Patre0n- People asked for it, so it lives. If you want to donate, I love you. If not, I still love your and would write for you regardless. It's a hobby we both love and I'll take any support you give me 😊 Special thanks to Fuyukazehime for helping the Discord n00b. Since ffnet actively deletes the proper spelling of "Patre0n" and hates links, you're going to have to figure this one out yourself- I'm at /ozzallos.
Through and Through
By Ozzallos
Chapter II
Forward Staging Area; Camp Asaka
July 8th, 20xx
Paperwork.
If there was a single bane to the existence of the men and women whose profession revolved around the art of warfare, it wasn't the enemy seeking to kill them… It was the paperwork seeking to kill them. Terrorist could be slain. Enemy commandos dispatched. Paperwork, however, could not be stopped. It had no feelings. It did not care. Its preferred tactic was to attack in overwhelming numbers while engaging its opponent in a war of attrition they would never win. Such was the same for one Ranma Saotome, heir to the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts as he plied pen to paper for seeming the hundredth time. In reality, he had only signed his name fifteen times, but volumes of dry, seemingly useless information accompanied each signature. The martial artist sighed, dolling out another signature in the form of a sloppy scrawl. The black-haired teen imagined some of it was useful. He was, for example, getting paid surprisingly much. He had never been paid to kick ass and take names, but who was he to argue? The medical waivers on the other hand, seemed overly redundant, as did the insurance elections and other mundane details that invariably reduced his once passable signature into barely coherent scribble.
"Last one. Promise." A short haired girl in an olive skirt-jacket uniform offered sympathetically as she doled out another page upon passing the desk he seemed shackled to. The martial artist smiled weakly as his study wandered across the header labelled 'Uniform Allowance'. His pen was already mindlessly transitioning to the signature line when his brain engaged with realization: A uniform allowance meant uniforms. Which meant he would probably be wearing one himself. The though produced a bland expression.
'This just keeps getting better and better,' He thought morosely but plied pen to paper regardless. The only decision that mattered at this point was the one he had already made. He set the pen aside and the woman collected the paperwork with a nod.
"A car is waiting outside for your, Saotome-san."
The martial artist pushed away from the desk, relieved to finally be free of paperwork purgatory to step outside the administrative office. A wall of humidity hit the martial artist as he opened the door, immediately sighting the black sedan and its driver waiting alongside the passenger door. Beyond in the streets, troops marched in formation, prompting Ranma to wonder what he would look like in the same green tee and camouflaged pants.
'Like a dork.' He decided and stepped up to the car even as a boxy tracked vehicle rumbled by. The driver opened the door to the sedan with is approach so he could join the military general inside the airconditioned environment. The mustachioed man glanced at his watch as the teen seated himself.
"Ahead of schedule." Lieutenant General Hazama noted, then leveled a serious look upon the young man. "Now tell the truth: How much of the package did you read?"
Ranma blinked. It took a moment to realize he was being teased; a fact confirmed by the slightest upward turn of the officer's lips. "Ah, about half."
"In battle we die heroes. In paperwork, purgatory." The middle-aged man offered with a dry chuckle, then leaned forward to the driver. "Range three."
"I'm not the political sort Mister Kano is, so I'll get straight to the point," The general began anew as he leaned back into his own seat with the car's meager acceleration. "As you were likely made aware, we are working against a compressed timeframe and your presence is a grain of sand within the moving gears of that timeframe."
The martial artist arched an eyebrow, but held the retort waiting upon the tip of his tongue in deference to the unknowns he was being guided through.
"That isn't to say that your assistance is not valued, simply that it is… problematic." The general held Ranma's gaze, to ensure the boy next to him wasn't taking offense. "Recon Five is a tight knit group. Every solider in it knows what the other will do without asking. You, however, are an unknown. Expect to have to prove yourself."
Ranma nodded and the commanding officer continued. "I also realize placing a civilian within a military chain of command can be a disconcerting experience. Follow your commanding officer's orders first and bring any problems that arise to me so we can deal with them appropriately, understand?"
"Sounds good." The martial artist nodded, satisfying the general.
"That said, you have a few things going for you," Hazama offered as the car swayed slightly with a lane change. "Your record speaks for itself. I doubt you'll get any pushback from within your diverse and frankly unbelievable skillset. Stuff like ghosts and dragons, however…"
"Yeah, I wouldn't believe it either," Ranma sniffed with threadbare humor, prompting the generals own tight lipped smirk.
"You'd be surprise at what our troops would believe after Ginza, save the fact that there will undoubtably be a lot more of it on the other side." The general's smirk dimmed slightly. "And that's where you come in. Knowing and being prepared are two different things. Get an idea of what Recon Five is capable of and plan around that knowledge. Expect them to do the same."
"Sound's fair." Ranma commented as the car took another turn.
"It should go without saying that you will be required to step outside your comfort zone and adapt to the mission." Korichiro continued, taking a manila folder with a picture clipped to it from the side compartment of his passenger side door. He leafed through it as if he hadn't committed to memory before turning back to Ranma. "For example, your experience with firearms is non-existent."
"I got to play with some JSDF guys when I was younger," Ranma shrugged, citing the experience in an offhanded manner that prompted a skeptical look from the general. Ranma saw it and felt compelled to explain. "Old man and his stupid hand grenade no jutsu. I'd be lyin' if I weren't a bit rusty takin' down a pistol, though."
"I see…" The officers voice trailed off into uncertainty before closing the folder in his lap. "Expect to dust that off, then."
"If I gotta." Ranma conceded without enthusiasm, given his love of martial arts. Seconds later, the car rolled to a soft stop, prompting the teen to glance out the window. Beyond was a fenced off field and a small squad waiting along the benches. The general's door opened first, then Ranma's, and the airconditioned car once more gave way to the sweltering Japanese summer.
"That said, I'm going to impose on you just as much as I've imposed on Recon Five's commanding officer by adding you to his unit," General Hazama continued as Ranma fell in step behind him with the driver trailing behind. One of the officers of the group from the field yelled something and the group of five men and one woman instantly bolted up, assembling themselves in a line at attention with the General's approach. Hazama favored the wondering teen with a half glance. "Your presence on this mission was desired by my superiors for two major reasons. The first, obviously, being your skill set...
Ranma watched as the general looked back to the driver, who wordlessly handed him a clear plastic bottle of water. Ranma stared for a moment, then frowned, putting two and two together even as the officer handed it to him.
"…The second being your notoriety." The general finished, noting the put-out look on the teen's face. He acknowledged the boy's dissent with an understanding look, but continued his explanation regardless. "Not only are you a public figure in your own right, but the enemy knows you as well. At least one in every fifty we captured know something about a redheaded girl rampaging through their ranks, something we anticipate carried through in their retreat. I don't anticipate that sort of contact during the Fire Brand operation, but that notoriety might come in handy."
"So, I took down a couple of solders. So, what?" Ranma all but pouted as they walked around the chain linked fence separating the road from the practice field. Even as he complained, he knew he was lying. Moreover, the general knew it as well.
