Two Enemies Meet in an Odd White World (KdM Map Game)

==Description==
A story about Tomoe Gozen and Bulijin Khatun. It takes place in a headcanon or vision of the year 1987 in the KdM Universe. It features historical figures in a modern setting and features Fate elements.
Written by Anime_Nerd_Kuro 
The year is 1987. The Cold War is in full swing between the Original States of North America and the Japanese Socialist Union; nuclear weapons and nuclear hellfire always a consideration. But there is a new phenomenon. The JSU raises the 'figure of socialist enlightenment', Ojirou Souji; and all hell breaks loose. Left and right the world searches every nook and cranny to find the next famous figure summoned to the modern world and gain a vital edge over the other side in an ever-escalating battle of the ages. 
In Antarctica, one Tomoe Gozen finds herself wandering the icy wastes; found by a fellow summoned and former enemy Bulijin Khatun, the two find themselves trapped in a geopolitical scheme larger than either of them. But as the doomsday clock hits midnight, the War of the Summoned is about to explode into a world-wide conflict; and the world hangs in the balance. 
Wattpad version here: https://www.wattpad.com/882417575-tales-from-kdm-two-enemies-meet-in-an-odd-white
==[1] ==
“We can roam the bloated stacks of the Library of Alexandria, where all imagination and knowledge are assembled; we can recognize in its destruction the warning that all we gather will be lost.” - Alberto Miguel
Perhaps, I consider it the greatest sorrow that human beings find themselves unable to change. Maybe it is the nostalgia, the pride, the emptiness - there is an instinctive, miraculous pull of the mind to pretend that there is nothing wrong, and that there is nothing necessary or worthy of even the tiniest bit of reform, and ultimately, even the first step towards the future.
Well. That’s… hypocritical, coming from me.
I must admit, I’m not a particularly good… leader. Or person. At least I don’t think I was a bad one. I guess I wasn’t born for the job, or maybe there’s some click of the environments that made that possible for others to be natural orators and fiery speakers, and I… rather withdrawn. I’m better at, thinking, I’d like to say, better at the mind and simple skills than the incredible effort of forward charges and unnecessary sacrifice.
Probably why I took up the bow. And then switched to the crossbow faster than… most of my comrades. I don’t think they really respected the crossbow. Something about the crossbow being an affront unto the very idea of archery? Rubbish. You don’t win wars and win battles with honour, as much as that’d be nice. You win them with tactics and strategy and in the lucky case you get someone incredibly exceptional who wins without either. That’s rare, though. 
But on those last moments on that bed with all those infuriating clan leaders and advisors and god knows who they kept sending to talk to me, I found myself… unable, to think. That repetitive lifestyle where they felt the need to feed me and house me and clothe me like some kind of a baby. It was always that issue, of succession, and I hadn’t bothered appointing one. I’m not about to deliberately cause a civil war. I left it to my head advisor, Morioka, to do the deed after I was gone. Smart fellow. Always so… introspective, winning over the hearts of everyone I couldn’t speak to. He made me a hero. I’m not a hero.
...what I am, that is left for further decision.
Closing your eyes in the last days of life is… well, they say it’s going to be comforting and you’re going to be in a better place, but I’m not sure. Maybe Amaterasu was one for creating heavenly paradise for the deserving, but I’m not very deserving at all. Nor was I particularly pious in the way that the Han missionaries asked me to consider. It’s probably just my personal paranoia, but I’ve never quite hooked onto the entire idea that things are… better, when everything’s over. That you worked your entire life and it somehow all works out. Souji didn’t. Travelled the span of an entire continent to meet an old friend and gets bitten by an insect and dies in horrible, horrible pain. That’s not a reward. That’s some sick bastard’s idea of atonement.
But shutting those eyes for the last time is indeed, cathartic. It’s all over now, I assured myself. It’s all over. All the sins and all the crimes, goodbye. Not my problem. I just wanted to vanish into the black and figure it all out in whatever void they dropped me off in.
Then, there wasn’t a void. 
Yes, what greeted me was a great, grand sea of white, yes, but the sky was above me. And it was freezing. The gusts of wind and a blizzard approaching on the horizon and some utter genius decided, yes, you know what, let’s give you back that… I’d like to say 35 kilograms of armour I wore in public. Not even in battle, it’s impractical when you’re not the general and even as a general I didn’t wear it. But a bright, red, sore in this frozen wasteland where all hopes and dreams go to die. Some practical joke indeed.
On the way through the land of ice and snow, snow so thick I’d imagine it’d bury Kyoto. Not that anything seemed to be buried - this sea remained open to me, but its nature almost comically stagnant. I did run into a few curious-looking birds who waddled on over the land and retreated from my presence at first instinct, something which I found myself feeling slighted by. Fat little, pudgy little… I later learned that they’re apparently viewed as adorable little things, but personally I didn’t see it.
The sun never set. Not in the afternoon nor in the evening; I considered staying awake for a full day and I did so just to see the sun not only never move from its position but astonishingly seemingly burned brighter just for the sake of rubbing it in.
Blizzard after blizzard assailed me. I myself avoided the larger mammals walking the land like some parents protecting their children; traipsing around blue-grey mountains and some red canyons along the way. An endless passage curtailing the depths of time with the simple boredom of the entire thing. Boredom. I believe that’s what struck me. No hunger, no pain, just a lifeless, feelingless void. So this is what the afterlife looks like, I had surmised, until I came upon a building.
A short, stubby, yellow cuboid that stuck out in the snow. Or rather, several yellow cuboids connected by what looked like wrapping-paper tubes with a long flagpole flying above the entire mess. A familiar red circle, surrounded with unfamiliar insignia - three stripes, all of the same red, ducking behind the hinomaru and ending on the other end; curious.
I stepped closer. The structure seemed to be made of some kind of… brick, I’d assumed, stone, but much too fine. Then I saw it glimmer in the sunlight that never ended and realised it was metal - gold? No, the colour looked much too dull, I realised; I turned the corner to see Kanji and Hiragana that read:
‘Under the jurisdiction of the Union of Japanese Socialists - only to be entered by explicit order - trespassers will be shot’
Questions. Questions abounded in my mind. ‘Japan’? This is the name they had adopted - no, it couldn’t - what was I looking at? My mind fluttered - perhaps they could screw up the name of ‘Nihon’, but what the hell was a ‘socialist’? What was this building? No, 
Where was I?
No, this isn’t some better place, I established to myself. Where, then? Where possibly could I be? Not a tree in sight and mountain peaks, no nights and just days - where - where?
And then, some bastard jabbed me in the back and pushed me to the ground. Face-first into thick, deep snow and all I could think about right there and then was dear god it’s freezing. 
“Alright, who the fuck are you…” First time I’d cursed since Kangeinoshima, but it was astonishingly comfortable to dump that little tidbit of a slur out of my mouth as I got back up to my feet to find the end of a metal rod facing down my forehead, a faceless armoured figure holding it up to my head. A cannon? I surmised, observing the very tubular nature of the device, although I couldn’t much figure out at a glance how it was to be loaded. 
“Put your hands up and stand down!”
“Put my hands…” Rolling my eyes, I did as he asked. Droll attitude as far as I’m concerned, ordering people around you like that… actually, I did that as well. Nevermind. What occupied my mind was the matter that holding up the shoulder plates was actually incredibly heavy.
“Command, we’ve… I think we’ve got a S hostile.”
Then, a crackling noise. A voice fizzled out from his chest pocket - some metallic device hidden underneath the thick white fur coat he wore as he pointed the weapon at my head buzzing away. “Wait for further orders”, I presume it continued, but I rolled my eyes and did what I was best at doing: knocking people out.
A jab on the stomach and a bit of commandeering later, I found myself holding what appeared to be a cannon placed on a crossbow. Curious. The soldier’s armour and coat looked paper-thin compared to mine, but I figured it’d be abandoning the poor soul to freezing his ass off.
“Excuse me?”
I turned around. It was a woman’s voice emanating from that faceless figure standing ahead of me. Thick woolen coat, puffing out in all sides; a few markings here and there. I could make out browned skin behind the facemask and the goggles but not particularly an identity. 
“Uh, yes, what is it?”
“I’m looking for a young, stout man who might be wandering around here. Have you seen one?”
“No.”
“Right. Right…” Her voice trailed off, clearly crestfallen.
I had to ask, even if she was preoccupied with her own matters. “Wait! Where am I?” She turned around and simply remained there, stout and distant.
“You don’t know?” The woman asked. “You’re a spirit as well, aren’t you?”
“Spirit?” I repeated, running that term through my head. I thought of the little will-o-wisps living around us, the spirits we prayed to at a shrine, but not particularly anything of the sort she seemed to be considering. “What spirit?”
“Uh… newly summoned, oh…” She muttered to herself. “What’s your name?”
I gave it as told. “Tomoe Gozen.” 
The next minute of total and utter silence confounded me. Exactly what this place was or where this was eluded me no less than her quiet reaction. Then, she took down her mask, revealing a marked, bruised and scarred face; with wide, focused eyes, she stared at me for what felt like eternity.
“...you’re joking.” Hearing those words uttered gave rise to a little sense of annoyance somewhere within me. Something about the woman seemed to remind me of someone - perhaps her appearance?
“I’m not- who are you?”
“I, I… what, wha… you’ve got to be kidding me, uh,” The stammering only continued to confuse me. What on earth-
Then the atmosphere tore open. A torrent of great metal husks careened through the air, before the echoing voice of a woman sounded, “Stand down! I repeat, stand down! Surrender immediately!” That time it wasn’t Japanese - some foreign language that somehow I could understand nonetheless. As I stood there in the snow astounded at the positively marvelous craft descending upon the ground she waved a strange contraption with a green light bulb. 
“Pollock?” She addressed one of the soldiers storming out of the flying machines, the screaming noise of the propellers above shouting over her. “What the hell is this?”
The soldier pointed at me. “Detected a spirit spawn five weeks ago! Command wants her on board before Nippies find out we got her!”
“‘Got her’? She’s - she was - the literal Empress of a country, damn! And, and my son! Where the hell is Atman?”
“Beats me, Khatun, you can go find out some other time!” 
Khatun? 
“Bullshit! I’ve been cooperating with you lot for two years now, I’m going to see my son hell or high water!”
