ATTENTION: THIS STORY IS A SEQUEL TO "OFFICER SAOTOME", A FIC I COMPLETED IN 2010.
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Catharsis
Chapter 02 Grape Drink
February [CLASSIFIED], 20XX.
[XX] Kilometers [XXXX] of [XXXXXX]
Hokkaido, Japan.
Five tall touring buses lined up in a crescent moon formation on the freshly striped cement of the compound. A man standing front and center cleared his throat and smoothed his goatee with a delicate hand. He raised the mic connected to his megaphone, sitting on a harnessed sling under his left arm.
"Please gather your belongings to the marked staging area in the garage. Thank you for coming. Welcome to Force Assessment Selection Training."
Natsumi Tsujimoto hopped the last step off the travel coach with Miyuki already heading towards the cargo bay. She saw the lone man with a clipboard and a megaphone standing in front of the buses, the towering and ominously white building behind him daunting everyone.
"Natsumi, here's your bag."
Miyuki tossed an olive drab duffel bag that was nearly as tall as she was. Natsumi caught it with an off hand swipe and slung the heavy luggage behind her back, her hips smoothly bucking the momentum. She looked around as she saw everyone form together for the second time since they were herded on a remote field of the airport tarmac.
It was noon when everyone had landed in Sapporo hours ago. The ocean front property that was their final destination was already blanketed in darkness. Miyuki and Natsumi went over to the edge of the large cement parking lot like many others to see beyond the edge of the low cliff. Below them a glimmer of sunset showed the choppy waves crashing into the rocks and sand. Everyone remarked curiously about the multiple craters with bubbling hot spring water and fire pits that were etched out on the beach.
The man on the megaphone spoke again to the migrating crowd. "We will begin INDOC processing as soon as we have everyone accounted for. We will not have rooms ready for you until a few days. We apologize for this inconvenience."
The crowd mumbled in unison and continued walking down towards the ramped driveway to the garage. The entryway was gigantic for an underground passage.
"What a nice guy," Natsumi remarked as she passed the older man with the megaphone. The bus drivers had no info other than instructions to transport everyone. Their entry into the compound was marked by passing a barbwire fortified perimeter with armed US Marines posted at an unmarked checkpoint..
Miyuki glanced at him as he continued to politely herd everyone to the garage. Like most of the people around her, there was a lack of urgency. Miyuki found it hard to take him serious with his Tommy Bahamas shirt and khaki pants while everyone else was bundled up for the harsh Northern winter.
Natsumi whistled. "Man, he looks just like Ken Watanabe."
"With your preference for older men, he's a spot on match," Miyuki said.
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The men behind her watched with curiosity as her red ponytail bounced against the large duffel bag that towered over her. She strided smoothly in front of them, her outdated chocolate chip BDUs giving rise to discussion as to where she came from.
She ignored the tall stares. Ranma was demure in comparison to the men around her. She tried to look at the ground as she swiftly marched down the garage. She tried to disappear amongst the squeaking and shuffling of freshly shined boots shuffling along the path.
She looked around and was taken aback like everyone else by the immensity of the garage entrance. It looked as if it were designed for trailer trucks and heavy equipment storage.
"Hey there. Nice to see I'm not the only girl with funny hair here."
Ranma turned to see a buxom woman with hair tied in a short ponytail with her large purple bangs adorning the sides of her face. Her milk chocolate complexion was out of place in this cold climate.
"Nice to meet you," Ranma responded in a masculine tone.
The girl nodded and gave Ranma a half cocked grin. The genuine warmth in her smile melted Ranma's defenses.
"I'm Rika Minami."
Ranma recognized the name. It wasn't hard when there were only four other girls. "Ranko Saotome."
"Let me know if any of these assholes get the itch to treat you extra special and ladylike. I'll take care of them for you."
Ranma smiled. "That's awful nice of you."
"Just wanna look out for another gal, that's all."
Rika crossed her arms and observed Ranma carefully. Her chocolate chip camouflage looked outdated amidst the digital cammie patterns shared by the various other units here, but still in line with older SDF uniforms. She was demure but at least as tall as the shortest men who had arrived. There were no unit markings on her sleeves, no patches or badges visible anywhere.
"What unit did you come from, Saotome?"
A rudimentary, yet rehearsed answer was already prepared for Ranma. "I'm not at liberty to say. I'm from out of town."
Rika nodded. The one other girl she had spoken to on the bus wasn't shy about letting everyone know about her J-GSDF Ranger qualification.
"We're all from out of town. Except the Hokkaido SAT boys." Rika decided to bait. "I'm Team Captain of the First Squadron out of Haneda Airport, NPA Special Assault Team. We're all on the same side here. Where'd you come from?"
Ranma decided to humor her. "I was a Detective-II, Los Angeles Police Department. I'm just sorta giving this thing a shot,"
"Los Angeles, what?"
Ranma walked away, leaving her new acquaintance with her mouth agape. She stuck her tongue out of Rika's view.
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The floor was remarkably warm for such a vast amount of concrete real estate. Miyuki looked at the cavernous underground lot in wonder. The amount of heating and piping that went into making this place was far beyond what a government facility would spend.
A magnificent looping 400 meter long indoor obstacle course that dominated nearly a third of the warehouse sized garage looked almost at home along with the Mitsubishi excavator that was parked in the corner along with several commercial trucks with insulated canvas troop carriers.
Miyuki counted 132 total volunteer candidates in the room, all swathed in some form of battle dress uniform from their respective jobs. Another dozen people at least came in and out from an elevator or the stairwells, calmly walking around with clipboards and packets and pens to hand to everyone. A woman with short raven hair in an olive drab flight suit wheeled a dolly topped with cases of bottled water and left it in the middle of the room without a word.
