A 14-year-old boy was sitting on a crate in a military plane that had just flown into Iran, a new conflict had arisen in the Middle East with the continuation of the Iran and Iraq war. Iran had NATO backing while Iraq had Russia and China backing. The 14-year-old sighed and rested his head against the window
The boy's name was Kai Hisoka and he was the result of an experiment by the Hero Public Safety Commission.
16 years ago an ambitious politician named Akagi Hisoka had caught wind of the Commission trying to create a human that they could use in the shadows, somebody that could fulfill their wishes and nobody could know. Akagi struck a deal with the Commission that he could run the program but he would get no interference from anybody outside the project. The Acting President at the time agreed and signed a contract with Akagi but in time the Acting President filled his two-year term and was voted out. In the coming years, there was a constant cycle of presidents, and slowly the program called 'Moonlight' was buried and forgotten about as it showed no results. Akagi knew that documents could go missing or things could be forgotten during the few-week transitional phase when a new president took over. Akagi needed a subject to turn into the weapon that he wanted, so he decided to have a child to be the subject, it was easier that way as he could control everything and there would be no record of the child ever existing. Akagi's family had a superhuman strength quirk in their bloodline, so Akagi searched for a quirk to pair with superhuman strength the women needed to be pretty, smart, athletic, and not connected to anybody important. The politician found a hospital record of a 24-year-old woman with some type of shooting quirk, it seemed her quirk made projectiles hit their target wherever they wanted and with deadly accuracy. The woman was beautiful and decently smart but intelligence can be honed. Akagi at the age of 56 the woman who was named Mae Ryo became Mae Hisoka. It was a quirk marriage with no record, Kai didn't know anything else about his mom as his father never told him. He knew that his mother was killed shortly after he was born. Kai wasn't raised with love or care, he was raised with one goal in mind: winning. He was taught to manipulate, kill, hide, and survive no matter the cost, he had model looks, a perfect human. But at the cost of little to no social skills. He could read a human's emotions to a pinpoint accuracy but couldn't keep a conversation going for more than five minutes.
Kai looked out of the window with an apathetic look. This was his first time out of the program and it seemed his suspicions were right.
'Looks like Professor Hisoka is going against a foe that even he couldn't fight, everyone has their limit.'
Kai had heard of the name All For One and how he was tracking Professor Hisoka trying to kill him because he wronged the man somehow. Professor Hisoka had been acting more drastically as the years went by, which is why Kai was in Iran. Professor Hisoka was running out of money and he made a deal with the Iranians that they would get a trained soldier in turn for a couple million dollars. Oil money was something different. That is why this war is being fought, oil. Everyone needs it and only certain places have it, and the Middle East is a hotspot for oil. Iraq wanted to have a port to the Persian Gulf by annexing Kuwait. But at the same time, it ran deeper than that; this was also a religious war. Shia Muslims in Iraq and Sunni Muslims have had a hatred for each other since 1971. But nobody outside of Iran or Iraq cared about that. All they cared about was who would get the best oil deals after the war.
the outside world isn't that special. All I see is sand. But I guess it's better than that room.'
Kai had lived in a huge room with black and white walls, the walls would switch colors depending on the day, or that's what Kai thought he never got an explanation as to why the walls changed.
"We will arrive in thirty minutes." A voice over the intercom spoke.
War was different here than what you're used to. In the early 1900's quirk manifestation started to occur in humans, as such military technology wasn't as developed as humans focused on quirks
Kai checked his equipment, he was supplied with two sniper rifles, the MacMillian Tac-50 for stealth operations and the Barret M82A1, both American-made. An Howa Type 20 that he would use when he was not sniping, which was Japanese-made at least. It seemed that the rest would be Iranian or whatever they had in their stockpile.
'Professor Hisoka has gotten more deranged and paranoid as he ages. He turned 72 a few months ago. He must realize that his time is running out. Or that someone is going to cut his time short. Is One For All that terrifying? Who even is One For All?'
Kai felt the plane start to descend. He looked out the window and saw a city in the desert.
'I think this city's name is Ahvaz. The closest one to the border of Iraq'
Quirk use in war was banned and if you were caught punishment would be dished out accordingly. A treaty was signed by every country in the world that if a country is caught using Quirks in war the rest of the world will form a joint coalition and capitulate that country. It was a very interesting system.
