Akira (2)
In the middle of a city street where gunfire and screams raged on all sides, Arisugawa Akira walked slowly through the slaughter.
Dust and debris whipped through the air, and fires were breaking out all over the city, but she paid them no mind.
The way she swayed down the boulevard, with no cover anywhere in sight, made her look less like a soldier and more like a drunk trying to find her way home.
Her uniform had dried into a dark, rust-red crust of blood and dirt, and the bulletproof helmet she should have been wearing was gone somewhere, leaving her disheveled white hair fully exposed.
Warm blood ran down from her forehead and nose, slipped over her lips, gathered at her chin, and dripped to the pavement below.
Her unfocused red eyes drifted through empty space, unable even to tell where she was headed, while the hand clutching a dagger slick with flesh and yellow fat twitched in sporadic spasms, soaked through with blood.
Her mouth hung slightly open, tasting of iron, and a thin line of blood trickled from her ears, where only a shrill ringing remained. Still, she kept staggering forward.
A city that had once been the home of countless lives, the backdrop to ordinary peace, had been reduced to ruins, stained through and through by violence and hatred.
In an instant, it had become a chessboard for the dangerous gamble of two generals.
And Akira and her comrades were nothing more than the pieces sacrificed in the process.
Pawns to be thrown away whenever, and however many, it took to secure a strategic victory.
It was a deception operation meant to ensure the Solomon army’s successful crossing.
A small decoy unit would draw the attention of the Gibro troops dug in on the far bank, and while they were fooled and their forces scattered, the main body would crush the weakened defenses and ford the river.
To make certain the Gibro army was truly deceived, the decoy unit’s area would be subjected to concentrated bombardment, with air support called in to raise as much chaos as possible.
Faithfully carried out, the plan succeeded, and the Gibro defenses were drawn squarely onto Akira’s decoy unit.
She and her comrades fought desperately to buy time and forced their way into the city.
In the urban battle that followed, her unit was annihilated.
The armored vehicles were turned into scrap by anti-armor weapons lying in ambush in alleys and inside buildings, and the infantry were cut down like insects by bullets and shells coming from every direction.
Akira’s comrades were no exception.
One was hit directly by a shell and vanished in a red mist of blood.
Another was shot while trying to take cover, collapsed, and was riddled with finishing shots before they could even make a final move, reduced to tatters.
Another stepped on a land mine and died because the fragments of their own shattered bones ripped through their flesh on the way up.
Comrades fell one by one for absurd reasons, and the enemy drew closer and closer while the magazines grew lighter and lighter.
The moment she understood that the last round she fired at the enemy soldier at point-blank range had failed to pierce his body armor, she hurled her rifle into his face and drew the dagger at her hip.
She was merciless like a madwoman drunk on blood, yet terrified like prey backed into a dead end.
She stabbed, slashed, bit, and tore.
Her heart pounded as though it would burst from the rush of adrenaline flooding her body, and before her mind could even process the situation or make a judgment, her body moved first.
By the time the melee finally ended, Akira was the only one left standing.
The plates of her body armor had stopped round after round until they were ground to powder, and her whole body was a mass of bruises and wounds from being beaten by the enemy.
But she was alive.
The vivid sensation of cutting through human flesh, still fresh in her grasp, made her keenly aware that she was alive.
Akira stumbled onward.
It no longer mattered where she was going.
She only wanted to get away from the gruesome slaughter she had left behind.
"..."
How long had she wandered without direction?
Before she knew it, she had reached the outskirts of the city, and there, before her eyes, a Gibro tank loomed into view.
It had burst out from around a corner without warning, but Akira did not react.
She had long since abandoned any hope of making it out alive.
Preparing for the gunfire she expected to follow, Akira spread both arms wide and blocked the tank’s path.
But the tank’s machine gun never spat fire.
The Gibro tank commander saw no reason to waste machine-gun ammunition on a lone, unarmed infantrywoman.
She gave the order to advance, and the tank rolled forward slowly, intent on crushing Akira beneath its treads.
"..."
Thinking it would be a more horrible death than she had expected, Akira closed her eyes.
"...?"
But no matter how long she waited, the pain she had braced for never came.