Something rang through my brain. Age always undermined me, but it was coming back.
“It’s not my orders - special orders from the INS!” 
Wait.
“...shit!”
“Bulijin Khatun?” I shouted aloud, turning around to look at her in the face. The soldier and the woman both turned to look at me; the soldier then raising that damned weapon of his at my head. 
“Miss, we’re here to get you to safety!”
I balked. And at the same time as the woman, we both uttered the words, 
“Bullshit.”
She groaned. “Do you lie to every goddamn person you meet?”
“Safety? That’s a cannon, isn’t it?” I muttered under my breath, stepping forward cautiously. If what I’d assumed was correct I could be dead within just several seconds and I wouldn’t even know it.
“Whatever. Get in the heli.” The soldier responded to both of us, glancing towards the black-steel mess that whirred about to his left. “You’re needed.”
Pinching my hair for a moment while contemplating, I soon found that the soldier’s staring towards me seemed to be one of fear rather than one of arrogance. No one prodded me - no one prodded Khatun, for that matter - to get into the vehicle. Even then I’m not sure the decision to enter was ever really inevitable - perhaps driven by the sight of a former adversary in such an odd environment. 
But regardless of what the decision’s nature was to be, I quietly sat down on one of the seats inside the tight black cage before the doors slid shut; and the strangest uplifting sensation occurred. I thought I knew what was going to occur but I didn’t genuinely comprehend the feeling of being lifted up into the air by some mad machine, the pure shock of having the very ground below my feet consistently and rapidly ascend above.  I chattered, the cold of the outside dissipating for the first time in weeks as a hot blast burned up from beneath me, little slits at the sides of the aircraft shooting up heat like some better saviour. I shifted ever so slightly closer to the wall of the machine simply to embrace that warmth but for a fleeting moment.
“So,” I turned to see Khatun taking off her thick winter coat and pull out a small glass bottle, “How long you’ve been here?”
“I… probably a few weeks just wandering around there.” I stopped and looked down on the ground. “So you’re that Khatun.”
“Mm.”
“Great Conqueror of the Daevites, I see… Souji talked about you a lot.” The simultaneous loathing yet breadth of respect I had for the figure came together in my tone, I imagine. Then again, war is a partaking that no person finds themselves clean in. I wouldn’t blame her.
Gulping down the pale brown contents of the bottle, she asked, “What happened to her?”
“Ah. Um… I’m told she came down with a terrible malady at the end of her journey back to Syonan and died. I attended the funeral at her ancestral family home.” It’d been so long ago I spoke the words without thinking. 
“...did she think well of me when you spoke?”
I told her as much as I knew. “‘Think’ well? She wanted me to ask you for an alliance. She said it’d be beneficial - to Nihon, to your empire, to Syonan - she never even hesitated in speaking of your greatness even in one of her last letters.” 
I swallowed the bitterness for but a brief moment to know that such a strong-willed young person would even come forward to me and be so… direct, with her words. Then again, we were all young then. I but a soldier and she but another soldier, just… impressive soldiers. It renders me no harm to consider her a friend, but somehow right there and then it slightly tore at me to think of her as one.
Khatun, keeping the now-empty bottle in her coat, looked at me as I stared out the glass panels. She seemed relieved. “This is new to you, I assume?”
“...yes. Where are we?”
“The last continent. The newest continent. Terra Australis, I’m told that’s what they’ve called it.”
“A continent of ice and snow?”
“Exactly. Most of the land’s really just a bunch of big and small islands.” She commented, taking a look outside at the great white yonder. 
Both of us took to our own devices, not exactly accustomed to speaking with each other... given our particular circumstances. I quietly took to shedding the immense load of armour covering my entire body, dumping the pieces at my feet as I heaved a great sigh of relief taking off the taxing endeavour. 
Quietly, but surely, I decided against keeping my eyes open for the dreadfully boring trip, and with the last sight in my eyes being Khatun holding out a small metal tablet, I drifted off to a long-withheld rest.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Ma’am.” The first word I heard as my eyes struggled open; the accidental reverence quite… uncomfortable.
And the first sight? A sprawling mess of spires and towers, poking into the sky like some kind of statement to whatever lay beyond; a grey rock face jutting into the banks of two rivers forking away from the ocean into a great conglomerate of the blocky kind, jutting from the ground in a semi-orderly manner.
“Welcome to Manahahtaan.”
I blinked, still staring outside. “Where?”
“America.”
“Huh…” I didn’t exactly process the name the soldier had informed me of, eyes transfixed on the world below, a thousand glistening lights waving to me from below. My mind drifted between little questions, but the incredulity burned into my brain hinting with a small sense of excitement allowed me to ignore it. 
“You look real happy.” Khatun remarked, still staring at the device in her hands. 
“It’s… it’s rather…” I found myself lost for words. “Fascinating.”
“Oh, you’ll hate it. Maybe I’ll get a drink buddy after you find out everything going on around these parts,” she scowled, taking another swig of another bottle. The stench of alcohol wafted through the air, more pungent than sake and I suspect more potent than it too. “This is the future.”
“Mm…” I didn’t bother with the offhand comment she’d made, a sense of tininess enveloping me as the craft began to descend, bringing us ever-closer to the buildings and sky-scrapers. The thousand lights became hundreds flashing by as the noise of whirring and grinding reached my ears, the night sky turning the windows into a kind of mirror. 
Faintly but surely, I could see that odd head of lilac hair that I had been spawned into that frozen land with; two bright red irises staring back at me. I looked vaguely like I had all those years ago, the recolouring and changing only altering the look of my younger self to some kind of demon. Perhaps an oni’s horns belonged there too.
“Canaan, we clear to land?” The pilot continued speaking aloud into the black box on his chest pocket. Like the other devices, which I soon learnt was called a walkie-talkie - terrible name - I could faintly hear a voice blaring out; “Cleared for pad 2L. Goodnight SF39.”
Watching the pale grey ground come closer ever so slowly the blinking bulbs finally shut off as the aircraft allowed the force of nature to trap it upon the ground once more. The soldiers, pulling the door open, pointed outwards.
“That’s him. Uh, the liason.” They remarked, helping me out of the tight metal cage and out onto the sturdy stone floor. “Agent! Got what you wanted!”
“G’job! Your country thanks you.” The man, draped in a particularly dark shade of black with a collar connecting a fabric tie down back into the sleek, glistening coat, bowed as I approached, his face hidden by a mask all the same as Khatun when she’d first come close.
He stretched out his hand. “Miss! Good day for it, innit?”
I stumbled through that answer before muttering, “Good day for what?”
“Expression. You’ll hear a lot of those around here, might want to catch up.” He picked up my hand and pressed what I presumed was his face against it - I recoiled in sheer annoyance from the act. “Now, where are my manners… welcome to the O.S.N.A, year, 1978.”
I stopped. 1978?
“Oh, yes, you did use a special calendar… it’s been approximately 750 years since you died. Welcome to the future.”
750…
That, that was difficult to take in. Perhaps I couldn’t wrap my head around it - well, that isn’t a question, I definitely couldn’t wrap my head around it. To me, that stream of consciousness had been ever-consistent, never breaking. Then again, roaming the icy wastes of the last and least hospitable continent on Earth had dulled my capacity for shock; or at least my ability to express it.
Seven-hundred fifty years.
...maybe I was just pretending that I was fine as the masked man led me down a flight of stairs, treading through the chamber of stone with little small glimpses at the nightlife outside. 
“Where are the stars?” I muttered the only question I had that didn’t involve my very existence.
“Light pollution. Can’t see them in this day and age.”
...bad idea. 
And then, we stopped. He fiddled with a lock on a door which he then drew open; pushing the dark oak to reveal a pale, sterile room with all the joy possible to find sucked out of it. Drab as all hell, a general colour palette of an old inkspill and most of all, a terribly pungent smell of dried blood. I put up a mental guard.
“So. Miss… Tomoe Gozen, I take it?”
“If you already knew, no need to say it. What do you want?” I spit, a slight sense of unease behind the words.
“Oh, relax. Well, don’t relax, it’s quite imperative you listen.” He relaxed, curling his hands around like some kind of exercise, then taking a stroll to the table. Each step he took only made me more uncomfortable, caught up in a wave of considerations.
Khatun stood beside me, seemingly disinterested - playing with that tablet of hers again. I took a glance of the neon-coloured screen, little baubles and tools occupying it - couldn’t understand the charm.
Click. A white rectangle flickered to life on the wall, rattling a picture into being.
“Sorry we couldn’t get you a phone, but the Nippies track those too easy.” He remarked, using that same term. I asked, “What’s a nippie?”
“It’s their way of referring to you. And your people.” Khatun quietly commented, going back to messing with her device. He chuckled and nodded, replying, “As she said.” 
“Is that… well, that’s not, that’s not very…” I hadn’t the words for it. Derogatory? Yes - but what did it mean? The attitude was, well… flippant. Strangely, incredibly, flippant. Waltzing about his mask shifted ever so slightly to make it seem as if he was grinning - he was, perhaps - and I only withdrew more and more.
“Well, that’s what you are. A nippie.” He took off the hat that had laid on his head, revealing a bald head covered in bandages; then holding up a controller of sorts and changing the white rectangle to a map. Draped in red, blue and grey, it seemingly depicted an unorthodox series of landmasses crashing against one another, a puzzle torn apart by sea, and squiggly lines running across the landmasses whole. 
A world map. 
He pointed up at the screen. “This, is the world we live in today.”
The blue. “This is us. Organisation of Free Nations. Would say good guys but I suppose you lot don’t agree.”
The grey. “This is the pussies who don’t want to fight and are chickening out.”
The red. “That’s those commie cock-suckers and their nippie overlords.” I mentally pretended not to hear him belabour on the rest; the screeching noises emerging from the man more infuriating and insulting to my intelligence than a dozen clan leaders thrashing the court for a prize.
“And this is my ultimatum.”
There. There it was.
“See this?”
A flash.
I stared, unblinking, as the screen turned to a blinding white then trended back to a great mushroom cloud, billowing over the world like some kind of godly encounter. No sound was needed to drive home the fact that this was a weapon. An incredibly potent weapon.
“Dropped this on Berlin thirty years ago. You’ll be amazed how fast that knocked those bastards out.” A snicker. I took no notice of the callousness as I stared at the picture presented before me, unfolding. 