"I'm sure they give out the Red Ribbon Medal of Honor just for slapping a couple of medieval soldiers around." Hazama countered, not even willing to indulge in the boy's reluctance. Ranma sighed his annoyance but continued apace. It was far too late to back out anyway.
'Go on the mission, kick some ass and splash myself back to a guy,' Ranma concluded, formulating the simplistic plan of action in their final steps approaching the unit while admitting he had done worse for less. 'Like wear a bunny costume to a doujinshi convention…'
The Irony wasn't lost on Ranma.
"Recon Five reporting as ordered, Sir!" What appeared to be the units commanding officer took a rigid stance for the General, who simply nodded.
"At ease, Captain." The General acknowledged his leaner subordinate, who in turn sent a nod back to his unit. The collection of soldiers relaxed their own stances, but remained in line while turning curious looks upon the teenager accompanying the General himself. Hazama gestured to the martial artist as he made introductions. "The complication I promised you. Captain Oba, Ranma Saotome."
The tanned Captain acknowledged the teens presence with eye contact, cutting right to the chase. "Saotome. I'm familiar with your record. Some of it works, some of it doesn't. We'll work on both."
Ranma stared at the buzz cut officer with another retort in mind, but opted to pass his burlesque attitude as a military quirk instead, and switch the snark out for a much simpler reply. "Same, I guess."
"I'll leave you both to it," The General advised, opting himself out of further introductions. The man stepped away, leaving both alone with the unit.
Captain Oba glanced after the General, then turned a disapproving look upon the boy. "I can't say I approve of your last-minute addition, but I'm willing to reserve final judgement. Until then, introductions. I'm your commanding officer. You will do what I say, when I say it. The last thing I need on my record is for you to accidentally get shot or ran over by a goddamn APC."
This time, Ranma couldn't helped it and the edge of his lip turned upward ever so slightly. "I promise that will be the least of your problems."
The officer nodded but then paused, realizing the turn of his words even as a chuckle turned cough drifted from the line of soldiers. Oba's already stern expression deepened into a frown. "I don't think I like you already."
If the black-haired teen cared, it didn't show in his expression. Instead of pursuing the matter further, the hardened Captain turned to the line and barked an order. "Name, rank and specialization!"
"Warrant Offcier Senji Minato, heavy weapons and demolitions." The first soldier in line stepped out, sounding off even as Ranma took in the shorter man's details. It wasn't often he found a guy barely as tall as his own girl-type, let alone one that was supposed to carry heavy weapons and stuff around. Still, the black-haired Warrant Officer had a stocky built that advertised it was at least possible.
A soldier with lighter brown hair, but a decade older and more than a head taller stepped forward next to Senji even as the shorter man stepped back into line. "Master Seargent Neji Katta, reconnaissance and linguistics."
A beanstalk of a man stepped up after him with a casual demeanor, adjusting the thick glasses riding his nose as he reported. "Sergeant Akama Bento, hand to hand."
Ranma didn't bother to voice his skepticism as the man stepped back.
"Second Lieutenant Yuji Mihoshi, sniper. Public Intelligence." A raven-haired woman stepped forward, her mane, tied up into a simplistic bun. Her red-eyed gaze swept over the martial artist in professional appraisal before stepping back into line.
The next man in line stepped forward. He was probably the oldest besides Captain Oba himself and if the scar running down his cheek didn't command a certain amount of respect through intimidation alone, nothing would. "Sergeant Major Han Suzuki. Counter Terrorism, Urban warfare."
"Second Lieutenant Gendo Tanaka, night ops and Wilderness survival." The last man in line stepped forward, raising his hand as if in class before stepping back. He looked sleep deprived, with dark rings under his eyes. By the time he had returned, the Captain was looking at Ranma himself. After a moment of cluelessness, the reason became crystal clear.
"Uh, yeah. Ranma Saotome," The teen offered even as his mind raced as to just how to expose the curse. He looked down at the water bottle and produced a mental shrug, cracking the lid's seal. He brought to bottle up as if to offer a toast. "Martial Art and weird shit specialist."
With that, he dumped the water over his own head and promptly melted into a redheaded girl, who began adjusting her pant ties and her silk shirt out of habit. By the time she looked back up, everybody present was staring. The gibbering began seconds later.
"Umm, Captain…"
"I did not just see that."
"He's… She's…"
"…The Valkyrie of Ginza."
Ranma winced with the namesake bestowed upon her by the nightly news, weathering the stares even as Captain Oba stood by, as if thoroughly unimpressed before correcting the teen's self-description. "Ranma Soaotome, Special Circumstances Advisor."
"Special Circumstances?" One of the soldiers eyes the redhead skeptically, unfamiliar with the rating.
"I'm guessing that's the dragons, monsters and crap," The redhead shrugged with her own adlib interpretation. The irritable unit commander seemed to ignored her and turned his attention to one of the officers.
"Suzuki, grab one of the non-coms to show her around— Mess hall, gym, all that." Oba ordered, then returned to scrutinize the nearby redhead. "I'll give you the rest of the day to settle in. Be outside, ready to go at oh-four-hundred tomorrow."
Ranma bobbed his head amicably and waited for the aforementioned guide even as the unit commander all but dismissed her presence, returning to shout at his own men for reasons that didn't concern her. The furtive glances from the rest of the unit didn't go unnoticed, however and the redhead sighed.
'Another day, another curse revealed,' She thought with dissatisfaction while ignoring the looks that straddled the border between skepticism and silent disbelief. In the end, it didn't matter to the martial artist.
Whether they accepted the curse or not, the JSDF was her ticket to the other side of the gate.
"And the gym, over there across the track."
Ranma Saotome's study followed his guide's vague hand motion towards the facility in question, past the oval track being utilized by soldiers now that dusk had brought some slight relief from the hotter more humid daytime temperatures. The brunette in green fatigues glanced back to supply more information. "They should technically ask for an ID, but as long you're fatigues, they'll just wave you in."
The martial artist nodded, silently filing the information away for future reference as he followed the Sergeant-something to the sidewalk's termination to cross the street. She had introduced herself, but deciphering the epilates and collar insignias was still a lost cause for the immediate future. Her most notable feature was her height, in Ranma's opinion. The enlisted woman was short, and if he were a betting man, almost the same height as his girl type; not that he was about to broach the topic. He had thankfully managed a warm bottle of water that had been baking in the sun before her arrival, and the last thing he was about to do was compare sizes… Especially when he was sure that his female aspect beat her in the one that usually mattered most to the majority of girls he knew.
'Yay me,' The martial artist scoffed, but was saved from his own thoughts as she continued.
"Not sure why they pulled me off the front gate to show you around, but I'm going to take advantage of it." The woman declared and jabbed a finger to another building coming up on their right. "Chow hall. They'll definitely want your ID. You get badged tomorrow, right?"
"Ah, that's what they said." Ranma expressed his uncertainty and the female soldier nodded.
"I'll escort you in." She acknowledged matter-of-factly, leading him off the main sidewalk and toward the building itself. A smirk manifested itself on across her face. "Either way, I'm getting some food out of this before I drop you off at the barracks and get back to my station."
