Chapter 1: Mute and Inglorious (Pak)

It wasn't supposed to end like this.

I was travelling through the Valley of Death, but I feared no evil. I was at 2000 feet and climbing. I was in the realm of god.

But then, everything ended. I was thrown from the sky in a hail of bullets.

I was sure all that'd be left of me was a splatter of bones and flesh. A bloody indistinguishable smear on the grass. By all logic, at the speed I was falling, that's what should have happened.

But it didn't.

My name is Ralf Jin Pak, and I am dead. There is no doubt whatsoever about that. The death certificate was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and my company commander. Two farmers and a priest buried my body under an elm tree in the sleepy little town of Kaarst, Germany. There were no ceremonial processions or eulogies or music; I was merely tossed into a hole in the ground and forgotten. No one showed up to mourn my passing, for I died as I had lived—mute and inglorious.

I fell on the night of Saturday, July 23rd, 1944—the day before my 19th birthday. The date also marked the seventh anniversary of my arrival in Europe. I had come pretty far in those seven years. I rose from a humble student to one of the youngest aircraft designers in Germany. I was the protégé of none other than Willy Messerschmitt himself. My projects ranged from improving the Me-410 heavy fighter to developing the new Me-262 interceptor. I had a bright path ahead of me, but none of that matters now. I lost everything when I fell.

I opened my eyes. I was laying under a picturesque night sky. Everything was eerily calm. There were no bursts of flak or searchlights or vapor trails from enemy aircraft. All I could see were stars and a few clouds lazily floating across the dark sky.

What was I doing here? How did I survive?

I sat up, expecting to see the burning wreckage of a Fieseler Fi-156 Stork scattered all around me. I saw nothing. Nothing except some trees and shrubs lit by the moonlight. What happened? Had someone dragged me away from the wreckage?

The smell of smoke and gasoline fumes continued to linger in my nostrils, and I was still nauseous and dizzy from the spiraling fall. I pressed my temples, trying to ease away the pain. I couldn't really remember the last few seconds of my fateful flight, but I could remember just how much I feared for my life. The right wing was on fire, and one horizontal stabilizer was missing. I was doing everything I could to save the wounded aircraft, but nothing seemed to work. My life flashed before my eyes. The last thing I could remember was the ground looming towards me. After that, there was only darkness.

I had no idea how I survived the crash without any injuries. Maybe I had somehow managed to regain control and crash-land the plane at the last second. Maybe some branches and trees broke my fall. Or maybe, just maybe… there really was someone watching over me. But regardless, my survival was a true miracle. I swore to myself that I'd never try to fly again—at least not until the end of the war.

I drew a deep breath and leaned against a tree, trying to get my bearings. I looked down and saw that I was dressed in some kind of uniform. It wasn't my Luftwaffe uniform though; it looked like something that schoolboys wore in China and Japan. I couldn't recall ever seeing them; maybe the person who rescued me also gave me a new set of clothes.

"Hello? Hilfe! Is anyone here? Kann jemand mir helfen?" I shouted at the top of my lungs. There was not a single soul around. At first, everything was quiet. The only sound was the chirping of cicadas. But then, I heard the faint sound of approaching footsteps. Rescue was finally here.

"Stop shouting. You'll give away our position." A female voice whispered in Japanese. A young girl emerged from behind one of the trees. She put her index finger to her lips, making the gesture to stay quiet. She then stuck out her other hand and gestured me to follow her.

I tilted my head and squinted at the girl standing before me. I was still in Germany, wasn't I? Why did she use Japanese?

There was a long pause. The girl tapped her foot impatiently. "Well, are you coming or not?" she whispered again. "You do speak Japanese, don't you?" The girl let out a quick sigh and slowly walked towards me. The moonlight began to illuminate her face. It was hard to tell that she was Japanese. She was dressed in a Japanese sailor fuku but had magenta-colored hair and green eyes. It was rare to see other Asians in Germany. There was a handful of Japanese engineers and students studying in the universities, but most of them were male. I hadn't seen an Asian girl in years. She was quite pretty too. She looked to be right around my age. Her posture and movements were graceful and spritely, but her expression was dead serious, as if she were analyzing the best way to take me down in a fight.

