"It's odd recollecting before all of this. I think about that time almost every day and it feels as if trying to remember a dream that never was and never will come to pass. Sed, I suppose at least the latter is right."
-Welsica of Alguna
GINZA: A FEW HUNDRED FEET FROM THE IMPERIAL JAPANESE PALACE
Streaks of light danced upon the sky, and concussions rocked throughout the highway. A symphony of violence thundered upon men who did not understand their extinguishment.
One could argue they were lucky as at least they'd not known what was coming. Those who'd witnessed their fellows be torn asunder cried out in horror as the metal dragons in the sky came for them next. Quickly they set back down into the dense city, their loud footsteps and hoofs combining into a ghastly sea of bodies.
Wyverns and their masters fared no better. Blown into shards by the metal dragon's fire. Others tried coming together and forming some kind of organized force against this new and terrifying enemy only to be shredded down in seas of gore.
All that remained at the front line were the knee-deep dead. Pieces and puddles drenched the hot, steaming road like egg-batter.
Herm's horse sank with a shrill shriek. He toppled down hard against the hot pavement, his helmet saving him from the brunt of the impact. His animal went with him, and a painful snap in his leg immobilized and caused a horrifying blunt pain.
He found he was trapped under the dead animal's huge frame. A blunt throbbing in his ears replaced the sounds of the metal dragon's fire. It comforted him in some awful way.
He saw trolls a few feet in front of him. The huge face twisted in a ghoulish expression, and there were several; gaping holes punched through its tough, green skin.
As he steadied, everything seemed to go almost silent besides the occasional shriek that foretold destruction. A soft ringing in his ears replaced any audio they once picked up. Herm tried freeing himself, but another shock of pain ended the attempt before it began.
Putting both gauntlets to the concrete and lifting his head down at the road, his face under the helmet went pale as a ghost at total miasmic bloodshed.
He saw men who looked dumb and without reason watching the skies or the ground. Some had fouled themselves and tottered brokenly around in circles, occasionally clutching at their heads.
He saw Volraldens screaming down at their broken brethren, sloppily crying and panting like dogs. Their fur had matted in blood creating a burgundy coating.
He saw goblins trying to escape back into the city. Another wave of fire and shrieks came and sections of leathery butchery were all which remained after.
He saw ogres throwing log-length spears at the sky. A rage had taken most to keep doing so even as their aim never came true. When they fell, their bodies quaked on the destroyed ground.
He saw an orange and black spotted tabaxi male with his stomach opened like a slaughtered pig. He kept reaching for something that Herm only realized were intestines after his head tilted down.
He saw warrior bunnies praying and begging these newfound deities for mercy. Blood leaked from their ears and mixed in on the war paint that worn the women's faces.
He saw Horses laying in piles and singularities of death, their limbs removed or incinerated like wood for a festival fire. Few still stood shaking in fear, albeit shifting down as their riders hung off as if resting on one side either dead or dying.
Herm coughed several times, vomit threatening to spew forth at any instant. Again, he tried wrenching himself free. The pain rose and radiated throughout his body as he pulled and pulled. He loosened only a little before collapsing back down, his armor screeching against the road.
So he lay under there, his hearing almost gone from him. Every once in a while some shrieks made their presence known over the ringing, but after a while, it was gone. Any who still held their breath were horseless and either running back for the city or gone.
Father, where was Father? searching revealed no signs. Just the dead and dying remained as far as the eye could see.
The heat was getting unbearable, his armor was like a damned oven. Sweat poured from his brow stinging both eyes, and his temples beat like a warhammer going against his skull.
Something was coming. Herm felt the road vibrating. They'd overran the steel carriages before the dragons came and through its destroyed, firey remnants he saw several in an orange hue ignoring the fire all around it.
That set him off. He didn't care about his leg anymore. Slamming his fists down to the concrete on their sides he tugged and shards stabbed through his leg like the bone had turned into dozens of small daggers.
Pained gasps came as Herm pulled himself out. They were getting closer. Moving so fast. They weren't carriages, those didn't move like that. His hearing was returning bit by bit and the first thing he heard was the roar from the things coming down the road.