"Speaking my language." It was a smile Ranma couldn't help but to mirror and she sniffed back with amusement. The woman was leading him to not just food, but free food, Ranma observed. Things were looking up for the first time since arriving on base. More soldiers bustled around the pair—a mixture of green uniforms and civilian clothes merged with them into a semi-orderly line to badge in for an overweight attendant who looked quite a bit less military than the people he was admitting. The mustachioed sixty-year-old didn't even bat an eye with his guide's explanation and they were quickly admitted to what Ranma could only describe as food heaven.
Food Heaven was also busy. Three aisles of food presented themselves for the masses—pre-prepared burgers, almost fresh noodles, beverage dispensers and even dessert. While Ranma held no illusions as to the quality of food, he was prepared to go out on a limb and bet it was several degrees safer than Akane's cooking.
'Probably tastes better too.' He bet as his study swept the three aisles, unsure where to begin. The Sergeant lead him to the most expedient starting point, and he collected a tray and western style utensils behind her.
She leaned back, her voice slightly louder as to pierce the din of conversation around them. "It's Wednesday. Avoid the stuff that looks fresh. The burgers and chicken sliders are your best bet. Salad is always safe."
Ranma arched an eyebrow with the warning, but nodded regardless. Apparently, there was an Akane in the back kitchen. Even with the warning, there was still critical information to be had.
"How much can I get?" He wondered aloud as his guide slid a pre-wrapped chicken sandwich onto her tray before moving on to the condiments in line.
The brunette shrugged. "As much as you can fit on the tray?"
Four burgers instantly found their way onto Ranma's tray. The female soldier eyed his portions, but declined to comment since she knew a couple of heavy eaters in the ranks herself. The kid didn't have an ounce of fat on him if she were any judge.
'If only he was a few years older…' Sergeant Kuribasyashi mused as she lamented her dating life, but continued on down the line for drinks. There was still the question why she was even escorting him around to begin with since she doubted he was even out of high school yet. Regardless, the Sergeant Major's orders had been clear. Shino smirked to herself. 'Besides. He's got too much of that cute little brother vibe going."
Her glance back revealed a hungry little brother, however. By the time they had cleared the turnstiles for the main dining hall, the black-haired teen's tray bore the four burgers, three drinks, two pie desserts, a side of mashed potatoes and several slabs of cut ham. The sergeant offered him a skeptical look as she led him to an open table. "Don't they feed you were you're from?"
"It's hit or miss." Ranma replied matter-of-flatly and began unwrapping the first burger as soon as he set the tray down.
Shino shrugged and set her own try down. With the lull in her tour guide activities, she decided to indulge in her own curiosity. "You're a bit young for this." She gestured to the environment around them, as if the cafeteria encompassed the boundaries of what she was referring to, then took a guess. "Some high school ROTC program?"
"Eh, sorry but…" Ranma began hesitantly only to receive a dry look.
"Really? You're going there?" The female soldier offered blandly as she unwrapped her own chicken sandwich. "You're not even old enough for the whole 'you'd have to kill me if I told you' BS."
The unamused disappointment over his perceived childish evasion was evident on the woman's face, leaving Ranma with only a slight shrug and weak expression as his defense. There wasn't much wiggle room he could manage given the secret nature of the promise he had been sworn to. Shino sniffed her own sarcasm. "Whatever. Get to work on that," she advised dispassionately, motioning to the food on his tray. "I don't have all—"
SPLaaSH!
Ranma winced with the application of cold water, immediately followed by the sound of a plastic cup bouncing across the dining room tile. A weary sigh slipped from his- now her -lips, pinching the bridge of her nose as the a scene that had played out a hundred times before visited her once again. There was a variation that caused her eyes to blink open, however.
"Holy shit, he was right!"
That caused Ranma's head to snap to the source, a tanned, black-haired soldier in fatigues. He was in his twenties by her estimation, as were his two friends behind him, standing around her table. The soldier stared, then offered the martial artist a fake smile. "Oh, sorry about that! The cup it slipped."
That was the usual excuse, save the man before her had put no effort into its sincerity whatsoever. If she needed physical evidence, his tray was completely empty…. Except for the singular cup of water now laying empty at her feet. It didn't happen often, but it did happen.
She had been purposely targeted for this.
The mess hall wasn't quite silent, but her immediate area was as every table around theirs watched the train wreck in progress. It wasn't hard to guess what they were thinking because she had actually dealt with it in China for the six months after her father's side trip to a place called Jusenkyo. More than once the curse had found her, and more than once she was either instantly social pariah or a witch. Somehow it didn't come as a surprise that the very same thing was happening right here, right now. Her finger tapped impatiently as her brain sought the next course of action through the complicate mess the government and military had set her up within. The guy needed an ass beating, sure, but the devil was in the details. How much of an ass beating could she give him without compromising her ticket through the Gate?
The soldier decided it for himself as the friend behind him gave the man a sharp nudge. It seemed to prompt him to action as a wan smile fell across his face. "Don't suppose you got that bunny costume back at your barracks? I know some guys…"
Her tapping finger stopped. The bunny suit hadn't been her proudest moment and unbeknownst to him she had worn worse, but she'd be damned if this asshole was going use it to look down on her. Her jaw ground down and she began to push herself out of her seat when a hand found her own. Ranma blinked and found Sergeant Kuribayashi staring at her with curious eyes, then impossibly, a gentle smile.
"I'll handle this."
The smile turned into an unamused frown as she stood up in Ranma's stead to face her the trio down. Shino began to crack her knuckles one by one. "How about you move your ass along before I help it along?"
The smile turned insufferable. "But she hasn't given me her—"
He never managed to finish his sentence as the First Sergeant's hand flashed out to bat his empty tray aside and to the ground, targeting his open hand. Her thumb dug into the sensitive meat below his thumb and turned the joint outward, instantly prompting the soldier to yelp, then stagger to his knees with a hiss. His backup tried to push forward. "You can't-!"
"I'm thinking she can." Another female soldier, this one a blond in similar green fatigues stepped forward from her own table to bodily block his friend's progress.
"Pretty sure you need to leave now." This time a man stepped around Ranma, offering her a slight nod of respect as he took the blond's flank. Shino's smile turned pitiless as she turned his wrist to its stop, causing him to grab ineffectually at her arm as he wheezed in pain. She then offered her demand.
"Apologize to the Valkyrie of Ginza." Her emphasis on the title held more than just a little respect, and she began to twist a bit more.
"What?! No! That genderrAAAAAH!" His pitched as she slowly rotated his wrist into hyperextension. Another body pushed out from his table to cut off any escape route the three might consider. More soldiers joined them, with one speaking up in a dire tone.
"My brother was in Ginza, asshole." Somebody from behind the trio menaced, causing one of the three to panic aloud.
"The Master at Arms ain't going to stand for this!' The third accomplice- silent up until now -protested, only to have the blond rebuke him savagely.