I struggled to recall the Japanese I learned back on Sakhalin Island. "Yes, Fraulein. My name is Ralf Jin Pak. My plane was shot down. Have you seen my plane?"

"There is no plane," she replied calmly, "And you're dead. You're in the afterlife."

What? Did I hear her correctly? Afterlife? Was I really dead? I didn't feel dead; I felt fine. I couldn't possibly be dead, could I? I could still feel the cold tree trunk behind me and the cool breeze on my face. I was eighteen; I was at my physical prime. It takes more than a simple fall to kill someone like me. No, I wasn't dead. It was all a misunderstanding. I just needed to brush up on my Japanese; I just misheard her. That was all.

"Sorry, Fraulein, uh…" I scratched my head, struggling to find the right words, "Could you please tell me where I am?"

"You are dead. This is the afterlife."

I heard correctly this time. I fell silent. I remember it all too clearly—my plane, the de Havilland Mosquito, the stream of bullets, and the spiraling fall. I felt dizzy just thinking about it. No one could survive a fall from that height. But then again, miracles do happen, right? And plus, if I were dead, I'd know, right?

The magenta-haired girl continued to glance at me coldly. She crossed her arms and tapped her feet impatiently. Finally, she broke the silence, "I'm Yuri Nakamura—the leader of the Not-Dead-Yet Battlefront, the SSS. I know this sounds sudden, but could you please join up with us?" She extended her hand in a gesture of friendship.

I was hesitant to shake her hand. My mind struggled to comprehend. "I'm sorry. I'm a little confused here. Am I really dead? I don't understand what's going on," I replied weakly. Thoughts rushed through my head. I couldn't think. My vision became blurry. What if I were really dead? What's going to happen to my family? My friends? My entire life? Was it all gone now? No, my life wasn't great; it wasn't good at all. But it was still my life. Was it over? Had everything I've known simply terminated? What if I were really dead?

Yuri rolled her eyes a little. "Look, how many times do I have to tell you? You really are dead. This is the afterlife. Would you like me to prove it to you?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. Please do."

I saw a mischievous smile slowly spread across her face. She did look cute though, with a smile like that. However, my delight soon turned to horror. Before I knew it, I was staring down the barrel of a pistol.

"I can shoot you in the head and you won't die. Want to test it out?" I froze in horror. The pistol was pointed right between my eyes. My muscles tensed up; sweat dripped down the side of my face. How could anyone say something like that so calmly? Was she crazy?

"Nein! Oh Hölle nein!" I screamed, backing away from the psychopath in front of me. "Verpiss dich." Everything was just a blur. My instincts kicked in. I hit her in the wrist, hoping to knock the pistol out of her hand. Fortunately, I did manage to catch her off-guard. The pistol hit the dirt with a resounding crack. I turned as fast as I could and ran off in the opposite direction, doing everything I could to get away from the.

"Wait, come back. I won't shoot. I promise," she screamed. The girl was insane, no doubt. I had to get away from her. I didn't know where to go, so I just took off into the woods.

"Hilfe! Hilfe! Sie versucht, mich zu erschießen!" I called out for help, waving my arms around like a maniac. Fortunately, Yuri did not open fire. I did not know whether or not she pursued me; I was too scared to look back. I ran deeper into the woods, trying to escape from that psychopath Yuri. I did manage to put some distance between us, and the darkness and trees prevented her from seeing me. But unfortunately, the darkness also prevented me from seeing the path ahead. The fact that I only had one functioning eye didn't exactly help either. I stumbled over a tree stump and fell hard onto the ground. I felt a sharp pain in my right ankle. I knew that it was sprained. This was terrible timing.

Fortunately, I managed to make my way to the edge of the forest. I found a dirt path and followed it to the closest building. It was a large building with a brick façade. There was still a light shining through one of the windows, and I could faintly make out the figure of a person inside. I didn't have enough time to think or go over my options. I limped inside and entered that room.

The room was a classroom. There was a large blackboard and several smaller tables arranged in neat little rows. At the back of the room was a young girl, probably around 15 or 16. She was short, with long white hair. Her golden eyes widened a little when she saw me, but her face remained surprisingly emotionless.

