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niijuu


twenty 


 




Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


 

 

Feet stood outside of the door to those large looming doors. Gathering up the fear in his throat, he turned the doorknob and stepped inside. 

 

*** 

 

    They had kept his funeral procession small and intimate. Only those who had been invited could attend. As dictated in his will, he had been cremated and sat in an ornate urn in front of his picture. A younger him, a picture of him in his uniform. Asami’s mother had bawled like a baby. His two sons sat nearest the wall. One of them had tears in his eyes but didn’t shed them. The other appeared stoic. There was no pastor or religious rites. But what did play was Louis Armstrong and Ms. Ella Fitzgerald. Two different sounds that when put together created the most beautiful harmony. Like Bea and I. 

    To his surprise, Takeru Ito had been asked to give the eulogy. The man appeared nervous as he walked up the rows of seats. He’d previously asked permission from his remaining relatives and given the okay, now stood at the short podium, palms sweaty. 

    “Mr. Matsuda was someone that I can honestly say has changed my life.” His relatives wept and blotted the tears from their eyes. 

    “I had the pleasure and displeasure of being his care specialist. Mr. Matsuda was crass and had the driest sense of humor.” Throat tight, he glanced over at his ashes. 

    “As we know, he’s an esteemed veteran of World War II and had earned many accolades for his service. But, behind that was a man who was as complex as his uniform.” 

 

*** 

 

    “….At the core of who he was, he was a simple man who preferred to be away from people. He clung to a cold image and if you didn’t know him, he’d intimidate you. If you knew him, you knew that his heart was truly warm. He loved his wife. He loved his family…” 

    The words he’d spoken echoed in his head and he took in the state of the office. At one time, he was sure that it was grand and stately. The remnants of that existed in the almost grandiose carvings of the desk and chair. Covered in thick dust, it seemed that everything had been forgotten. Closing the door behind him, he felt dread slice through his belly. Before he could start, he needed to conquer the fear of this space. That was first. Taking a cautious step towards the desk, he picked up the first thing he saw, a newspaper clipping. JAPAN SURRENDERS, END OF WAR! EMPEROR ACCEPTS ALLIED RULE; M’ ARTHUR SUPREME COMMANDER; OUR MANPOWER CURBS VOIDED.

     Swallowing, he placed the aged browning newspaper clip down. He never got rid of it because he never wanted to forget Grandma. Looking around the room, he lowered a shaky hand to the chair. Pulling it out, he took his hand and swiped away the thick layer of dust. Slowly, he sat. 

 

*** 

 

    “I heard he blew himself up to avoid being captured by the Americans. What a pity. I wish they had’ve tortured the sick bastard.”

    “He was a real demon.”

    “Serves him right. I hope he rots in hell.” She sat amongst the nuns as they chatted about the recent discovery of Takahashi’s demise. 

    “Sisters! That’s not of God! Let us pray for his soul and his salvation.” One of the elder nuns said, mouth drew in a tight displeased line. 

    “It wasn’t of God when he raped us one by one upon arriving here.” Margie said quietly as she mended the pants of one of the wounded. 

    “Sister Margaret!” She said not a word, but her seething eyes lifted up to the older woman, forcing her to shut her mouth. She quickly turned and hurried out of the door. The nuns all eyed each other with a smile as they kept working on their tasks. 

    “Bea,”

    “Hm?”

    “Your soldier. How is he?” She cleared her throat. 

    “He’s not my soldier.”

    “I heard he cut off that psycho doctor’s earlobe for you. If he isn’t your soldier then what is he?”

    “Hush, Jan.” Smirking, the women kept hemming. 

    “He’s fine to answer your question.” 

    “Now that he’s fine, how’s he in bed?” 

    “Janet!” 

    “Oh save it. We’re nuns but we’re women too. Hell, we haven’t been proper since we were forced here.” The younger women began to giggle amongst themselves. 

    “He’s a cripple, Jan. Surely, he can’t do it as well as someone with two legs.” 

    “All I’m saying is that it’s the leg between his thighs and the hips that count.” 

    “I confess that I’ve eyed him a couple of times. He’s really good looking for a Jap.” 

    “The good-looking ones always send you to hell.”

    “Hell that looks like heaven?” 

