Operation Zero Horizons
Corporal Natsuki Subaru, Age 24
Location: Hindu Kush Mountains, Afghanistan
0400 hours, March 27, 2004
The deafening roar of twin rotors filled the Chinook as Corporal Natsuki Subaru sat quietly near the rear of the helicopter. They had been flying over the snowcapped peaks of eastern Afghanistan for just over ten minutes. While John Williams, the team's medic, often complained about how the relentless drone of the engines gave him headaches, Subaru remained unbothered.
Through the open ramp, Subaru gazed at the shadowy outlines of the mountains below. The snowy peaks, faintly visible against the black void of early morning, held a haunting beauty. He could already picture the transformation that would come in a few hours when the rising sun would paint the rugged landscape in dazzling light. The first time he'd witnessed the sunrise over the Hindu Kush, he'd been struck speechless by its splendor. If not for the ever-present threat of bombs and bullets, he might have dreamed of skiing down those untouched slopes.
Subaru inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, retreating into his thoughts. As always, before a mission, he let his mind wander back through the events that had shaped his life. The good and the bad—both served as fuel for his determination.
Twelve years ago, Subaru and his family had left Japan for the United States. He still remembered the tantrum he'd thrown when his parents explained that his father's promotion required them to relocate to San Francisco. It was a massive opportunity for his father, a perfectionist and the epitome of a career man. Initially, the company's plan was for his father to spend three years in the States before returning to Kyoto.
But plans changed. The regional manager of the firm—a key figure in the North American division—died in a car crash caused by a drunk driver. With no one else qualified, Subaru's father, the senior-most officer in the region, was appointed as the interim regional manager. It surprised no one when his father's meticulous nature and work ethic revitalized the company's North American operations. The temporary role soon became permanent, and the Subaru family settled permanently in the Bay Area. By the time Natsuki turned fourteen, they had even obtained dual citizenship.
While Subaru's father was thriving in his career, Natsuki struggled to adjust to life in America. Enrolled in a private school, he found himself under the watchful eyes of strict teachers and surrounded by pompous, insufferable classmates.
Although he picked up English relatively quickly, Subaru still found it hard to make friends. Worse, he became an easy target for several school bullies. Before long, he could no longer tolerate the toxic environment. Instead of enduring another day of misery, Subaru started skipping classes, sneaking off to the local library. There, he discovered an escape in the colorful pages of comics and even a few manga volumes.
That routine came to an abrupt end one day. Just before he could ditch his third-period algebra class, Subaru rounded a corner and slammed face-first into one of the school's most notorious bullies. The older boy was a stocky upperclassman with a reputation for picking fights. Before Subaru could back away, the bully got up in his face, hurling cheap insults.
Instead of keeping quiet and enduring the abuse, Subaru snapped. With a firm shove, he pushed the bully out of his space.
Things escalated quickly.
By the time it was over, Subaru had a busted lip, several bruises, and a seat in the principal's office. His father sat beside him in silence as the principal detailed Subaru's missing classes and unruly behavior.
The fight, it seemed, was the final straw for the institution. To the school, Subaru was an easy scapegoat. The bully was a star football player, and it took little more than a brief chat between the principal and the coach to place the blame squarely on Subaru.
His father was furious. After the meeting, he impressed Subaru with the shame he had brought upon their family. A few weeks later, his father made a drastic decision: Subaru would be sent to military school. A coworker had once done the same for their son and swore by its transformative discipline. It was, his father declared, exactly what Subaru needed to "gain structure" in his life.
And so, Subaru's high school years were spent in what he initially considered hell on Earth. For the next three years, eight months out of every year were consumed by the relentless grind of military school. Mornings began with 0600 wake-up calls and grueling physical training, followed by a day filled with strict supervision and endless demands.
At first, Subaru hated every second of it. But as his eighteenth birthday approached, a small part of him began to appreciate the structure and discipline that had once felt oppressive.
After his senior year, Subaru's father assumed he would apply to college, but Subaru had other plans. Defying expectations, he announced his decision to enlist in the military. Partly, it was a genuine desire to serve; partly, it was a rebellious move to disrupt his father's meticulously crafted vision for his future.
In 1997, Subaru officially joined the Army. Ironically, his first deployment was to Camp Zama in Japan—a twist that amused him greatly. That period turned out to be one of his fondest memories of service. Much of his work there involved administrative duties, pushing papers behind a desk. Off-duty hours, however, were a different story. He spent his free time reconnecting with relatives and tracking down boyhood friends, savoring a nostalgia-laden return to his roots.
