See you there, part 1
Hashimoto squinted at my handwriting, drops of sweat finding ways between the creases on his forehead. "Sakamoto… Ryouma[1]?"
"Tatsuma," I corrected automatically.
"You want him promoted to me?" His eyebrow went up in an uncharacteristically tart expression.
"Yes, sir."
"Why?"
"He is wasted in my unit," I said simply. "Has a mind for strategy, sir. Comes naturally to him, just takes some prompting."
"Yes, I remember. He was useful in the South… Merchant boy," he muttered distractedly. His mouth twisted into a pout, as though he had bitten into something sour and was not entirely sure whether he should swallow it. It was prejudice, and naturally so. Merchant boys did not win battles. At best, they peddled arms.
"He has gotten good with the blade, sir," I added, feeling a little bit as though I was selling an ox at market myself. "Good sense of humour…"
Hashimoto snorted, but a wry twinkle was playing in the corners of his eyes. "Very well. Anything else, Captain?"
I thought of a thousand things to say. "No. Just… I'll see you later. Out there."
Hashimoto smiled, round face looking almost fatherly despite the iron-coloured eyebrows clashing on his forehead. There were far too many years of hierarchy between us to allow an embrace but I offered my old master a long, formal bow. He returned it with just as much heartfelt ceremony.
Sakata was waiting for me outside the General's tent. He rested his weight on one leg, picking his nose nonchalantly. The pose looked out of place considering his full military gear but then so did many things about him. I felt guilty for transferring his friend out of the unit without speaking to him about it but it would never have been his decision to make anyway. It was mine.
"Ca'tain?" he turned to me. Half-lidded and relaxed, his eyes looked entirely black.
"I had Sakamoto promoted to the General," I stated, daring him into a reaction.
There was none. "Yeah, he told me you'd do it."
"It will be a perfect position for him," I defended stiffly.
"Hey, good fucking riddance," he chuckled, flicking junk from his nose. His tone was harsh and flippant. I knew him well enough by now not to mistake it for uncaring. "Besides. Don't want him riding into this shitfest. Boy's got no talent with the sword."
Only what little you've taught him, I thought at Sakata but did not comment. Leading our way back to the campsite, I felt my heart thunder against my chest. We were assembled again, over a year later; hundreds of us. Thousands. More than there had been in Mutsu, in fact. Hard times had tested our resolve in the meanwhile. Itou died during our escape. Not even in battle; his ship went down off the coast of Hata[2]. Murakami and a hundred others went down with him. We didn't know until we landed two days later. I saw my old master cry then, for the first time. I had cried as well, that evening, getting drunk with Aizawa. Hashimoto stepped into command afterwards. Nobody argued.
The Amanto were on us all around Tosa, but we gave them the slip and sailed north, burned the boats in the bay to put them off of our scent. Things started looking up after that. I condensed my face into a tight frown as Sakata and I arrived at the camp. He began barking orders at my soldiers, making sure that we were ready to go. I took the moment to eat, but could not take in more than a few mouthfuls. I shooed rice away from my tofu, then mixed them back together again listlessly. It was just nerves, I told myself. Like always before a battle.
Shitfest… shitfest was right. The task before us was big. I recited it voicelessly, over and over again, as though saying it in my mind would make it happen that way through some ancient magic of words.
"We're ready, Captain."
It was Kuramoto, coming to stand beside me. His red-and-black armour glistened in the harsh sunlight, making him seem like a giant beetle. The hair on his temples had gone white, I noticed.
"Mrm," I mumbled, portioning my food into pieces I would not put into my mouth.
"Sir?"
"Yes, we are ready," I decided to agree.
"Captain," he hesitated. "Wouldn't it be better if-"
"No."
Kuramoto sighed but did not press the point. I knew what he had been about to say. Wouldn't it be better if Suzuki was my second lieutenant? Kuramoto did not like working with Sakata. If my unit was the heavy artillery of our army, Sakata was the loose cannon, just as likely to listen to orders as he was to ignore them. At least that was his reputation. His soubriquet had spread among the troops like a forest fire. Crazy stories about him piled upon hyperbolae, and he had become somewhat of a myth, told around the campsite. At first, I thought it was a good thing; admiration might have taught him more responsibility, and maybe even tempted him to get off his ass and into a command position. I had been wrong. The first time I heard someone in my unit say he would not go to battle with Sakata because all of his comrades turned up dead, I gave the man latrine duty for a month. Had Kuramoto now tried to convince me a little bit harder, I might have done the same to him.