"Man, I'm starving," Natsumi whined. She stomped her boots. "They give us a lousy package for breakfast and another one for dinner. How do Americans eat these? Gimme onigiri any day of the week."
"Maybe that's their way of toughening us up, I guess," Miyuki replied. She crinkled her nose in disdain at her mostly consumed bag of military rations.
Meals-Ready-to-Eat, or MREs, were a familiar sight to almost all of the SDF members. They reminded Miyuki of cat food from a can, except these were in vacuum sealed pouches. They were easy to consume but a cold vegetable omelet and jalapeno cheese spread was a crime to the Japanese palate.
"There's only 5 girls here," Natsumi observed. She looked around and looked for the rainbow of hair colors. Everyone had already formed cliques with piled duffel bag to their respective units. Loners like the redhead pigtail girl and volunteers who earned their tickets outside of the elite units kept to themselves.
"Hey, Brown Ranger and Black Ranger."
The Bokuto girls turned to see Rika Minami standing behind them.
Natsumi looked up at her with a shy smile. "Are you the Purple Ranger?"
Miyuki pouted. "We're not even here a day and they give all the girls nicknames." She twirled her hair. "Being called the Black Ranger isn't very cute. Why'd it have to be Super Sentais?"
Rika shrugged at both the greenhorns. "Better that than Slut, Whore, Cunt, Bitch, and everything in between. Trust me, you'll thank me for starting up a round of names that actually stuck before they came up with their own creative nicknames for you."
Natsumi looked at Rika's digital camo BDUs. Her long sleeved top had the distinctive SAT patches on her shoulders. "You started it?"
"Hell yeah, I did." Rika narrowed her eyes. "You have any idea how many bullshit catcalls I had to deal with when I first qualified for SAT?" Rika shrugged and folded her arms under her ample breasts. "Not that it mattered when we were running ragged, but still. I thought it was nicer to get laughed at something that was funny instead of being reminded I was a woman every other minute."
"Have you met the Blue Ranger over there?" Miyuki looked to a large group of J-GSDF Airborne Rangers with an athletic girl with short cropped blue hair and a yellow hair band in the pack.
"Briefly. We haven't formally introduced each other."
Natsumi's hand reached out for a warm handshake. "Senior Police Officer Natsumi Tsujimoto. Bokuto-sho."
Rika received her handshake firmly. "Assistant Inspector Rika Minami. Haneda Airport SAT."
"Senior Police Officer Miyuki Kobayakawa, ma'am. Natsumi is my partner at Bokuto-sho," Miyuki said, extending her hand as well.
"You two remember to stick together when it counts," Rika said. "How'd you two get here? Let me guess, you were originally slated to go to SAT selection?"
The two Bokuto partners nodded.
"How about the Red Ranger over there? You guys know her at all?"
Miyuki frowned. "I've never met her before, but her face looks awful familiar."
"You know, I was thinking the same damn thing," Natsumi added. "Her face and that pigtail look so familiar. I can't place my finger on it."
"Says she's Ranko Saotome, from the Los Angeles Police Department." Rika rolled her eyes a bit. "I'm not sure if she's for real or if it's a cover."
"Saotome?" Miyuki looked over at the redhead sitting by herself against a pillar that looked big enough to support a bridge.
"Hey!" Natsumi exclaimed. "She does look like him!"
"So you know her?" Rika asked.
"No, we don't," Miyuki said, shaking her head. "But we know someone else who looks like her with the same last name. Must be a relative."
"Whoever she is, she looks like a tough cookie," Rika said. "I don't know the girl, but I know those eyes."
Miyuki looked at Rika and leaned in closer. "You have a sixth sense for these things, Inspector?"
"Oh, please!" Rika chuckled and pulled out a large square shaped box of Dunhill cigarettes. "I've just been around long enough to know if something's off or going on. Like this entire indoctrination."
"This INDOC?" Natsumi looked around. Everything was orderly and quiet. "What's wrong with this? Everyone's getting along fine and we're just getting settled. We already spent the last two weeks in Nerima being trained how to tie knots and organize boat crews in a pool."
"We had to learn that too, funny.I guess the beach wasn't a coincidence." Rika lit her cig and looked at Natsumi skeptically. "Have you seen who you're surrounded by?"
The two partners shook their heads.
"You've already seen me with the SAT operators in our corner and that big ol' platoon of Rangers across the room. See those four guys over there?" Rika pointed as she talked. "They're from the Maritime SDF's Special Boarding Unit. See those five quiet bastards not too far from them? They're from the Ground SDF's Special Forces Group. Arguably the cream of the crop in Japan."
Natsumi's brow furrowed. "What are they doing here?"
"Wish I knew." Rika took shallow, quick hits as she spoke. "I already had a funny feeling about this secret invite when I saw their unit insignias. See that idiot in the orange jump suit and that clown hat? He's from the Coast Guard Special Rescue Team. I found out from the four Coast Guard Special Security Team guys who flew in with him. SRT doesn't even train for direct combat, they're rescue swimmers! I'm surprised they even had anyone come, there's maybe only 40 of them in the entire country."
Miyuki saw who Rika was talking about. He was charming himself with the ungrouped candidates who had no unit to clique with.
"We've got a room full of people crossing over from different disciplines and backgrounds." Rika took a long drag and let it slowly exhale through her nose. "I wonder what they've got in store for us."
Natsumi gulped and looked around her again. She hummed a familiar cadence to mask the butterflies in her stomach.
"How'd you find out so much about everyone so quickly?" Miyuki asked.