Life had been relatively smooth until one fateful night. While working late at Camp Zama, the clock struck 2046 hours local time on September 11, 2001. The world changed forever.
The next day, Subaru received devastating news. His father, ever the career man, had been on a business trip to New York. The offices he was visiting were on the 87th floor of the North Tower of the World Trade Center. His mother, accompanying her husband on the trip for sightseeing, had stopped by the office that morning to deliver his briefcase—forgotten in their hotel room. In twenty-two years, Subaru had never known his father to forget anything work-related.
The funeral was brief but heartbreaking. Subaru arranged for a service in Kyoto, unsure of his parents' burial wishes but convinced his father would have wanted their graves back home in Japan. With no bodies recovered, their resting place was marked only by headstones—a bittersweet tribute in a world forever altered. Subaru could only hope their spirits found peace.
Grief drove Subaru to act. Shortly after the funeral, he requested a transfer and was deployed to Afghanistan by November 2001. A year of intense combat followed. Then came Fort Bragg, where he spent fifty-six grueling weeks training to become a Green Beret.
"Subaru!"
The sharp shout yanked him from his meditative thoughts. Subaru drew a deep breath, grounding himself as he snapped back to the present. Staff Sergeant Myles Baker was yelling directly into his right ear, his voice cutting through the relentless drone of the engines.
Subaru shouted back, his voice straining to rise above the roar of the engines. "Yeah, what's up, Myles?"
"The situation on the mountain's gone to hell," Myles yelled, leaning closer to be heard. "The SEAL team is pinned down. There appear to be at least thirty insurgents. Both LZs are about to be swarmed."
"Are we even going to be able to get in?" Subaru asked, his tone sharp with concern.
"Overlord says we have to try!" Myles declared. "If we don't get boots on the ground, those men are going to be dead before we figure out another plan. Get ready. When we get close, they're going to give us hell."
Subaru watched as Myles moved quickly from man to man, briefing the rest of the team. Subaru's Chinook was the first of two helicopters carrying twelve-man teams tasked with securing the stranded SEALs and getting them out alive.
The mission had been hastily put together after a SEAL team had been deployed to eliminate a high-ranking Taliban leader in the area. However, the team had stumbled onto a heavily fortified position at the mountain's peak. Now, pinned near the ridge for over twenty minutes, they were running out of time—and options.
Minutes later, the Chinook began its descent toward the designated LZ. Below them, the muzzle flashes of insurgent gunfire lit up the mountainside, the sharp cracks of weapons fire cutting through the dark. Then came the unmistakable sound of bullets slamming into the helicopter's siding, causing several soldiers to duck instinctively.
"We can't land!" Myles shouted from the front of the group. "We're going to fast-rope in! Subaru, you're first!"
Subaru stepped forward, racking the slide of his M4 to ready it for action. He took a steadying breath, gripping the thick rope tightly as he prepared for the descent.
No sooner had Subaru left the helicopter than chaos erupted. His ears filled with a deafening explosion, leaving him disoriented and ringing like a bell. An instant later, he felt a violent force throw him from the rope, his body tumbling uncontrollably through the air.
A heartbeat later, Subaru hit the mountainside hard, slamming into a snowbank with enough force to knock the wind from his lungs. Gasping, he clawed at the icy powder, his chest heaving as he fought to draw breath. After a few agonizing moments, Subaru managed to push himself upright. Coughing hard, he scanned his surroundings, forcing his disoriented mind to reorient and prepare for the fight ahead.
About thirty meters up the mountain, Subaru spotted the wreckage of their Chinook. The transport had been blown into two pieces, both now engulfed in flames on the snowy slope. The two halves of the wreckage lay relatively close to each other, but thick, choking smoke billowed from the twisted metal, making it hard to discern details.
Overhead, Subaru caught sight of the second team's helicopter veering away from its designated LZ, forced off-course by relentless gunfire.
This has gone straight to hell, Subaru thought bitterly.
Crouching low, he began making his way toward the crash site, muttering a quiet prayer for survivors. Trudging uphill through the deep snow was agonizingly slow, but eventually, Subaru reached the rear half of the Chinook. Gunfire cracked through the cold air, the shots originating from a cluster of boulders higher up the mountain.
The snow around the wreckage was stained crimson. Subaru counted three bodies strewn across the ground, but he couldn't identify them at a glance. His heart sank as he scanned the scene, hoping against hope that someone—anyone—had made it out alive.