'I wonder why they can't use that system to stop any war from happening.'
Kai dissembled his rifles and placed them into what was called a 'Tactical Bookbag.'
The plane landed on a runway with no surrounding buildings.
"I only got 30 seconds before I leave." The pilot spoke through the intercom.
Kai hurried and gathered all of his belongings and walked out of the plane's side door. The plane started its engine and flew away, Kai watched his only way out of here leave.
"Welcome!" A voice behind Kai said.
It was a female.
"I will take you to Father," the woman said, her voice calm, though there was an underlying sense of urgency.
Kai glanced at her briefly before turning his gaze back to the horizon, the vast stretch of desert before him. 'Father, huh?'
The two began walking through the desert, the heat pressing down on them as the dry wind picked up, carrying a faint scent of sand and earth.
After a few moments, Hannaneh spoke again, her voice a contrast to the harsh desert around them. "What is your name?"
"Hisoka Kai."
She nodded, as if satisfied with the answer. "Hannaneh Afshani."
The conversation faded again, and they walked in silence for a while, the desert stretching out on either side. There was something oddly calming about the emptiness—nothing to distract, nothing to complicate matters. Just the harsh simplicity of the landscape and the ever-present hum of tension in the air.
Finally, Hannaneh broke the silence once more. "How is Japan?"
Kai's gaze remained fixed ahead, his voice even. "I don't know. This is my first time outside."
Hannaneh glanced at him, a hint of confusion in her expression. "What do you mean?"
Kai didn't look at her, his tone unwavering. "This is the first time I've been outside."
A beat of silence followed, and Hannaneh blinked, trying to process his words. "So you've been indoors your whole life?"
"Yes."
Her mind seemed to race. A soldier who's never been outside… What kind of training has he gone through?
The silence stretched once more, and Kai's gaze remained ahead, scanning the horizon, not paying attention to her thoughts. He could almost feel her curiosity, but he didn't need to answer it. This is how it was designed. There's no need to explain.
They climbed a small hill, the heat of the desert even more pronounced as they reached the peak. Kai's eyes immediately caught sight of the city in the distance—Ahvaz. Bridges spanned the expanse between buildings, and the layout appeared orderly, almost too perfect in its structure.
"What do you think?" Hannaneh asked, breaking his thoughts. "I don't know what you've heard, but Ahvaz is one of the most technologically advanced and safest cities in the world."
Kai's lips barely twitched, the thought crossing his mind. Lies.
"I know the location of each city in Iran," he replied, his tone as neutral as ever. "I don't know what goes on in each city."
Hannaneh didn't seem fazed by his response. "Well, that's okay."
Kai nodded once, his expression unchanging. The silence returned, the vastness of the desert around them only adding to the weight of unspoken words.
As they neared the outskirts of Ahvaz, the noise of the city grew louder—cars, people, the hustle of daily life. Yet, despite the activity, there was an eerie stillness to the streets. It didn't feel safe. At least, not in the way Hannaneh had suggested.
Kai had done his research. Ahvaz had a crime rate of 76.72 per 100, a figure that put it in the higher echelons of danger, according to the cost-of-living survey. Its safety index was 31.16. Hardly the numbers of a "safe city."
They walked further into the city, the buildings a mixture of modern construction and older, more worn-down structures. It felt like a place caught between its ambitions and its reality. The contrast was stark.
Kai kept his expression neutral as they approached a building, its design a striking mix of teal and gold. The door was heavily fortified, bars lining its perimeter.
As he took a step toward the entrance, a distant explosion rattled the air, a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the ground beneath them. The sound was faint, but unmistakable—something had just been hit, somewhere far away.
Kai stopped for a moment, the sudden noise pulling his attention. His expression didn't change, but his senses were alert. He knew what that sound meant. There was chaos brewing outside the confines of this building, something that would soon reach their doorstep.
Without looking at Hannaneh, he continued forward. "Let's go."
She hesitated for a second, but then followed him inside, the sound of distant explosions still lingering in the air, a stark reminder that the war was never truly far away.
Is the war really that close?
Kai stepped into the building, his boots soft against the floor. The temperature inside was cooler than the desert, but it did nothing to ease the tension that had already settled in his chest. The reality of his situation felt suffocating, and he couldn't push it away. He was here, and there was no escaping it.
