Mid- to late April 

1945 

    “When you aim your weapon, be mindful of the recoil.” He circled around the group of young men, arm behind his back. In a fresh uniform, he eyed the young draftees as they attempted to learn. 

    “With the Type 92, you must be careful not to injure your shoulder upon impact. This weapon is a machine gun which means that it fires multiple rounds of ammunition simultaneously. “ As he walked down the line of them, live targets were placed in front of them. Some of the men, women, and children began to cry, others stony-faced. 

    “The trigger is highly sensitive and will fire. Be mindful of this also.” To his surprise, one enlisted soldier got up from the ground and turned to face him. Indignation in his gaze. 

    “How are you to instruct us when you can not even get onto the ground to fire the gun?” At once, every single soldier paused, even the ones tying the human targets to the posts. He clenched his jaw and a vein appeared in his temple. He had been waiting for it. The newest class of cadets was far too eager for battle and considerably unteachable. He had maintained patience and good grace but even those came at a limit. 

    “Be very careful, cadet.” He warned, walking right up to the boy. 

    “Of what? Your fake leg falling off?” Other than the slight flaring of his nostrils, he remained otherwise emotionless. 

    “You lost your manhood when the Americans blew your leg off. You can’t teach me anything.” 

    “Arimoto, you’re out of order!” 

    “He pretends to be this high and mighty leader but he is a hypocrite. He doesn’t know which side he wants to be on, ours or the enemy.” 

    “Resume your position, soldier.” He commanded, trying to restore order. 

    “Rumor has it that you have an American woman in your barracks. A Negro whore. Does she fill your head with enemy lies when she screws you?” 

    “Arimoto, cease the behavior this insta-” To the shock of them all, the boy kicked his foot outward, causing the flimsy  temporary prosthetic to buckle and fall off. At once he lost his balance and fell to the ground.  

    “You’re a disgrace. A crippled Japanese Lieutenant who fucks Americans. I’ll take no orders from you.” 

    “He’s drunk, take him back to the barracks.” He thought to let it go, him reeking of alcohol. But this unfortunate soldier had just as quickly ended his career as soon as he’d started it. 

    “I’m not going, Negro fucker.” 

    “Arimoto,” The group of them turned to see Captain Onada standing behind him, face red with fury. 

    “Sir!” He gave a sloppy salute. 

    “How dare you disrespect your superior officer. Have you lost your mind?”

    “Permission, sir.” He asked, drawing the attention away from the intoxicated baffoon.

    “To do what?”

    “Permission to reprimand, sir.” Sniffing, he eyed the young soldier and stepped past him. 

    “Granted. Carry on.” 

    “Yes, sir!” Taking his wood crutch, he struck the boy’s leg, the impact invoking a sick crunch. He hollered, reaching down for his leg, not paying attention as yet another blow smashed against his face. Blood dribbled out of his nose and mouth and he pulled himself up to rest on all threes. Steadying the crutch, he slowly lifted himself up to stand. With his one leg, he calmly made his way over to him. 

    “Let this serve as a consequence for coming to drill drunk. Next time, I won’t be so kind.” Turning, he faced the remaining stunned cadets. 

    “Resume position and take aim.” The crying now resumed in the targets.     

    “Fire,” And like that, it was once again eerily quiet. 

*** 

    I didn’t need any reminders. In the nearly two months since returning to base, I had been made more than aware of my… recent differences. I knew my fellow comrades talked shit behind my back, snickered, and sneered. They’d watch me by the side of the track in the early mornings that I’d go, doing push-ups and pull-ups to keep my upper body strength. They’d watch me as I did stretches and worked on my leg, pulling it up and in, to keep my lower body fit and tight. And the same with the stump. 

    Less of a man. Robot-man. Cripple. These insults were spoken and whispered in passing or in the mess hall. Quite elementary if you ask me. But it was all they could do. Whisper. After publicly reprimanding Arimoto, no one else dared to oppose me. Be it respect, fear, or both I was glad to have, wield and command it. 