“This can’t be real.”
“It is, and we’ve about a couple thousand we’d be glad to drop on you nips.” Roaring laughter sickened me as I slowly but surely turned to see the man in hysterics.
“No, no… you’re joking.”
Bang.
A plume of smoke burned up from the floor next to me.
“.44 Magnum. Strongest revolver in the West. We make those and sell them to college graduates, wanna see what we make for soldiers? For war?”
I’d nothing to say, stepping away from the smouldering wreck of a floorboard and quietly muttering, “No…”
“That’s the spirit. So here’s a deal. We set you up a nice cushy place in this ol’ OSNA, you don’t do any fishy shit like go over to the Nip, and whatever the hell we want. In exchange, we don’t turn Tokyo into a pancake. Hell, you can get nice lil’ privileges like your brown friend over there, you dig?”
What did that mean?
“-tch, agree or no agree? Putting shit like this is tiring…”
“...agree.”
He put his hat back on, checking his wrist. “Fucking great! I’ll tell the boys to set you up with an apartment, and you better listen to them on your incognito training!”
Still stunned, I slid down the side of the wall, thinking about everything. The suited man left through the door while just me and Khatun remained; both silent. She’d put down her device, and was now staring at me directly in the eyes - a kindly, almost sad look.
I glanced away. Everything didn’t make sense.
“...you okay?”
How do you respond to that?
“...hey, I getcha. New world out here.” 
“What’d I miss?” I blurted out. The only thing I knew to ask. 
She closed her eyes, and replied, “Nothing I can’t teach you.”
==(2)==
Things never change.
Well, the environments and the actors and the fighters and the circumstances do, but really, end of the day? No difference where I’m standing. A conqueror by any name is still a conqueror. I’d know. You can talk about dreams, talk about visions, what you’re going to do when you win, but you never will. 
Never will.
I’m very sure how long I’ve been here. Two years and three hundred sixty-three days. The counting’s just… it’s just something I do. I don’t like it, but it’s habit now. Last time I did something that wasn’t wasting myself at a bar was when they told me they’d set up a meeting, in-person, with Atman. 
Damn, all the preparations I made - repeated what I wanted to say, even thought up and reflected on so much. Wanted to tell him something after all these years that I never got to or even just say something. And then no.No reason, no response, just… no.
Shed a tear on the ride back. Wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion of trekking the ice for days or just the sheer anger running through my veins. Stared at the soldier next to me and contemplated for a full hour slitting her throat, taking the wheel of the helicopter and flying off somewhere - then I realised that I didn’t know how to fly one. Figures. 
...did I really repent all the killing? Somehow, something tells me I didn’t.
All the…
...no use talking about it now. I guess. Feels like I’ve forgotten something.
I brought up my spare phone, scrolled down through the dozen or so apps I’d downloaded and finally found the contacts list hiding in a corner. Bringing it up, took down the latest number as I’d remembered. She changed those a lot. I tucked it in between my ear and arm as I swallowed another gulp of that whiskey - not as good as that akevitt from back in the day, but then again, I barely even remember the actual taste.
“Who is this?”
The right voice. I sighed as I replied, “Your old pal, ‘getting spied on by a bunch of pale guys’.”
“Buli! It’s been a month, how are you?” Ojirou’s voice cracked to life. Never really figured her for the kind to be anything less than incredibly sweet to people she really shouldn’t give that amount of niceties to. I smiled, replying, “As good as ever. Started up a distillery down in Tradailcaladh, trying to get business partners that aren’t the Federals.”
She snickered. “Well, as long as you’re doing something with that alcoholism. How did the meeting with Atman go?”
Pausing to catch my breath, I replied, “Uh, didn’t… didn’t get to meet him.”
“What? Why?!”
“Ah, just, just… I guess they took him away somewhere else again, ahaha…”
“That’s insane - and they promised.”
“Relax! Relax… it’s fine. He’s… I think he’s fine, maybe he’s finally getting that break he so desperately wanted when he was with me!” The laugh that left my mouth was about as empty as a plain in the tundra. Oji didn’t laugh.
“Why do you keep staying with them… I’d be more than willing to force the folks here to let you in, you know!”
I balked. “I… they’ll, they’ll kill him. What am I supposed to do, be a hero?”
“Just tell me if you want me to come over with the other spirits and break him out-”
“I told you, it’s a collar. An special explosive collar draped around his neck like it’s some kind of a prize and if he’s ever considered ‘lost’ or they can’t get communications he - he dies.” Out of breath. Again. The reason why I couldn’t ever keep my cool with her talking about Atman - my own son, at that - was out of my reach. 
I groaned, took another drink, and continued. “Sorry. Sorry… I - I get caught up sometimes.”
“You need to stop the drinking, Buli… you know more than anyone that it’s taking a toll on you.”
“You think I don’t know that?” I groused, my thumb wavering ever-closer to the red button below. “I know it. I just don’t know how to stop.”
“...”
Ah, she’s taking pity on me again. Why… why. It doesn’t - never did make sense that she cared that much for a sparring partner. Should go for a match sometime, it’s not like the guys down at the boxing gym don’t know me - maybe one of those ‘wargames’ they keep talking about.
“...so, what else has been going on?”
“Well,” I stopped. Then continued anyways, assuming she wouldn’t consider it much of a shock. “I found your old friend from Japan.”
“Huh? Who?”
“Empress. Shogun-Empress Tomoe Gozen,” I checked my schedule. Introducing that woman to the ropes wouldn’t have took up too much time, maybe I could fit in a fencing match an hour later in the afternoon. “Shocked?”
“...wow.” Surprised. Bad kind of surprise or good kind of surprise? Bad kind. It’s always been bad kind when she waits this long to say it.
“So, she got reincarnated too…”
“Yeah. I’m uh, teaching her the ropes here.”
“You’re what?” I heard a noise on the other end. Did she drop a cup or something… 
“Sorry about that, dropped my mug.” Never changes with her. I should really have asked her if she’s carrying or holding anything before I tell her things like that. It’d probably have slipped my mind by the next time we had a convo, though.
She seemed perturbed. “...you’re, leading around… you do realise she was the war hero they loved so much that they made her Empress? Of Nihon, at that? She accepted that of all things - she told me never to even talk about you!”
“People change, I guess.”
“And you? You? Did you forget the entire ‘gloating about your end’ festival they had every few years, are you kidding?!”
“...felt kinda sorry for her in that state.” Well, I mean, stupid reason, but it is the truth. Looked like a scared little child when she just slid down the wall like she’d literally lost everything. Well, she had, but!
But.
Ah.
“You’re way too… flippant when it comes to this kind of thing,” She growled. “Could you pass her my contact, then? Changing it in a day, I’m not letting anyone find out about our chats.”
Not even a question. I said “Sure.”
“Might call her up at some point, have a conversation… ah, well. How’re you? Outside of the… y’know.”
“Eh. Bored, mostly. Wish I could have a sparring match with you like the old days, fighting people here is like a god stamping on a mortal. Too easy.”
Chuckling, I heard from her end. “Buli, knowing you, you’ve probably lost your touch.”
Nah.
“Nah.”
Oops. Leaked out…
“If you say so. Listen, I’ve… I’ve gotta go now.” She paused. Could hear the reluctance on this end. “Talk to you some other time, ‘kay?”
“Yeah. See ya, Oji.” With that, I heard the beep. Time was up again. Jotting down the ten-digit number she sent me I scarcely finished it before her contact was yet again gone and another message board confined to being visible to my eyes only. I’d have to delete it as well, but I felt like scrolling through it just for the kicks; and for the memories. Wish I had one of these back in the day…
But then again, the list would just be longer. People I killed, people whose deaths I caused, ranging from the tens of thousands to the millions. I accepted a long time ago that I was a monster in human form - being a heroic spirit just made that literal for me. My ‘special ability’? A murder beam; too perfect. I guessed that I was better off staying here, never doing anything, never hurting anyone. Maybe Oji could drop by, if the war ended.
Yes, there was a war. A war between me. And Ojirou. Well, not us personally - that’d be ridiculous - but between two countries. The Original States of North America and the Japanese Socialist Union. Both had their own empires, their own alliances, their own friends, waging little tiny wars in places I’d never gone to. Conquest was an old friend - I’d recognised it from the start - and I couldn’t care much to fight for either of the conquerors. They wanted me out of the war or on their side. I picked the former. I was done with it - war - and I hadn’t many grand ambitions. Finally getting to say something to that son of mine was one of the few bigger things I had in mind, and they just wouldn’t allow it.
Oji was their poster girl - the one whom they made their grand matriarch. ‘Symbol of socialist enlightenment’, they announced. ‘Hero of Japan’, although I didn’t much remember her coming from the four main islands. She never talked about it, and deep down I understood why.
None of us are heroes. Maybe we can tell ourselves we are, but we’re just another few people in a long line of conquerors, fighting for other conquerors. Well, I wasn’t. Not anymore. More than content with drinking and quietly having a private life in a city that never seemed to stop, slow down; one that could do without me.
The thoughts seemed to pass through my head faster as the dawn broke on Upper Manahataan; and the sun shot its rays through the clouds. Made a simple breakfast - a slightly burnt steak - and wolfed it down within instants. Went up to the mirror in the bathroom and saw the old markings coming back on my cheeks, so I just painted it over with facepaint again. They insisted - apparently I look too much like the paintings that way. Who makes paintings of me, I didn’t and will never know. This face isn’t one for beauty.
8.30 a.m. Time to go pick up the Empress of Japan.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
'''
“So, the implications engendered upon the resultant force create a pathway that make inevitability possible and thus the carrying-on of energy.”
“Tch! I’m defeated, nice job.”
...drat.
How did I get into watching her and a professor of linguistics playing a game of bullshit? Not like I even found this fun anyways…
Guess it started when she ran a traffic light and instead the car was blown off. Her secondary ability, I’m guessing - but that was a hoo-hah. Blueshirts showed up to interrogate but before any of that I just pushed her off into somewhere where no one could ever get in trouble. Park. Parks are good, I thought. At least, it was nice and quiet whenever I ran in the morning - 30 miles in 30 minutes. Then, she and her dumbass get too interested in the lakefish and she falls in, turning the thin coat of dye I applied over her neon hair into paint floating on the waterfront.