Akira slowly opened her eyes, then instinctively staggered backward as a wave of heat slammed into her face.
Yellow sparks were erupting wildly from the gap in the turret of the tank, whose hull had been punched through at the side.
Frozen in place by the sight, as if the tank had been hit by an anti-tank rocket, Akira was abruptly shoved aside and knocked over by someone’s hand.
With a violent tremor, the tank’s ammunition detonated, the turret ripped away, and hot shards of metal rained down in every direction.
But Akira was safe.
She stared blankly at the face of the soldier who had shoved her into the alley and saved her.
"!"
He was in no condition that could be called good.
A bloodstained bandage covered one eye, and his face was filthy with dust and soot.
And yet, even so, an unmistakable beauty filled Akira’s eyes.
Just then, sunlight spilling through the drifting smoke caught behind the soldier and lit a halo around him, only deepening the strange, almost unreal radiance of the moment.
"?"
Still dazed, Akira looked at him as the soldier opened his mouth and said something.
Having temporarily lost her hearing, she could only understand his words by reading the shape of his lips.
-You did well.
"!"
She couldn’t even hear his voice.
She didn’t know his name.
And yet, the heart that had been raging so wildly inside her calmed at once.
The strength went out of her hand, clenched tight by combat stress, and the dagger slipped from her fingers to the ground.
"!!! ...!!!"
That day, Akira cried in someone’s arms for the very first time.
In the comfort of a man whose name she didn’t even know, she was able to spit out, however little, the guilt of having survived alone.
Even at Akira’s sudden tears, the man did not panic.
He simply held her carefully and brushed the dried blood and dust from her back.
At that warmth, which reminded her of her father’s arms, Akira pressed even deeper into his chest.
She buried her face against him and felt the heat of another human being.
A little time passed, and by the time Akira had finally calmed in the man’s arms, his comrades had come over to report that the operation had succeeded.
The original plan had assumed the decoy unit would fail, but because Akira’s unit had performed unexpectedly well, the main force had succeeded in landing and, in one stroke, captured the strategic city as well.
By the time the remaining Gibro troops in the city were cleared out and the sun was sinking below the horizon, Akira had been led to the medical unit.
Fortunately, the temporary hearing loss recovered, and she was able to communicate normally with the medics and doctor.
The man who had saved her escorted her until the very last moment, just before she entered the field hospital under the medics’ guidance.
"..."
Akira paused at the tent entrance and looked back at him.
He gave her a faint smile and waved.
At that sight, Akira hesitated, working her lips before finally forcing the words out.
"...You."
"Hm?"
"Can you tell me your name?"
"...Ah, right. I forgot to introduce myself."
The man scratched his cheek awkwardly and laughed.
"Chris Kim. Corporal in the First Infantry Regiment of the International Legion."
"Chris..."
Akira quietly repeated his name to herself.
It was only a name, barely more than a murmur, and yet for some reason it warmed a corner of her heart.
Akira opened her mouth then, intending to say something to the man who had introduced himself as Chris, to Seong-hyeon.
That is, if not for the comrade who interrupted him midway.
"Chris! What are you doing? We need to go replace the bandage over your eye!"
"Ah, I’m coming!"
Only then did Akira realize that the bandage covering Seong-hyeon’s eye was badly soiled.
It was not only soaked through with blood, but also stained yellow by dust and grime, looking thoroughly ruined.
"Well, then get some rest and get treated properly. If we get another chance, let’s meet again."
"Ah..."
Before Akira could say another word, Seong-hyeon was already walking away with quick strides.
Her outstretched hand, reaching after him with regret, only brushed empty air.
"..."
Still, at least she had learned his name.
If fate really existed, then surely they would meet again someday.
Thinking that, Akira wrapped her hands around her chest and smiled faintly.
She met him again some time later.
On the day Cerberus Squad was founded.
.
.
.
.
["Passengers are reminded to check carefully that they are not leaving any luggage behind."]
"...Ah."
Did I fall asleep?
At the captain’s announcement over the plane’s loudspeakers, Arisugawa Akira woke with a yawn.
Still only half awake, she glanced out the window, and a bright, excited smile soon spread across her face.
Beyond the plane’s wing lay the peaceful landscape of Incheon International Airport.
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