    By the end of April, soldiers had been once more deployed to Okinawa to defend the island against enemy attack. Some called it our last stretch. Others were excited about our victory. Since coming back to base, a few things had become clear to me. Things weren’t as well as the upper echelons portrayed it to be. Since Io To, I’d never heard of the status of the soldiers supposedly ‘waiting for reinforcements’. They’d simply disappeared. There was frantic nervous energy now on the base. A sense of rushing and hurrying. If we bore the flag of the Emperor well then what was the rush? 

    Of course, I kept my thoughts to myself. Perhaps now I could relate to what the soldier had mentioned way back in the bunker. Perhaps he was on to something. 

    It was hard trying to deal with what fate had dealt me. It was hard having to learn a new way to exist in this body of mine. But, my mind would not allow surrender under any circumstances. It was not in my genetic makeup to quit. Just as I had to adapt, so had Beatrice. So had Takahashi. So had we all.

*** 

    He’d been waiting by the infirmary now thirty minutes. Lifting his dying cigarette to his mouth, he inhaled the last of the nicotine and blew the smoke away from him, lifting his foot to crush it to ash. The sound of huffing brought his gaze upward. There she stood, crouched over breathing heavily. Smirking, he cleared his throat. She glanced up and at his eyes, stood upright. 

    “I’m late… I know.” He waved a hand in dismissal, viewing the evidence of her busy day. Her cream linen dress was covered in blood and her once neat hair had been hastily pulled back and up into a puff shape. 

    “It’s accepted.” Finding her breath, she gave a nod. Without much else to say, the two of them began to walk, her arms folded up against one another, his behind his back. The walk was comfortable for a while before he chose to speak. 

    “Takahashi will be deployed to Okinawa.” Her face revealed her disdain for him. 

    “Is that so?”

    “Mm.” More silence. Feet at a comfortable pace on gravel. 

    “I hope they shoot him.” He chuckled, bringing her gaze upward. He knew she didn’t care for him. But then, neither did he…much. 

    “That’s quite unladylike of you to say, Beatrice.” He teased, lips still smirking. 

    “When have I ever been considered a lady in here?” She retorted with a snort, rolling her eyes.  

    “Once if I remember correctly.”

    “When?”

    “Our last outing. I can’t quite call it a date.” At that, her indignant posture fell flat and now she appeared sheepish. 

    “I have considered trying my hand at it again. A date between us.” In the low light of the alleyway, her cheeks grew warm. But, she still hadn’t said much. Since his admission, things between them had improved…ever-so-slightly. They’d been taking whatever this was between them extremely slow… And to the best of their ability. It was still grossly uncomfortable at times, given their positions… given the war still at hand. But, at the very least, they no longer tried to hide it… no longer tried to fight it. They both had reached the stage of acceptance. 

    “That sounds nice…” She finally input, gripping her fingers together. Inhaling through his nose, he gave a single nod and nothing else was said on their walk. 

*** 

    She had started to go to the infirmary and it was there that she kept herself busy tending to the wounded. Beatrice was not a woman to keep inside and I had seen what being isolated had done to her. Alone with her thoughts and her memories, a debilitating depression had come upon her. Since going to the infirmary, however, I’d seen a change in her in that time. She was resembling more and more of the woman I’d seen on the stage that fateful night in ’43. A passionate woman. A woman who had found renewed purpose. I had no idea that what I was witnessing was the beginning of Bea’s nursing career. 

*** 

    Sighing, she sat down on her bed and pulled off her shoe. Rubbing her foot, she groaned. He removed his cap and placed it on the knob of the chair. Going over to the tub, he started to run water. It had been a trying day for them both. She, with the wounded soldiers, and he with the cadets. In the quiet, they shared a collective sigh. 

    “Your birthday. When is it?” 

    “What?” She asked absent-mindedly, looking up to see him undressing. 

    “Your birthday.” He repeated, slipping out of his shirt. He’d laid his uniform jacket next to him on the bed. 

    “July 7th.” She answered, lowering her gaze back to her feet. 

    “Hm.” Is all he said and the sound of familiar rustling told her that he now was naked. She kept her gaze down as the sound of the crutch neared the direction of the tub. A small grunt of exertion and she looked up to see him sitting on the rim of the tub, back facing her.  