Nice fellow, the professor was. Pulled her out for me - didn’t want to take away from his moment - and then agreed to say nothing about the incident. On the upper end of young - probably greying into his sixties - he went ahead and treated both of us to a decent meal at a nearby cafe. Usually avoided the place - too many hokey businessmen talking about the war - but it was a good meal.
Then, she asks him to introduce himself, and that’s the story from there. Never really figured her for a genius, but she does have a way with long words.
“Where’d you learn that vocabulary from, young lady?”
Shit.
“Uh, she’s… she’s an old research fellow from Tokyo University.” Came up with that on the spot, then realised my mistake about a second later.
He leaned in closer. “Oh! The JSU? They’re still operating these courses?”
“Yeah, uh… some, patriot program.” The spitballing was getting tougher. Could hear myself stumble through my words. Gozen was staring at me like I’d just murdered a dog or something.
“Ah, Christ, they’re doing that with them? Absurd,” He paused. “What’s your name, young lady?”
She was quiet again - as I could’ve been just a few damn seconds earlier. I thought of aliases on the go.
“Tomo,” I pointed at her, “Vostochnyy.” I pointed at myself. The front half of the name they used for me in my last conquest. Figured he wouldn’t know that much.
“Ooh, Russian. You’re Kazakh?”
Shit.
“Ah- uh - yes.” I stumbled those words out before pretending to check my watch and standing up. “Gotta get going now. Come on - ‘Tomo’ - let’s get moving.”
“Oh, wait, hold on.” The professor stopped us before holding out his phone and turning back to Gozen. “Do you have the Rlab application? I’ve wanted to talk to someone who’s had more firsthand experience with Japanese history for a while.”
“Huh?”
“Ah, new immigrant.” He turned to me. “Could you just record down these details, Jon Anderson, research: ‘East Asia and its demonisation decoupled from its history’? It’d mean a lot to some of my fellows at the Colombian Institute.”
The moment I finished tapping in those words onto that app I dragged her out of there. Too much trouble, too much contact - they’d be pissed. Nation’s pride lay on the line for anyone to know that we existed in this place; they did spend all that time screaming on TV about how they ‘didn’t need abominations’, but if I turned around fast enough I’d find the INS agent tailing me. Fuckin’ ay…
Chanting. A sea of protestors slowly flooded the streets to the right, filling the space in between the thatched homes and skyscrapers. Figured that we should move anywhere but into that crowd where those loose-fingered blueshirts would be shooting water cannons and water cannons meant making her noticeable. 
“End the war! End the war!” They screamed. Tiny pang of guilt hit my heart but then I reminded myself that this is just how things were. Some people are just more naturally suited to win in this world - myself included - although I’m not sure that’s a good thing.
Of course, the shooting began inexplicably. These fellers were here in these streets day and night - only taking a break on election day - so I marked out the District and Congressional elections as times to go out. Gozen insisted on exploring as quickly as possible, and really, she should’ve listened. As the sky turned into a hazy smog we ran off, the rattling of guns in the distance tempered only by the excessive LED screens on buildings carrying a single message.
‘POLICE ARE AUTHORISED TO USE LETHAL FORCE
DO NOT ACT SUSPICIOUSLY
COOPERATE WITHOUT QUARTER’
The wall of people dissipated. Quickly I found a dozen or so people around us running away, another few hiding behind a bench with a broken bottle in hand. I slowly backed off, watching the silhouettes of armed blueshirts closing in; I had to stop myself from picking up a bottle and whacking them myself. The crackling of fire emerged from behind that same bench and I narrowly ducked under the molotov flying away from it.
Rat-tat-tat noises sounded throughout the entire place as a store, putting up a small sign of ‘PROTESTORS WELCOME’, became our refuge. Packed to the brim like sardines the store-owner soon took off the placard and shuttered her windows, offering to the people present some of the goods on her shelves for free. I didn’t take anything. My lilac-haired colleague just seemed overwhelmed.
“That’s… they’re going to burn down the whole city.” She blurted out. Gozen remained silent while another one of the asylum-seekers nodded and was like “Hey, we’ll be fine if we stick together.” Somehow, I don’t think she was referring to the blueshirts.
Boom. Another rocking. Some brave soul volunteered to go check and ran back in shouting, “They set up barricades outside!” When someone asked him ‘who’, he replied, “It’s our boys and girls! They fighting the good fight!”
Brave soul. Stupid man.
“Is there a back exit?” I asked the owner.
She stared at me. “Why would you wanna get out there? You wanna get shot?”
“Look, do you have a back exit or not?” Wasn’t gonna wait around there any longer. Not like they can even hurt an abomination.
“Don’t tell on us, and you have a deal.” 
“Deal.”
The owner pointed towards the storeroom door. “Takes you out to the district border of Lower Manahataan. Don’t get caught.”
Grabbing the stunned girl that Gozen had turned into by the arm I peeked out into the alleyway. The plumes of grey burning over the side of the shophouses had yet to arrive, although trashcans, vending machines and various barricades lay stacked on top of one another at the end, surrounded by protestors, a rudimentary wall. Shoddy. They’d make terrible soldiers.
But they weren’t soldiers. No uniforms as I passed, no weapons - unless those pathetic burning bottles and bricks they held counted as weapons - and overall an overreaction. In my day we didn’t need blueshirts separate from the military to do their job worse. If we needed a crackdown we just made a crackdown happen.
That said, this woman… unnervingly silent, she remained. I’m not particularly sure what she thought at that precise moment; I had never really paid attention to what she did in Japan, and I didn’t much care, really. Just didn’t want to be found out.
“Marder!”
Codephrase. Behind me was the INS agent in plainclothes as per usual. “What is it?”
“Back to Alcove, you clear?” 
“Yeah, taking her back now,” The apartment stood just a few blocks away, towering over the shophouses and gas. “Don’t spend that much time tailing me.”
He nodded and disappeared back into the crowd. I wondered what he’d be doing, putting on that mask as he vanished.
Crossing through a small abandoned shophouse, its shelves only recently ransacked but its windows perfectly intact - it’d been a while - the road looked pretty shit. People running up and down the roads, a blur of smoke and human. Granted, the protestors’ roadblocks seemed to be holding up for-
-and then a car careened into the roadblock, bearing the blue and white stripes all the blueshirts loved.
Shit. 
“Follow me closely!” I screamed at Gozen before sprinting into the road, the crowd strewn across the asphalt. None of them stopped me while I made my way to the sidewalk on the other end; while the sound of shooting emerged again and more currents of smoke billowed into the air. People smashed the windows of the shophouses and jumped in, climbing the walls of the apartment complexes, others collapsing on the ground in a coughing fit.
Tapping the keycard on the scanner I dashed into the complex, a flood of random people rushing in at that very moment. Lilac hair though? Oh, she was the only one who didn’t show up. I stared outside to see her standing like a fucking idiot gawking at a dying man. What fucking… god, I’m gonna kill her, my brain commented.
I ran back outside and pulled her off the near-corpse. “Hey, what the fuck are you doing?”
“He’s - he’s, dying.”
“Everybody fucking dies someday, get in!” I screeched, dragging her towards the gate. As I pulled her along a young girl walked out into the middle of the street with a lighter in hand, seemingly calm and composed. What I then saw will stay with me forever.
She lit it. 
Then she placed it against her own sleeve.
I didn’t exactly figure out what was going on as she kneeled down in the middle of the road, but some of the escapees held out their phones and took pictures. The fire enveloped her like a shroud and I all did was watch. Like a lunatic. Like a total fucking failure. Self-immolation they called it. To me, it was a breaking point.
I decided right there right then that I wasn’t taking it anymore. I was gonna break out Atman, be the hero I was supposed to be, do something actually incredible with my life…
...then reality hit. Nothing was going to change.
Nothing ever changes. Nothing ever ends. Still wouldn’t stop me from drinking that part away. 
So I did forget to add on one thing at the beginning of this.
I’m a failure.
A miserable, drunk, failure.
== [3] ==
Busy, busy, busy…
I swore there was someone who manages everything I do and the moment they see me doing something that isn’t working they shoot a gutter-full of work at me. I talked with Buli for just six minutes. I got three weeks’ worth of assignments and appearances.
Well, at least it was assignments and appearances for good people. I’m wasn’t going to complain about that. Still, I wondered if I’d ever get a break. 
*biiiiiii*
Ah. New message, probably from….
…
...you’re joking. You’re joking! I checked for if anyone was there and turned off the surveillance camera, putting the usual message on the door so they’d know what was going on.
[Good evening? It’s Tomoe.] It read. Who used that name? I used ‘Taisho’ as the most informal thing, although she really insisted so much… huh. 
I stared at the keyboard for a moment, before quietly tapping in, [it’s been a while.] And then silence. Well, it was already silent, but this was really, really…!
...let’s give it a while, I thought.
[How are you?]
Uh…
[I’m fine, things here are really okay.]
Do… do you ask the Empress whether or not she’s… fine? Well, I mean, she wasn’t the Empress anymore, but do you… do… crapsticks.
[Wbu?]
[??]
I snickered. Right…
[Ah, um, that means ‘what about you’.]
[Oh, so, what about you in regards to the question about how you were? I’m sorry.]
[-_-]
[?????]
I really wanted to laugh at that point. That’s… delightfully awkward. I never did know how much time she spent in the imperial palace in those days… making her out of touch…
[It’s, it’s an expression, haha] I typed, then added another message. [So, how are you? Just to bring it back to that?]
[I’m fine. This place, this place is crazy!!!]
Alright, that, that took an interesting turn? Okay, let’s just… 
[Crazy?]
[Souji-san, they’re killing so many of their own people. This is insane. So many people…]
Not very casual anymore…
[I guess that’s how it is where you are.] I mean… what else was I supposed to say…
[They’re not doing that in Nihon, right???]
[Of course they’re not doing it here, they’re treating me really well, in fact. The people here are nice and kind and I’m just helping them out.] That really just was the truth. They’re good people. 
[...that sounds good…]
I was going to ask her the same thing I asked Buli, but… they definitely had to have something on her too. Let’s just see if I could find that out.
[Do they have a threat on you?]
[They want to destroy Edo.]
I spat. Seriously? She yielded to that threat alone? They gave that threat all the time, both superpowers have nuclear weapons, she… ...they’d really kill millions of people if it meant none of the other spirits came here. That’s just evil… that’s, just…
[Do you want a voice call?]