    “Hush, all of you. Y’all are gonna attract unwanted attention.” At that, the ladies glanced over at the soldiers standing guard at the door. Straightening up, they resumed a quieter atmosphere. 

    Some of the patients had died early in the morning and they were going to have to remove them and make room for new bodies. The injured prisoners they’d personally ‘handled’ and she knew that meant gotten rid of. Throat tight, she looked to her right, down at a Japanese soldier. He’d come in with shrapnel all over his body, in his face, arms, and back. It had taken one of his eyes. Even so, glancing down at him she couldn’t help but feel a certain sadness. 

    From the looks of him, he was young and very inexperienced. Thrown into battle and told to wield a weapon. As she mended his pants, she had the feeling that he would not make it. Biting the inside of her cheek, she kept to her work and kept quiet. Soon, the day would be over. 

 

*** 

 

    Removing his boots, his gaze lifted up to see her removing her own shoes. 

    “Long day, hm?” She nodded with a tired groan and flopped back against her bed. 

    “You?”

    “Yes.” Sighing heavily, she sat up once more. 

    “Dinner should arrive in 45 minutes.” He said, starting to unbutton his uniform jacket. 

    “Okay.” She was quiet as she observed him. Did yesterday even happen? He was as calm, cool, and composed as he’d always been. Perhaps she had dreamt the whole thing. 

    “Yesterday. Thank you.” Blinking, she now stared at a bare chest. 

    “What…what happened?” Fresh pain flashed up onto his face but he kept undressing as if to keep himself busy. 

    “A nuclear bomb was dropped on Hiroshima yesterday morning.” 

    “A what bomb?” 

    “A nuclear bomb.” He repeated, pulling the belt loose from around his waist. 

    “I’ve never heard of anything like that…”

    “Neither have I. But it was created and detonated.” Tugging the belt free from the loops on his pants, he swallowed thickly. 

    “My…my mother…she was…” His voice trailed off and at once she understood. Getting up, she hugged him. He had started to take breaths, deep ones as if to prevent the onslaught of tears she was sure was building up in his eyes. 

    “I’m sorry, sugar.” He lifted hands to her waist.     

    “The Soviet Union has also declared war on Japan.” The news made her grow still. 

    “We’re…finished.” He said, his voice small and breaking. She couldn’t reply… didn’t know what to say to comfort him. 

    “I’m ready for it to be over now.” He said, his watery gaze lifting to hers. 

    “I’m tired.” 

    “I know… I know, sweetheart.” Taking his hands away from her, he sniffed up his tears and cleared his throat. 

    “I suppose that we should begin to discuss the terms of your release. That’s coming soon, I’m sure.” Release. Freedom. Words she never thought she’d hear or see again… now dangled in front of her cruelly. 

    “Let’s… talk about it later.” Nodding, he stood, and together, they began to head to the tub, waiting as the water began to fill it. 

 

*** 

 

    Pictures of Hiroshima. The gruesome faces of survivors. Horrible second and third-degree burns. Bloody patches of flesh. Tears. Children crying for parents now deceased. The visual reminder of what happened broke his heart. He couldn’t imagine what he’d gone through…the pain he’d suffered losing what had remained of his family. Pictures of haunting shadows of life right before the blast chilled him. 

    “Mr. Matsuda…” Fear still gripped him. He’d have to delve deeper. 

 

*** 

 

    Life as we’d known it had suddenly come to an end. With little to no warning, Mukden was infiltrated and taken by the Americans and Red Army. In the days just before, the Staff Sargeants and other high-level officials had been in a panic, trying to destroy every piece of evidence they could of their deeds. The remaining prisoners within the holding cells were executed. Little did I know that I had been right. Seemingly overnight, our nation once strong and supreme had become docile.

 

*** 

 

    A loud ruckus drew the nurses' attention, and before they could ask any questions, the doors were kicked open. Armed Marines filed in, weapons drawn. One or two Japanese guards tried to resist and were immediately shot. 

    “EVERYBODY OUTSIDE. NOW.” Visibly shaking, the women stepped out into the humid sunlight. Heart pumping against her chest, she watched as men in uniform she recognized as American gather and round up Japanese soldiers, forcing them to put down their weapons. Her palms and the back of her neck started to sweat. 

    “Where are you from?” Eyes starting to water, she looked up at the owner of the voice. 

    “Chicago, sir.”

    “You?” He asked the next woman. 