"Father is in the room up the stairs to the right," Hannaneh said, her voice calm, though there was a faint urgency in her tone that made Kai slightly uneasy.
"Hm." Kai didn't offer more. The less he said, the less they'd expect of him.
He walked up the stairs with his usual mechanical grace, the weight of each step reminding him that he wasn't here out of choice. His boots made no noise on the polished floor as he reached the top of the staircase and headed down the corridor. The door at the end opened without resistance, revealing a man sitting by the window, his back turned, overlooking the city of Ahvaz. There was a quiet power in his stillness, the kind that spoke more of dominance than any words could.
"Hisoka Kai?" the man asked, his voice low but commanding.
Kai's expression remained neutral as he replied, "Yes, Supreme Leader."
"Good. You know titles," the man said, turning to face him with a small, calculating smile. "I am Amir Reza Afshani."
Amir moved behind his desk, opening a folder with practiced ease. His eyes scanned the pages as he began to read aloud. "Hisoka Kai. Age 14. Quirk: Deadshot. Code name: Shinigami."
Shinigami? Really, Professor?
"Specialties: deadly aim, hand-to-hand combat, genius, stealth, superhuman strength, willpower, discipline."
Kai listened, the words sliding off him like water on glass. So they see me as just another tool. Another weapon in their arsenal. Just like the rest of them.
"The reason we hired you is because of your quirk. As you know, quirk use in war is banned. But if your quirk remains undetected, you can use it. Yours makes you the greatest sharpshooter, probably ever. And that's without factoring in your superhuman strength." Amir paused, looking at Kai for the first time. "You're a valuable asset to this war."
I'm a weapon, not a person.
"Right now, this war is at a stalemate. Trenches stretch from the Turkish border all the way to the Persian Gulf. You'll be assigned to the Saberin Battalion."
Special Forces. Which means I'll be at the front, the first to die or the first to kill. Same difference.
"There's no time to waste. This war has already claimed 135,000 lives in just three weeks." Amir's voice was steady, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of concern. "A situation like this demands someone like you."
Demand... Someone like me? I'm not what you think I am. I'm just a means to an end.
"There's a truck outside. It'll take you to the Saberin units, who are about to be stationed."
Kai's eyes never left the floor as he nodded, signaling he understood. He didn't need to say anything else.
He turned and walked out of the room without a second glance. No questions. No hesitation.
In the lobby, Hannaneh was gone. She must have been dealing with other matters. Kai glanced through the windows at the military truck parked outside, its camouflage livery blending with the desert's harsh colors. The sight was more irritating than anything. It reminded him that he was stuck in a war he never asked for, with people he didn't care about.
My first time being outside, and this is what I get. War. A life of freedom traded for another cage. A different kind of prison.
He climbed into the back of the truck, his movement fluid but devoid of any urgency. The truck's engine roared to life, and they set off into the desert once more. Kai stared ahead, his expression blank.
So this is my fate now. I never asked for this. They've trapped me here, in a world where they view me as nothing more than an asset to be used until I'm of no more value. How typical.
The thought didn't bother him as much as it should have. But that didn't change the fact that this wasn't where he wanted to be. And yet, there was nothing he could do about it. He wasn't free. Not really.
A deep sigh escaped his lips. He wasn't going to waste energy on something so trivial as dissatisfaction. There was only one thing left to do: survive, as he always had. But this time, it wasn't for a faceless institution. It was for himself.
Freedom. What a strange, empty word.
The truck rumbled on, and Kai's mind wandered back to the mission ahead.
I'll play along. But I don't have to like it.
Kai rubbed his eyes as the truck pulled to a stop, the chatter outside growing louder. He sat up slowly, the weight of the day pressing against his mind. The sun, relentless as always, filtered through the thin fabric of his hood, but Kai didn't care. The noise outside indicated his arrival at a place that would likely shape the next phase of his existence.
Recruiting and training, huh? Kai thought, looking out the back of the truck at the small, makeshift city that seemed to be brimming with activity. It was a bustling scene, but it didn't feel like home—or anything resembling a place where anyone could feel comfortable. No, it felt more like a temporary holding pen. People here weren't living; they were waiting to be used.
The truck stopped with a jolt, its engine winding down as the sound of the chatter intensified. It was a mix of languages—Arabic, Farsi, and a few slurred phrases that were hard to place—but the meaning behind them was clear. Soldiers, civilians, families… everyone seemed to be gathered here in some way, drawn by the same grim purpose.