Instead, Kuramoto massaged his thigh, looking over the busy scene before us. Men in armour fell into place, forming squares and triangles while Sakata shouted them into shape, much like I was doing to my rice. Will they too be eaten by some terrible war machine by the end of this day? I frowned in disgust, and threw the remainder of my food into the fire.
Just nerves. Like always.
"Let's go."
Kuramoto nodded.
I attached my swords to my belt more securely and wiped the sweat off of my face. Damn this heat. Running in it was not going to be pleasant but I could tell it was the sticky calm before a thunderstorm. The air was standing still around us, heavy, wet with anticipation, like an eager woman. I laughed at the comparison. Sakata got to me. Lightning flashed out to the southeast and I counted. 12 miles out. A summer storm would not make our jobs easier, but it would also make airborne attacks a right pain in our enemies' ugly asses. I remembered the legends of the storm that had saved this country from a Great Eastern Army[3] and the beginning of a smile started forming on my face.
To hell with nerves. As always.
"We're ready," I grunted and turned to lead my troops.
X X X X
The sky opened up with a loud crack; a giant dragon of light zigzagged over us. It lit up our faces in stark black and white before the dark grey clouds sewed themselves shut once more. A moment later, a blanket of tepid rain descended upon the thirsty ground. We were drenched within seconds.
Kuramoto hissed next to me. Some men cursed.
"Well. At least the weather is shitty," I heard Sakata sigh. Then he raised his voice over the ferocious bang of droplets. "On your toes, twinkly bitches! We're going in."
The men shuffled more securely into position with a ripple of clangs. I looked out over the muddy plain before us, stretching between me and the ugly, metal building looming ahead. Once more, I mapped the distance at which they could hit us with their machine guns. If we succeeded today, I realized, that would be our ugly, metal building, and those would be our machine guns. The only thing we needed to do was to stay out of range and trick the ground troops out. Buy an hour. That was it. Buy an hour. What was an hour in the eternity of time? Nothing. No more instrumental to its passing than a single drop of water was in this downpour.
An hour on the battlefield, however, was an eternity in and of itself. It would not sell itself cheap, that one hour. But neither would we.
The more forces they deployed here the better, I told myself sternly. It will allow Hashimoto and Satou to scissor more easily across the battlefield from the flanks, swallowing the Amanto line. At the same time, Aizawa would pelt them with stolen cannons, the booty from our time in Tosa; he was probably bringing them into position even now. He also had only one thing he needed to do – take out the fortress' long guns. Then, once we had siphoned every last soldier from there, drawn them into our killing field, Takasugi would take the Kiheitai into the keep itself and cut the aliens' collective throat. And we would have won our first position. Our foothold, our base. Our castle.
I only had to buy an hour out there.
"Ready!" I bellowed. My answer was the unison breathing of the men around me. "Advance!"
We started at a trot, then faster, armour and weapons jingling rhythmically. Raindrops bit my heated skin and forced my eyes into a squint. I could barely see ahead.
"Aaargh!" I growled, speeding up. My men followed with eager grunts and barks. Now I could see the outline of enemy troops as they filled the field. A genuinely wolfish grin cut itself into my mouth. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sakata sported one very much like it. They were taking the bait. Excellent.
Rain made a beautiful, crystalline noise on my blade as I drew it. I wondered whether the Amanto heard it. They were moving at a slower pace. Hah! Were they just late off the mark, or were they afraid of the slaughter we were bringing with us? Could they hear it chuckle in our breathing; sing against the edge of our swords?
"I trade ten thousand years," my breathless voice sounded like a hollowed out snarl. "FOR THIS ONE, PERFECT MOMENT!"
"Ten thousand years! Ten thousand years[4]!" echoed across my line.
With an almighty yell, we rammed into the wall of enemies before us, hacking through the first row like one giant sabre. Almost immediately, three men broke through on the left and I surged in after them. This was what momentum could do! They were crumbling before us easily. Easily…
I saw Sakata's arms slouch before I heard it: a gasp was rippling over my unit. Swords crossed and stayed crossed, advancing no further. Finally, I saw it too; our enemy. Blood drained from my head. Horrible realization slackened my muscles.
The body clutching in pain at the end of my blade was my body. The grimacing face above it was my face; his blood was my blood. These were men; humans, like us! They had sent men to fight us!
No wonder we were cutting through them like through butter. These were not samurai. These were not even soldiers. These were untrained peasants, given armour and weapons, and sent to kill the warriors who were trying to save them. I stared in utter shock at the man whose guts I had pierced. The first man I had ever killed. He stared back with bottomless fear carved forever into his dead, grey features.
