Welcome back. I hope you all enjoyed my first chapter. As I said earlier, the first few chapters won't appear to have much to do with Mononoke-Hime. But, keep up your patience, and the story will drift into familiar territory. I thank all of those who read and reviewed my first chapter. Here's chapter 2. We're still with the characters from the last chapter, although, this time, we get to know them a little bit better. Plus, you'll all get a couple hints about the movie in this chapter.

Being Alive

Chapter 2

A week after the firefight at the temple, Foxtrot Company was finally back at Base Camp. They joined other companies already at the base, taking a rest on a lazy Friday afternoon. Few men wanted to be outside in the 90-plus degree sun, but they didn't have much choice.

The camp was a dry, dusty area spread out over an acre, with tents and sandbag bunkers all over the place, observation towers stationed at the corners, as well as 50-caliber machine guns and recoilless rifles stationed all over the perimeter.

Dante made his way out of the lavatory tent, and walked right into another soldier. He was another black Private, named Joe McCain. He was carrying what looked like a few crates of beer.

"Hey, Joe!"

"What're you doin' here, McManus? Ain't you supposed to be cleanin' out those barrels from under the outhouse?"

Dante scoffed. "No way. I didn't get that job."

"Oh, you're gonna get it, sucker. All the fresh recruits do. Just because you got lucky messing with some gooks in the woods-"

"What've you got there? Are those Buds?"

"Yeah; stole this shit from the Capn's supply, but it don't matter, considering he's stealing it from the fucking top. And I ain't settling for no cheap Thai brands, or whatever those suckers are drinking. I want the homegrown stuff."

"Hey, McCain! And the little shit, McManus!"

Both Privates turned to see Macon, Guy, and Connolly walking around the tents, beers in hand. They all stopped in their tracks, slightly drunk. Macon stepped forward.

"What the hell are you two cheese-dicks doing here? You ain't got light duty, McManus, why're you wandering around here?"

Dante was about to retort, when Connolly interrupted.

"Where the fuck did you get all those beers, McCain?"

"I found 'em?"

"Bullshit, you found 'em! C'mon, give 'em here!"

"Hands off, motherfucker! I'm taking these back to our tent! Don't be so fucking grabby, or you may never see one again!"

Dante was watching the scene with interest, when, all of a sudden, he felt someone grab him by the shoulders. He jumped up in shock, and whipped around, coming face-to-face with Mason.

"Some night watch you are, boy" the Corporal said, patting him on the back. He then turned his attention to what was in Joe's hands. "Nice arsenal, Joe. Bring 'em back to the tent already."

"Yeah, whatever. Outta' my way, blondie!" he said, shoving Connolly aside.

Guy watched as Mason accompanied Joe to the tent. "Great. Now the moulinyans are taking all the beer. What's next?"

"I heard that, motherfucker!" Mason yelled back.

Shaking his head, Dante followed the others.

About an hour and twelve beers later, the group was all stretched out in their tent. Dante shared his tent with Mason, Guy, Connolly, McCain, Harper, and another Private named Anthony Hendrix, who had come into their platoon a week earlier when Wolfe had been taken by the choppers to rehab. Everyone was in states of rest: Guy, Connolly, McCain and Mason sat around a table, matched deep into a game of Seven Card Stud. They were playing for cigs, money to spend in the next town, and anything else of value. Harper was writing a letter to a special someone, while Tony was finishing a Hawaiian-area newspaper that had been shipped with other supplies, trying to figure out how his favorite football team, the Baltimore Colts, were doing. He took a peek at what Harper was writing, and scoffed in laughter.

"It's not l-u-v, it's l-o-v-e! And 'Mary' doesn't have two r's, Harper! Damn, you dumb!"

Harper, who knew what he was doing, chuckled. "It don't matter! She knows what I mean, man! I always write to her like this! It's her only proof that the 'agent orange' shit they've been dropping on the tree's ain't messed me up!"

"Really? I honestly couldn't tell."

While the argument went on, Dante sat on his cot, writing something of his own. Only, it wasn't written in scribbled English writing; he was using a small brush, and writing neatly written Asian characters vertically on a few sheets of paper. He wrote neatly in any language he wrote in, but he was always extra careful with these ones.

A few seconds after finishing another page, he felt someone looking over his shoulder. He turned around and looked up; Mason was standing over him.

"Can I help you?" Dante asked.

"I was gonna ask if you wanted to join our game," he said, looking at the letter the younger soldier was writing. "But then I got a look at this here. That don't look like what you were writing two days ago. You practicin' gook-talk, or something?"

Dante half-laughed at the joke, then went back to his letter. "Nah, I'm not much of a player. And, well…this is just something I'm sending back…well…it's a long story."