All of them preparing to fight. Or die. Or both.
Kai climbed out of the truck without haste, his movements measured. As he landed on the dusty ground, he noticed the eyes on him. Many of them were curious; some were cautious. A Japanese face in the middle of a war zone wasn't exactly common. But none of their looks mattered. None of them knew who he was. Not yet, anyway.
He stepped into the city, his boots crunching on the gravel as he scanned the area. There were small, dilapidated buildings along the road, most of them serving as temporary shelters or storage. The few people who weren't engaged in conversation or training were watching the influx of new recruits. They had the vacant eyes of people who had been around too long, who had seen too much. A sense of desperation hung heavy in the air.
Kai adjusted his backpack, his rifle slung over his shoulder as he walked toward the center of the city.
I don't know what they expect of me here, he thought. But it doesn't matter. I'll play my part like I always do.
The sounds of explosions in the distance were growing more distinct now, as if the war itself were pushing closer, beckoning him. Kai kept walking, his mind already calculating his next steps. He wasn't here to make friends or bond with these people. He was here for one thing only: survival.
The reality of war was setting in. People would die. Maybe him, maybe not. But he would move forward, no matter what. And if the situation demanded it, he would use every skill he had to ensure that he was the one who kept breathing.
Kai felt the weight of the environment, but it didn't make him uncomfortable. It wasn't unfamiliar. Life, for him, had always been a cold, calculated game. And this? This was just another round to play.
Kai's footsteps were light against the dusty floor as he walked toward the main office. The building was crowded with soldiers—some eager, others nervous—but none of them stood out as more than just another body waiting to be sent into the chaos.
He was barely halfway to the door when a group of teenagers, likely 17 or 18, caught his attention. One of the boys, tall with messy hair, was shouting out a name.
"Milad! Milad!"
The boy turned to face him, a look of mild irritation crossing his features.
"Milad! Well?" another voice called out.
"So?" Milad hummed, indifferent.
"I don't know," Milad shrugged, sounding more bored than uncertain.
The chatter between them continued, but Kai kept walking, his pace unchanged.
"Does she know we're all going?" one of them asked, his voice tinged with concern.
"Yes, of course," Milad answered casually, walking off in the direction of the building.
Another voice interrupted, mocking. "Staying at home? My god, you're tied to your mother's apron strings!"
Milad shot a glance back, unfazed, his stare hardening.
"Give it to me, I'll scribble something," one of his friends suggested.
'No one signed his forms,' Kai noted quietly, his gaze flicking over them with mild interest. Interesting.
"It has to be signed by his parents," another replied, skepticism hanging in his tone.
"Well, someone. Come on. Pass it here," the first voice urged again.
"That's not going to work. They'll find out," Rasoul warned.
"How will they? Is his mother a pen pal of theirs?" the boy argued back, insistent.
The group bickered for a moment more before Milad finally demanded, "Give me your pen."
Rasoul hesitated, his fingers twitching as if to withdraw. "I don't have it," he said.
"Rasoul, give me your pen," Milad pressed, pushing the issue further.
"You can't. Your father will hit you," Rasoul muttered, but his hand still hovered over his pocket.
"Have you got a better idea?" Milad shot back. "I'm not getting left behind."
After a moment's hesitation, Rasoul slowly handed over the pen. Milad took it with a victorious smirk, pausing for a moment before turning Rasoul around and using his back as a solid surface to sign the form.
"Congratulations, Private Sadiq," Milad said mockingly. "We're going to the front."
"A dead man walking," another one of the boys muttered under his breath, though there was a hint of admiration in his voice.
Kai's eyes narrowed slightly, but his face remained unreadable. A runaway looking for glory in a war. Storybook.
Without any further reaction, he followed the group inside, silently moving with the crowd as they made their way to the stairwell. The weight of the atmosphere felt heavier the further they ascended.
With each step up, there were more bodies—more recruits, some looking determined, others resigned to their fate. The realization of how many soldiers were already gathered here sank in.
More than I anticipated.
Kai leaned against the wall next to the stairwell, his gaze unfocused but ever observant. He could already feel the tension in the air, the eagerness, the fear, and the emptiness that clung to this place.