"Shit," I heard Kuramoto hiccough. "Oh, shit. Shit." His blade was also already red. The treacherous colour was slowly washing out in the rain.
To my right, Sakata could not even make a noise. His arms drooped all the way down. A hook-nosed man with short cropped hair, barely holding a huge axe, saw his opening and lifted the heavy thing.
"OOOOOOOH!" he announced his attack, stupidly, and swung downwards at my lieutenant. I stopped thinking. My sword twisted free. I knocked Sakata out of the way and cut off the axe-man's arms in the same move.
"Attack! Don't just stand there, you dumbasses! ATTACK!" I screamed. I could not let my men have time to think. I could not let them have time to feel. But more than anything else, I could not let the alien cunts break our momentum, even if they had broken our hearts. "Attack now!"
They obeyed, my vastly more experienced soldiers quickly finding ways around their stunned stalemates. I hooked an arm around Sakata, pulled him up to his place roughly, and followed my own order. Each cut I drew over human flesh made me sick. The alien fucks had even dressed some of them in samurai armour. Probably stolen off my comrades' corpses in previous battles, and put on these poor, wretched boys… My sword sang through them all the same.
Kuramoto shouted orders with bitter resolution in his voice. "Keep the line! One step at a time!"
I nodded my thanks to him. "Stick together now! As one."
"Did you have to-" Sakata's cold rage made me look to my right. His voice was a whisper but I heard it very clearly. "Why would- Degenerate, fucking, sadistic…" I was half expecting him to look deranged but he did not. His face had turned to stone despite the water standing in his eyes. I blinked mine away. That was enough to lose sight of him.
Sakata dove forwards, breaking my line. I just managed to catch a glimpse of the white overcoat moving quickly through a multitude of hapless men when the enemy line parted once more. He was directly ahead of me, slashing left and right with gruesome ease. The rain around him exploded before it reached the ground, mixing with sprays of blood, and he was the centre of that crimson whirlwind. Bodies sank into the muck at his feet. Sakata's despised nickname suddenly bubbled up in my throat. I barely managed to swallow it back down in time. It left a taste of copper against my tongue.
"After me! Centre, FORWARD AND IN!" I bellowed. We joined the melee, funnelling in an orderly fashion and puncturing defences as an arrow would meat. My men spread out to either side like deadly wings, flapping through their numbers. Sakata was our talons, leading the way. He was ferocious. Or feral, I could not make up my mind.
It was as though he wanted to kill them all… He did, I realized. So that we wouldn't have to.
"He is a god damned monster," Kuramoto breathed into my ear as he found my side once more. He nodded at Sakata with contempt. "Look at him!"
I could not respond, but I swore I would beat the dumb out of him for this later. Stupid fuck. Didn't he understand—
A sudden onslaught pushed several of my men onto me. Our line condensed against it. Backup, I thought wildly!
"Let me through! Let me through!" I screamed, elbowing past my soldiers so I could see what was going on.
Kuramoto was faster. "They are attacking their own troops! Sir, the Amanto!"
It was true. Over the heads of badly armed men – their meat shield – I saw a large group of Amanto mercenaries, grimacing as they pushed the frightened men forwards. They were not even trying to command them. They were herding them, like wolves did flocks of sheep, metal teeth stabbing out. I saw one of them lift a giant mallet gleefully. It landed on a human body with a disgusting, wet crack. Bullets echoed. Now there was real panic in the frantic shoving. Kuramoto was swept back from me, stumbling as two enemy soldiers fell onto him. Shit. They were more effective at breaking our formation with their desperate fear then they had been with their weapons.
"Line! Fall in line!" I ordered but, once again, Sakata disobeyed. He did not even bother killing the fleeing men around him any longer, shoving through them in silence as he honed in on the real target.
"Fuck," I hissed, barely able to stand. He was right in principle: forward was the only way out. But I would never reform my line if we all tried to punch through like that. "Triangles!"
Kuramoto could still not get up but somebody else, maybe Sasaki, had the good sense to spread the order instead of him. "Triangles, you assholes! We sit it out!"
I led by example, plunging to my knee and stabbing my shield into the mud. It took my men an eternity to reorder themselves, some falling back behind me, others in similar formations on either side of me. Bodies crashed against us, over our heads, onto our shields. I slipped backwards, almost knocked out when a fleeing soldier kneed me in the face. My shield locked against those of my men. New thuds sent merciless vibrations down my arm. Hazed, I lost my grip on the handle, and the tip of our triangle smashed inwards. A man to my left was trampled underfoot before another could close the gap.