A moment later, he saw movement. Myles, his team leader, emerged gingerly from the mangled remains of the helicopter, crawling on all fours. His uniform was soaked in blood.
For a terrifying moment, Subaru thought Myles had been gravely injured. But as the team leader drew closer, Subaru realized the blood wasn't his.
"How many made it out?" Subaru asked, sliding into cover beside Myles as bullets whizzed past, smacking into the wreckage.
"Just me and a kid named Deshawn," Myles rasped, coughing into a bloodied fist. "At least from this half of the wreck." He winced, gesturing toward the smoldering remains. "The kid's still in there. A chunk of metal severed his leg clean off. I got a tourniquet on the stump, but he passed out from the blood loss. Hell, I don't even know if he's still alive."
Subaru's stomach churned, but he forced himself to look over at the front half of the wreck. Three figures stumbled out, silhouetted against the flames. Through the chaos, Subaru recognized John Williams, the team's medic, struggling to drag another teammate—Sam Hall—over his shoulder.
The sound of bullets striking the broken hull jolted Subaru back into the moment, making him flinch instinctively.
"Son of a bitch!" he cursed, gritting his teeth.
The situation was spiraling fast, and the enemy wasn't letting up. Subaru clenched his jaw, gripping his weapon tighter. The mission to extract the SEALs had turned into a fight for survival.
Peeking out from cover, Subaru scanned up the mountain. He spotted the two rock formations where the SEAL team was dug in, roughly twenty meters away. They were under relentless fire, the insurgents determined to keep them pinned.
"We need to get them down the mountain," Subaru said, his tone firm.
"The secondary LZ is about seventy meters downhill," Myles replied, pointing toward a small cluster of trees farther down. "They'll land there to avoid the worst of the heat. If it's still too hot, then we're screwed until brass cooks up a new plan."
"Okay, so what's the play?" Subaru asked, readying himself.
Myles hesitated for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he thought. Then he nodded to himself, formulating a plan. "Alright, here's the play. The SEAL team is split into two positions—we'll call the one on the left Alpha and the one on the right Beta. I'll link up with the other survivors from the crash and coordinate cover fire. They'll keep the insurgents occupied while we push up the mountain. You'll head to Alpha, and I'll make my way to Beta. Got your radio?"
Subaru glanced at his shoulder and grimaced. The radio was gone. "Must've lost it in the fall."
"That's alright," Myles said quickly. "You still have your smoke?"
"Yeah, right here." Subaru patted his vest, where the smoke grenade was securely stashed.
"Good. When you link up with Alpha, pop that smoke to signal me. From there, we'll relieve the SEALs and cover their retreat. They'll provide supporting fire from the crash site while we sweep back here. After that, we either pull down the mountain or hold our position, depending on what's viable. At the very least, we'll get them far enough for the AC-130 to provide support. Last I heard, it's twelve klicks out."
"Got it," Subaru nodded, gripping his weapon tighter.
"The second they start laying down cover fire, we move," Myles instructed. "I don't want those guys stuck in that kill box a second longer."
Without another word, Myles crouched low and darted through the snow toward the wreckage of the Chinook's front end. Subaru watched as bullets kicked up puffs of snow around his commander, each near miss a reminder of how precarious their situation had become. Myles slid into cover, regrouping with the others as he relayed the plan.
Subaru took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. This was going to be brutal, but it was the only way to get those men out alive.
A moment later, they took defensive positions. Subaru steadied his breathing, locking his eyes on the four figures across the mountain from him. His heart pounded as he awaited the signal.
The crack of gunfire erupted, and the three men below opened up with suppressive fire. Without hesitation, Subaru leaped from cover and sprinted uphill as fast as his legs could carry him.
His pulse thundered in his ears, nearly drowning out the chaos around him. Bullets zipped past his head, their sharp whines cutting through the frigid air. Snow sprayed into his face as rounds struck perilously close to his feet.
Fucking shit! Subaru cursed inwardly, gritting his teeth as he pushed himself harder. Every step through the snow felt heavier than the last.
About twenty meters from Alpha's position, pain seared through his left arm as a bullet ripped into his bicep.
"Fuck!" Subaru shouted, stumbling briefly. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself forward. Stop, and you die, he reminded himself grimly.
Suddenly, an RPG detonated nearby, the blast sending a wave of shrapnel slicing through the air. Subaru felt the sting of rock fragments bite into his thigh. He barely registered the pain as he lunged into cover beside a large boulder marking the Alpha position.