"Why do you think she's here, dipshit?" She asked rhetorically, pushing a sharp finger to tap into his chest. Ranma simply watched the devolving situation from her seat. It was a completely unique, almost surreal situation she found herself in now; somehow surrounded by the potential for violence, but not actually part of it. "Maybe you should be more worried about-"
"IS THERE A PROBLEM HERE?" The violent tension immediately faded as all parties involved suddenly backed away from one another. A wide man in uniform strode through the assembled crowd and its mass parted for him as he made his way to the epicenter of the disturbance.
"No Sir, Master at Arms!" The soldier backing up the blond piped loudly and suddenly everybody else was back to their meal minding their own business. The buzz-cut new comer's gaze swept the confrontation taking place, finally locking onto the Shino.
"First Sergeant Kuribayashi?" He arched an eyebrow, noting that she had failed to release her victim. His tone turned to a condescending note, as if they had both had this discussion before. "I don't suppose you know anything about what's happening here?
"The Master Sergeant here was apologizing the Valkyrie of Ginza! For the water, Sir!" She piped, still holding the aforementioned master Sergeant in grunting in pain. Her superior's attention wandered from the tray to the wet redhead, then the cup at her feet. He returned to the First Sergeant.
"And the wrist lock?" The Master at Arms returned doubtfully. Kuribayashi nodded sharply.
"He required convincing, Sir!"
The bald man simply shook his head in disbelief, then turned to the blond and her partner. His gaze made its rounds to the assembled resistance behind the trio. "Can you all collaborate this?"
"Yes, Sir!"
His study darted from the dumbfounded redhead to the restrained soldier, his expression lacking in emotion. He leaned down to the kneeling man's face. "I hope apologies were made, then."
"Yes! YES! I'm sorry!" The man yelped as a cold smile grew across The First Sergeant's face. The message was received, however, and Shino released her grip on the man's hand abruptly causing him to roll back as he favored his wrist in pain.
An unamused glare fell upon the trio even as the first soldier scrambled to his feet. "As for you three, Ofuda, Maki, Abe. You will report to the Captain; zero six hundred sharp to explain yourselves. Are we crystal clear?"
The first soldier winced while the second and third nodded all too eagerly. The nearly bald Master at Arms gestured to the other side of the mess hall. "Get your food, get out."
The trio hastened to depart the man's presence, who in turn returned an unamused look to the First Sergeant. He shook his head, as if disappointed before looking down to the still stunned martial artist. "Specialist Saotome."
With that, the man returned to his rounds, leaving a dumbfounded redhead and smirking brunette in his wake.
Ranma Saotome crept along the tree line quietly; almost supernaturally quiet as he negotiated the perimeter of the compound their team was stalking. Sneaking around wasn't exactly new to the martial artist. In fact, he considered himself an expert at it. Sneaking around with gear was a novelty he was slowly getting used to, however, while integrating it into his movements was a work in progress. Sure, he could conceal everything from the walkie to the pistol he had been issued using the Hitoshirezu Buki technique he had borrowed from Mousse, but Captain Oba was insistent that he work within the parameters of the team.
The restriction produced little more than a mental shrug, though it was the other restriction that caused a more significant mental pause, one that was directly relevant as he watched a blue uniformed soldier walk the wall, occasionally pausing to scan the tree line Ranma was concealed within. His hand dropped to the restriction riding his hip—A Sig Sauer P220 in 9mm. Just handling it produced the slightest frown as the mandate for this exercise was recalled—Hand to hand was forbidden. Ranma Saotome was only allowed to use the pistol.
The annoyance over the handicap faded in passing as his own objective returned to the forefront of his thought process. He touched the modest piece of technology lodged in his ear. "Zenith in position. Got one on foot."
"Can you take him?"
With martial arts? The question was laughable. With the pistol? Ranma estimated the distance thirty-five meters as the guard paused on his patrol route. He nodded to the disembodied voice in his ear. "He won't be the only one that hears it when I take the shot."
"Improvise. We're kicking off in five."
Ranma's expression turned decidedly unamused. Improvise with what? It was a pistol. It made a loud bang when used, screaming "I'M HERE COME GET ME!" to the entire goddamn world, which was yet another reason why he didn't like the things. Scenarios played through his mind, all of them involving everybody and their cousin from Hokkaido coming to play in the gun fight he was about to stir up. His index finger tapped the butt of the pistol as he considered the exercise and its goal. The small compound wasn't the main objective for their force, but he had been told to improvise.
The martial artist keyed the mic.
"Apogee, you want in on this?" It was less a question and more an invitation; a determination to whether the team sniper was in position and not tasked with another target. A smooth female voice crackled back.
"Apogee has an angle."
'Time to improvise,' Ranma thought to himself with the slightest of grins as the he pulled the pistol from it holster with a flip. He might not have been able to use hand to hand, but he was still the best damn martial artist alive. The guard turned back to his circuit. Ranma Saotome moved. The sprint out of the foliage, covering the distance in under two seconds. The enemy soldier didn't even know he was dead until the paint marker splattered his back with florescent orange amid two cracks of the pistol. His victim immediately fell to his knees with his hands up, but the martial artist declined to stand around and admire his handiwork. Ranma took the half jump, springing up and onto the roof even as two more soldiers rounded the corner below to find their neutralized comrade. Florescent splatters jolted their helmets almost immediately, simulating two precise head shots and a third crack rang out from longer range, taking another soldier to the chest as he ran out to from the structure to reinforce the pair.
Truth be told, he felt the slightest twinge of guilt with each shot. It was too damn easy, especially for somebody with his skills. There were few options to incapacitate and even then, bullets weren't entirely predictable once they hit something.
'Or someone,' He acknowledged the inevitability of why he was carrying around a gun in the first place. It was also one of the reasons for Oba's mantra of 'shoot to kill'—Bullets simply didn't care. An attempt to put an opponent out of action might or might not just because physics didn't like you that day, and death was always a possibility no matter how careful one was. There was even the possibility that the person would return fire with anything less than a critical hit. Ranma figured there was a lesson that he was being introduced to in there somewhere, but he didn't have to like it. He took the next shot regardless, tapping another blue soldier's helmet as the martial artist cased the roof ledge.
"No coverage on the west side," the female voice offered again and Ranma nodded in response.
"Thanks for the help," He replied and the pistol bucked in his hand once more, dropping a two-man team frantically looking for him. Sadly, not one of his victims had bothered to actually look up yet.
Crack!
Only the fact that the round was subsonic saved Ranma as his ears picked up the high caliber rifle, forcing him to roll across the roof just as his previous position was splattered by a neon green marker. That split second afforded him critical tactical analysis of the threat. Somewhere along the way he had missed the sniper on overwatch and-
"Shit!" He squawked and used a hand spring to keep moving, only to have another round smear the rooftop there as well. Ranma keyed his radio frantically. "There's a sniper all over my ass!"
"Stand by." The female voice advised while Ranma scrambled for the ledge. He loathed giving up the tactical advantage the roof offered, but it was either use the building for cover or play tag with the sniper until he could discern his position. Another round sang out and Ranma simply stepped right. The marker sailed through what should have been his torso and into the tree line. It was the last shot his unseen opponent would take.