    “United Kingdom. We’re all from the United Kingdom.” Nodding, he turned to speak to who she presumed was his commanding officer. They eyed her long enough that she had started to grow uncomfortable. Screaming and crying brought her attention away. Some of the Chinese and Korean women who had been taken to Unit 100 had fallen to the feet of the American soldiers and wailed their gratitude. Some even kissed their boots. 

    Throat tight, she felt lightheaded. It was finally here. She was gonna be freed. She couldn’t help the tears that welled up in her eyes and soon, at the realization that it was not a joke the rest of the women joined her, sobbing in thanks, gratitude… liberation. 

    Ichiro. As glad as she was, she searched for him through the tears and crowds of the military. Mass chaos surrounded them and as more and more Japanese soldiers were rounded up and made to kneel, she started to fear the worst. 

    Hours it seemed had passed and in that time, they’d been fed a proper meal and given plenty of water. Still, no sign of Ichiro. The women had now taken to sitting on the ground and she tried not to give away the frantic desire to find him. Suddenly, she heard laughing. To her horror, members of what she assumed were the Red Army shoved him forward, watching as he lost his balance and fell. They spoke in hard yet humored Russian, grinning at the tiny Japanese insect they had captured. 

    “Ichiro….” She whispered, eyes tearing up as they kicked him. One took his wood crutch and began to beat him. She went to stand but Margie grabbed her hand. Shaking her head no, she gripped her fingers. Hard grunts now hit the air and several of the American soldiers, relaxed their weapons, joking and laughing at the spectacle. 

    “Crippled son of a bitch. Serves him right.” The men stopped beating him and tossed the crutch away from him. He lifted up onto his arms, trying to stand but was brutally kicked in the face. Blood spurt across the ground. She couldn’t do anything but watch as the man took his foot and stepped on his stump, bringing forth a loud gruff cry of agony. 

    “I can’t… I can’t do this…” She whispered, gripping Margie’s hand so tight. In the afternoon sun, she let the tears fall from her eyes and down her cheeks. At his enraged groan, she lifted her head to see him scramble to grab his wood crutch. Blood dripped down his temple and his eye was starting to swell and blacken but he hadn’t given up the fight yet. 

    “Look at the little one legged Jap trying to fight the Russians. He’s a bold bastard.” The soldiers laughed and with one last kick, ceased all movement as they abused his stump once more. The Russian language spoken and spit into his face was of a taunting nature and two of the other soldiers knelt to lift him up. He outstretched his hand and yet another placed a black piece of cloth in his palm. Grinning, he continued in that taunting tone as he lifted the fabric to cover his eyes. Stepping back, he jerked his head sharply to the right and the soldiers went in that direction. 

    “No… no where they taking him….”

    “Bea,” Margie’s voice was low, quiet, and sad. You’ll never see him again.  Barely keeping up with the gait they dragged him, soon his sound leg scraped against the ground and they hoisted him up into a truck of rapidly growing captured personnel. 

    “As of today ladies, you are no longer prisoners of war under the Imperial Empire of Japan. Congratulations.” 






Chapter End Notes:

 

A/N: HI FAM FAM! I MISSED YOUUUUUUUUUUUU ;____; I had a little two-week break from writing and needless to say, I've come back invigorated and ready to create! hehe. This story is the first story I've written in which I actually NEEDED a whole break lol. That's different. As much as I missed you all, I missed Ichiro and Bea and they've been nagging me to pick it back up haha. Okay, let's get into the chapter. 

At long last, Beatrice and the other prisoners of war are set free. I researched the actual day that Mukden was infiltrated and compromised by the Red Army and U.S Marines and I imagine it happened something like this. The fav scene of this episode was Bea chatting it up with the nurses in the infirmary lol. Them teasing Bea is cute lol. She like he ain't my soldier and they lookin at her like mmhm sure. suuuuurrrrre. 

The hardest scene was writing the Red Army/Soviet Army beating Ichiro up. I felt that in my whole soul. *sobs* my poor baby. 

OKAY. I have a treat for y'all hehe. I was gone two weeks so I'm going to upload a bonus chapter update this week hehe. FIVE chapters this week I hope y'all enjoy them hehe. Let's gooooo 

DL~

 

Visual of Margie/Sister Margaret because she's a baddie hehe 

 







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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.