Breathing hard, Subaru scanned his surroundings. Four members of the SEAL team huddled in the foxhole. One man lay slumped against the rock, his face unnaturally pale. Subaru didn't need to check—he could tell the man had been dead for some time. The remaining three SEALs looked battered, their faces streaked with blood and grime. Cuts from rock fragments and close calls with bullets marred their uniforms and skin.
A SEAL to his left, crouched low and reloading a handgun, turned to Subaru. "What's the situation down at the crash?" he asked, his voice tight with urgency. Subaru noticed the man's rifle lay discarded nearby, its ammunition spent.
"Five made it out," Subaru replied quickly. "There's another still in the wreckage, but he was close to bleeding out before we even made it up the mountain."
Another SEAL fired off a few rounds toward the insurgent position farther uphill before glancing at Subaru. "What's the play, Chief?" he asked, ducking behind cover as a fresh volley of fire peppered their position.
"We've got three guys down at the crash laying down suppressive fire," Subaru began.
Before he could finish, a grenade exploded nearby, sending a fresh spray of rock and snow cascading over their cover.
"Fuck me!" Subaru shouted, flinching as the shockwave rattled his senses.
"Go on," the SEAL encouraged, his tone steady despite the chaos around them.
Subaru took a deep breath, ignoring the pain throbbing in his arm and leg, and prepared to lay out the plan that might save them all.
"My team leader and I will provide covering fire while you and your men sweep downhill to the crash site," Subaru explained, his voice steady despite the chaos around them. "From there, we can link up with the second relief team—or at the very least, get support from the AC-130."
One of the SEALs shook his head grimly. "I don't know if that's gonna work. There's fucking Taliban crawling all over our right flank. Two bunkers with RPGs up to our left, and those bastards have a KPV."
"Jesus Christ..." Subaru muttered, his throat going dry. The KPV heavy machine gun was a nightmare scenario. "Well, staying here isn't exactly a great plan either."
"If we break formation, they might descend on us and push us down the mountainside," another SEAL cautioned.
Subaru nodded, formulating a desperate plan. "I've got a smoke grenade in my vest. I can pop it toward the bunker to obscure their view while you pull back. If we can rally at the crash site, the AC-130 might be able to take out the bunkers."
He gestured toward his vest. "My team leader's waiting for the smoke as the signal. It's your call."
The SEALs exchanged a look, tension written on their faces as more rounds zipped past, some striking the rocks dangerously close to their heads.
"Alright," one of them finally said. "Let's do it."
Subaru plucked the smoke grenade from his vest, yanking the pin free. Taking a half-step out from cover, he wound his good arm back and threw the canister with everything he had. The grenade sailed toward the enemy position, landing near the bunkers. Thick gray smoke began to plume, spreading quickly.
Once the smoke was dense enough, Subaru lifted his rifle and started firing in the general direction of the enemy, providing suppressive fire.
"Go!" he shouted, as the SEALs began descending the mountain as fast as they could.
Subaru continued firing, his aim rough but deliberate, hoping to keep the enemy suppressed. The return fire intensified, with bullets and grenades hammering his position. A grenade exploded just behind his boulder, sending shards of rock and shrapnel into his legs.
"Shit!" Subaru cursed, the sharp sting tearing through his pants and flesh. He gritted his teeth, trying to block out the pain, but before he could recover, a bullet slammed into his right shoulder, knocking him flat on his back.
Adrenaline surged through his body, dulling the immediate pain. Dazed, he glanced downhill and saw the SEAL team still only halfway to the crash site.
"Fuck me," Subaru muttered through clenched teeth. He fumbled with his rifle, ejecting the spent magazine and slamming in a fresh one. Summoning every ounce of strength, he hauled himself back to his feet and re-engaged the enemy, firing bursts toward the bunkers.
Minutes felt like hours. The fight was relentless, with no reprieve. Suddenly, an RPG detonated just a few feet from his position. The blast sent Subaru flying, his body tumbling through the air before slamming into the ground twenty yards away.
Everything went black.
Subaru didn't know how long he was unconscious, but when he came to, chaos still surrounded him. The world was a haze of pain, gunfire, and the sound of bullets striking the ground perilously close to where he lay.
Gripping his weapon—still secured to him thanks to his harness—Subaru tried to push himself to his feet. Pain tore through his legs, forcing him to collapse back into the snow. Glancing down, he saw that his pants were soaked with blood. Shrapnel wounds covered his thighs, and it looked like he'd taken at least one bullet to his right leg. The agonizing throb in his left leg convinced him a bone was broken.