CRACK!
"Tango down." The sniper advised coolly in his ear, then offered further assessment. "Movement inside the building below; At least two. You're going to have to dig them out."
"On it." Ranma merely shrugged and unclipped a flash-bang grenade from his combat harness. He considered the cylinder with a smile. Unlike the guns, he had taken a liking to explosives, if only because they more closely resembled the destructive potential of his art without having to burn chi. Guns only had one real use in the military. The possibilities with explosives were endless. The only question in the pig tailed boy's mind was how to deliver it.
'Could probably go through the front,' he mused, trying to imagine the positions of the soldiers within. The entrance was undoubtably a bullet magnet for anybody entering and the windows wouldn't be any better. Not that she couldn't do either, but just tossing a grenade through an open door struck him a good way to eat a claymore. That experience was recalled from a more recent set of experience with a wince. Those stung.
Instead, he punched a hole through the roof.
Ranma pulled the pin beforehand, then simply dropped what was supposed to be a simulated fragmentation grenade down into the room with smile, followed by another. The spend pins clicked across the roof as Ranma counted down silently.
BoOM!BOOOM!
The front door opened thirty seconds later as three neon splattered soldiers exited with a wobble in their step, holding up their hands to simulate his three kills. Smoke billowed out the doorway behind them and the martial artist almost felt bad for them as his own misadventures with Happosai's Happo Daikarin were recalled. It was worth a shrug at best and Ranma keyed the open channel with a smirk. "Compound cle-"
His report was abruptly interrupted by a blaring horn and the martial artist sighed. Exercise over. The only question was who had won. Fifteen minutes later, a row of bleachers and the commanding officer pacing them had their answer.
"Congratulations on completing the exercise, no casualties." Captain Oba nodded for the assembled soldiers. Smiles broke out through their ranks with Ranma receiving a random nudge as their unit congratulated itself. The lean captain waited for the din to fade off before continuing in a stern voice. "Fire team Alpha completed its mission, taking the red flag. Genja, Soatome, Yuji. Good work supporting the attack. Red was unable to divert reinforcements to prevent their defeat in detail." He paused, then turned to his subordinate. "Second Lieutenant Tanaka, we're burning daylight."
"Weapons and gear, people," The unit began standing up with the advisement as the man who appeared to be permanently sleep deprived continued to outline their day. "Gate intelligence brief at the Hall; fourteen hundred, live fire at sixteen. Take a breather. You earned it."
"Saotome, a moment." Oba added even as the unit began to disperse, leaving the martial artist to wait on the Captain. He nodded to the lieutenant, who in turn left for his own duties. The older man eyed the pigtailed boy critically before nodding. "Good job staying on task. I know you don't like the pistol, but it's a tool you'll have to get used to. Once we're Gate-side, contact will not be aggressively desire. We'll probably have more leeway in terms of our tactics. "
"Sir." Ranma returned, finally feeling some vindication as to his abilities…. At least until the man's next sentence.
"You should have been dead on that roof, however." The Captain turned away, shaking his head. "Son, you have the stupidest amount of physical ability and hand-to-hand combat skill I have ever seen in one person, but you're not too bright up here."
A frown took to Ranma's face as he watched the officer tap the side of his head for emphasis. "Any respectable sniper round moves at over six hundred meters per second. That's over two times the speed of sound. The only thing that saved your ass from the paint marker was the fact that they're slower and you heard the rifle before it got you. Remember what show boating earned you the last time?"
The martial artist's cheek twitch. He did remember. It had gotten him a claymore to the face. The taste of paint in his mouth lasted for the next two days after that and he was still finding paint in the oddest places on his body after four. While there was no amount of physical punishment the Captain could leverage to enforce Ranma's good behavior, he couldn't help but to note that his commanding officer was almost as sneaky as his old man and wouldn't hesitate to take a shot at his ego. The Captain sighed.
"But like I said, you're finally getting teamwork." Oba continued, trying to spin their meeting toward the positive. "The tactic was probably a valid one against the anachronists we'll be facing on the other side, but in the here and now, no more fancy shit. If you even have a question as to the fancy shit in question, the answer is probably no, got it?"
The restrictions he was under were all but painful, but the black-haired teen nodded regardless, seemingly satisfying the man. "Dismissed."
"Well?" General Hazama queried as he watched a redhead nearly a head shorter than himself engage another soldier in hand to hand combat with a wooden long sword, ducking out of range of the man's sweep only grab him at the forearm. Her partner immediately paused as she moved in to correct his strike angle, bending his arm slightly before moving back into position to continue the exercise. The rest of the team was arrayed around the pair, watching even as the two officers watched them. The general turned to Captain Oba with his question. "How is he… she doing?"
The tanned officer scratched at his bald head, taking the moment to compose his thoughts in a more diplomatic fashion before continuing. "Like trying to train a Great White shark, Sir."
His superior chuckled slightly, eyeing the teen while making the effort to pick the correct pronoun for the gender in front of him. "Will she be ready?"
"Give me six more months with nothing to do but eat, breath and sleep Special Forces and Saotome will be the best operative the JSDF has."
"Why six months?" The general asked as he watched the girl flip the man, exaggerating the effort in slow motion as to demonstrate the maneuver to her impromptu class. The flip was immediately followed by a stab from the faux sword, simulating a kill. "Weapons? Technical knowledge? I can't imagine her physical abilities as anything less than exemplary."
"Torture, Sir." Oba folded his arms with a smirk, causing his superior to arch an eyebrow. He gestured to the redhead sparring on the blue training mat. "Specialist Saotome learns by doing. By having it done to her. Six months is about how long it would take before I ran out of dirty spec ops tricks to inflict upon her and she knew the book cover to cover."
"Ah." The older man returned succinctly. He glanced back to the Captain after a moment. "Which, unfortunately, doesn't answer my question."
"Hmf. She was ready for the day you dropped her off." Oba sniffed. "Her tactical intuition is uncanny. She hates the guns but is an amazing marksman. Constantly have to yell at her for charging into hand to hand combat, though. Hell, if it weren't for me taking liberties with the exercises, she could have tanked most of them with or without the team."
"Sir." General Hazama reminded the man off hand as part of their routine.
"Sir." The captain added with a slight smile. "She's rough around the edges, but we have an understanding. She'll be ready."
"Do I even want to know what that understanding is, Captain?" His superior pressed, watching as the man scratched his chin in thoughts. In the end, Oba shrugged.
"She puts the 'team' in 'teamwork' and I don't find her creative uses for training claymores."
"Right. I shouldn't have asked." The general arched his eyebrows and began to turn away from the training exercise. "I'll relay your observations up the chain. Needless to say, Saotome's progress has a healthy amount of interest behind it. Any more mess hall problems?"
"Her rep mitigates most of it." Captain Oba replied. "There was an incident with the losing team and a bucket of water from last week's exercise, but Saotome still had the marker on her. Shot every last one in the nuts."