"I used to be in the Airborne. I joined the J-GSDF out of highschool and then went police. A lot of the older heads in the military know and trust me. That and a little charm."
Miyuki tilted her head to the side. "Charm?"
Rika furrowed her brow and leaned her head back as she considered Miyuki. "You serious?"
Miyuki blinked. "Well, yeah."
"See all these men surrounding us?"
Miyuki nodded.
"We're already screened as highly eligible candidates, no worse than the next swinging dick. They know we passed the same tests to be here so we have their trust. Some of these guys will do anything to impress you over the next group operators. They can't help it and I can't help milking it."
Natsumi cackled as Miyuki blushed.
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Sunday morning started without direction. Different groups woke up at different times, some as late as noon. A pallet of rations and bottled water greeted everyone with instructions from the forklift operator specifying there were exactly two MREs per person for the day.
Access to the exterior was strictly forbidden although it wasn't enforced or guarded by anyone. Everyone obeyed the order, with most using the time to relax and enjoy the leisure while it lasted. Too many professionals in the room knew better than to test temptation. The newcomers striving to get their chance to work with the elite knew better than to do something the pros wouldn't. For the moment, the girls were treated with a level of respect and unisexual blindness that was an extension of the professional courtesy that reflected their backgrounds.
Everyone had collectively nicknamed the garage as the Hangar for its spaciousness which also included a full set of working shower and bathroom facilities. They were custom built alongside the sandbox border of the obstacle course and rigged with additional hoses and hydrants.
The same few people assisted the entire group of 132. A very young man with a crossed scar on his cheek and a default scowl. The woman with short raven hair who ignored questions as a cigarette dangled from her lips. A blue eyed European with neck length blonde hair. The older man with the megaphone was absent and hadn't been seen.
Miyuki and Natsumi queued behind a line of people giving the O-course a try. Like many others, they had grown tired of doing nothing and anxious from the lack of orders by whoever was running the show.
Miyuki looked at the different stages of the O-course. The entire pitted area was filled with hundreds of tons of soft sand. Two of the height confidence obstacles highlighted just how tall the interior of the Hangar was with a vertical net climbing four stories and a stacked scaffold of wooden floors forcing a five story free climb to a 30 meter rope slide. Every obstacle had one particularly glaring feature: None of them had safeties. Soft sand provided the only support from a fall.
A whistle came from behind "This must have been one hell of a resort to have a parking garage this big."
Miyuki and Natsumi turned and saw a distracting orange beret before they saw a face. His orange flight suit from yesterday was replaced by blue fatigues with a digital pattern, giving his BDUs a distinct maritime camouflage.
"A resort?" Miyuki had also thought that the large exterior looked a lot like an upscale hotel. "I don't think the government would shell out that kind of money for public servants."
"Aha, you see," the man replied. "I think it used to be one. Look at the size of this place. The location. This luxurious, heated garage. Someone probably spent a lot of money for this place and it went out of business. I bet there's a bunch of working onsens outside too."
Natsumi crossed her arms. "It'd be nice if they let us out and see it." She looked at his bright orange beret. "I'll be honest with you. I can't look past that loud headgear of yours."
The man looked at her with pursed lips and cringed eyes. He looked down for a second and bit his lip. He sheepishly brushed the back of his head and pulled the beret off.
"There you go buddy!" a voice yelled.
"All it took was a girl for the Orange Ranger to take it off!"
Multiple whoops and cheers followed standing applause from all the men around.
Natsumi looked at him and tried to laugh with everyone else but she was hampered with sweat dropping guilt. "I guess I'm not the only who teased you?"
The Orange Ranger smiled at her sheepishly. He pointed to everyone else in general with a pointed thumb. "They've been at it since yesterday. It was only a matter of time before I got shamed out of my uniform."
Natsumi quietly huffed in agreement. "Got a name there, or do we call you the Orange Ranger for the rest of our time together?"
He extended his right hand with his left tucked behind his back. "Raiden Suzuki."
Miyuki and Natsumi cackled with delight as they struggled to shake his hand. The others around thought it sounded just as funny the next day.
"Raiden? You poor thing! Why would your parents name you that?" Miyuki exclaimed, wiping away a tear.
One of Raiden's eyes twinkled. "Suzuki's fine too. Raiden's my call sign. My crewmates gave it to me."
"You don't have a regular name?" Natsumi asked.
He thought about it for a moment. "Stopped using it a long time ago. It's cool to be associated with lightning and thunder."
"Fine, Raiden it is." Natsumi looked at him. He was younger than her with his boyish face. His chiseled jaw gave him the handsome charm of a popular TV show host.
Raiden saw her smiling and checking his features. "What's the matter, honey? You like? Just turned 25 and I'm eligible."
Natsumi rolled her eyes with full force. "Please. I'm already going out with a rescue guy. You can save that peacocking for later. And the name is Tsujimoto. Natsumi, Tsujimoto."
"Kobayakawa, Miyuki."
The line cleared and it was Natsumi and Miyuki's turn to start on the obstacle course.
Raiden casually slipped back his bright orange beret with his SRT unit flash proudly angled for everyone to see. "You ladies mind?"
Both girls shook their head at their flirty new acquaintance. They motioned for him to go first.
He smiled as he cracked his knuckles. "See you at the finish line."
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Several voices grunted their approval as Raiden Suzuki walked across the Hangar with an arm full of water bottles and MREs held to his chest. He went to the cops, segregated away in their own zone.
Most of the men in the room looked at him ruefully with daggers glaring his way. A couple of hours ago he was the butt of the joke for everyone in the Hangar. Currently, he was the target of the jealous many.
He sat in a small circle with three of the five women in the room as he had volunteered to bring "dinner".
