A few words from the author: readers are appreciated, reviewers are appreciated even more.

Now with less violence but more kinky sex and nudity for a cleaner, and saner America (just kidding).

Warning: The first part contains blood, guts and gore. . . lots and lots of it

Enjoy.

Date: unknown; Local time: unknown; Location: unknown, Vietnam?

Ichigo walked alone through the charred landsape. Orange flames lit up the darkness of the night, giving the sky a blood red tint. His face was covered in soot, his hands were black, he had a black walking stick and belts of ammunition draped all over his body that jingled as he slowly trudged across the blackened wasteland.

Walking stick?

He looked at the long black object, the flames illuminated the walking stick for what it really was.

My M-60

He shouldered the weapon as the ammunition jingled.

Where am I? Why am I here?

Something brushed against his leg. He looked down and saw. . .

An arm?. . .

The appendage was attached to the body of a man. Torn and tattered pants partially covered the bloody stumps of what used to be legs. The man was crawling, his entire body covered with blotches of soot and blood. He looked up from the ground, his blonde hair was messy and the left part of his face was torn open.

Help. . . me. . . the man murmured.

Ichigo backed away but tripped over something. His back hit the ground. He looked up from the ground and saw a bald head with a mutilated face. He stood up quickly.

Help. . . me. . .

The one armed figure stood up and reached its remaining arm out to Ichigo as the first figure crawled toward him.

Help. . . me. . .

Another figure limped over to stand beside the other two. This one had tattered blonde hair, the upper part of his face was shadowed by his boonie hat. Small streams of blood trickled down from his mouth. His chest was filled with bulletholes which looked fresh.

Help. . . me. . .

Two more figures approached, one of them was missing half his skull and the other had bamboo stakes sticking out of his chest.

Help. . . us. . . They murmured

Ichigo turned around and ran right into a bamboo "pickett fence". He examined the fence closer and saw that it was attached to another person. The person staggered over to him. The brown haired figure's blood soaked face looked up at him.

Help. . . me. . . please. . .

Ichigo turned and ran, but everywhere he went there were more people, some missing limbs, others with bulletholes, others with gashes, but everyone seemed to be missing all or part of their face. They all murmured. . .

Help. . . me. . .

"Who are you?" Ichigo asked.

We are the lost. . .

We are the fathers. . .

The brothers. . .

The nephews. . .

The husbands. . .

The sons. . .

We are. . .

Cursed to wander. . . Never to return. . . Never to find peace. . .

Ichigo was soon surrounded. He pulled the trigger on his M-60. The weapon fired round after round into the approaching figures. They seemed to ignore the bullets as they tore through their flesh. They crawled, limped, and staggered toward him slowly. Ichigo ran out of ammo as the figures came within inches of him.

If you will not help us. . .

Then. . .

Countless arms grabbed onto Ichigo, Ichigo tried to break free, but there were just too many.

You. . . will. . .

The figures began dragging him towards the jungle.

Join. . . us. . .

The jungle's dark embrace enveloped Ichigo. . .

-------------------

March 30, 1969; 0909 local time; Honolulu, Hawaii

Ichigo woke up to with a throbbing pain in his head. He sat up on his bed and groggily looked around. The morning sun shone into the building through the gap in the curtains. The celing fan spun round and round slowly. Next to the bed was a table, on the table were two empty bottles of scotch, and an empty shotglass. Ichigo stretched and stood up. His physique; shaped by intense training, brutal combat, and a steady diet of questionable food was one that suggested he had seen better days. Ichigo stood up and stretched before staggering over to the window and peering through the curtans. He closed his eyes almost immidiately after, the morning sun coming off the nearby ocean intensifying the pounding headache. He slowly made his way to the bathroom and knelt down before the white throne. He put his arms on the toilet seat and proceeded to empty the contents of his stomach into the bowl. After offering the contents of his stomach to the porcelan gods, Ichigo dropped his grey boxer shorts and got into the shower. He turned the faucet on and let the cold water flow down his back as he tried to wash away his massive hangover.

Ichigo, Renji, Kiyone and Ishida had been given two weeks R and R in Hawaii. Ichigo felt awkward going, but it was nice to be able to sleep in a real bed without worrying about mortar attacks, rocket fire, or snipers. He had celebrated coming back to America by himself the night before, with two bottles of scotch that he had bought using a fake ID. Now he was paying for it. . . with interest.

Ichigo finished his shower and dried himself off before getting dressed. He put on a pair of grey boxers and a pair of blue jeans before putting on a green t-shirt. He walked down the stairs of the hotel and out the door into the streets of Honolulu.

---------------

April 1, 1969; 1204 local time; Honolulu, Hawaii

The church was almost empty, there were only a few people in the pews. Some of them were the bride's family and others were fellow soldiers looking for a free meal. Two soldiers in blue army dress uniforms and garrison caps stood at the altar. The priest and groom stood between the soldiers. The groom was very nervous, his glasses were constantly needing to be pushed up. The organist started playing the wedding march and the bride walked down the aisle towards the altar. The strawberry blonde carried a traditional boquet and a hibiscus flower behind her right ear. She wore a traditional white wedding dress with a thin veil covering her face. She reached the altar and stood beside the groom.

The priest cleared his throat and began. "Dearly beloved. . ."

The wedding was short and the reception was shorter, but the deed was done. Ishida and Kiyone were married. Ichigo had never seen two people who were so happy together, except maybe his parents.

Bells rang out as the newlyweds emerged from the wedding chapel. Ishida carried Kiyone bridal style in his arms down the steps of the church and into the waiting car. Ichigo and Renji smiled as they watched the car drive away, dragging white streamers and cans behind it.

That night the four of them celebrated at the honeymoon suite of the hotel. They stayed up and talked about anything, from childhood experiences to Ishida's embarassing sunburn that he recieved the day before. The war seemed distant, which was how Ichigo liked it.

Ichigo and Renji left the suite, saying goodbye and leaving the young couple to their own devices. They parted ways and walked (or in Ichigo's case, staggered like a drunken sailor) to their respective rooms. Ichigo couldn't help but be a little depressed, he saw how happy Kiyone made Ishida. To tell the truth, he felt a little jealous. He hoped that some day, he would be able to experience that kind of happiness. As he fumbled to unlock they door to his room, his thoughts turned back to the war. Even though he brain was thoroughly saturated in alcohol, he couldn't completely block out the quiet voice in his head.

The voice that told him that he would have to go back. . .