After another eternity, the kicks lessened. I scrambled up, head screaming with pain and dim with vertigo. "Get ready," I managed to squeeze out. "Up!"
Somebody pulled me by my arm. I wanted to tell them that was not what I had meant, but my men were already on their feet.
Kuramoto was in my face. "Are you alright, sir?"
He looked like hell, broken nose spluttering blood down his front and a cut on his skull painting his white temples red, but I only managed to grab his forearm reassuringly before we both had to block. The mercenaries were on us! I took a hit from above, almost going back into the mud from the force of it. My feet surged forward, muscle memory from a life's worth of training the only thing moving me. I sliced through my opponent. A blow from below almost caught my thigh. The small, grinning bastard juggling four needle-thin knives rolled into me again. Before I could react, he put one straight through my calf. I cursed as pain shot through me, but my body knew what to do once more. I swung backwards, blade catching him on the rise from his crouch.
Shit, they had spread us out. I had no line! Where was my line?! My mind screamed. I spared a glance to either side. My right was empty. Ah, but Kuramoto was two yards away to my left. I yelled, "Come together! Everybody cluster, cluster!"
I barely had time to pull the knife out of my flesh when a fox-like Amanto dove in for my neck. I parried; he made another pass, spinning me so that my back was to the enemy. I just caught sight of a heavy weapon swinging down.
It got me on the shoulder, pushing me off balance. No! That was Sakata, half of his weight on me and blocking above head. He growled, deep in his throat, and shoved the attacker off – it was the bastard with the mallet. I scrambled to save his thigh from the fox, who was no longer sure whom to attack first. I took advantage of the moment and charged him, feigned, drew him in. My sword split his chest cleanly.
"Captain!" Kuramoto was at my side with Sasaki. A few others were also joining us.
"Group us up! NOW!" I screamed at them and ran to help my other lieutenant.
There was no need. Sakata had manoeuvred the big fucker into position masterfully. Before I even reached him, he passed under one lumbering arm with the agility of a snake, and took it cleanly off. His face stretched into a crazed grin. I stared stupidly at it, hypnotised.
He walked around, almost lazily, to the front of the kneeling, screaming Amanto, and brought his sword down in a short stab. Two, three, four… Finally, with the fifth one, he hacked the head off.
"Group up," I told him. He nodded, face back to normal, and ran off to collect more of us from the right.
The rain had eased to a steady shower. That meant the Amanto would be sending airborne units out soon, but at least I could see the field now. Sasaki guarded my flank while I searched the landscape. I could not see Hashimoto or Satou anywhere. They should have arrived by now… And where was Aizawa? Why wasn't he pummelling the fortress? We were keeping out of range for the machine guns, and they wouldn't risk killing their own soldiers with the long nines. At least, not just yet. But why wasn't Aizawa already blasting them?
Hellfire, how long was this one hour? How many eternities have I already spent here?
I did the only thing I could do and began running interference from one circle to the next, drawing my men towards the centre. Slowly, sluggishly, we were coming back together. Kuramoto was trying to do the same on the other side but I could see that he was stuck there with his half of the unit. They were being swallowed by the mercenaries.
"Sakata!" I bellowed. "To the left!"
I had no idea whether he heard me. Forgetting the pain in my calf, I circled behind my raggedy line to Kuramoto's group. Three men along the edges of it dove suddenly backwards, smashing into me. One of them had not been fast enough. His head exploded, brains splattering over us.
A stocky, middle-aged woman was in the centre of the circle. She looked entirely human but for the porcelain tan and icy grey eyes. Scarred, lined face was stretched into a terrifying grimace. Kuramoto charged her with two others. One, she smashed aside immediately. Kuramoto tried to block her upswing but she tossed him into the air as though he were a rag doll. I had time only to inhale when the tip of her weapon regurgitated bullets and ripped Kuramoto to pieces in midair. He fell onto the ground and disappeared underfoot, dead.
I screamed. Kuramoto's other man flew past me, broken, as I went at her blindly. The alien smiled, tiny pupils drowning in cold irises, and brought the umbrella down. It took all of my strength just to keep my spine from snapping. The hit buried me into the mud, knee cracking painfully against a hidden stone. She shrugged her weapon free easily and lifted it up once more. I would not survive another blow like that…
Then Sakata was on her back. The Amanto reared, kicking him off, but Sakata found his feet quickly. He caught my gaze and we rushed her from opposite sides. With blinding speed, she opened her umbrella against us, making us bounce back like stones skipping over the lake.