Gritting his teeth, Subaru scanned his surroundings and spotted a small crater about ten feet downhill. With no better options, he bit his lip and rolled through the snow, crashing into the shallow dip of earth.
Lying on his belly, Subaru steadied his rifle and began returning fire. Muzzle flashes lit the dark as he aimed at the shadowy figures up the mountainside. The enemy fire was relentless, but Subaru held his position, his determination outweighing his pain.
"Come get me, assholes!" he shouted, his voice raw as he ejected another empty magazine.
For nearly twenty minutes, Subaru fought alone in the dark. RPGs detonated around him, and bullets rained down like a storm, shredding the area. By the time the AC-130 finally arrived and began unleashing its devastating firepower on the enemy, Subaru had been shot three more times: once through his right collarbone and twice in his arms.
Just as the tide seemed to be turning, the enemy began charging downhill in desperation. Subaru was reloading when he spotted a Taliban fighter barreling straight toward him.
With no time to react, Subaru forced himself to his feet, ignoring the blinding pain in his legs. His hand darted to his hip, drawing his combat knife as the fighter closed in.
The two collided violently, tumbling into the snow in a brutal struggle. Adrenaline surged through Subaru's battered body as he fought with everything he had. His mind was blank, running entirely on muscle memory and instinct. Strikes, grapples, and sheer will carried him as they thrashed in the snow.
Finally, Subaru managed to get the upper hand. With a desperate roar, he drove his blade into the fighter's neck. Warm blood sprayed over his hands as the man collapsed, lifeless. Subaru fell back, gasping for breath, his body trembling from exertion and pain.
Reaching for his rifle, Subaru slapped his last magazine into place and aimed at the remaining fighters charging down the slope.
Just as he turned his sights on another enemy, a fighter no more than five feet away raised his weapon and fired.
Five rounds tore into Subaru's chest, the impact throwing him onto his back. Gasping for air, Subaru managed to pull the trigger, his final shots catching the enemy square in the temple. The fighter crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
Subaru lay motionless, staring up at the night sky. His chest burned, his body screaming in pain. Breathing was becoming harder with each passing second, but his fingers still clung to his rifle.
Subaru's brief reprieve from the chaos was violently shattered as another RPG detonated just a few yards to his left. The force of the explosion sent him hurtling down the mountain, his body tumbling over snow and jagged rock. The world became a blur of pain and motion until his back slammed hard into a boulder, bringing him to a jarring stop.
The impact drove the air from his lungs, leaving Subaru choking and gasping. Blood filled his mouth, spilling onto the snow as he struggled to breathe. Each ragged wheeze confirmed what he already feared: My lungs were filling with blood.
A cold dread seeped through his body as the chill of the mountain air mixed with the warmth of his blood. Around him, the night was alive with the roar of combat. The earthshaking blasts of the AC-130's 40mm cannon rumbled in the distance, closer to the base of the mountain. Subaru realized with faint clarity that the SEAL team and the remnants of the quick reaction force must have pulled back.
I'm not out of the fight. I'm not out of the fight.
He repeated the mantra over and over in his mind, trying to force his broken body to respond. But his limbs felt heavy, unyielding, and numb. A glance confirmed his worst fears—his rifle was gone, likely lost during his violent tumble. Every piece of gear he'd brought was either spent or unreachable. His only weapon now was his own two hands, and even they trembled with the last vestiges of life.
Summoning every ounce of willpower, Subaru managed to roll onto his back. The motion sent a fresh wave of blood spilling from his lips, each cough weaker than the last. The warmth drained from his body as the cold snow pressed against him, biting into his skin.
Subaru had made peace with the idea of death long ago; it was an unavoidable reality of his profession. Yet even now, staring into the face of his mortality, he refused to yield. He was a soldier, and soldiers fought until the bitter end.
With agonizing effort, Subaru willed himself to move, to stand and fight. But his body betrayed him. He lay helpless, staring at the first rays of the morning sun as they peeked over the mountain's jagged crest.
The sunlight bathed his face in its golden warmth, and for a fleeting moment, Subaru allowed himself to feel its peace.
Then a sharp crack split the air.
The bullet struck true, piercing his chest and finding his heart.
Subaru felt no pain—only a sudden stillness. The fight was over. The chaos of the world faded as a deep darkness crept in, enveloping him like a swarm of shadowy hands pulling him into their embrace.
And then, there was nothing.