"Here you go, ladies," Raiden said as he handed out provisions. "I don't do this for free by the way, so hopefully I get something back later if you know what I mean, right?"
Rika Minami exhaled the smoke from her Dunhill prematurely as she laughed. "You know you're a really nice guy until you start talking, you know that?"
"Hard to believe this cute babyface has got such a mouth on him." Natsumi took her unopened water bottle and playfully poked Raiden in the stomach. There was virtually no give against his rock hard torso. "Oooh, very nice."
"Those were some smooth moves there on the O-course," Rika said. "Sure as hell shut up most of the wolves in this room."
Miyuki looked at him worriedly. "You made it look so easy. I thought I was going to throw up on the rope crawl after climbing that wooden tower."
"It's a lot tougher than it looked," Rika mumbled as she tore the plastic top off her MRE with her teeth. "Those SBU and SFG guys were impressed as hell. They said they've seen this course design before. It's a replica of the Navy SEAL O-Course in Coronado, California. It's an expert level course through and through."
Raiden took his black plastic spork and mixed the contents of his spaghetti and meatball pouch with a tiny container of Tabasco that came with the MRE pack. "I've seen photos of it before, so it looked familiar. I guess it explains why we keep getting American rations."
Rika looked at him with a hint of envy, masked with begrudging respect. "The guys who did well the first time around have done the real thing when they cross trained in Ame~rica".
Raiden took a heaping spoonful of mushy noodles and paste. "It wasn't that easy, but I don't think it was ridiculously hard either." He chewed and talked with sauce all over his mouth. "I climb ladders from a moving helicopter over stormy ocean on a regular basis. This wasn't that bad."
Miyuki sniffed the open pouch of her MRE entree. This time, it really looked and even smelled like cat food. She looked at the labeling. "Meat loaf with gravy?"
Natsumi moaned in sympathy. "This chicken and rice isn't too bad. It tastes a little off, like it's bland but salt doesn't seem to fix it."
Miyuki gulped as she set down her own pouch and reached for a flat biscuit with some peanut butter spread. Her eye caught a small printed date on the edge of the cardboard carton from Natsumi's entree.
She picked it up and the hairs on the back of her neck screamed.
"Natsumi!" Miyuki whimpered. "This was from 1992!"
All three of Miyuki's companions stopped chewing and looked at her with dish plate eyes.
Raiden shrugged and continued eating as he pointed to another printed line on the box. "It says it's good for over ten years if stored right."
Natsumi swallowed cautiously. "That explains the off flavor..."
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Monday morning started with the recorded sound of a bugle horn blaring from the hidden loudspeakers in the Hangar, stirring awake all 132 people in their sleeping bags.
Natsumi yawned and tried to blink the blurriness away as she sat upright in her cozy mummy bag. She looked like a worm trying to crawl out as her hands made their way to her head to unzip her fully insulated bag.
She wiped her eyes and saw Miyuki stretching her arms out as she sat up. The Hangar was constantly lit with bright fluorescent light and the lack of sunshine from the past 36 hours confused her body's circadian rhythm. She looked at her wrist. The G-Shock's 24 hr clock read 0430 hours.
Amidst the groans and yawns, an army of footsteps and the noisy clatter of trays bouncing on rolling carts echoed in the Hangar.
The freight elevators leading to the large structure above poured out with carts and kitchen workers complete with white coats and chef toques.
A petite mop of messy red hair poked out from her sleeping bag and sniffed the air. Drool creeped out from the edge of her mouth as the wafting aroma hit her nose. Half asleep, she crawled out of her sleeping space and walked towards the food.
A mass of undernourished zombies collectively groaned their way towards the catered carts. The man with the megaphone stood out in front before the masses reached the carts. His return would've raised more questions if everyone had been given more time to fully awaken.
His previously relaxed attire was replaced by a stuffy blue parka that covered most of his body.
"Good morning ladies and gentlemen," his deep voice crackled softly. "I know you smell all this wonderful food, but if you can give us time to set up, we'd be very grateful."
The zombies stopped and gave a scattered show of polite acknowledgement. Natsumi was one of the sleepwalkers, disappointed but excited by the prospect of hot and fresh food.
The white-attired staff teased the room bit by bit as they took their time. The carts started forming an orderly buffet line with paper plates and coolers filled with ice and carbonated refreshments. The man on the megaphone politely reminded everyone to take this time to get fully dressed, giving enough time to allow some people to take leisurely hot showers.
A half hour went by and the wonderfully pungent food was finally revealed with the catering trays fully exposed. Even the most disciplined operators in the room grew anxious with mouth watering anticipation. A hot, delicious meal would weaken anyone's defenses after 72 hours of eating processed feed from a brown plastic bag.
All 132 candidates in the room were lined up, boot laces tied and BDU's tucked to fit. The catered fare in front of them was simple, but mesmerizing. Multiple stations of karaage, drums filled with rich curry next to pots of steaming rice, trays full of pork katsu and fried shrimp repeated themselves in a line. Multiple coolers filled with ice and carbonated drinks generously accompanied the lower shelf of every cart.
An observant handful of the candidates in the room noticed that water was not an available beverage nor were there any cases left out in the open.
A ditzy figure made her way to the front of the pack, her fiery hair highlighting her sparkling, innocent eyes. The men politely let her through, figuring this quiet girl must have been starving for a proper meal.
Ranma looked at the crispy mounds of karaage piled up in an appetizing mountain of golden brown batter. She rubbed her palms in wait.
"Ahem," the man with the megaphone said, clearing his throat. He looked at the crowd carefully before smiling. "Hot food is ready. Please, enjoy."