His commanding officer winced. "I don't think that should make the brief."
"I didn't think so either, Sir." Oba agreed.
"Write up the rest." The general turned to the facility door. "Have your observations on my desk by thirteen hundred tomorrow so I can include them with the brief."
"Sir."
"Send it up with Second Lieutenant Yuji." He added gesturing back to the black-haired woman watching the hand to hand combat drills with the rest of the unit. "Public Intelligence wants to weigh in as well."
"Should I expect more complications, Sir?" The Captain carefully glanced briefly back at the unit sniper.
"We're Special Forces, Captain," His superior reminded him as he took to the door. "You should always expect complications. Especially from Public Intelligence."
Captain Oba's bland look accompanied his superior's departure.
"You shot them?!"
"Play stupid games, win stupid prizes." Ranma smirked back at Akane wide eyed stare as the sometimes-betrothed pair walked down the street at a leisurely pace. "Besides, it was just a paint marker. They'll live."
"Idiots." The school girl shook her head as she considered the scenario, then the pigtailed boy next to her with a slight frown. "But guns. Are you really okay with that?"
"They're… useful." Ranma hedged, though his uncertainty was clear to the girl next to him. Akane's persistent stare prompted him to supply the subtext. "It ain't my favorite thing, but I might be needin' one."
"Why?"
And that was the question of the hour, Ranma thought to himself. Why did Ranma Saotome, man amongst men and martial artist extraordinaire, need a gun? Much as he didn't like it, the answer was simple—Sooner or later he was probably going to have to use it on some medieval asshole. It was a simple answer, Ranma concluded, until taking the girl next to him into account. The fact that he had taken up with the Japanese Self Defense Force had raised more than a few eyebrows and so far, he had gotten away with the assumption of revenge. Revenge for Ginza. Revenge for the family Tendo. It was a perception he was happy maintain since the alternative involved breaking his oath of secrecy concerning the real reason he was spending his weekdays playing with the JSDF. The assumption of revenge was a thin cover at best, legitimate only up until somebody actually started asking real questions.
Questions like 'why'?
Akane watched him, scrutinizing his carefully neutral expression as they walked down along the park's boarder. For better or worse, few people knew him better than the girl next to him and her question was more than just wondering why he needed a gun. Its thrust was deeper. Anybody that knew him well enough would easily realize that Ranma Saotome and military life were all but mutually exclusive concepts. Anybody that knew him well enough would also realize that if he needed revenge, the best martial artist of his generation wouldn't need the Japanese military to carry it out.
'Why', indeed.
"I… can't say." He hesitated, watching as Akane's face scrunched with the perceived slight. Ranma's walk faded to a stop as he paused to explain. Or at least try to. "It's not that I don't wanna, but… I gave my word."
Akane's mouth opened then snapped shut. Her fiancé could see the storms brewing in her eyes, but her restraint thus far was incredible as she pushed for answers. "Not even me?"
"It's important." He nodded, then cocked his head. Akane watched suspiciously as he considered his next words carefully. "It's important to you, too."
"How is you playing soldier important to me?" The youngest Tendo sister crossed her arms with a put-out look. Something of a smile began to work its way across the boy's face in spite of her tone.
"Can't say."
"Ranma…" Akane growled as she approached the limit of her patience. That smile. His attitude. It was almost like he was purposely—The girl blinked, her fist suddenly losing tension as a chain of neurons connected. Her own question taunted her in that moment, just like her fiancé's smirk. Why was it important to her? Her intellect began to chew on the question as Ranma watched, as if expecting… Something. The school girl's eyes flicked back to him. 'How is his time with the Self Defense Force important to me?'
Facts and theories began to bounce back and forth between her thoughts; some dismissed outright, others retained for further analysis. The most obvious reason was discarded almost immediately. 'He's not the revenge type…'
That was the popular theory, at least until one counted just how many opponents he had let walk away from a fight. Saffron should have never made it back out of his egg if revenge were a driving factor in her fiancé's life. Herb would have died buried under a mountain. Akane crossed revenge off the list and moved on. Maybe everything really was training? She shook her head mentally. While that would have been a valid excuse for Ranma, it left Akane bereft of the other side of the equation: herself.
'Nabiki?' She wondered, but found that hard to believe. Not only did it fall under the revenge category, but there was brutal honesty to consider—Her sister was, had been, a royal… Akane stopped herself as a pang of guilt resonated through her conscience. She couldn't bring herself to insult her older sister in the afterlife, yet it was still true. There was no love lost between her and Ranma. Part in parcel to that was Ginza. There was a lot of want… need to avenge that. It was no secret that JSDF recruitment had jumped almost three hundred percent if she remembered the news correctly, with rumors that sooner or later, somebody was going to have to explore…
Akane blinked, her gaze almost mechanically locking onto the martial artist. Ranma had chosen a nearby light pole to lean against, openly watching her as she worked through the puzzle his words had wrought. More details were supplied by the news that had saturated the media only months ago. Dragons. Magic. Medieval armies. Her eyes only widened as she stared. Suddenly it all seemed very Ranma-like and entirely plausible.
She posed her next question carefully, almost fearfully as to what the answer might represent. "Are you going through the Gate?"
Ranma cocked his head, considering her question and the most appropriate answer. Fortunately, it was an easy one. "Can't say."
Akane's mouth opened, almost dumbfounded by the non-answer that left obvious volumes written between the lines. The Gate. He was going through the Gate! Her mouth remained hanging open as her thoughts competed for mental bandwidth. One thought—a simple question forced its way through to dominate her mental horizon: Why?!
Whatever the reason, it was important enough to swear him to secrecy, she realized in that moment. Training came back to mind, but somehow the youngest Tendo knew this was too big to pass off as some trip to grab a new technique. Revenge was similarly discarded. Nothing had changed there. Her scrutiny flipped back to Ranma with a note of warning in her voice. "If this is some kind of stupid game…"
"No games, Tomboy." The humor in his expression held dimmed slightly and she instantly knew she wasn't being teased. Her fiancé was bound by his word and it was up to her to figure out what it was.
'He's going through the Gate. Why?' Akane chewed on her lip, her study alternating between Ranma and the sky. Frustration began to creep in. 'Idiot. Why, why, why?'
"I'm hungry, how about you?" Ranma smiled weakly, gesturing to a Takoyaki cart attracting customers inside the park's perimeter.
"Oh, no you don't." She huffed, shaking her head vigorously. "You're not getting off that easily."
Ranma shrugged his supposed indifference as Akane turned back to her inner struggle. Her fiancée wasn't the exploring type and he didn't just dive into the wilderness for the hell of it. The entire thing felt too big for a training trip. People were dead in Ginza. Nabiki had died there, which left her fiancée without a reason so go through, unless…
Akane gasped, her knees suddenly feeling very weak. 'Unless there was some possibility…!'
Ranma was watching her with slight alarm while she took another step back from him, as if he were plague-ridden. She stared with wide eyes, a single hoarse word finding its way to her throat.