He slid back and grabbed a spear off the dead animal's saddle, then turned back at the oncoming enemy. Sunlight reflected off the things windows, and he had to narrow his eyes through the visor to see.
Where was Father? where was Formal? was no one coming to help? no reinforcements? was he going to die?
He was being hunted. Not the hunter anymore like the goblin's slave king and its small unorganized army that even teens with a few years of training easily brushed back. Not the hunter who took on three arrogant noblewomen at the same time in a practice fight and easily swept them away like grime under ones boot. Oh gods, he would die. He would die without ever living.
Butterflies flew through his stomach and nearly sent him to the ground in primal panic. He was going to die. Would his soul be taken by whatever god had summoned these destroyers of mortal man and beast? Father, where was he? he wouldn't leave him, he couldn't.
Screaming emanated from the thing, not roars but a voice, a real voice. A loud, commanding boom came close to making him run. But he held the spear and summoned up what little fake courage he had left. His teeth-gritting and a sharpness inside his leg paining him like nothing else.
Sweat trickled down his hot neck in several rows as doors on the things opened. He tried to stand, he would meet them. He had to. He was begging himself. Please stand up.
Men in black clothes rushed out like evil spirits. Some were barking at each other in that cursed language, forming lines with the familiar and petrifying weaponry. Those thundersticks, firesticks, death spears, he didn't know. He didn't care. To hell with all of them.
They had noticed him and were coming, the boots thudding against the road. His leg felt like an incision being slowly and meticulously cut through like an amputation. The pain, raw and hot as if his greave contained the sun itself.
They were yelling, but he didn't care. Herm closed his eyes, expecting their fire to burn him. But, death did not come. He almost fell back. The leg was close to giving out and his vision started blurring.
His breaths were ragged, he was so thirsty, at least he'd stopped sweating. The men in black were approaching. Odd white symbols covered their breastplate.
He felt sickness taking him. Dehydration, followed by a fever, and finally death. They would not waste such a valuable resource as water on an enemy such as him.
Dying came up once more and the idea didn't sound as awful as he thought it'd be. Something quick over being tortured or left to rot in a dungeon. He would use his spear, throw it at one, and hope to Emroy it was true. If not, he'd have died trying.
His hand tightened as they drew near, their voices warped and dreamlike. Soley when he attempted to raise the spear did Herm realise he'd dropped it moments earlier. So stupid, so idiotic, and now he was much too weak. He fell back finally, his leg numbed.
His breaths were choked and he coughed ravenously. He realized then he was being dragged away as the sun was moving slowly back. Men yelling in languages he did not know or wish to understand. Darkness filled his vision fully as he felt his armor being stripped from him.
Shame took him like black murk being pumped through his innards. Maybe he'd find a way to do it wherever they took him.
Streets of Ginza, A Couple of Hundred Feet From The GATE:
"Gods save us!" howled Formal. A rattling of fire came from the sky. Almost half a cohort were mangled in the blast. There were men dressed in strange green outfits wielding large thundersticks who'd taken after them. They shot from so far away no archer, crossbow, or slingman may hope to match them.
They'd spread out to try and throw their mostly unseen attackers off. But it was futile. They saw all and they destroyed all, and oh yes did they kill and destroy without any drawn quarter or mercy. Soldiers, servants, slaves, it didn't matter.
Yet they were not gods. No, they were not. Hamish knew this. They were men, just men, if he could get away perhaps a chance could be stood.
Luck was on his side. He and Formal had lived for a reason. They and what remained from several legions scurried along the streets like rats freshly escaped out of their cage.
"Find shelter!" cried Hamish at his men. "This blasted magic cannot pierce us if we remain under and behind cover!" few took his advice. Many kept running for the GATE. Either way, it didn't matter when nearly all of them were cut down and turned into a red paste.
These new opponents and weapons left singular, valiant battlefield heroes all but a distant memory. Both knights ran much like the lowest casts of demi-human slaves. No chivalry, or honor to speak about. Only an instinct for survival against an opponent which appeared to many as a dark god's wrath sent to cast out these invading blasphemers.