"What the he-?"
Then, as though on cue, rhythmic pounding echoed over the field. I gasped. No! Oh, no. We were in range. I had forgotten to pay attention to the lay of the land.
"Retreat! Ten yards centre back, now!" But it was too late. My men were already being shredded all around me, bursting into fountains of blood, meat and bone. One man's leg was shot clean off. He writhed in the mud. I could not help him. Someone yelled for me and I saw fresh Amanto troops appear from behind. Fuck, they had outflanked us. I hadn't even seen them coming. There was Sasaki, being pushed towards us instead of the other way around.
Where the fuck were Hashimoto and Satou? The air began buzzing. They were sending out the airborne units. I looked around desperately, swallowed and made up my mind. This was all the eternity I could have my men pay for.
"BREAK OFF! Everyone, RUN!"
As I said it, something smashed against my side. I felt ribs splinter. I was knocked away, vision black, body flaccid, unable to breathe. On the edge of consciousness, I heard another man get torn up by bullets right next to me. Wet thuds sounded out against tissue. I could not tell whether they had come from the tower or my attacker. My men! Had they heard the order? Shit, I had to get them out of here. I could not speak.
The woman with the umbrella was swinging after Sakata, pushing him towards me. I could only watch, completely paralysed. Sakata was knocked backwards violently. He managed to regain control of his tumble, but the grinning monster was already rushing him. I begged my arm to move. I could see my sword, right in front of me, but my right side was completely useless. I still could not breathe. If only I could give Sakata a moment to escape…
I howled with pain, pulling out my short sword with the left hand. Rolling blindly, I stabbed down. It was pure, foolish luck I struck the umbrella wielding alien and pinned one of her feet to the ground. She growled viciously. There, I thought, and lay back with a sigh. I was done. Get out of here, all of you.
I saw the swing come down on me. The next thing I knew, I was covered with warmth.
It was not s bad to die. The pain should stop any-
"Captain! Captain! Get up, you dumb fuck!"
I squinted. It was Sakata. He had a bullet hole just above the collar bone; I could see it was still smoking. The woman who had shot it was lying in two pieces on either side of me, her guts all over my face and chest.
"Come on!" he insisted, pulling at my arm. "We gotta run!"
No, he had to run. New shots zipped past us. Where were my men? He had to retreat with them.
"N-nn," I tried to speak.
"Climb up on me," Sakata said, trying to manipulate me onto his back.
"No!" I finally found my voice. It was weak and gasping. "Lead, the retreat. That's, an order." He ignored me yet again. I gripped his armour and screamed, "You are not here to save everybody, Sakata!"
"The FUCK do you know what I'm here for?!" he bellowed back.
A bullet struck my head.
Thank you all for commenting, as always.
[1]Sakamoto Ryouma was the original 19th century general upon whom Tatsuma is based. Both their names mean "the dragon horse", and could be written the same way, so it is no wonder Hashimoto read it wrongly. Another little nod to history I could not resist.
[2]Hata is a district in the modern province of Kouchi, Edo-period Tosa, where Sakamoto is actually from. It is located at the very southernmost part of Shikoku, and completely open to the Pacific.
[3]The Great Eastern Army Mikkun is talking about are the Mongol horde under Kublai Khan, who launched an invasion Japan on the 13th century. His navy was destroyed by two typhoons before reaching it, after which they were become known as the Winds of the Gods. I.E. Kamikaze.
[4]A bit more Japanese lore for you (since a very kind reviewer mentioned she enjoyed them). "Ten thousand year" is the literal translation of the infamous "Banzai". Originally, the phrase was used by the Chinese to honour the Emperor. In the Second World War, Japanese militarists used it in a similar context. "Tennouheika Banzai", literally, "(May the) Celestial Emperor (live for) ten thousand years", was the Imperial Japanese version of Heil Hitler. The way the samurai used it, however, was completely different. It was part of the fatalism of Bushido. When I read up on it, I came across the interpretation Mikuni shouted out: I will trade ten thousand years of my life for this one, prefect moment before me.
On the subject, let me just share something about the other Kamikaze, the more famous suicide pilots (wow, we really got on to difficult subjects). I once read the letter one pilot wrote to his family before going on a mission. He expressed this fatalism very well. "Congratulate me! I have been given this magnificent opportunity to die." The letter would have been delivered to his family after his death was confirmed.