Least I could do for someone in that position. Whether she was Empress of Nihon or not really didn’t matter when it came down to that. Why the gloves didn’t just come off and we went to go stop this kind of thing, that was beyond me…
[Voice call?]
[Like, we can talk. On the phone.] 
[I won’t bother you.] 
...what happened to that lionhearted comrade from all those years ago? I still remember when she was so enthusiastic… then it all changed after that night in Okinawa…
…
[It’s not about whether or not I want it. It’s about you. Do you want to talk?]
Quietness again. She took a long time to type in a response - enough for me to finish a match on that shooter again, although then again, that was most of her messages. Everyone takes a while, really, nothing too big.
[May I?]
I pressed the green phone icon the moment I saw that. The ringing came on almost immediately, before-
“This call has been terminated.”
...really.
[What was that?]
[It was me calling you. So we could talk.]
[Oh.]
How, how do I help her out here… that was really difficult to parse. I mean, I was like that at first, but I wasn’t and have never been a particularly good teacher…
[I won’t bother you then. Thanks, Souji.] 
I was about to write ‘see you sometime’, and then she cut me off with [I’m so glad to see you again.]
Wonder what the expression on my face was right then...
*biiiiii*
*biiiii*
*biiiiii*
Time for work.
————————————————————————————————————————————————————-
Edo was cold that time of year. Really cold. Nagasato’s weather, however more volatile the floods and storms were every few months, felt more like home. Here, the roads lay sparkling and the sky shined brightly; not a speck of dust in sight, and if there were any I wasn’t looking down enough to see them.
I couldn’t care less about the buildings, though. Head always stays at eye level so you can look someone in the eye. That’s just how it worked for me. Not sure what effect that had, though, to the dozens of pairs of eyes as I walked down the pavement. It did bring a smile to my face, at least, to know that people trusted me on some level.
They always insisted I wear my old outfit - a weathered red kimono - although it had lost so much of the old dye over the years that it’d turned to a pretty light pink. I also kept my old katana in its sheathe, although this age had probably turned its utility to nil; more symbolism and nostalgia than anything. Of course, all this with a new rank stitched onto the sleeve - ‘Spirit of Socialism’. 
I’m not sure I liked it. Garish and… well, just, it’s not really amazing. The tiny star in the middle of the hinomaru didn’t really ring any bells inside me. But even more than that? I’m about people. Not really… ideals. I’m not really, uh… smart. Not really in a self-deprecating way, but I’d rather be fighting or working with friends than cooped up in a room deciding for those people. I’m not cut out for it.
The woman standing on a statue in front of me was. ‘Nihon’s pallbearer’, the inscription read every morning I crossed by it.
My mumblings leaking out in the autumn wind, I muffled myself with the thick black scarf I’d kept from passing through old Daevite territory and set down the sterile grey streets, passed by cars and trucks and all manner of vehicles. Whether it was in the general direction I was going or another way they all sped away in a flash, I but a brief occurrence to any passing person. The people on the pavement still stared, though, and at that moment it would have probably felt better to just dash off myself.
“Excuse me!” 
Oh. This again. He wanted-
“Could I - could I trouble you for a moment to introduce my son? He’s a good child.”
...yeah.
I put up a smile. “Ah, of course,” I replied, before bending down to the little boy holding the man’s hand; so innocent, that face… …greyed eyes. “He’s a good child.”
“C-could you give him a-“
No one needed to hear it. I already pressed on the kid’s head, and a small glimmer of light followed the bright glow of hope in the man’s eyes; colour returning to the irises of the boy.
“Be more forward.” I patted the boy’s shoulders before trotting down the road, hearing joyful tears behind me. The smile was genuine, now; I could hear the crowd gathering around the father and son, the distant yelling of ‘he can see’ keeping my heart warm even if just a while longer.
The towering grey monoliths to my side still unwelcome to me, my feet did the work of getting me through the grid of spires. I ended up right at the steps of the usual place, with one of the officers briskly stepping out the door saluting me and remarking, “Afternoon, ma’am.”
“Afternoon.” I always liked greeting the people around me.
“Comrade Hijikata’s in the planning room. He wants you up there.”
I groaned. “Well, thanks for telling me, at least…” Wonder what he had for me at the beginning of the week. Didn’t even tell me about this stuff beforehand.
Passing through the corridors was a bit like home, with the constant meetings of people you at least vaguely recognise. The dim blue lights, the flickering, reminded me just a little bit that this wasn’t it - the light used to be orange, and the rowdiness used to be more open. Then again, this is what the top brass wanted back in the day; too bad they didn’t live to see it.
The gleaming elevator reminded me of a chalice I’d seen in Kalachuri. The woman who was protecting it talked about a ‘silver trap’, a cage that held its witholders inside until it thought they deserved to leave. I suppose the lift was the closest thing we had to a real ‘silver trap’ as I packed in with the other soldiers, their talk filling the box like alcohol filled a bottle. I always did listen in.
“You taking an offday for Sayuri’s wedding?”
“Of course. She and Kyoko deserve it… you already got gifts?”
“Yeah.”
That’s nice. Happy people are a rare sight.
“You heard that crazy dog Wokoto last night yammering on about how he’s going to ‘crush us all’?”
“Ay, they been saying it for decades, I’m old enough to know this is their hobby, predicting how things die.”
...less, nice, things, I switched to another convo immediately.
“Hey man, could you lend me some cash?”
...god the lift is rising slowly.
*ding* 
I shuffled out from the crowd, nodding to one of them who’d just greeted me and carried on my way towards the planning room. Here the corridors were almost all packed with signallers and black-suited men and women; the wide doors at the end of the hallway guarded by two soldiers.
“Halt. Papers, please.”
Scrounging up a few sheets from inside my small pouch, I passed them a small badge. He nodded immediately. “Welcome, Ms. Souji.”
“Thanks, Kenji. You do the job well,” I remarked to the fixture of my weekday routine. He was just one of a dozen guards but eventually you get to recognise them with enough time. 
“Comrade Souji! Forgive me for making you come early in the morning.” There Hijikata stood, another Syonanese like me, but somehow ingratiated with Nihon’s army. “Let’s get you briefed, no time to waste.”
I sat down and allowed the man and his colleagues to take their place at the long table with a large screen at the end. As the television flickered to life, the first verses of Kimigayo came on, and all but me stood up to recite the lyrics. This show always bored me and I shut myself off while waiting for the actual briefing to come on. 
“Now. Lots of things this week, lots of, developments, uh, let’s turn to the immediate things first.” He stood up and looked over his papers, then read aloud:
“This morning we received verifiable evidence that Chagatai, now referring to itself as the Second Altaic Empire, formally accepted the rulership of Taihou Khatun. Intel reports indicate she is taking an… active role in the country’s defence, and the new government is breaking off to join the OFN.
“Do keep in mind that this is based on preliminary information from witnesses, but we believe that her SWMD is an incredibly powerful rudimentary handcannon. Comrade,” he addressed me, “We need you to talk to her and get her back on our side. We can’t have the Western nations fall.”
“I’ll get to it, but you continue first,” I remarked, wondering whatever the heck Taihou was doing in the position of a tiny rump state only vaguely resembling her old lands.
“And… based on the intel that good Comrade Souji here has brought back, we confirm that Tomoe Gozen, has been brought back as a heroic spirit.” 
Silence. Figures. Even back in the day everyone loved her - just the sound of her name made ripples in a crowd. 
“If you’d compile that bit of the report…” Why does he keep gesturing to me… well…
I stood up. “Yeah.” 
More silence.
“She’s back, and she’s kicking.”
One of the murmurers uttered, “I learnt about her in school…”
“I don’t know if this is good news, but Buli gave me this and the little correspondence we’ve had kind of backs it - she’s there under the threat of the nuclear annihilation of Edo - Tokyo,” I corrected myself.
“But they don’t have a weapon that can reach that far!”
“Which brings me to the worst part of today’s briefing, ladies, gentlemen,” Hijikata continued, “I believe the OSNA has gained possession of hypersonic ballistic missiles. Capable of wiping out Tokyo, Beijing, Mei-nira, Heunggong, and every major city on the map. The threat is no longer theoretical.”
He quietly distributed several photographs around the table as he went on.
“We’re outnumbered, outgunned, and outplanned. The defence system won’t be ready until August 1980. We’re at their mercy in Zhaowa, Komi, and Ethiopia. If things continue as expected, we’re looking at rebellions in Shambhala, Dai Viet, even Syonan.” Collapsing into his seat once more, I took a look. The tip of the missile pierced out as if it was threatening even me. “We’re finished if we can’t restabilise that power balance.”
Utter and complete emptiness. The first noise I heard after that was a small draft whistling away and my skin from the ventilage.
“...let’s finish the briefing first,” I insisted.
“Yes, uh, of course. In smaller news we’ve received reports that the OSNA is planning an execution of a heroic spirit, uh, Priority Target A.”
What.
“Y-you mean Atman Gazi?” I blurted out. 
“It would appear so. The man tried to escape to Ahuric Arabia while being transported to Antarctica. Apparently a political stunt by President Wokoto.”
But, but, “He’s their leverage on Buli - why would they do this?!”
“Because that’s the fucking bastards they are!” Taira shouted, her anger seemingly common across much of the top brass. “How could you not expect this?”
This couldn’t be. I couldn’t - I had to warn her. I picked out my throwaway phone. “I’m telling her.”
“Comrade Souji, this isn’t a matter of-“
“-someone’s going to die, and that someone is also close to a friend. If you want to stop me, you’re insane,” I stormed into a side room, and typed in the number like instinct as my hands trembled, listening to the blaring of the phone’s ringer. “Please respond, please respond, pleas-“
A voice crackled on the other end. “Oji?”
== [4] ==
'''
“So here’s storage…”
“...that’s, that’s pretty impressive…”
Yeah, lilac-hair was astounded. That face, though, that was the face of someone who was both shocked and quietly judgemental. Which, to be fair, is kinda warranted, I mean, this place is huge. Barrels all the way a hundred metres down to the very end of the room, the distiller humming away in the background as Rogers and Yankovich strolled through the halls. Slimy bastards - gonna have to dock their pay again, I thought to myself.