Hamish looked back every so often, searching for his boy. He saw none besides the mass droves fleeing by mount, flight, and foot. Oh dear gods, he'd promised. He promised and he failed. If he could see her right now, he may just die from regret
"What of Sir Herm?!" asked Formal as they and what remained of another few cohorts retreated.
Hamish lifted his visor with the other hand on his aching wound, "N-No, haven't seen..." he breathed and wrenched over. He failed, he failed her, he failed his family.
"We must regroup!" Formal said. His eyes were wide and unfocused. "We mustn't let them win!" he took hold of Hamish and shook him rapidly. He turned and flagged any who would listen down for their attention. "C-Come! we will summon what's left at the GATE and hold a defensive position!"
Hamish stared at him. The thunderstick's fire occurring from only a few blocks away, "That is a death sentence!"
Formal shook his head, "By the gods man, was it not enough leaving your own son for the wolves!?" his face had maddened into something that left a mere shadow of the once great knight and count.
"What did you say?!" Hamish snapped back and grasped Formal by his arms, "have you gone insane?! do you not see our army laid across this concrete grave?!"
He'd begun making small gibbers at the end of every sentence, "If we retreat the consequences will be dire! they will invade and slaughter us all, we must stop them. We must!"
"Our infantry is on the verge of slaughter. The Wyvern Corps has been decimated. All demi-human units were utterly annihilated and you talk about...regrouping?! Defending?! Counterattacking?!"
"Do you even think!" Formal shouted back, "Your family is gone but not mine Dominus of Maio! if the Emperor gains word of a failure as catastrophic as this he will punish my city, my people. My. Daughter! we must, no we need to keep on, keep on"
"You...you have been sent insane by the fires of war!"
"Me? sent insane? oh no, no, no!" Formals face maddened like a rabid dogs, "Am I, the man who insisted upon a show of force when a parlay was still an option? Am I, the man who ordered the troops "go forth and slaughter?" Am I, the man who ran at the first sight of opposition, leaving my sole son and heir in the process?! it is no wonder to me why your family are nothing more than a lot of pig-headed lowborns."
"You bastard!" Hamish shoved him off and Formal went with it, taking a few steps back with a hand on his sword hilt, "don't you dare talk of him! don't you dare!"
"Am I, the one who has killed us?!"
He fell back. A loud ringing in his ears. Dust and grime in his eyes and he hurriedly wiped it away. There were holes in the charred concrete as if someone had taken a massive hammer and chisel and went about the area slamming it into the road.
Metal dragons flew above at a speed unlike any he'd seen. Two nearby spearmen helped him to his feet, "By Emroy!" they yelled.
When the dust cleared he had an akin reaction. Heaps and corpses were lying mere feet away. Bodies torn apart like clay dolls with their steel armor ripped like paper.
Formal was among the injured, he went to him, "A healer...cleric! we..." but when he turned Formal over, he saw the top of his head had gone off. Blood and pinkish goop discharging like some thick oil. One eyeball remained, it rapidly closed and opened ere remaining open and still.
He stayed there on his knees, dropping Formal and marinating in yet another loss.
His eyes glazed over to the point of resembling a nictitating membrane. He was gone, they both were, the boy, and Formal. He was alone, the only one left. He promised Cassia, and he failed to protect their boy. He thought of the young daughter Formal left behind, and his stomach felt as if it were stabbed by fire expeditiously.
"Dear gods, what have we done?" he breathed. Drained of any hope or vigor.
"My lord!" he felt a hand clamp on his shoulder. He whirled around and saw many men sheltering themselves and looking up at him. The one who'd gotten him up was a massive volralden, its yellow sclera narrowing, "What do we do, my lord?"
Hamish clenched his fists. There was no time to mourn.
He set his visor back down, "We must keep moving yonder the GATE lest we join them in Emroy's domain! come, we shall not die here!"
And like that those who remained fled for the GATE. Many were caught by bullets or explosives, and when the dust cleared the army had all but halfed to six of the twelve legions who'd made the journey.
Tokyo: Apartment Complex Deep Within The City.
It'd taken hours for them to be given the all-clear. There were so many dead filling the streets that construction crews were called in with bulldozers and frontloaders.