"Remember this moment!" A booming voice echoed from the middle floor, carrying an air of forced enthusiasm. "This is the moment that will define you! Years from now, you'll be judged by what you dared to achieve today! The Iron Youth of Iran. We stand at the dawn of a new era, my friends! You are fortunate to be alive at a time like this. Your actions will water the roots of a strong and noble future. Stand tall, Persians! The Supreme Leader needs soldiers, not children!"
Kai listened with detached interest, his eyes scanning the group around him, none of them questioning the rhetoric.
"I am certain I will see most of you again soon," the voice continued, growing more fervent. "You will return home with your sword in its scabbard, honoring the land and sun that gave you life. But heed this warning: in the darkest moments, before the enemy strikes, doubt will creep in. Know this—do not give in. Any hesitation, any wavering resolve, is a betrayal of the Aryanland! Modern war is a game of chess. It's never about the individual; it's about the whole body. Our mission is to serve the entirety of the state. You will prove your worth by marching to the frontlines of Parviz. Then, in weeks' time, we will march on Baghdad!"
The soldiers erupted into a deafening cheer, shouting "Yeah!" as if on cue. Their voices were hollow, the enthusiasm rehearsed.
'Manipulation at its finest,' Kai thought, his face unreadable. He had read about this kind of thing before—charismatic leaders playing on the hopes of the desperate, using their fears and ambitions to drive them forward.
The soldiers were quickly ushered into five separate lines, and Kai followed along without protest, his expression unchanged. The routine was familiar: uniform distribution.
Each soldier got called up, receiving their uniform before getting sent to a changing room.
Kai stood quietly among the recruits, ignoring the clamor of their excitement as they prepared for what would be a brutal test of their resolve. His eyes scanned the area, but his thoughts were distant, calculating.
The line moved forward, and it was finally Kai's turn.
"Next," a recruiter ordered, his eyes scanning the list in front of him. "Hisoka Kai. Saberin Battalion. Born..." The recruiter paused, reading Kai's birthdate over again. "April 17, 2008. Correct?"
Kai simply nodded, offering no further response.
The recruiter took a slow breath, then grabbed a uniform from the pile, placing it in front of Kai. It was a desert camouflage outfit, complete with a matching balaclava and helmet. Two flags—one from Japan and one from Iran—were sewn onto the chest of the uniform. The recruiter handed it to him, his expression filled with pride.
"You can be proud of wearing this," the recruiter said, his voice carrying an air of ceremony.
Kai's thoughts remained detached. Nothing to be proud of.
The recruiter handed him the uniform, and Kai moved to take it, his fingers brushing the fabric. His outfit was completed with a desert camo visor, with his own pair of goggles to shield from the brutal desert sandstorms. The rest of the recruits were all given basic green military uniforms, the kind you might expect from any standard army—nothing special, just a regular issue.
Kai turned to leave when a teenager hurried past him, rushing to the desk.
"It already belongs to someone," the teenager said.
Milad. Kai's gaze followed the boy's path as the recruiter quickly ripped the name tag from the uniform and tossed it aside.
"Ah, yes, probably too small for the last guy," the recruiter muttered before handing the uniform over to Milad. "It's all yours."
"Thank you," Milad said, his voice sharp with eagerness.
Kai glanced down to see the discarded name tags on the ground—around thirty of them scattered carelessly. Reusing uniforms. Supplies are short.
Kai's attention turned back to the table, where several rifles were laid out in front of him. The recruiter reached for the first rifle, an American-made MacMillian Tac-50.
"You'll be using this for stealth operations," the recruiter explained, sliding the rifle toward Kai. "It's one of the best for precision."
Next, the recruiter grabbed a larger rifle and placed it beside the Tac-50: the Barrett M82A1. "If you need firepower, use this. It's a heavy hitter, but it'll do the job."
Kai's eyes narrowed as the recruiter handed him a third weapon—an Howa Type 20, a Japanese-made rifle. At least this one is familiar, Kai thought, his fingers brushing the stock.
The recruiter also handed him a set of goggles to attach to his visor. These would protect against the ever-present desert sand that could be blinding in the harsh environment.
Kai was thankful that he got better gear than anyone there.
Kai walked into the next room, his uniform in hand. The other recruits had already changed, their voices buzzing around the space. Some looked at him as he entered, noticing the dual flags on his uniform: Japan and Iran.
