
"Hey, Fujimiya! Let's go play some cards, hey?" Schuldich called after him.
"No," he answered flatly, still heading away.
Jei cackled softly and then came to stand next to Omi, resting his hand on the kid's head. Omi looked up at him askance. "Hey, don't be getting jealous now, Randy-boy," Farfarello he called harshly, and then rumpled Omi's hair some more.
Omi shifted awkwardly and tried to pull his head out from under Farf's hand, he failed. "Jealous of what?" he asked absently.
At this Jei grinned at him, his odd yellow eyes glinting fiercely in the diffused light. "Innocence is so endearing," he mused and then walked back to Schuldich. They joked with each other for a moment and then waved to us and headed towards the rec center.
I didn't say anything through the little episode, only stood there with my arms at my sides. Finally Omi stood up straight and looked up at me quizzically, then glanced after Ran and the others. "What was that about?" he asked.
I shrugged, turning my face away. "I don't know."
"Hey, Ken?"
"Yeah, kid?"
He giggled, "How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?"
I sighed. "Sorry. Yeah, -Omi-?"
"I got my papers back this morning. I'm out of here in three weeks!" he said excitedly.
I grinned down at him. "That's great!"
He smiled and then it started to fade. "Yeah, but I'll probably never see you again..."
"Don't say that. I'll see you on the flip side. I promise, as soon as this crazy war is over I'll come visit you in Chicago."
"Whoa! For real?!"
I nodded and put out my hand for us to shake on it. He grinned and grabbed my hand. "For real. I've got nothing better to do after all."
He looked at me for a moment, his blue eyes filling with concern. His hold on my hand lightened and I felt him twisting his fingers in mine until he was holding my hand again. Why did he always do that? "You still haven't told me about your family. Before I leave, you promise you will?"
I ducked my head and smiled sadly. It didn't really seem like that big of a deal now, not now that Fujimiya already knew. Well... most of it anyway. I nodded. "Yeah, sure kid. Before you leave. Promise."
He squeezed my hand and then began to drag me off towards the far field. "Let's get in on that card game. I'm almost out of smokes again!"
What could I do, but let him drag me along?
That night as I lay in my bunk sleep would not come. My thoughts chased themselves around in circles, making me dizzy as I stared up at the picture of Yuriko that I had tacked to the bottom of Fujimiya's bunk. Seeing her smiling face, even though I felt guilty every time I looked at it, made me feel closer to home. Not that I particularly wanted to be at home, not with the way things were. As I lay there in the darkness I heard Ran grumble in his sleep, toss once and then gasp. The bed squeaked as he shifted his weight. Sitting up, I imagined.
"Fujimiya, are you awake?" I hissed.
There was a pause several beats long and then a stifled grumbling. "I am now."
"No rest for the weary, eh?"
He sighed. "Something like that. No rest for the wicked is more what I was thinking."
"Mm. What do you think about our communications instructors?"
Another pause and then he began to chuckle. I did the same. We lay there chuckling to ourselves for several moments and then tried to quell our amusement.
"Freaks, all of them."
"I agree. How are we supposed to take those people seriously?" I giggled.
"Look who's talking, you're the one who giggles like a girl," he grumbled.
I scoffed. "Excuse me?!"
"Well you do."
"And what about you?" I demanded under my breath.
"I have a very manly chuckle," he answered seriously.
Then we both started to laugh again.
I took a deep breath and sighed. "I ought to wake you up in the middle of the night more often. You're much more pleasant this way," I commented.
He was silent for a while again. "You didn't wake me up. I almost never sleep the whole night anymore. Dreams."
I wondered why he was suddenly so open. Why was he telling me this? "I used to get dreams too, maybe you should take some of those anxiety pills... you've been here a whole hell of a lot longer than I have."
"I don't fuck around with that shit. And you shouldn't either," he growled.
I shrugged. "They help me get to sleep."
"And they seem to be working so well," he commented sarcastically.
"Tonight is different," I snapped. "I'm thinking about this whole English teaching thing we have to do."
"Hn."
"What do you dream about?" I asked suddenly.
"I'm not going to tell you," he answered flatly.
"Fine." I rolled over and pulled the blanket up to my ear. "Don't. Good night." Why did I even bother?
The training went by quickly. Two weeks passed without incident. The Takatori clan was the source of endless amusement. Crawford got in the habit of wandering around mumbling, "Takatori is an idiot..." He was really starting to stress the commander out. He just didn't understand why we couldn't have a private chef brought in to prepare the meals for himself and his associates. After all he was doing us a favor. Ran and I did our best to just nod and smile during the training sessions. Well, I did my best to nod and smile. Ran did his best not to make it blatantly obvious that he was falling asleep. The best part was that Kudou had to endure the training with us, because he was our commander. And he didn't care if it was blatantly obvious he was sleeping or not. More than once we heard: "What is that idiot doing? Is he snoring?! This is not a joke, teaching language requires training and diligence! How will we ever hope to make the world a glorious democratic empire if all the heathens speak heathanese and not English?!"
At this point I usually felt very frightened and wished I could run away from the domineering facial hair of Reiji Takatori. His brother spent most of his time writing things down on a small pad of paper and rolling his eyes. The son just stood around and fanned himself. I don't think I actually learned anything during those two weeks, except that Ran had a tendency to drool when he slept with his head on a table and that sunglasses were and effective way to disguise disinterest.
On the day before they were scheduled to leave the Takatori Communications people, Kudou, Fujimiya, and I drove into Sang Cho-na to see where we were going to be teaching. It was a side room on a house by the river. It was cramped, dirty, unventilated, and generally unpleasant. I tried to imagine spending the entirety of the monsoon season in that tiny room with the one door propped open, but couldn't. There were a series of makeshift desks set up and a cracked black board on wheels in the corner. By the look on Ran's face he must have been thinking the same things I was.
"Looks good to me," Reiji Takatori said glibly after about thirty seconds and then turned to leave.
I turned to Youji and glared at him. "Kudou..."
He put up his hands. "Hey, this is punishment, remember?"
"I think we got the dirty end of this deal," I hissed.
Kudou chuckled. "That was kinda the idea."
Ran and I glared at him in tandem and then made to leave. The lieutenant followed after us. "Hey, c'mon, you two. Just think of it this way: you could be doing this with Jei and Max as well."
We both groaned audibly.
"Just do your best. It isn't like anybody really cares anyway. We'll just head back to base. Relax, and prepare for tomorrow," he said nonchalantly.
We both rolled our eyes, but did what he said. I gave the small building one last glance before I hopped in the back of the vehicle. How bad could it possibly be?
_____________________________________________________________________
* 'The Most Dangerous Game' is a short story that was written by Richard Connell in 1924. It is about a man who abducts people to hunt them on his private island. The title is a play on words having the 'game' be the game of hunting and also the 'game' as in the sense of prey. I thought this also worked for war. 'War' being the most dangerous game and of course once again man being the most dangerous game hunted in wartime. Does this make any sense? Anyway I thought it would be a funny little inside joke for anyone who got the reference and also watches the show, because we all know that Hirofumi is the guys who likes to hunt people... yeah. Ok, that was just my ironic sense of poetry kicking in. Ignore it if you will.
REVIEW!! *points at review button*