The crowd moved forward. Ranma stuffed a handful of karaage in her mouth and had two disposable plates balanced with continuously piling food. She grabbed a can of orange Fanta to hold in the crook of her elbow and looked for another flavor.
Ranma looked around and cleared her throat. "Does anyone see any grape drink?
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Sighs of content complimented the breakfast jokes and antics of all the candidates in the room. The fresh meal and the eager crowd was just the catalyst needed to bring everyone together in lyrical conversation.
The man with the megaphone walked around with careful steps observing and circling the room. He came up front and stood behind them with the entrance of the hanger facing his back. In all the breakfast commotion no one had noticed that the large steel doors had been partially opened.
"Did everyone enjoy their meals?" the man asked with his amplified voice coming clearly.
A grateful collection of "Hai" echoed throughout the room.
"Did you enjoy the soft drinks?" The man raised a can of cola in front of him.
Everyone bellowed with hearty cheers. The man noticed virtually everyone had a can of soda raised in camaraderie with him.
The man looked and simply nodded, a smile on the cheeks with frowned lips crept on his face. He pivoted on his boot to completely turn around.
A group of the kitchen staff workers walked forward in an aggressive marching pace with loud authoritative footsteps accompanying them. They made their way to the man with the megaphone up front.
Everyone watched in blank silence. Within seconds from being addressed they saw their announcer with his back turned. They saw him take the strap of his megaphone and set it on the ground. He sharply jerked his hand down from his neck and noisily unzipped his parka. His jacket was thrown away along with the white outfits of the five people who stood to his side. He snapped the strap of his megaphone over his dark blue sweater and with his free hand slipped on a fitted yellow baseball cap. Adorning his left breast was gold embroidery of a spear and anchor with a flintlock pistol gripped by a bald eagle with its head pointing down. His woodland pattern BDU pants were dressed and cuffed perfectly around his mirror polish boots. Even the soles were gleaming.
No one had a chance to read the white block letters silkscreened on his sweater.
A visceral growl exploded from the depths of his core. "TEN-HUT and eyes on me!"
Chaotic shuffling ensued as everyone scrambled into an impromptu formation. The sounds of cans chugged and crushed to be thrown aside spread like a virus, with everyone looking to the people on their sides for direction. Not everyone was an operator in the room. But none were untrained amateurs.
Five sets of heels clicked in unison with the previous wait-staff now standing crisp and tall in similar blue sweaters and BDU pants with their hands to their sides. Fire engine red baseball caps covered their eyes.
"I am Command Master Chief Ken Kimura, United States Navy! I am your senior proctor in this selection program. Is that understood?"
"Aye, aye, sir!"/"Yes, sir!" the room roared back in response.
Master Chief Kimura's brow hardened. "You 132 candidates are here on your own. Let me make it perfectly fucking clear, ladies! I did not invite you here! You are not welcome here! Is that understood?"
"Aye, aye, sir!"/"Yes, sir!" Several grunts and shoves of subdued disapproval among the candidates followed.
Kimura scowled. "You are all here as part of the Special Observations Detachment for Assessment of Professional Officer Personnel, aka SODA POP. This phase is split into two distinct processes. The next three weeks and one very long fucking day will be the Force Assessment Selection Training. You have all taken our basic qual PFT* for your ticket to attend FAST. The PSATS testing format will be a standard here and is the minimum test standard that will be accepted for every weekly PFT! Is that understood?
This time, everyone responded in same. "Aye, aye, sir!"
"Stop calling me sir! I work for a fuckin' living! It's Master Chief!"
"Aye, aye, Master Chief!"
Master Chief Kimura took a deep breath."Cadre, front and center!"
Five footsteps followed in perfect synch.
"I am Lieutenant Colonel Hideo Kurosawa, United States Marine Corps. I am the senior lead of the cadre.
The next person everyone recognized as the cigarette dribbling woman with her close cropped black hair. "I am 1st Lieutenant Melissa Mao. My background is of no concern to you maggots!"
"Sergeant First Class, Sagara Sousuke." The deep scar on his face looked prominent in contrast with his tiger striped BDUs. His steely glare was a piercing thousand yard stare.
"Oh, I'm going to have fun with all of you ladies. Including you actual ladies. Sergeant First Class, Kurz Weber. German Border Patrol."
"Sergeant Jackson. French Gendarmerie Nationale."
Kimura took control again. "As I am your Elder God before all Gods, you shall also treat the words of my cadre as if they are the Gods themselves. You have all signed Non-Disclosure Agreements and affidavits swearing that any disclosure of your experiences here outside of this compound is punishable by death for treason! Do all of you know what you signed up for?"
"Aye, aye, Master Chief!"
Kimura spat on the ground. "Bullshit, I don't hear you!"
"AYE, AYE, MASTER CHIEF!"
"Hmph." MC Kimura's eyes narrowed. "Sounds like we have an understanding. Cadre, would you concur?"
"Aye, aye, Master Chief," his cadre responded in echo.
"Cadre, assemble my boat crews."
Whistles attached to lanyards screamed alive as five red hats leapt forward and projected orders. The rest of the waitstaff near the carts had thrown away their disguises too. Their sweaters were bright green with red armbands. Instructions to gather in crews of eight organized by height was screamed with clenched fists and pointed fingers.
"Good." Kimura nodded to his helpers in the back who had canisters with pull pins in their hands. "Instructors?"
"Aye, aye, Master Chief." Lt. Mao took a deep lungful of air. "Boat crews, welcome to Black Monday. Move your asses!"
*Physical Fitness Test
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SODA-POP Phase
FAST
Day - 01
0600 Hours
Natsumi clutched her stomach. Like many in front of her, she turned her head to the side and retched the contents of her stomach on the sand. The carbonation in her vomit exacerbated the abrasive stomach-acid in her sinuses.