Unless there was some possibility…
"No…"
Ranma's mouth opened, then closed. He took a deep breath and looked away, down the sidewalk. "I… I can't say."
She stared for the next thirty second, shellshocked. Her sister. Nabiki Tendo was alive.
"Maybe,' Akane hedged, still hopeful regardless. Unlike Ranma's previous evasions, there was no text to read between. There was only one response he could give and pushing it further would offer her little to no more useful information beyond the bombshell she had just uncovered. It was enough to plot her next course of action, however, and her stunned expression abruptly evaporated with a defiant step into Ranma's personal space. "I'm coming with you!"
The martial artist all but choked with the declaration, clearly not having expected it. "You can't! I mean, I don't know what you're even talking about!"
"If she's alive, I'm coming with you." Her finger pressed into his chest, poking it as she held his gaze with a no-nonsense look.
Ranma's mouth hung open for several long seconds before the moment of surprise passed and a sigh took its place. He shook his head with a pained look. "Even if I knew what you were talking about, I ain't the one in charge. Maybe talk to the military or something?"
"I have to go, Ranma!" Her expression looked like an angry volcano ready to explode. "Daddy is just... You know he isn't the same. Kasumi-chan is just going through the motions. And if Nabiki is out there…!"
"Akane, I..." Ranma tugged at his pigtail with uncertainty, looking away.
"I... I know." Akane took his hand, looking down at his with a sigh before looking back up with a smile. "Still. For her. Thank you."
Ranma looked away with the girl's subdued emotion. "Whatever it is you're talking about… No problem."
"Idiot." She sniffed, tightening her hold on his hand as she began to lead the way into the park. She glanced back at her suddenly complaint fiancé. "Well?"
Ranma blinked. "'Well', what?"
Akane's gaze turned serious. "I'm not kidding. Who do I have to talk to?"
The martial artist shook his head in exasperation. "Look, I told you. I'm not—"
"Then who?" She pressed and Ranma sighed, shoving his hands into his pocket in near frustration. The girl wasn't going to take no for an answer. Somehow their mutual companionship devolved into a staring contest until the pigtailed broke it off with a huff, pulling his hands from their pockets. A business card fell away with the act, causing Akane to blink as it settled gently onto the grass. She looked at Ranma in question, who seemed to be studiously ignoring it. The entire act was suspicious enough to cause her to reach down and pick the card up, finding it blank save a phone number.
She eyed her fiancé. "Ranma?"
"I have no idea that came from." The slightest of smirks found the edge of his lips in spite of the fact that it had originated from his very pocket. The smile disappeared almost as quickly as the school girl had seen it before he took the lead walking. "Let's get some Takoyaki, Tomboy."
Tokyo Square Garden.
The building brought back a sense of foreboding to Ranma Saotome as Recon Team Five- and himself by extension -unloaded their gear from the M35 cargo truck they had rode into Ginza on. The last time he had seen the building, it had been a blood bath of civilian casualties and invader corpses. His study of the buildings noted none of the fire or structural damage the building had sustained that day, nor did the Meijii plaza across the street look any worse for the wear. All in all, it was as if nearly one hundred thousand medieval troops hadn't flood through the streets of down town Tokyo less than a year ago, save the singular anomaly that dominated the Kjibashi-Chou intersection—A massive structure lit by flood lights looking to be almost Roman in origin. White marble columns climbed vertically to support a triangular structure similar to those in many history books, marking it as distinctly out of place when compared to the rest of the architecture around it.
Tonight, no medieval armies had taken up siege within Ginza and the intersection was completely sealed off for nearly half a kilometer in any direction. Any path leading toward the Gate had been fortified. Armored vehicles and machine gun nests flanked by concrete barriers and razor wire stood watch over the site, while numerous armed patrols stood by to lend their firepower in case of a breach. To either side, enormous steel doors had been constructed to blockade the Gate, sliding open or closed along sectional tracks as needed. Their normal state was sealed—Nothing in or out. Tonight, those doors were open, leading into an inky black abyss that unnerved Ranma simply by looking into it.
"Saotome?"
The martial artist blinked. Master Sergeant Katta Stepped next to him, glancing from Ranma to the gate and back. The team specialist eyed the gaping black void warily.
"Somethin' about that's wrong." Ranma shook his head and returned to the load he was pulling from the truck, the long dark green cylinder of an M72 Light Anti-Tank Weapon. The reconnaissance expert sniffed his dry amusement.
"You mean besides the barbarian fuck-faces that tried to invade last time?" Neji offered back in return, only to find his team mate completely missing his attempt at humor.
"The chi around that thing is… tangled." Ranma squinted, describing the conflicting perception he was feeling, only to receive a punch to the shoulder as the Master Sergeant pulled his own load from the truck bed.
"Then let's go through an untangle that shit," The older soldier patted his rifle for emphasis, then gestured to the assembling line of soldiers. "Get moving before the L-T has a fit."
Guns. Ammunition. Explosives. The only thing not present on the supply list were vehicles. The operation was to be conducted entirely on foot, which was fine in Ranma's opinion. He had grown up on the road walking everywhere from Korea to Thailand. Sometimes he even swam there. Doing so in full military fatigues was a new one, however, and his thoughts stray to Kumon Ryu with a sniff, wondering if he was still a military fan boy. Much as he wanted to deride the guy further, there was the inescapable fact that here he was, wearing nearly the same uniform, including boots, a ballistic vest and a molle harness for the extra gear they had saddled him with. The martial artist sniffed his amusement as he set his own load down and approached the briefing site. Fortunately, that's where the Hidden Weapons arts came in. A few nods greeted him as he stepped into line with the others, immediately recognizing Lieutenant General Hazama, consulting another officer, this one sporting a crop of closely shaven hair and glasses in civilian dress casual. The uniformed general nodded and passed a clipboard back to the man as his study turned to the lines of men, then nodded to a Major in Recon Team One.
"Ah-ten-SHON!" The soldier's order echoed down the street and the idle chatter around Ranma ceased as the as every man present stood ridged. Silence dominated their ranks as the General stepped forward.
"At ease." He advised and the men fell into a more relaxed stance. Hazama nodded to them with a stern look. "Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Operation Firebrand. I can definitely assure you, this is not a drill."
A ripple of expectation seemed to flow through the assembled soldiers as the General continued. "As you are well aware, this will be our first foray into what we are considering enemy territory. The mission is straightforward—Get a lay of the land and find out what we're dealing with so that the Bright Caliber op can effectively and efficiently kick ass and take names when the time comes."
"The intelligence you gather will be vital toward that end." The officer continued, now slowly pacing the line of men. "We will find the enemy, insinuate ourselves into his culture and, when the time comes, cut his knees out from under him as main force rolls over his sorry ass."
"YES, SIR!" The men roared and the General smiled grimly at their enthusiasm.
"Thanks to the POWs we've captured, we have a general idea of what to expect. Colonel Mitra with Public Intelligence can speak to that in greater detail."