He quickly changed into the desert camo, slipping on his mask and anti-sand ski goggles. The ballistic armor felt light and snug—practical, though not something he'd ever want to wear for too long.
"Hey Rasoul, gonna start stealing all the ladies now?" a voice called from behind him, accompanied by laughter.
Rasoul chuckled. "I don't think you have to worry about me, but keep your eyes open."
"Just don't start shooting us," another teen quipped.
Kai ignored them, letting their voices fade into the background. As they continued their banter, Kai slipped out of the room. There was no reason to stay. He didn't need their distractions.
'No need to stick around and waste time with them.'
About thirty minutes later, Kai and the rest of the battalion were marching to the front. The heat of the desert was unrelenting, the dry air sticking to his skin, but he didn't break his stride, his face expressionless.
"Have a cup of tea, sugar and coffee! And a glass of milk! And a glass of milk! Girl I do love you! But I can't marry you yet! Wait another year and it will come true!" The chorus of the soldiers echoed around him, their voices carefree, but Kai paid no attention. It didn't matter. They were all just distractions.
After another hour, military transports arrived, and the battalion was split into squads. Kai was assigned to a truck with Milad, Rasoul, and two other soldiers whose names he couldn't be bothered to learn. A lieutenant moved down the rows of trucks, inspecting each soldier's rifle with cold, methodical precision.
He reached Milad's group last, and without any introduction, the lieutenant focused his attention on Taghi, the one who had been cracking jokes.
"Your name?" The lieutenant demanded.
"Taghi. Taghi Sayyadi, sir," the teenager replied, his voice uncertain, still caught in the haze of the earlier laughter.
"Do you like dirty women, Sayyadi?" The lieutenant's words were sharp, the kind that cut through any levity.
Taghi blinked, confused, glancing at the others, searching for some kind of signal. "Uh... no sir, I don't."
The lieutenant didn't miss a beat. "So why do you sleep with one?" His gaze dropped to Taghi's rifle, inspecting it closely. "Report for guard duty at three o'clock." He tossed the rifle at Taghi with a careless flick.
The lieutenant didn't wait for a response. "Gentlemen," he continued, his voice steady and cold, "you'll be fighting in a godforsaken shithole. And you'll do so kindly—with a clean G3 rifle. You will pamper it. You will love it. And damn it, you'll keep it as immaculate as Anahita." His words were laced with a sense of finality, as if there was no room for argument.
The lieutenant approached, his eyes narrowing as he scanned Kai.
"Why don't you have a rifle? Did you get lost grabbing yours? It seems we have our first death."
Kai didn't flinch at the remark, his voice calm. "No, sir."
Without a word, he turned to the bag beside him, pulling out the disassembled parts of his rifles. The lieutenant watched silently as Kai methodically spread the parts across the truck bed, each piece landing with precision. The assembly was quick—three minutes at most. His hands moved fluidly, practiced, not hurried, but efficient. The lieutenant said nothing as Kai completed the task.
"Ah," the lieutenant said, breaking the silence. "A hired gun. You seem young. Too young. Hand me one of your rifles."
Kai handed him the MacMillian Tac-50, its sleek black frame gleaming in the sunlight. The lieutenant inspected it with a quick glance.
"MacMillian Tac-50 with a suppressor. Looks spotless."
Kai simply nodded.
The lieutenant shifted his attention to the next rifle, the Barrett M82A1. His eyebrows raised slightly.
"Barrett M82A1. Who do you have to know to get two of the most powerful snipers in the world?"
"I don't know," Kai replied coolly, his tone devoid of any hint of pride or explanation. "It was what I was supplied with."
The lieutenant paused, taken aback by the simplicity of the answer, but didn't press further. He moved on to the final rifle: the Howa Type-20. His eyes flicked to Kai.
"Howa Type-20. One from your home country?"
Kai nodded once, the motion almost imperceptible. "Yes."
"They're all spotless," the lieutenant muttered, clearly impressed despite himself.
He walked toward the back of the truck, his gaze drifting outside. A moment of silence hung in the air before he turned back.
"Welcome to the Saberin Battalion. We're on the front now."
Kai didn't respond, his expression unchanged as the truck rumbled forward, the weight of the moment sinking in without a word from him.
"Welcome to Baghdad!" The soldiers shouted from the back of the trucks, their voices full of unrestrained energy.