The death toll was still uncertain. Perhaps bordering on some grand and macabre number as two or three hundred. Of course, that wasn't accounting for the invaders. Though it wasn't like anyone wanted to take the job of doing so.
News channels came and stuck cameras and microphones in the civilians and his faces. They were calling him "yūsha," a hero. He didn't see them.
The palace gates opened, and rows waited on the other side to greet their friends and family. Hana among them. Over tearful reunions and happy cheers. He saw her in a woman's arms. She was screaming, several lines of tears going down her face. "Papa! Papa!" she said on repeat. The sound burned like a branding iron into his brain. The woman hugged and lifted her. Rubbing the girl's hair and somberly whispering like a ghostly spirit.
He watched them leave through the crowds. Hauntingly reminded. Even as they got further away the screams never stopped orotunding. Even as he went back and stayed there helping where he could. Even as he was brought into camp to fill out his report and get a briefing with SDF and Americans alike. Even as he stood late that night in an elevator, dark circles around his eyes and in a fresh change of clothes. It kept new like a babe in a crib.
When the elevator dinged, he nodded up from his head's tired position. He stepped out and walked slow. One shoe in front of the other. Stopping just once, he leaned on the wall and rubbed his eyes.
The hallway hadn't ever been so long of a walk. Normally he'd glance at his phone. Playing a game maybe or watching some anime. Now he just walked. Shuffling along like a zombie you'd see in one of those bad horror flicks.
An actual, honest-to-god medieval army came out from some magic portal and tried to invade Tokyo. The media, the internet, and the world stood stupefied as expected. He wasn't sure what came next but at the very least he knew nothing would be normal again.
Reaching the door with his head hung like a rope tied to his shoe and its noose around his head, Itami placed a hand upon the yellow knob.
It creaked ajar like an old arthritic man's joints. He walked inside and flicked on the hallway light. A quick removal of his sandals and he announced, "Risa? I'm home."
He found her lying on the carpet in the living room. Her phone residing next to her sleeping head with the messages opened up on his number. The news played on the TV with headlines at the bottom about the shaken world and death toll. He kept it on for now.
"Youji?" her small voice whispered from the floor. He turned back and saw her pop up. One side of her messy black hair stuck up funnily.
"I didn't mean to wake you," he said as she burst forth and threw her arms around him.
"Funny..." she murmured in a muffled voice. Her arms reached around his back and she began to shake, "Oh, I was so scared Youji. I didn't think..."
"It's okay," he stroked her hair. "It's okay."
"No, it's not."
"I know."
"Then don't say it's okay."
"I won't."
"You promise?"
"Yes."
Risa moved her head back, eyes puffy with water and red circles around them like Jupiter's rings. They locked eyes momentarily before she placed a hand on his face, "You look exhausted."
"I had a day of it."
"Yeah..."
"Hold down the fort?"
"You know it."
"It's late, you must be dead tired. All that sitting..."
She huffed and pinched his arm, "Where are all these jokes coming from?"
"I don't know."
She leaned up and kissed his cheek, "It's fine, you're not hurt and that's what matters."
"I'm real sorry."
"For what?"
"I just am."
"Well..." she looked away, then back at him, "I accept." The two held one another and his arms drew tighter around her. She stood back and scratched her head ere realizing something, "I've been getting my stuff packed."
"You're leaving me?"
"What? No! we need to get out of the city. With that thing in Ginza, we're only a couple dozen miles away!"
He gave her a concerned look, "We're not going anywhere, calm down Risa-"
"I already called Haha and she's getting a room ready for us, we're going."
"No, we aren't."
"In the morning, right now I need to take care of you."
"I appreciate that, but..."
"Youji!" she sharply begged. The two stood staring at one another, her face one of both urgency and pleading. "I'm not staying here while a damned portal to wherever spews out monsters."
He nodded, "I understand Risa-chan, but those same monsters were cut down by rifles."
"And? what if another monster comes out and machine guns don't work?"
"Listen, I have to go into work tomorrow. I'm...getting promoted."
"Promoted?!"
"Yeah."
"Cause you saved those people?"