The distillery never failed to allure me, what, with that distinct pungent aroma that always left me with a smile. Every look gave me a tiny tingle in that frozen heart of mine. It was quiet, nondescript; a big yet unremarkable old factory down in Oak Square that was mine to own and mine to work with. Kept a small room up in the attic for myself whenever I finally got to move there permanently, and one empty one for Atman.
Gozen stared around like a little kid. “How’re you making a profit on this…?”
“Not right now, but I figure I can pay off the mortgage with the allowance the bigwigs down in Columbia pass me and eventually, when all this mess is over, take it over full-time. Away from the city.”
“...that’s nice.” I detected a bit of hesitation.
“What’s wrong? You wouldn’t be too hung up over that mess in Manahataan last night?” My guess, at least. She did seem the type to fixate on problems.
“...just, wondering about things.” 
Vague-ass answer. Politician to the core, apparently. Better a bureaucrat than a monster, I thought to myself; then again, I’m not sure which is more infuriating. At least one doesn’t kill people.
“You know… you’re pretty bloody astounding, you know?”
What?
I stared. That was out of place. 
“Whaddya mean?”
“Well, this entire - future, whatever it is, it’s… overwhelming, and, you’ve adapted to it quite well…”
“You haven’t seen me drinking away at the bar or beating someone to death with a beer bottle because someone gives me a minor insult.” I figure that’s the bit that’d scare a bureaucrat off.
“...you’re kidding. But you were the conquer-”
“I was. This is their world now. I don’t belong.” I picked up a good mug of whiskey, taking a swig; the piercing taste stung as much as saying those words. “Look at me. I’m not doing much important right now am I?”
“No, I don’t suppose you are…”
“Because I shouldn’t. I’m not above anyone else. I’m just someone from the wrong time, given powers I shouldn’t have, for no reason. Destiny’s a feint fifteen yards over the water,” I muttered, “and I swam for eighty years.”
Nothing I could do would change that.
..fuck. I took another swig. God damn the taste was beautiful…
…
“Didn’t take you for a poet.”
“No, I’m not. It’s just the truth,” I remarked, pouring out the contents of a bourbon. “Want one? No one’s tried this before.”
She didn’t seem convinced. “If destiny doesn’t exist, why do you exist?” Oh, great, she’s just like Atman when he was a kid… ...exactly why I was comparing her to my own son wasn’t on the table for me to think about at the moment. 
“Because I’m a fool, if you want to put it that way.” Just being honest wasn’t getting me anywhere, but I’m not one to bullshit. The smell of the bourbon was getting pretty enticing, though, fermenting process seemed to have paid off; I quickly gulped down the cup I’d just offered to someone else. At this point things started to look a bit more messy. “I’d assumed you’d at least understand…”
“I hated my job. But I did a good job of it.”
Ah. She’s in that stage as well. Denial is a crazy drug… 
“It’s not my problem if you didn’t.” 
I should really start a game of denial bingo, I thought to myself; use it on every heroic spirit that arrives from now on. The lighting dimmed again as I put down the glass, probably the generator again - I should really have tapped into public utilities but the line was always held up by someone calling to replace their blasted pipes or burnt-down substations. 
The brick tiles stared back at me while I swept the floor of dust, the past-nine customers arriving in but a few minutes. I was cutting the opening hours short that day, catching the last bus back to Manahattaan so she didn’t break the curfew they set on everyone who made the deal; still, that wouldn’t stop me from at least making a few sales. Rogers complained again about having to move the barrels, so I had to lift them up myself again. He and Yankovich always stared at me funny whenever I did things like that.
A nice, quiet night awaited me. Who knows, maybe I’d pop over to that quiet bar down in Upper Manahattaan and try their drinking competition offer. That sounded fun. Tomorrow I’d show up to a boxing gym and try my hand at a new sport, end of the week, get into a bit of fencing and wargames… a normal, nondescript life. Away from all the hecticness, from all the conquering.
At least, I thought I would.
Moments later I found myself talking to Oji.
Before I knew it, I had hailed a cab to the airport and was dead-set on making it to Colombia.
'''
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
'''
Let’s have a quick pep talk: what does it mean when knives break upon hitting you, bullets act like toy darts and daggers bounce off your neck?
It means, you’re practically indestructible.
And, it means as well, that sometimes you can make faster moves on things you need to be speedy about. For example, a plane takes on average 15 minutes to descend to the ground. I take about five minutes to drop down that distance. You know where I’m going with this; I’m not sure she did.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“The fast way down,” I muttered, before signalling to the pilot. “Thanks for the late paradrop, man!”
“No worries! You have a damn good time on the last one for the day!” He shouted, triggering the door to blast open. I huddled up against the wall and quietly shed my parachute - it’d be a waste - and I grabbed her by her sleeve. She really did look uncomfortable with a modern winter coat.
“Alright,” I screamed over her protests, “Three! Two! One!” 
And dragged her out the open door, tumbling down to the ground over the labyrinth of lights. The twilight skyline had already become a pitch-black landscape dotted with a million disparate twinklers blurring by as the wind struggled to push me towards the greatest concentration of brightness in the distance. Washington District never failed to make itself known on a map, and apparently it wasn’t very good at hiding at night either.
My skin ran cold as the breeze furiously fired scraped against it, waves of cold running against my eyes while my hair ran astray. I couldn’t be bothered to check on Gozen, she’d be fine; why she insisted on following was beyond me, but that didn’t concern me.
Atman did.
The boy always confused me. Well, it’s a result of my own hubris; at the early height of my power he told me he wanted his own empire. As the great and responsible person I was I didn’t tell him what it actually meant to be a conqueror, I just told him that it was impossible. 
...he was gone just a scant week later.
Fuck, I am a terrible parent.
The lights came near enough I knew it was about time. Thankfully the breeze had taken me to the edge of the city in a secluded old swampland where the folks down there didn’t question too much about odd characters; good people. Hopefully at this time of day nobody would question me skidding to the side as the road markings became clear and-
*bang*
Crashed into a small dumpster. As I came to my bearings I didn’t bother with lilac-hair and dashed off; looking around on the streets, pairs of eyes stared at me over the look of my clothes. I wouldn’t blame them - the stench really did smell, although the marchers didn’t seem very concerned with the smell. More importantly, I needed a car.
Or, at least that abandoned police motorbike would do. The blueshirts seemed more concerned with killing, anyways; I hopped on, revved up the engine and released the stand, blasting off towards downtown. I wonder what was more impressive, the smoke of tear gas billowing into the air or the smoke of me speeding right towards a wall of riot shields and tearing a hole through it.
Felt vaguely like a horse but more… unnatural, honestly. Too smooth, too controllable. Built for a child.
Swerve to avoid the lamppost, lean for a right onto main street; the rudimentary lessons I got while still vaguely curious about this world coming back quickly. As I left the smoke behind I found myself on the trail of asphalt blazing through the centre of the metropolis, the dome of the Gran Indique stared back at me, the striped banners of this strange empire flying about in the evening wind. 
Endless dots of cars flashed by - or did I flash by them? I’m not too sure which would make me more different from the people walking on these streets, having normal, fulfilling lives, being able to live to an old age and die like a normal human. All that mattered at that moment was getting to the INS Building at the end of the road.
Of course, just like everything else a secret police wants, the INS Building was a fortress with no buttresses and no towers. The small opening was still lit by the same sterile blue light all of these agencies used; I tore to a stop in front of the entrance and took out my old keycard.
“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to-”
“Here you go.” I raised it. The feller stared at the card for a second before quietly backing away with wide eyes; let’s face it, he wanted to shoot me. Not like he could kill me, but it’d be a wise option if he could. “Don’t assume you have the clearance for agents?”
“N-no, ma’am.”
“Then get the fuck out of my way.”
I stormed down into the lobby and began sprinting down the marble tiles; the elevator at the end already sliding its doors shut, I jumped for it and slid through right as it closed. I’m very sure the technicians or whatever people they had working here thought I was an agent or something. The smell of my stained clothes irked even me.
*ding*
Final sprint. Final sprint. The only one who could stop Atman’s death at the end of that hallway. Come on. Come on…
The door to SNR’s office swung open to me. I stared at the bandage-wrapped bastard who always talked with that annoying fucking accent and that attitude that implied just about everything I hated about other people in power; and he stared back at me.
“You’ve heard the news.”
“Fuck yes I have. You are not executing him.”
“I hope you know that means you’ve violated every one of our protocols about communicating with your friend Souji, and I’m not very impressed that you’re taking such a stupid tone with me,” He blathered, “But we’re not executing him.”
Oh, that’s… okay, that’s, that’s good, okay…
“We did it eighteen hours ago. At least our intel operations are working as desired…”
…
I’m going to kill this man.
I’m going to fucking murder him.
I’m going to-
“Relax, I’m just fucking with ya.”
…
I groaned.
“Now, explain what the fuck you to-”
“Is. It. Still. Possible. He’s. Going. To. Be. Murdered.” No bullshit. Just say it. He paused, looked around and then grabbed me by the shoulder and closed the door.
“Okay, so let’s make this absolutely fucking clear: you have pissed me off. But even more than that, Congress is pissing me off. Someone’s pulling strings to get Gazi executed, and it’s probably one of those morons in the FIO. I still have the explosive collar. No one is lettin’ it off.” He continued, starting up his computer. “Just so you don’t turn me into a lollipop, here.”
Wow.
Wow…
I’m not sure what made me happier at that exact moment, the fact that he looked pretty fine in that cell or the fact that I recognised him on sight. Even more, he was alive and that just made me incredibly happy in general. Again with all the tattoos and markings I barely recognised… but I knew that it was him. That damn explosive collar, though… he just picked it up and scratched it a bit.
I stared for a while longer. He didn’t seem to be moving much; which did feel kind of weird to see so much of a change, but then again, look at where I’m at… ahaha. 
“Oh Jesus Christ you’re crying. You saw pictures of him, it’s not your first time seeing him. It’s almost like we paid a fuckin’ broad like you millions to keep your fucking mouth shut, so Christ, you gonna tell me what the fuck you told that Nippie?”
Oh, shut up. Gimme just a few seconds… Just, a little more time…
A spark of pain shot through my cheek. “Hey, I’m talkin’ to you!”
I groaned. “Yeah, I talked to Oji, what’s it to you?”