"Like what? You got a pen pal in Hong Kong, or something like that? I heard about people doing things like that."

"No, nothing like that. Well…I don't know, man. It's a lot to talk about."

"So, go ahead! I told you all about my family, man. You remember that?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, you never really told me about your folks back home. Why not?"

Dante sighed again. "All right. If you insist so much, I'll tell you about what I'm writing. But don't go nuts and yell it out over the fucking base radio."

"It's okay, man. I won't tell shit." He sat down on the cot across from Dante's.

Dante took a deep breath, and began. "Okay. First off, this isn't Chinese, it's Japanese…"

About a half hour later, Guy drifted over from the poker table, gladly handling his winnings. He looked over Dante's cot, spying the letter he had just written. One look at it, and he chuckled in confusion. He tapped at the youth, who was sleeping on his cot.

"What the hell are you writing, McManus? Is that Charlie language, or something?"

Dante was woken from his nap by the question. He opened his eyes, and slowly rolled over. "No. It's nothing. Lemme alone." He tried to go back to sleep.

Mason, who noticed the whole thing, walked over from the magazine he was reading. He pulled Guy by the shoulder.

"Hey, dego boy, get back here! We're starting a new pot! I'm not letting you walk away with all that loot!"

"Hold on, I'm busy."

"Just get over here, asshole."

Guy reluctantly walked back to the poker table and sat down.

"You miss me that much, Corporal?"

"I'm gonna tell you this once: don't question that kid again on his letters."

"The fuck are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about. And I'm telling you to leave it alone. That's an order." He began shuffling the deck of cards as he spoke.

"Christ, when the hell did you become so protective of that kid?"

"Since he told me about that letter."

"Well, what's the deal?"

"There is no big deal. You gonna ante, or what?"

"Hey, you started this conversation. You tell me what that letter was about, or you can forget another game."

Mason sighed in irritation. "You better not go blabbin' about any of this. Or you gonna wake up without essential parts of your anatomy the next time you go to sleep."

"Yeah, whatever. Humor me, Bama boy."

"Okay, shut up." He paused for a moment before beginning.

"Unlike most of us, this kid wasn't born where we were born."

"Whadd'ya mean?"

"I mean he wasn't born in the good old US of A, like the rest of us. After the last war, his old man ended up being assigned to the occupation forces over in Japan. His wife was pregnant at the time, and, eventually, he was born on a base in Kyoto, or one of those cities that didn't get hit." He began to deal the cards.

Guy shrugged. "So, he was born in Japan. A lot of guys were born overseas during those years, what's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that his mother got really sick while they were over there. She didn't do so well, and ended up dying not long after he was born."

Guy sighed. "Yikes. That's pretty sad."

"You gonna bet?"

"Oh, yeah. Here." He threw a pair of cigarettes onto the table. "Well, what about his old man?"

"That's where it gets worse. His old man had been called over to Korea about a month prior when that whole mess began. Just as his wife was getting sick, the Chinese invaded, and he had to stay longer than expected. He was killed in some mortar attack not long before his wife bought it. In fact, his demise might have contributed to her health getting worse." He dealt the private another card.

Guy sighed. "Damn."

"Yeah. Both parents were dead before his first birthday. Pretty lousy."

"Well, did they send him back home?"

"Home? He didn't have one. Apparently, the families of his parents didn't get along. His dad was Irish, or something."

"Yeah, I could tell. Hard to miss that head of hair. What about his mom?"

"A guinea like you, believe it or not."

Guy looked up from his cards. "No shit," he said. "Guess I better show a bit more courtesy from now on."

"Yeah, more than you show me, you fuckin' wop," Mason said under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Check or bet?"

"Check."

Mason dealt them each a fifth card. "So, anyway, they couldn't send him back home, 'cause there was no one to take him. They would've probably searched for a foster home, or something, but he ended up staying there."

"What, in Japan?"

"No, in China. Of course in Japan, genius. Apparently, his old man had made friends with this local guy, and he felt it his duty or something to raise the kid. And that's how it went, until, one day, the government came and asked to take him back to the states. Don't know why, but he had to go back when he was ten. Been living with another family ever since."

"Why would they drag a kid back home if he'd never been there?"

"Don't know. That's all he would tell me. He had a pretty hard time getting used to the language, an' all that. Imagine what school must've been like."

"I'd rather not. So, what made him join up here? He's too young to have been drafted."

"Who knows? Maybe he wanted to serve his country in order to fit in more," Mason said, throwing some money into the pot.

"By volunteering for this shit? Heh." He looked at their cards. "Hmm, two aces and a ten against your three, five and nine. Not exactly a fair fight, is it?"