    “Yours?” She found herself asking as he lowered himself into the water. 

    “December 29th.” He answered, reaching for the bar of soap. She laid back against her bed, listening to the trickle and plink of the water as he bathed. Opening her eyes, she turned to glance at him. He’d always been…well built. A dedicated early morning routine proved that. While he’d always been lean and strong, he appeared to be even wirier than before. The muscles in his back and biceps rippled and strained as he lifted the bar of soap to his hair, once again a little past his ear. 

    “You might as well get in if you’re going to stare, Bea.” He murmured, lathering his strands. 

    “I’m not staring…” She shot back, entire face heated. He lowly chuckled, but otherwise, kept quiet as he finished soaping his head. Biting the inside of her cheek, she slowly got up and winced at a sharp little pain that traveled through her feet. Gently unbuttoning her dress, she pulled it away from her and laid it on the bed. 

    Feeling her heart start to pound in her chest, she approached the tub. It hadn’t been the first time they’d been naked around each other by any means. But, it was easier to ignore anatomical features when you were angry or in denial. Now, they weren’t in denial and at the moment they weren’t angry at each other. Covering her chest, she inched closer until she stood by the rim. He hadn’t turned towards her but he seemed to know where she stood and moved down, giving her space to get in. 

    Slowly, she climbed in and sunk down, hiding her chest. He turned to look at her, eyes teasing. 

    “I’ve already seen them. No need to hide them.” He mused, flashing his teeth at her. 

    “Perverted son of a bitch.” She exclaimed, splashing him with water. He laughed then, the sound distinctly him… a perfect blend of rich and smooth melody with a slight rasp. Huffing she rose up out of the water and pursed her lips. 

    “Gimme that damn bar of soap. Nasty bastard.” Handing her the soap, he grinned as she snatched it and wet her hair. Lathering, she turned away from him, lips pouting. She heard him go underwater and closed her eyes, enjoying the bar rubbing against her scalp.  A wet exhale of breath told her he’d surfaced again and it was then that she chose to put down the soap. Going for her hair, her fingers grew stiff as she felt his slip into her strands. Her mouth gaped open as he began to scratch lightly with his nails. 

    “I can do it myself…” She breathed, feeling embarrassment flush her. 

    “I know.” He answered, pulling her head back against his chest. Her mind raced with all the comebacks she could muster but they all fell flat as he worked the suds through her hair from root to end. 

    “Ichiro,”

    “Shh.” He hushed against her ear, slowing his fingers into a leisurely scratch. She relaxed against him with a small sigh and he let his fingers drift out of her hair. Lifting those burly arms, he wrapped them around her shoulders and pulled her back against him flush. In the semi-darkness of the room, they remained in their embrace for a moment longer, enough that the heat from the water paled in comparison to that of their flesh. Letting go of her, he pulled away. The sun had set long ago and now with night as her backdrop, she sank underwater, rinsing the dirt and soap from her hair. Coming up, she lifted her hands to wipe the water away from her eyes. 

    His gaze slowly traveled from her face, stabbing sharp little prickles of heat into her collarbone, delicate and small. From her collarbones, they fell to her breasts, each so perfect and molded to her form. His gaze didn’t linger there too long and he lifted a hand, caressing her cheek with the back of his fingers. 

    Taking his thumb, he gently parted her lips. Her breath had begun to grow heavy and the desire she tried so hard to conceal now openly looked up at him. Withdrawing his hand, he left her completely then, climbing out of the tub. 

    ***

    There was something disarming about seeing Beatrice naked. There was a vulnerability in her body language, in her eyes, in her arms as they tried to shield herself that made it hard to resist her. She was perhaps the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on and I wanted to know her even more.

     My hands wanted to roam her, touch, squeeze and hold her. My lips wanted to taste, skim and graze her. I wanted to dive into the endless sea that lived between her curved, sensuous thighs. I hungered for the ungodly contact in hopes that she would absolve me of my sins. Weakness. She had long ago proven to be a weakness… where once I fought against her… where once I hated the reality of her…now, my heart embraced her as the only weakness I would ever allow myself to have.