She slowed down with Miyuki who had started heaving before her. A splatter of undigested food littered the front of Miyuki's shirt and she found herself having trouble pacing her run when she was constantly spitting and trying to wipe her mouth.
"Chikusho!" Natsumi winced as she clutched her sides and continued to run in the soft sand.
The food and the soda had been an ambush for a gut check PFT. Natsumi had figured out just as quickly as everyone else that they had deliberately been misled to gorge on food. She barely made her twenty pullups in the outdoor parking lot before they were herded down the trail to the beach.
The rumbling exhaust burble of an ATV covered the rear by drill instructor Mao with Jackson's patrolling up and down the line. Their bright lights patrolled the running pack for dropouts and harassed with horn and siren blips to keep pace. The temperature was a dangerous -13 degrees celsius for those too slow to keep their body temperatures up. There was 1.5 kilometers down, another five to go from the rear.
The cadre had rushed and forced the entire mass of candidates with a violent knock of flashbangs and tear gas grenades deployed in the Hangar. Everyone was screamed out without the chance to grab additional winter gear. Long sleeved BDUs and boots were standard fare.
A fiercely loud cadence emanated from the leading man running the pack. The young Sgt. Sousuke had his sleeves rolled into squared cuffs that refused to lose their perfect creases.
Closeby, a bouncing red pigtail shook from side to side in disbelief. Sousuke appeared impervious to frigid cold as if he were disciplined in Siberia.
Miyuki moaned and ran with her mouth wide open. Natsumi continued clutching her side as she pounded her feet through the momentum robbing sand.
A smiling and gazelle like Kurz Weber ran in and out the ranks looking for the girls in the group.
Natsumi cringed at the sight of his blond hair. She saw him coming up behind Rika's purple ponytail.
"C'mon, sugar tits," Kurz melodically crooned. "How 'bout you go ring yourself out and climb into my nice warm bed? Even got some nice warm sausage for you since you'll probably be hungry."
Natsumi and Miyuki stared wide eyed as they saw her swat at him. He avoided it with unfazed agility and he knocked her with a full powered soccer kick to the back of her thighs. She tripped a few people behind her as she tumbled face first into the sand.
A female growl came alive from the ATV in the back. "You deserved that one bitch!" Lt. Melissa Mao looked indignant as she pulled up next to Rika's prone body. "Now get your cow tits back in formation!"
Both Bokuto ladies thought twice about hitting him if he came back to deliver more catcalls.
Miyuki shielded her eyes. A white Mitsubishi Fuso 4x4 truck with strobing red and blue light bars and road illuminating flood lamps passed her slowly on the left. The pickup bed held the proctor and senior lead.
The Chief laughed as he shook a clear bag full of styrofoam cups in one hand and a hefty thermos of hot coffee in the other. The Colonel sipped a cup of steaming hot joe as he smiled.
"Quit and you'll be back in your nice warm beds with a hot cup of coffee when we take you back to the dorms," Kimura taunted over the PA.
Kurosawa reasoned in a softer tone. "Why make it go on any longer? Might as well quit now. There's only going to be more of this. Weeks of this. Who knows, maybe months and years."
A bright orange Raiden came alongside the truck to the wonder of the people who saw him.
"High-five, Colonel!"
Kurosawa raised his boot and push kicked him into a tumbling mess. He cackled and grunted in pleasure. "Just give up you assholes, no one loves you here. No one cares." He paused. "Why go on?"
They were in the bed with a watermelon sized brass bell hanging on the top of a wooden frame supported with free directional wheels. Curiously, the rope handled clapper didn't ring with all of the truck's movement off road.
Flashes of doubt, fear of pain, and full revelations started dripping past Natsumi's trained fortitude. "I didn't know this was what I signed up for," she thought. "Couldn't they have given us a few minutes to digest?"
A yelp from the middle of the pack caused everyone to look.
"No more!" a figure yelped.
The truck immediately blasted a public announcement. "Candidates, halt!"
Everyone did as they instructed. Behind them all were three dark green trucks with canopy sealed troop carrier in the back. Their diesel hum clattered in tune with the main white truck.
MC Kimura picked up a wireless handset. "Is there a candidate who wishes to Drop On Request?" The truck's PA blared to everyone with unusual clarity.
A lone, anonymous figure with unmarked BDUs stepped forward. His eyes wavered as he looked up to the proctor. "I wish to DOR, Master Chief."
"Then get your candy ass up here! You get your cup of coffee!" The chief pointed to his bell "Ring yourself out three times."
The figure nodded. Many cheered to change his mind. They recognized he was one of the capable volunteers who had been awaiting any one of the other specialized units in Japan and had been invited here instead. More than a few looked at him with envy.
The lone man climbed up the truck bed sides and reached for the rope. He swung and in surprise found out just how heavy it was as the clapper bounced with a tinny echo.
Col. Kurosawa blew his warm coffee straight into the man's face in derisive laughter.
Kimura's lips crinkled as he fought a smile. "C'mon you pussy! Ring it like a fucking man!"
In a desperate wail he found the full force to bash the sides to let the ring echo across the beach. One of the troop carrier trucks came forward to pick him up and scoop him away.
Two more men with similar unmarked uniforms also shot their hands out as they jumped up and down in the sand.
"I want to quit too!"
"I want out!"
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Day 1
0655 Hours
"Pain, is your friend!" Lt. Mao shouted through her ATV mounted PA speakers. "It reminds you that you're still alive!"