Kai didn't react. He simply began dismantling his weapons, his movements efficient as he stowed them back in his bag, already focused on the task at hand.
The truck moved steadily for a while until it suddenly slowed, coming to a halt. Kai's attention shifted, sensing the change.
"Damn it, what happened?" The lieutenant's voice broke through the silence as he opened the flap to assess the situation. A doctor hurried toward the truck.
"I have orders to hand over the company to the front by 6:00 p.m.," the doctor said, breathless.
"You may, but on foot," the lieutenant snapped, his tone hard. "You'll give us the truck."
"With all due respect, I have orders—"
"Take your orders and shove them," the lieutenant interrupted. "I have 40 men here dying in the sand. Get out now."
The lieutenant paused, then barked, "Everyone out!"
Kai calmly slid out of the truck and surveyed the scene. Men were scattered around, some with wounds, others groaning in pain. It didn't faze him. The sight only reminded him of the sterile lab environments from his past—experiments, injuries, poisons. The difference was that here, the stakes were real.
'Fascinating. They're not dead yet. So many failures, yet they still survive.'
"Come on, move it!" A shout broke his thoughts.
The battalion began marching forward, but their steps were sluggish, their energy all but drained. Kai walked without hesitation, his pace steady and controlled, his expression unreadable.
"Faster, soldiers. Keep moving," the lieutenant barked from the rear.
Kai could hear him speaking to one of Milad's friends, the one whose name he hadn't learned yet.
"Vahid Blourian, correct?" the lieutenant demanded.
"Yes, sir."
"The Supreme Army Command expects you to survive for six weeks out here. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Yes, sir," Vahid answered, his voice tight.
"Then move faster! Stop dragging your feet like you're still at home! Do you understand?!"
"Yes, sir."
"Hurry up. This isn't a tea party!"
Just as the words left his mouth, a deafening explosion rocked the ground beside them. The soldiers scattered, diving to the dirt in instinctive response.
"Gas!" The lieutenant shouted.
"Gas!" the soldiers echoed in panic.
Kai's hand moved without hesitation, pulling his mask from around his neck and securing the gas mask in place. The faintest fog appeared as he exhaled, his breath steady and measured, a faint hum filling the silence of the mask. It wasn't discomfort that filled him, but focus. His body and mind had been conditioned to function in these moments. The chaos around him—voices, panic—was noise he could ignore. The only thing that mattered now was survival.
"Gas masks on!"
The order rang out through the battalion, but Kai didn't hesitate. His hands moved with precision, the mask fitting over his face without a moment's delay. Around him, soldiers scrambled, some faster than others.
"That, gentlemen, was a fat cow. If the Iraqis could aim better, you'd be scraping us off the road, burying us in a saucepan," the lieutenant continued, his voice sharp and unbothered. "But one thing that's as certain as going to Najaf for pilgrimage? Fat cows don't carry gas. Eyes straight ahead."
Kai barely registered the words. The lieutenant's attempt to motivate was redundant. The soldiers' reactions were predictable. He observed, his focus on the task.
The lieutenant's gaze narrowed as he walked toward Milad, who was still struggling with his gas mask.
"Are you deaf?" The lieutenant barked.
"No, sir. I was just trying to put my mask on," Milad stammered, fumbling.
The lieutenant didn't respond immediately. Instead, he stared at Milad for a long moment, then spoke again, his voice cold.
"Milad Panahi, you'll almost certainly be dead by dawn. You should eat something."
The lieutenant's words were matter-of-fact, but Kai didn't blink. The truth, while harsh, was irrelevant. People like Milad and Rasoul would falter under pressure. It was inevitable.
"Attention, gas masks off!" The lieutenant ordered.
"Gas masks off!"
He turned to Milad again.
"Not you. You keep yours on until guard duty tonight. Both you and that useless cow."
'Rasoul had trouble putting his mask on and Milad helped him. Selflessness can be a strength, but in war, it's a liability.' Kai thought to himself, his gaze distant.
"Fall in line. March."
"Fall in line!"
The battalion moved forward, their steps uncoordinated but determined, the urgency of the moment weighing on them. The weather began to shift as they marched. Kai didn't react to the rain that began to fall, his focus unbroken.
'Rain in the desert. Some weird oxymoron.'
They reached the trenches, and as soon as Kai's boots hit the ground, the world around him erupted in chaos—gunfire and explosions rocking the earth. His reflexes were practiced, automatic. He ducked into the trench as the battalion scrambled for cover.