"Hilf mir, mein Fräulein, gibt es ein Mädchen… das versucht, mich zu töten!" I pleaded. My voice was still hoarse from all the running. I repeated myself, but she didn't seem to understand me.

"Sorry. What was that?" She asked in Japanese. She had a calm, low voice. Unhuman almost. But that was of secondary concern; at least she seemed sane.

"There's a girl out there trying to shoot me," I replied, still struggling for breath, "She's crazy. She keeps on telling me that I'm in the afterlife."

"But you really are dead. This is the afterlife." She replied in the same voice. Her expression didn't change either. Maybe she was crazy too. Meeting two crazy Japanese girls in one day—what were the odds? Was I in some mental asylum? Maybe the two were related somehow. I considered running out of the room to get more help, but my ankle was still in pain. And if this actually was a mental institution, the wisest thing to do was to wait until the doctors or guards arrived. Maybe I should just rest and find out more.

I closed the door and turned off the lights, hoping that Yuri wouldn't find me. I then grabbed a nearby chair and sat down by the wall, trying to take the pressure off of my ankle.

"So who's in charge here?" I asked.

"I am," she replied, standing up from her chair, "I'm the Student Body President." She slowly walked towards me. She seemed to glide across the ground, like a ghost or specter.

"Well, if this is the afterlife, prove it. Prove that I'm dead. Prove that I can't die." I wasn't really paying attention to my words. I was too busy trying to check the condition of my foot; the pain was excruciating.

"Very well then," the petite girl replied, "Hand Sonic, version one."

"Huh?"

Two bright blades materialized from her wrists. The glow from the blades illuminated the room with a faint blue light. I was stunned. It was impossible. How could something just materialize out of the air like that? It was sorcery. There was no logical explanation.

But before I could say anything, the girl rushed at me at an incredible speed. To my horror, I realized that one of the blades was pointed right at me. I tried to run, but my ankle sprained ankle prevented me from doing so. I was pinned against the wall. I closed my eyes, waiting for the inevitable.

The cold metal blade entered my ribcage, just below my heart. Just the force alone was enough to break my bones. I heard the sickening crunch of breaking bones and the felt the searing pain as the blade penetrated my ribs. The last thing I could remember was falling backwards and hitting my head on the wall. I blacked out.

Jargon Dictionary:

Messerschmitt Me 410 Hornisse (Hornet)

Hitler's favorite bomber destroyer, the Messerschmitt Me 410 was a heavy fighter/fast bomber employed by the Luftwaffe. It entered service in 1943, making it a relatively new aircraft. It proved to be a flexible platform, serving in roles varying from reconnaissance to bomber interception. These planes saw much success against unprotected Allied bomber formations, but their effectiveness decreased as the Allies developed newer tactics and fighters.

Messerschmitt Me 262 Schwalbe (Swallow)

The Messerschmitt Me 262 holds the distinction of the world's first operational jet fighter. Capable of speeds up to 556 miles per hour, the jet was faster than anything the Allied Powers possessed at the time. The jet was also heavily armed with four 30mm cannons, making it a highly dangerous adversary. Despite Allied air superiority towards the end of the war, the outnumbered Me-262 still managed to achieve an excellent 5:1 kill-loss ratio.

Fieseler Fi 156 Storch (Stork)

The simple yet ingenious Fieseler Fi 156 was a small utility aircraft employed by the Germans on both the Western and Eastern fronts. The aircraft was widely used for communications, medical evacuations, and reconnaissance. The plane was noted for its exceptionally short take-off and landing distances, which allowed it to operate from small makeshift airfields. When flown into a strong headwind, the Fi 156 can actually fly backwards.

De Havilland DH.98 Mosquito (The author's favorite)

Nicknamed the "Wooden Wonder", the British De Havilland DH.98 Mosquito was one of the most successful aircraft of World War II. The plane was a true "multirole" platform, successfully serving in tasks ranging from night fighting to tactical bombing. Made almost entirely out of wood, the plane was very fast and difficult to detect by radar. The plane was so elusive and devastating to the German night fighter force that Hermann Goring awarded German pilots two victories for shooting one down.