"Saved isn't what I'd..." he let out a funny noise and rubbed his arm, "listen it's not just that. The whole country's up in arms about this, I'm sure you've seen the news. The SDF needs all the men it can get, even desk jockeys like me."
She looked ready to cry again, her little mousey face drooping. He took her in an embrace once more as she said, "Oh, god. I don't want you to get hurt..."
"I won't, but you need to call your mother and tell her I'm not coming."
She pushed up her glasses and shook her head, "If you don't go, I'm not going."
"I know," he gave her a proud face, "I'm gonna go take a shower."
He began walking and she followed behind him, "Do you need something to eat? is that a bruise on your back?"
"No, I don't."
"Is that a bruise?" she asked again as he went into the hall. She fast walked behind him and got a better view, "That's a cut along your neck, what happened Youji?!"
"Never mind, I'd like something to eat. Rice, noodles, or anything I don't care what."
Risa took hold of his forearm and he winced when revolving back, "Senpai! speak to me, please!" she squeaked like one of those chew toys dogs got crazy about. "Please..."
He felt something wash over him like a huge waterfall, an immense flowing weight holding him down. "Got hurt. But, I lived. Now can I go clean myself up?"
Her lip quivered, "We've been together ten years and you think I don't know when something is wrong with you?"
"I got them tripping a few times when I was running."
"Running?"
"I…didn't stand there and gawk at the dragons and monsters."
"Oh, Youji-"
"Risa. I need to clean off, okay?"
"Let me see those cuts first."
"You've seen them."
I'll put something on it."
"I'll be fine, stop mothering me. You need to go tell your own we're not coming."
"Fine big man. Get in the shower," and she pushed him playfully.
After he was done and had a new change of clothes he found her in the kitchen. She'd made rice and noodle bowls for them both. He sat down and placed his hands on the low table.
"What's going to happen?" she said stirring her bowl around.
He didn't answer for a moment. Everything was so overwhelming. Where would he start?
"I guess we're going through the thing."
"Going through!?" she leaned at him with a shocked face. "Why not...I dunno blow it up?!"
"Too many risks from what I know."
"Like what?"
"You honestly think the explosives it'll take to do so will only affect the GATE? plus we know good and damn well people aren't gonna stand for a bomb going off in the capital. The whole political sphere's already been turned up and inside out."
"Maybe there's another way to do it?"
He shrugged. Itami and a whole lot of other Jietai were briefed for the last few hours on it. Physics, space-time, and all the math added up to theories which meant if destroyed the GATE could take a whole chunk out of the city or maybe the entire continent. All theories, but it was safe to say they weren't blowing the thing any time soon.
"I don't know anything, unfortunately. The Americans are gonna help us turn the square into a FOB...forward operating base...when the clean up is done."
"I know what FOB means!" she protested and pouted. "Does that make Ginza a warzone?"
"Unless those medieval guys come back, no. A warzone is a place where fighting is active. Are you sure you know what a FOB-"
"Shush!"
He smiled and took a few bites of his food, "Gonna be working a lot of overtime in the coming few months."
Risa shook her head, "Is that how you wanna put it?"
He gaped up at her, "You know I'll be fine. The Americans are gonna do everything like always."
"Well, yes but what if... the Americans want the SDF to go through that thing with them? you might get..."
"Nope, get that out of your head Risa-Chan. Plus if anything did happen you'd have the money from my life insurance."
"Goddammit Youji!"
As he lay in bed later, her sleeping soundly at his side, Itami stared up blankly. The ceiling like the black night that went on and went on beyond the atmosphere, galaxies, and unto the end of the universe.
"You're still out there. Somewhere, aren't you? she's okay. She's with her family now."
Alright, so college is a bastard. Luckily I'm done with exams and can finally focus more on writing. Sorry for starting this off and then taking so damned long to puke out another chapter. I know it's still Ginza but don't worry we can finally get into the meat of the fic in chapter six.
If you're wondering about Rory, she's supposed to be like forty physically in this because loli's are a major creep factor.
Thanks for reading, if ya'll got any advice or criticism feel free to dm me or put it in a review. Peace.