"Come on. Milad, give me your knapsack. Next time you carry mine," Vahid ordered.
Milad pushed him away with a half-hearted effort. Kai remained silent, his eyes locked on the actions around him. The trench began to fill with water, the environment turning more hostile by the second.
Wounded soldiers limped past, seeking medical aid, their faces grim with pain. It didn't faze Kai. He moved with purpose, always observing, always calculating.
"Congratulations, soldiers. This is your new home now. Helmets off."
Kai removed his helmet, revealing his black hair as he looked around, the battlefield's reality settling in. His expression was unreadable.
"I see the men have been enjoying themselves in my absence, Meysam." A voice called from the shadows.
"We were under barrage all night. The men are a mess," Meysam replied, shaking his head as he surveyed the group.
"I think dry boots would be a good place to start," Meysam muttered.
Kai didn't speak. His attention was already elsewhere. He watched, as he always did, the shifting dynamics of survival and conflict. The world around him spun in chaos, but his presence remained quiet, steady, unnoticed. It was always better this way.
"Come on, everyone pitch in! Bail out the trench!"
"Get in line! Bail out the trench!" The lieutenant barked, moving down the row.
Kai remained still, observing the scene with little interest. The chaos around him didn't faze him.
The lieutenant walked past Milad, his gaze narrowing as he pulled off Milad's gas mask.
"What are you waiting for, Panahi?"
Milad took a long breath, letting the rain hit his face as if relieved to be rid of the mask.
"Why are you still loitering here? Go help bail out the trenches." The lieutenant moved on, his voice as stern as ever.
Kai stood quietly behind Milad, taking in the situation. The trench was already flooded with water and mud, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to navigate.
"Throw a dog a piece of meat," an older soldier said from behind them, smoke billowing from his cigarette.
"Come on! All of you!" The lieutenant shouted down the trench, demanding cooperation.
"It will always snap it up. Give a man power... Man is a beast. Drink." The older soldier passed Milad a flask of water.
"Diba, come over here. Give us a hand," the older soldier called.
Diba glanced up at the sky and then around the trench. "It'll be worse tonight," he said cryptically.
Kai's attention shifted as he followed Diba's movements. The rest of Milad's group was already working to scoop out the wet sand and water with their helmets.
"Sorry," Rasoul muttered as Milad arrived, his face strained from the work.
"Forget it," Milad replied, though his tone was anything but casual.
Kai stood silently, looking at the task ahead. The rain poured, and the trench became more of a swamp with each passing minute.
'It'll only get worse. We haven't even fought a real battle yet.'
"Just shut up, Rasoul."
"My hands... I can't feel them anymore," Rasoul groaned, visibly struggling.
"Stick them down in your underwear," Diba suggested nonchalantly, as if the solution were simple.
"It always works for me."
The others, including Milad and Rasoul, followed suit, each stuffing their cold hands inside their clothes. Kai remained impassive, not bothering to follow the others' actions. His body was already accustomed to discomfort, and he had no need for temporary relief.
"Why aren't you doing it?" Taghi asked, glancing at Kai as the group continued to work.
"I don't know. They just aren't," Kai answered, his voice flat.
"Are you Iranian? You have two flags on your uniform."
"No, I'm Japanese."
"Why are you here then? Isn't your country really far away?"
"Yeah. It's far."
"So?"
"I'm here because I was ordered to."
The group fell silent for a moment, and then Taghi asked again, "So why are you really here?"
"I was ordered to be here by my..." Kai hesitated. He didn't know how to explain the professor's role. "Parental guardian."
"Hm?"
"The person who has to watch over me until I turn 20."
"Oh."
The group didn't press further, and soon, their conversation drifted into something more casual. Kai stayed quiet, tuning them out as the day grew darker and colder. The work was endless, but his focus never wavered. It was simply a matter of endurance, something he knew well.
Eventually, the trench was drained enough for the soldiers to call it a night.
"Call it a night!" someone yelled from further down.
Kai dragged his exhausted body to a small space in the trench, carving out a spot to sit. He climbed onto it, letting his boots rest, glad for the dryness beneath him. The quiet was welcome. It was, after all, just another step in what was sure to be a long, difficult process.
I rewrote this chapter and will continue this story from scratch