Mason smiled. "That's only what you can see, boy." He dealt another card.

Later that night, Mason led Dante over to a fort structure made of crates and sandbags on an isolated edge of the battalion perimeter. It was covered with ammo casings and surrounded by sandbags, with a lone tent flap over the entrance. Mason went in first, opening the flap.

"This way, buddy. It's right through here."

Dante looked around, uneasy. He didn't think their commanding officers would be pleased about this. "Are you sure this is a good idea? Where are you taking me?"

"Relax, pal. This is where all the cool guys get together; where all the magic happens. I've cleared it with the heads; they think you're ready for this. And believe me, you need it. Now, hurry up."

Dante followed, a bit nervous. Inside the little fort-like structure, there didn't appear to be much. There was only one other soldier, gripping what looked like a rolled-up joint between his fingers. Though he looked a bit stoned, he was still plenty alert. And he had reason to be – he was sitting next to a trap door in the ground.

Mason led Dante over to the trap door, and signaled to the man. The lookout gestured back – everything was cool. With that, Mason opened the trap door, and started down a ladder that led about thirteen feet down into the ground. Dante followed, climbing down after him, and saw the trap door close over his head. Stepping off the ladder, Mason pulled aside a tarp that hung over a doorway. Hesitating for a second, Dante stepped inside, and his jaw dropped in amazement.

"Welcome," Mason said, "to the Underworld."

Gazing around the room, Dante felt he was in another world altogether: the room was darkly lit, like at one of the stranger college parties of the day. The place was littered and decorated with numerous things: boxes of food from the States, beer cases, whiskey bottles, electric fans, tape decks, paraphernalia, crates functioning as tables, hammocks hanging from poles, record players, posters of the Grateful Dead, Jimi Hendrix, Steve McQueen, Sophia Loren, and others. The room was filled with the sounds of countless voices chatting, and of the various music blaring from the tape decks. It was like a private cabaret for all of the soldiers, or at least those who knew about it.

Mason stretched his arms, and patted the youth on the back. "Well, whadd'ya think, man?"

Dante was too preoccupied by the sights in front of him to answer. All of the boys were dressed in their own personal Saturday night rags. The clothes were clean and cool looking. The headbands and medallions were out, as well as the peace signs; anything individualistic or original. On the tape deck, Jefferson Airplane's White Rabbit was cruising. And, of course, the air was thick was that familiar smell of smoke.

Only Dante wasn't completely familiar with it. He'd never done drugs before, but he'd always heard the stories. There had always been a gang of acid punks in his neighborhood back home. His foster family had raised him away from any of the stuff, trying to keep him as clean as possible. Here, however, he tried not to think of his life back home. If he was going to be in hell, he might as well make the most of it.

He was finally broken out of his trance by a slap on the head. He turned to see Mason looking him in the face.

"Hey! You okay? Come back, dude."

Dante shook his head a bit, clearing his mind. "Yeah, sorry."

Mason broke into a toothy smile. "S'okay, man! Like I said, magic. C'mon, I'll show you around."

As Dante moved through the room, everything seemed to slow down. He slowly made out the other men in the room: Guy, McCain, Connolly, Macon, someone he didn't know, a big soldier named King, another Sergeant everyone called 'Blade', and a few others; about a dozen in all.

Dante stopped to look at the Sergeant. Blade was apparently the resident head, as he commanded what was easily the largest presence in the room. Dante, knowing what army officers were usually like, found an unmistakable mysteriousness about the man: earlier that day, he had no doubt been barking no-nonsense orders at new recruits. Now, as he puffed a huge, burning purple dome-bowl on a two-foot long pipe, with a large dragon tattoo splashed across his chiseled chest, he commanded the gateway to a world of endless bliss and pleasure. He seemed like the lord of the final judgment in the new, smoky underworld Dante was now a part of.

When he noticed that Mason had arrived, he gestured, then gave Dante the once over. He laughed.

"So, you finally made it to the Underworld, eh, McManus?"

Mason smiled, grasping Dante by the shoulder. "Don't worry…this guy's the new unworldly spirit left behind by our late friend Spencer. He was resurrected the moment he stepped into those woods." He turned to the youth. "Hang loose, kid, I'll be right back." And, with a hard slap on the back, he walked over to another end of the room.

Dante's eyes went from the group in front of him, to Mason, then back to the group. Guy and McCain were both standing on opposite sides of Blade, as though waiting for something to start up between the two.

"You lame, Mac?"

"Huh?" Dante responded, confused.

"I said, are you lame? You gotta' problem with your arms, or something?"

Still confused, Dante looked to the men on either side of the resident head.