General Hamaza stepped back and allowed the officer in business casual to begin his portion of the brief in a nasally, but professional tone. "Our enemy is simply known as The Empire, a feudal monarchy with technology equivalent to the Roman Empire of twenty-seven BC; That is to say, swords, shields and variety of primitive armor. The wrinkle in that are the anomalies; species we've never seen before and an unquantifiable force that defies the laws of physics."
"Magic…" Somebody muttered aloud from the back ranks and the Colonel paused to adjust his glasses before acknowledging the missive.
"That is what we're calling it for now, yes." He admitted, continuing. "Regardless, it doesn't appear to have any significant impact when paired against our modern technology. Armor imbued with this special force is still breachable, though it has shown resistance to five-five-six. Thus far, we have only noted officers and nobles within the Empire's ranks mounting it. The general advice Public Intelligence is offering is that the more ornate the armor looks, the higher the probability of extra-material protection. Engage these individuals or any that look to be 'magic' users with extreme prejudice. Three round bursts or greater should be sufficient."
"To make it absolutely clear, hostile contact is not desired during the Firebrand Operation," General Hamaza clarified from behind the Colonel. "We're collecting intel, not staring a war. Yet."
"Five-Five-Six should be more than adequate for routine threats, of course." Colonel Mitra elaborated, nodding with the officer's assessment. "Most of the Empire's population lives well below any sort of base poverty line we've been able to establish. Graft, corruption and slavery are commonplace. We believe penetrating their social structure and imbedding your teams within the Imperial Capital will be simple. Once established, maintain communication via the encrypted comms for analysis on our end."
"You know what to do, people," The General stepped back to the forefront. "Get to know the land and its people. Find out who we can trust and who needs to be thrown under the track of a Type 74 when they come rolling through. Language will be crucial. The primers we published and distributed based on POW interrogations will be useful, but they hardly represent a coherent vocabulary given the time we had. Study up, learn fast."
He took a moment to stare into the group, then continued, outlining their order of battle. "The TALON remote vehicle we sent through an hour ago indicates the site is clear. Recon One and Two will take point. Your main objective is the Imperial Capital itself. Find a suitable infiltration point and set up shop. Recon Three and Four will be riding on your flanks. Assuming the success of One and Two, you will break off and commence field intelligence operations. Recon Five will be in support of all units should special circumstances arise."
Ranma felt the hairs on his neck prickle, all but perceiving the unseen expectation that had fallen upon his person from nearly every direction.
There was a pregnant pause in his speech before he nodded for his men with a stern glare. "Men and women of the Japanese Self Defense Force… MOUNT UP!"
"FALL OUT!" The commanding officer from Recon One bellowed loudly, instigating a flurry of activity as all five units rushed to grab their remaining gear. "By the numbers people! GO! GO!"
Ranma started toward the rally point at the foot of the open Gate when his unit's own Second Lieutenant stopped him, grabbing his shoulder. Gendo looked him up and down with an arched eyebrow, noting the lack of rifle, side arm or grenades of any sort. "Going in kinda light, aren't we Specialist Saotome?"
The pigtailed boy flipped his hand out and a standard AR magazine sprang into existence like a magician's trick. Ranma smirked. "Got everything I need right here."
"Stupid martial arts tricks." The Lieutenant Tanaka state blandly, then gestured to the formation. "Rifle out, locked and loaded for the transit."
Ranma simply nodded. Now wasn't the time for snark about his stupid martial arts tricks or the need for a rifle. The bored looking lieutenant watched as if the teen were pulling something from his sleeves, then suddenly, an HK416 AR pattern rifle with a ten-inch barrel was found cradled in his arms. Ranma gave it a once-over and slapped the magazine in place. He pulled the charging handle back, releasing it with a loud snap. The officer simply shook his head as Ranma thumbed the safety and moved on to supervise the rest of the team. The teen joined the ranks of soldiers forming up at the foot of the gate, staring into the black nothingness Kjibashi street seem to disappear within the artifact's structure.
It made him itch.
'That's just wrong,' Ranma thought while trying to determine what, exactly, was wrong with the Gate. The martial artist amended the thought with a frown. 'Besides leadin' to another world and all.'
"Recon Five, listen up!" Captain Oba bellowed as he walked the line of his unit with Lieutenant Tanaka at his side. "Major Ito in Recon One is in nominal command of the operation. Once his teams establish themselves in the city, they'll set up a local command and control network to coordinate our field operations."
Like the lieutenant, he was giving each man and woman in his unit a once over to ensure they're readiness. His gaze lingered over Ranma's lighter gear load before moving on without comment. "To put it succinctly, we're everybody's bitch on this one. If and when the fire gets too hot for the other teams, we're going to be there to put it out… By any means necessary. Do you get me, Recon Five?!"
"YES SIR!" The squad chorused and the captain offered them a satisfied nod in in return even as another voice hollered from the front ranks.
"FIRE BRAND… MOVE OUT!"
It was simultaneously the first and last place Ranma Saotome, heir to the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts wanted to move out to. If he was going to rescue Nabiki, he had to go through the Gate. But… The urge to itch himself increased with each step forward, but it wasn't a physical itch. It was inside, as if something was trying to get out. His gaze flicked to the giant Roman columns in an effort to distract himself from the feeling of foreboding the structure created, and his quick glances down the ranks didn't seem to indicate anyone else was similarly afflicted. They were eager. Determined. Ready. Some looked concerned. Worried. None of them looked like they were going to develop a sudden and inexplicable skin rash, however.
'Stupid gate,' He grumbled mentally and pushed down his own apprehension, though it was hard with men and women literally disappearing in front of him as the Gates void swallowed them. Even the incandescent spotlights set up to penetrate the inky darkness only managed so far, and each step brought the martial artist closer to that terminator. 'Any time now…'
Ranma took one last look back into the fortified streets of Ginza. The city lights still shown prominently against the nights sky, but each step dimmed their brilliance, as if— Movement. The teen blinked, all but swearing he saw a civilian in yellow and black cross the street. A yellow tunic. Black pants. Something on his head that looked suspiciously like-
And then the darkness swallowed Ranma Saotome whole.
Author's Notes: And away we go! Thanks to everybody and their well wishes. I'm pretty covid free which means I have energy to write. The little boy is back to physical school, which means I have at least a couple days a week to concentrate on fiction. That's something I haven't had since the beginning of this 2020 silliness.
Editing: Bree R did a majority of the heavy lifting in helping to edit this fic. Yes, there are still errors. Those are mine 😉
Fan Fiction Federation; Credit to the peeps there for inspiration, particularly Shino's inclusion. Thanks , everybody
Obsolescence; I rag on GATE at length and I realize they're pushing obsolete equipment through for a reason. People cite the Howas as an example, which is ironic, since the AR pattern rifle has been in service for roughly the same length of time. While 5.56 is the newer round admittedly, neither platform has undergone significant updates since their inception. Water under the bridge, either way.
Magic; Yes, I realize it's a lack of understanding of the physical world on behalf of the Gate mages. It doesn't explain why the protag gets all the mages and the empire gets exactly zero. Because, for reasons.