“What’s it ta me? What’s it ta me? You’ve been engaging with a sworn enemy of the Original States and you asking what’s it to me?” He gripped his face. “What the fuck have you told her?”
“We don’t talk about politics. Well, sometimes we do, but we’re not into that stuff anymore.” I shrugged. “And besides, if we do talk about things related to us, it’s usually our old sparring matches or our meetings back in the day.”
He wasn’t convinced. Not too surprised. “...fuck. Right, I’m going to have to run through all of those communications… we’re taking your damn phones. Yes, you probably have a backup, don’t you?” 
Whatever. I’ll find another way to talk to Oji, I thought to myself. Well, I wasn’t really thinking anymore. All the blood had left my head the moment I saw that livecam of Atman.
I didn’t really suspect anything.
That is, until a flash of red hit my eyes, a torrent of rubble throwing me through the floor with a blast of grey. 
I was tossed off like a flick of dirt on someone’s horse; the brick and metal slamming against my face stinging and burning and all the kinds of pain one can imagine all at once. Fuck.
The ceiling collapsed on me, then the ground shattered and fell apart. By the time it had all settled I found myself surrounded and caught in a sandwich of concrete, the pained screaming of other people still on the bit of the building still intact ringing into my ears. What the fuck was going on?
No. Fuck it. Atman’s safe, no need to use any of those monster abilities. I’ll just stay here until rescue teams paw through it.
Thump.
The debris collapsed down once more. I mean, that’s to be expected, so…
Thump.
...is someone messing with the debris?
Thump.
Someone was digging up the rubble. Cracks of light were breaking back through and you could barely hear concrete crashing down on the distant ground. But who-
“Buli!”
The first sight that greeted me upon the rubble disappearing from my view was a good old friend. Before I could even smile, she’d already picked me up and was holding me tightly.
“...it’s been so long…”
“It’s been a while…”
Both at the same time. I couldn’t help but feel that warm sensation in my heart. A familiar face in this world was just so rare…
“What, what’re you doing here? This would trigger a world war…” I sputtered. To be honest, concern wasn’t really on my mind anyways. I must admit, it was kind of weird to see her with pinkish hair - and not wearing a thick winter coat as well, she seemed to be wearing a nondescript bandana and civilian clothing. 
“Well, if they can’t prove or suspect it was me, then I suppose they can’t start a war, right?” She winked, before pulling out a few bits of clothing. “Come on, Buli. Get these on, we’re getting you out.”
“Thanks, but… no thanks,“ I replied. “You know what’s keeping me here.”
“Not anymore.”
Oji raised a small camera. “I led this mission on my own. So of course I knew what I had to do and, voila!” She smiled, flicking through the various tabs before bringing up a page. “I figure you’d love this.” 
The cockpit camera of a helicopter greeted me. And there he was. Knocked out, sure, but something critical was up.
No more collar.
A pang of excitement went through me.
“What’re you waiting for, let’s go! Let’s go!” She shouted, firing off random shots into the air as jets buzzed above. There was something nostalgic about this feeling - something strangely happy - I felt like I had a purpose again. The same fiery stupor with which I set out all those years ago on a destiny I didn’t know.
I thought I was tired of that life. Thought I’d leave it behind forever and talk to people who were still participating in it. Thought that I’d be able to stop being a conqueror. 
But at that exact moment, I nodded and made my decision to set forth on that path once again. 
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He sat down and groaned. The rubble wasn’t the big problem in his mind, but the escapees.
SNR inspected the destruction. Those idiots in Congress would call it a terror attack and none would call it for what it was - a targeted strike by an enemy agent. No, they were too obsessed with fighting that endless war in Komi and selling nukes to the Ahurics. Idiots, he swore.
He’d known for months that Bulijin Khatun and Ojirou Souji were engaging in secret communiques as friends. He knew that everything she leaked was non-essential, except for what he needed her to leak. But no one had anticipated this nonsense.
Some asinine moron decided to raise the idea of executing Atman Gazi. Even more worryingly every damn fool in the Agency thought it was a good idea. A good idea to murder their leverage on potentially the strongest heroic spirit in the land. Now that the nips had her… fuck. They’d had the advantage with the missiles, and then some god damn moron fucked it all up! 
Slamming his fist into the wall wasn’t going to do much, though. Feeling the squirm in the corner of his mask he took it off to change; the snakeheads that made up his head flying up into the air and hissing around. Quite free, but unconducive for discussion with the normal humanoids that made up much of his coworkers. A random thought about where his voice emerged from always brought him back to the solution: don’t consider it, don’t think about it.
As the mask came back on he fitted his hat atop his rather wobbly head-shape. He needed the bigwigs of the INS to give him operational freedom, heroic spirit as he was, and a blank check. He could get this entire mess back together, no sweat at all. All it’d take is that.
“I take it you’re San Fernandez.” 
His codename. The tall man standing behind him wore a similar suit, but with a towering composition to how he stood over his own comparably unimpressive physique. SNR scowled.
“Whaddya want?”
“A proposition, Fernandez. A proposition.”
Quite the authoritative tone, he thought to himself. He couldn’t see the face. An agent? No. The mafia always kept to themselves; this wasn’t one of his contacts neither. He scrolled around the archive of files that made up his mind and came to the unlikely but immutable conclusion. Tall, shrouded in mystery. All he’d have to do is check.
“...can I get a smoke?”
“I’ve never been one to stop a man from getting a good huff. Go ahead, but make it fast.”
SNR took out a pipe and a lighter, ‘accidentally’ taking a small detector along with the two. He quietly put it back in, but not before the detector gave him a good reading: high. It was a heroic spirit, he concluded; before placing the pipe where a human mouth would’ve been and lighting it at the end. A small grey plume billowed out.
“So, what’s your…” He took another puff. “Your, proposition?”
“It’s a monetary transaction.”
“Go on, I’m listening,” He gestured to the figure to continue while a glint appeared distantly behind the man. 
“Quite simple. I need you to dig up dirt on Wokoto.”
A heroic spirit doing political biddings for the opposition parties. Lovely. He concluded quite quickly that it was just a premise.
He stepped back onto a small pile of rubble. “Why would I do that?”
“Four million dollars.”
SNR sat down and waved the man over. The sniper in the distance would do the job.
*bang*
He found that his suit now featured a small, gaping hole in the side. He stared up at the man. Something had just gone horribly wrong with his plan. The sniper-
“I appreciate your skills, ‘Fernandez’, but I don’t think you’re exactly very…” The figure pulled out a handgun. “Necessary. Besides, you’re psychotic.”
No reaction. He was quickly losing the ability to even think, the blood rushing from his snakeheads; he wanted to stop him immediately. If only he could get to his special ability…
“From where you’re standing it must seem like an… eighteen-karat run of bad luck.”
A reference? What? This, this shouldn’t be possible, he thought, unless-
-shit.
“You’re lucky I don’t have my nuke to kill you,” He spat. The man cocked the handgun.
“We call it... a Noble Phantasm.”
A shot could be heard as firefighters and law enforcement officials arrived on the scene.
== [5] ==
'''
Something was wrong in the air.
I couldn’t tell what it was exactly. But the walls close in subtly, I suppose. Why, what, where, I hadn’t the slightest idea. There’s that feeling that you don’t really understand, you think you have a handle on until it actually hits you. And then in that one moment?
It strikes.
I shuddered again. Third night sitting in the blank white room, third night staring at the glass screen blaring out news of the events outside. Riots, arson, mass terror… what on earth happened to the world. This didn’t happen back then, I muttered to the thick blue line adorning the wall. The Germanic script staring back at me confused again and again and again. It wasn’t the reading. It was the words.
“POLICE”
I’m wasn’t sure why anyone could separate the duty of policing from the duty of the army. There just wasn’t ever a reason for it. I mean, would you really want the person in charge of keeping it all together to be ill-equipped for the worst situation? Especially when all the people have access to such great wealth and resources now?
*thump*
That sound. What was that sound? It’s the sound of the tide rising. The sound of-
...no. That’s all in the past, I told myself. All in the past. Thoughts ping-ponging around my brain, taking the arduous route through figuring out what was going on, the grime, the slaughter.
...I couldn’t get blood out of my head that night. The faint stench of iron always gracing my nose with the memory of old mistakes, the feeling of, as I said-
-the walls, closing right in.
*thump*
I pressed as hard as I could against the iron bars just to take a peek. Someone was doing their job really badly - probably as bad as the one who left snot dried on the bar. Wonder what you were supposed to expect in a police station while they kept you in the holding cell. One of them took the small card that Khatun had given me; I hadn’t the faintest idea why.
Just in the corner of my eye I could see a great orange stack rising into the air. I hadn’t even gotten to process that before more officers scattered by before me, holding those metal husks with wooden handguards. At that point, I could have expected everything I heard after - I should have expected everything I heard after - and the sound of glass smashing was followed by a consistent, emotionless, ear-piercing series of shots.
What could be louder? The sound of the end of human life or the sound of the act of ending life? Funnily enough, as the shots dissipated and the screams slowly faded into the distance, I could hear the sound of hands slapping one another in joyous celebration.
It was at that exact moment I knew there was something wrong.
Of course my suspicions had been on high for the week since arriving, but it only crystallised further as I read and checked up on everything. An endless continent-spanning war of which its two main continents found themselves innumerably insulated. Entire fields of battle had developed in the years between my rest and my awakening. Curious. New governments, new styles of economics, the breakdown of entire social classes… I was never the academic, and it all struck as quite so very odd to me. But this entire business with the ‘heroic spirits’ - a business that happened to involve me too - it spoke conspiracy. 
These people were up to no good - against my nation nonetheless - and I had no chance of doing anything if I didn’t get out somehow. The lock was just a tiny mechanism fitted into a small box on the handle - the area directly around it blocked, preventing anyone from contacting it easily. Smart. 
All I’d need to do, though… Look around, I told myself. I had my clothing and two spare sets they’d passed me - both orange jumpsuits; I had the two pins keeping my hair together in that ridiculous wear and at least a small paper sheet inside my shirt pocket. Given the officer’d locked it with a turning motion, the best guess you could make would be that the lock had internal components fine enough to correspond to a very specific key. If so…
Putting together the two hairpins, followed by tying it together with the paper sheet, I found myself in possession of a rudimentary lock-picker. I considered for another second after whether it’d be the best idea to break out during a riot and figured that it’d be best to wait for the situation to become clearer first before taking any action.