"Go ahead, man," Guy said, "take the pipe."

Dante's gaze darted to the enormous device in Blade's hands. Blade smiled, and gestured with the pipe. Dante hesitated, then took the pipe. He hesitated once again for a whole second. Then, gathering up his gusto, he took the pipe in his mouth, and smoked for all he was worth.

He brought the pipe away almost as fast. The fumes were nearly enough to knock him out. He nearly doubled over, coughing up like nobody's business. The other men started laughing.

"Whoa, there goes your wind! Looks like someone just popped their cherry," Blade said, chuckling. He took the pipe back, and passed it over to McCain. Dante stood back up.

"Yeah…(cough), whatever…" He smiled, wondering about the whole group.

As the guys passed the pipe around again, Dante scoped out the rest of the room. He saw Macon walk over just as he was handed the pipe again.

"Never thought you'd be down here so soon, McManus" he said, as though trying to seem intimidating. Dante returned his glare, until he was interrupted by Macon once again.

"Hey, you done with that yet? Hurry up and pass it on, man!"

Dante immediately puffed again, not coughing this time. He then handed it to Macon, who took it and laughed. As the others kept chatting on their stoned minds, Dante turned around to see Mason in front of him. He was grinning like a calm maniac, his hands behind his back.

"Nice hit, slick. But Blade's shit ain't nothing compared to this." He slowly brought his hands out, revealing a Remington 870 shotgun. He jacked the action to the rear, and pointed the weapon at Dante.

"Put your mouth on that."

Dante hesitated, clearly worried. "Go on, don't be afraid," Mason said. "I ain't gonna shoot ya'. Trust me."

Not seeing the point in refusing, Dante complied. Mason took a hit from the joint he was holding, putting his mouth to the ejection port, blew the smoke down the bore, 'shotgunning' it into Dante's lungs. The youth staggered back, surprised and coughing. Everyone laughed again, and the party got livelier.

Mason looked down at him again. "First time on that shit?"

Dante coughed again. "Yeah."

"That's good. Things are gonna turn around real fast right now, man."

For a second, Dante wondered what he meant. Then, he started to feel better. The pain that had been in his neck from an incident earlier in the week was fading fast. In fact, everything bad was fading. It was total euphoria.

"Feel good?"

"Yeah. There's no pain in my neck now. I feel pretty fucking good."

Mason smiled triumphantly, as though proud of his new 'creation'. "Hey, that's all good. It's always good down here in the Underworld."

"Damn straight," Guy said, walking into the crowd. "The party's almost perfect, Blade. You've got the grass, the booze, and all the other ins and out and uppers and downers. Only thing we're missing is a nice piece of pussy! Shame you couldn't get that for us." The crowd around him laughed.

"Yeah, and thank god if you ask me," Joe piped up. "Trigger-happy wops like you and Indochina red are a deadly combination. We had a piece of pussy here, you'd probably kill it before any of us got a chance to fuck it!"

Everyone laughed even harder as Guy took a badly aimed swing at McCain. Dante, however, sat down to relax for a bit, enjoying the scene. The tape on the deck turned off for a second, heading to the next song. Sunshine of Your Love, by Cream, started playing; a few men started to drunkenly sing along.

Dante smiled heartily to himself. There were no worries now. There was no hell. Just the guys and the tunes around him in the underworld…

Across the sea, on a large island in the pacific, things were a lot calmer.

A small neighborhood in Kyoto, Japan, was fast asleep. There were no disturbances, no noises. Just the sound of crickets and the occasional owl on this quiet night.

Inside a particular house, a family of four was asleep in their rooms. In the living room, sitting on a shelf above the family shrine, a strange wooden doll sat; a very strange doll, indeed. It had a body that looked like a deer's, but was sitting in a crouched position, like a normal human. The head was an enormous mass of antlers bunched together. The face was neither human nor deer, yet was calm, understanding, as though it knew all the answers. It stood there, next to a line of porcelain dolls, featuring a woman in a formal kimono, a man in a samurai uniform, and a Shinto priest.

Suddenly, the dolls' eyes glowed a deep yellow. It looked as though it was observing the room around it.

Its time had come.

And that's chapter 2. Hope you're all getting excited.

Don't go nuts over all the drug paraphernalia; it's just to capture the spirit of the times. As for the rest, I hope you got the hints towards Mononoke-Hime; they're there.

Well, it that's all, I'll see you later. Thank you for the reviews, especially from you, dragonSpired48. Happy trails.

Music for Chapter 2:

White Rabbit, by Jefferson Airplane
Purple Haze, by Jimi Hendrix
Sunshine of Your Love, by Cream