A line of bodies with heads pointed towards the ocean disappeared under a frosty wave of seawater. Their arms were linked together as they counted out leg raises. Shivering churned the sand as each successive wave shocked the breath out of everyone's lungs. Chugs of steam looked like pistons puffing out smoke from their mouths.
Kimura observed and carefully looked at his neck lanyard stop watch and laminated hypothermia chart. He grabbed the handset for a PA. "Time to jump back into the onsen ladies!"
The cadre watched with assigned sectors and colorscreen tablets for note taking. All candidates were assigned with swim buddies. Some left them as they sprinted for the man made craters full of hot spring water. Others grabbed onto each others sleeves for dear life. One redhead carried her partner over her shoulders.
Rapid splashing and running cannonballs repeated themselves in all three pools. Each were set in concrete craters 10 meters in diameter and 5 meters deep in the center. Bubbling and steaming natural hot spring water continuously overflowed onto the beach.
Rika Minami hugged the men around her as tightly as possible and the same did to her. Her teeth clattered so hard her gums started to ache. Her legs shot full of pins and needles from circulation returning to her quads and thighs.
The men around her looked within degrees of her own agony. No one thought to even consider that there was a woman amongst them as they battled through nerve shattering hypothermia.
In another pool two partners hugged each other as their faces shivered in the exposed cold. Miyuki's fingers dug into the back of Natsumi's chocolate chip BDUs and she burped vomit over Natsumi's shoulder as her body physiologically recoiled from the shock of extreme warmth from cold.
"I hate this cold, I hate this cold," Miyuki complained through teeth chatter.
"Don't start," Natsumi whimpered.
Natsumi looked up. It was the edge of the cliffside to the hotel turned dormitory. The craters they had seen from above were right below connected to a zig zagging 300 meter path to the bottom.
"Back in the waves, ladies. Warm up is over!" a loudspeaker shouted.
Wordless masses hopped out with lowered mobility with some crawling out like molasses. A handful stayed in the pool, looking at the truck with the bell.
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Day 1
0830 Hours
Natsumi considered crying. She looked at the artfully sculpted landscaping. The elegant stone carved waterfall of spring water. But the torn down bamboo walls revealing the ugly black parking lot reminded her this wasn't a resort.
"Out of the pools, back onto the grinder! 30 seconds!"
"Aye, aye, Master Chief!" an ensemble replied.
A little over fifty people hopped out and sprinted out of the hot spring area built adjacent to the former hotel building. Another similarly grouped ensemble of miserable trainees were awaiting their turn to warm up. Their faces and clothes were covered in sand.
"Miyuki, let's go, let's go," Natsumi encouraged as they both supported each other's weight out of the water.
Miyuki grunted as she pushed her tired legs up. They soon separated and began running out. Everyone's wet boots squeaked like a mass of running rats on the outdoor bath tiles.
"Wet and sandy, down the hill and come on back! You know the drill!"
As the other half of the class scrambled into the pool the now warmed ones were sprinting down the hill to roll around on the sandy beach. Every candidate had been shown by example through Sgt. Sagara Sousuke. They were to jump into the frigid surf and then roll in the sand until they resembled human sugar cookies.
ATV's chased after running groups to ensure there were no cheaters. The first cheater quit soon after causing the entire class to endure group surf torture.
Natsumi and Miyuki made their way down the hill and both dove into the surf. They popped back up immediately with shock and ran back to the sand to roll around. They constantly made sure not to lose sight of each other.
Other groups were not quite as forgiving. A few swim buddies with mismatched endurance quickly grew angry with each other. They left each other and sprinted off first when dragged. None of this was missed by the careful watch of the eyes behind the scenes.
Raiden was dragging his swim buddy by the back of his shirt. Determined not to let him fall behind, he exerted more of his own energy propelling his partner forward than himself.
The mass of wet and sandy candidates then ran their way back up the steep path that led back to the parking lot, dubbed the grinder by the cadre staff. Awaiting for them at the top was Lt. Colonel Kurosawa.
"This evolution is over, proceed back to the onsen," he spoke through a megaphone.
The elated group expressed their cheer at this surprise. They were expecting the next cycle of grueling calisthenics over the cold and slippery blacktop.
A collective roar of horror was matched by the ones who were warming up in the pool as they had been expecting at least ten minutes of rest. This one had been barely five.
Natsumi and Miyuki cheered as they jumped back in. They barely cleaned the sand off their faces when a horrifying whistle caught their attention.
"Back onto the grinders! You didn't think it'd be that easy did you?"
Natsumi cursed. These trainers had a cruel streak for playing mind games with cold. They were working marvelously.
#*#*#*#*#*#*#*##*#*#*
Day 1
1115 Hours
Miyuki found herself mirroring Natsumi for the first time at a meal. She shoveled down barley rice and eggs and washed them down with hot soup along with rows of others on plastic picnic benches.
The mess hall was the former dining room converted into a no frills cafeteria. No plates or china. Stamped food trays and bent utensils accompanied tin cups.
Chills on her body should have spoiled her meal, but Miyuki was far too famished to complain. At least the room was aggressively heated.
"Man, that couldn't have been more fun," Rika sighed ruefully. She ate a spoonful of rice and beef as she sipped on some tea.
Natsumi and Miyuki looked across at Rika, who looked like a battered mess. She had a welt on her forehead from landing on her face earlier.
Natsumi mumbled. "Getting cold and warm and cold again is pure torture."
"I hate that blonde Sergeant," Rika spat. The barely restrained crinkle of her brows betrayed her calm and collected self.
"The one who's been bugging all the girls?" Miyuki asked. A chill ran up her spine.
"Sgt. Weber, that's that motherfucker," Rika said. She squeezed her eyes shut. "Piece of shit can dish it but he can't take it?"