*thump* 
This time the ceiling rattled. The foundations of the building should’ve been fine, but the blast was getting closer. Slip-shod or not, the lock-picker would have to do. Bend the - I hesitated to call it a device - and I dangled it between the bars, recoiling every time it seemed I was about to lose it or another officer crossed by. Very small window to fiddle.
A clink, a clink… there. I’m not sure what it looked like, but the door had indeed been opened, as pushing it open ever so slightly proved. Hitting the ground at high speed hadn’t killed me, so a few missteps here and there should’ve been just… fine…
“Oi!”
No response. I’d have to be a little more strong there. Let’s just… concentrate for a second there…
And there. Right there. I always liked my first crossbow, and apparently these powers obliged that appreciation. The flurry of gold and smattering of heavenly light flowed out of my left hand, leaving me with a plain, wooden crossbow. Always connected me to the ground, always kept my head below the clouds; besides, keeping the chrysanthemum seal on would be a pain in the ass.
Slot the arrow in… and… well, I wasn’t too sure what this would do against ceramic plates slotted into armour, but here goes. I checked and the quiver was there as per usual. Ten, fifteen arrows; it’d be better to conserve them.
*bang* 
Bashed the door open, jumped into the hallway, finger on the trigger. A stack of officers crowded around the door, pushing a lobby desk up to the front as a barricade, and one turned to see me.
“Oy! She’s got a weapon!”
Right, step two: retreat. My feet did the work subconsciously, sprinting off down the corridor, turning the corner only to run into two rather tall women. No matter, element of surprise - I threw them both aside and continued my way down, my breath slowly catching up. Deep breaths, no unnecessary muttering; just… kept going. Somehow, someway, the weight dropped just for a few minutes.
Junction came up. The right seemed quiet and the other two paths had connecting corridors. I figured I might as well let them do what I wanted; ducked into an open door and hid behind the various cabinets, making sure to keep close to the wall.
Muffled noise. No matter, just concentrate…
“...ere’s she gone…”
“I don’t know…”
“...ack door!”
Back door. Perfect. Just needed to find my way to it, then. Waited until the footsteps got closer, and then jump!
“What the hell?” He shouted, his eyes flashing ever so briefly with that glint of shock.
Let a shot loose into the man’s back, staggering him back and then kicked him while he was down. Picked up the small metal contraption - the gun, as they called it - and discovering that its weight made it difficult to carry in a pocket. No point, then. However it worked was beyond me and I didn’t have much the time required to learn, might as well just keep what I knew. 
Tapping down the corridor. Just wait for another second and…
Move.
Like a good horseman works in tandem with their horse, my body did the decent thing and moved as needed. It’d been quite a while, but no time to think of that: violence surrounded me, and one partakes in violence with caution. Pale fluorescent light gave way to a shadow, then another shadow, before the path emptied for a split-second, a perfect opportunity to take a right and follow down the hallway. The floor stained with some nondescript mixture of black dust and greyed dirt, and each time I ducked for cover the officers seemed to only get more and more and more militarised. Curses.
The building continued to act like a maze as I tried to follow the footprints, taking the more dirtied bits of the floor as a signifier that it was closer to the entrance or at least on the path to such an entrance. Here specifically, little mounds of brown and dust lay splattered across the ground I pattered across every few minutes, the all-too-familiar smell of gunpowder getting stronger - perhaps even more sickening, given the stench penetrated the entire place now.
Officers crashed through the door and stormed past while I heard the echoing voice of some man bouncing about the corridors, ordering the building shut down. That was my cue to go, and I slipped out the about-to-close backdoor, escaping into the outside world once more. 
What greeted me was the overwhelming smell of sulfur and smoke. The same smog that had filled the air in that towering city, the glowing eyes of the sky-scrapers glaring down through the shooting and the burning. It would seem scarcely anything could be seen without a lot of squinting; but for some strange reason it felt more like a hindrance than a tragedy to me. My eyes barely noticed the irritant.
At that moment the draft blew by and my hair ran loose while I dashed into the torrent of grey billowing from the road. That was more than fine; getting a different appearance would be good for getting away. Now, for the rest of my face, I surmised that pulling off the navy blue jacket I’d been given and tying  it around my mouth should do the job. Around me men and women and children flooded the street, the screaming noises only reminding me of old nightmares I thought I’d left behind.
The yelling.
The sounds of the tide coming in-
-for a moment I almost thought I saw the crimson waters once again. No. Not again. I - I didn’t have anything to do with it. Get out of my mind.
...now, where was I?
Before I could think of the answer a distinctly burning sensation jumped and struck me in the face. Barely off the sudden influx of heat I noticed an armoured figure charging towards me with a baton; my hands flipped the crossbow on its back and proceeded to ram the sturdy thing against the faceless thing’s head. A thwack noise, that I heard, but funnily enough the black rod still descended upon my forehead, a stinging feeling intense and verbose, like I had just felt my skull crack apart. 
“Runt.” Emotionless. I didn’t consider the implication.
I threw a punch that went right into his cheek and while he staggered away the yellow glow put my dagger in my right hand, giving me the chance to thrust the steel right into his eye. The glint of vermont that spurted onto my hand had only just begun running down my wrist before I dragged it out and made for the pavement on the other side.
Disappearing into the sea of people in flimsy makeshift armour topping their casual clothing - good god, get the hell back to your homes and stop doing this - I stared around. I needed to get something together, get the hell out of here, but even before that-
I needed to get out of here.
The ‘thunk’ sounds of canisters hitting the floor rang again as I dove behind a bench in the middle of the manicured green. The flashing red line spluttered above me for another moment while the thundering sound of fire rattled away to the left, the noise ear-piercing; a ‘thump’ to my right signalling the surreal sight of a man whose eyes lay wide open, but his mouth stayed ajar, unmoving. I… well, how are you supposed to drag your eyes away from that?
Stay calm, Tomoe, stay- oh, to hell with calm, this was insanity. I tore myself away from the horrifying picture and ran. Ran as far as I could.
It was like Okinawa all over again.
No time for memories. No. Throw in behind a wall, reload my crossbow; there’d be time for extemporizing later. Holing up in an alleyway across the street between two rather astute structures both marked ‘FEDERAL PROPERTY, NO TRESPASSING’, I ended up taking the ladder in the back up and tossing myself on the flat roof of the building.
There I was safe. No one would think to look on top of a building for someone, until - no, wait, aerial vehicles. Of all the things… I needed somewhere else. The skyline of the vast city before me appeared to be a vast plain with little lumps rising out of the ground; the forests and hills expelled to the horizon; the only things I really recognised pushed to the boundaries. I swore for a brief second, spacing away from all the furor, that I saw the silhouette of Mt. Fuji in the distance.
...shit, I can’t deal with this. 
“What’re you up to?” The voice of a faintly-accented man, giving a casual speed to how he spoke. Complication ensued.
An aged brown man with his hair drawn back into a bow, wearing a large hat and a quite ornate leather suit stared at me. His wide jaw imposed upon the rest of the outfit, with a mouth that in silence still spoke of great importance.
“Who’re you?” The only question I could give while still looking for a way out. 
“Geronimo. Of the Bekondohe. You?”
Straight to the point. I needed to find an escape fast…
“That’s not relevant.”
“It isn’t? You wear the clothes of the moderns, peruse the badges of the Easterns, and you fight the collaborators. Surely that’s relevant.” He patted off his arm for a second, before pulling out a longbow and arrow, seemingly displaying it to me. “Surely I’m not to be starved the name of a warrior carrying another bow?”
Jumping off the roof… perhaps, that could have worked. It had already tricked into my mind that this man was also another, ‘heroic spirit’ as it were, then I needed out as fast as possible. I didn’t know how to fight.
“Please, we’re all friends here. We’re all on the same side of things,” He remarked. I hadn’t the slightest idea what he was talking about but I wasn’t planning to figure it out. 
“Oh yeah? That’s very interesting.” Looks like a path next to the metallic piping running along my feet. I didn’t need to engage in another one of these conversations, I just needed to scoo-
“Well, I’d like in on whatever you’re doing.”
...what?
“‘Want in’? What the hell are you talking about?”
He folded his arms and shrugged. “You’re fighting the OSNA. I’m obligated to offer some help or whatever you need.”
I could delay the escape for just a moment. “You’re not coming to capture me like the officers down there?”
“I wouldn’t even imagine subjecting another to such treatment.” This, Geronimo, seemed… genuine enough, but I still kept the dagger on hand. I wasn’t close to trusting someone so out of place, and then, the rattling came.
A beast of steel roared into the air above and I ducked for cover; but it was too late. The helicopter swung round, its cockpit staring right at me, and then I heard the voice.
“We have hostiles! I repeat, we have hostiles on the rooftop!” It boomed. Tch. My foot moved faster than I did, and I took the first steps towards my escape route-
“Ah--yu whi ye!” He screamed. Suddenly the ground turned a blazing orange and I turned only to see a blinding beam appearing from the sun, speeding towards the flying vessel; the ground turned to dust and rubble threw up all around us. 
As I slammed through a cabinet crushed by debris coming to bears was a difficult process, not with the pain but with the sweeping wall of grey and brown that had surrounded me. The waves of particles blasting past my face collected everywhere, the settled dust taking its time to collect on my skin and hair; the greyed lilac somehow more familiar than the dainty fantasy colour it had taken. It used to be white, after all.
But at that moment it struck me. I wasn’t fighting in a battle with normal troops and typical violence.
No - I was fighting with godly powers, perhaps even given such power myself. It clicked right then and there. I could use that kind of power. But how would I call upon it?
“So, miss, you haven’t told me your name,” Geronimo emerged with his hat burnt and coattails charred; but otherwise unharmed. Good lord. “I prefer a name to refer to a person by.”
“Tomoe. Uh, Tomoe Gozen.” Perhaps it was a truly bad idea to refer to myself by my real name. The shock and soot had done away with my logical mind at that moment, though.
“We should be off. They will be here soon,” He pointed to the alleyway. “You are a warrior, are you not, dii indee?”
I paused to contemplate the words he said, and replied with the only answer I had. 
“Yes.”
==Editor's Notes==
Category:Konig des Menschen (Map Game)