"Now, now," a fourth voice intervened from the next seat over. "Don't judge a book by its cover."
The three women looked over. It was a middle aged man with a prominent widow's peak and wrinkles on his forehead that were out of place in this field of younger hot shots.
Rika looked at his sleeve. It had the parachute and diamond of the elite J-GSDF's Special Forces Group.
Rika nodded at him. "So what are your thoughts on him, Mister?"
He gave a slow smile. "Goro. Seiji Goro."
Natsumi looked at him. He had a goatee that was very similar to the Master Chief Kimura's.
"How old are you, Goro-san?" Natsumi asked.
"Thirty-eight this summer," he replied. He shrugged as the people around him also took a double take at his age. "Hey, I just like a good challenge."
Rika chuckled and wiped away her smirk, impressed. "So you were saying about that Sergeant?"
"Kurz Weber?" Goro continued to eat and swallowed his food. " He's not just regular German Border Patrol. He's a sharpshooter for GSG-9*. I've cross trained with him before. He's a tough bastard."
Rika sighed. She wanted to light a cigarette in the middle of the room. "He's still an asshole."
Goro chuckled. "I'm sure he is, but before you jump to conclusions just remember he's not just any nobody."
The intercom speakers in the mess hall crackled. "Remember candidates. Don't waste your time sleeping. Eat, recover, and we're back out in the surf at 1300 hours."
Few in the mess hall groaned. Fewer still immediately got up from their seats to get ready.
*GSG-9: Grenzschutzgruppe 9 - German Federal Police's elite Counter-Terrorism and Special Operations Force.
#*#*#*#*#*#*#*##*#*#*
Day 1
1932 Hours
Natsumi tipped over and landed on her bed with a thump. Her face landed on a freshly laundered pillow with the bright, airy scent of detergent.
She looked around. It was almost too normal. Two clean beds. A dresser and some shelves for two people. A desk with two lamps and two accompanying chairs.
A low moan escaped from the bathroom, located right next to the room's entrance.
"Hotel hell…" Natsumi mumbled to herself.
Miyuki walked out from the bathroom, her footsteps carefully advancing towards the other empty bed as if she were trying to conserve her energy.
"That was just about the hardest thing I've ever done in my life."
Natsumi looked at Miyuki, a lazy smile creeping on her face. "Four more weeks to go, partner."
"Please." Miyuki crumpled onto her bed. She squeezed a pillow tight as she drew her knees into a fetal position. "Week four is supposed to be Hell Week. I can't even imagine that nightmare."
Natsumi shook her head and tsked. "Don't dwell on it. Let's take this one at a time, Miyuki."
"We're cops. Just what the hell are we doing playing on the beach?"
"Not our place to question it," Natsumi replied, lips tightened. "I just want to get through it."
Before Miyuki could complain again, the intercoms in the room crackled. The same static crackled could be heard outside of the door in the hallway, connecting the entire former-hotel resort.
"Late chow is to be served in the mess hall in 2030 hours. All candidates are to report to the grinders in exactly ten minutes for a six-kilo run before meals are served!"
Miyuki grabbed the sides of her long hair, eyes bulging. "We just washed up!"
The entire floor rumbled as the rush of candidates from the hallways scrambled out to make their way back to the unrelenting cement lot that was the source of their pain. The shouts of encouragement and fellow candidates banging on each other's dorm room doors filled the hallway.
Natsumi tumbled off the bed and reached for her running shoes. "What was that bullshit phrase Goro-san and Raiden-kun were saying to us over and over again today?"
As if on cue, the door to Miyuki and Natsumi's shared room pounded with rapid enthusiasm. Miyuki winced as she opened it, her fingers trembling as she unlocked it.
Raiden Suzuki stood in front of her, front and center with a haphazard salute and a million watt smile on his face. He stuck his thumb out, waiting for them to run out with him.
"C'mon ladies! The only easy day was yesterday!"
Miyuki crinkled her nose and furrowed her brow.
Natsumi sighed in defeat, slipping her shoes on while her body was wriggling on the carpeted floor. "Ohh yeah...That's what he said."
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Disclaimer: I don't own Ranma, Tenchi, You're Under Arrest, Full Metal Panic, and any other anime/manga characters here who are mentioned by name. Just having fun writing.
Holy cow, guys. It's been 3 years since my ass got back on this story, and boy does it feel good. I've been writing and entertaining these fics for nearly 16 years… where does the time go? Anyway, for those of you who care about the characters and world I've nourished, thank you for continuing to read. It means more to me than you'll ever know.
This chapter was originally supposed to be incredibly long, detailing all the minute trials and tribulations I was going to conjure up based on real-life military and paramilitary selection courses from around the world. Obviously, the above was hugely inspired by US Navy's Basic Underwater Demolition and SEAL training course, also known as BUD/S.
For those of you who are curious as to what the emblem on Master Chief Kimura's blue sweater was, it's the Navy SEAL Trident.
However, as I've let this chapter languish and sit on my computer over the years, some things changed. I've never stopped reading and I've never really stopped thinking about improving myself as a writer, albeit of course it wasn't focused on fanfiction. So the primary reason I decided to just modify this and cut it short, was because I wanted to focus more on streamlined character development. My original outline called for this ultra-long and complex weave of scenes that just never seemed to fully form in my head whenever I visited this unfinished chapter. I'm going to scrap that, and instead go into something that is less torturous to read and enjoy.
As always, I welcome all criticism and feedback, negative or positive. And my apologies to those who've written reviews or asked me questions on Fanfiction dot net over the last few years, I'll reply to all of you as timely as possible.
Finished February 17, 2016.