FIC: Sonar
- The other side of the Joui War, seen from Kamui's eyes (and a beat-up radio). Gift!fic for sn1987a , who wants more Mui!fic.
There are many kinds of power, and many kinds of weaknesses.
*
The first time Kamui heard about the Land of the Samurai, he was a month shy of ten years old, and Papi had just brought home a radio.
Television and newspapers were long-gone luxuries from a more peaceful time, before large-scale riots and petty fights between knucklehead gangs became an epidemic, driving most of the business and infrastructure on their planet into ruins. Radio receivers became highly coveted commodities in the black market, too dangerous to worth a purchase and three times his family's monthly living budget. Fortunately, Papi didn't mind a little unscrupulousness from time to time. When a bottle of semi-illegal, fine Nebula wine came into his possession, he took it to the ladyfox smuggler on the second floor and came back with a beat-up but functional AM/FM receiver. If it was good enough to capture airwaves from all over the galaxy, it was good enough for them. They put the radio in the kitchen, hidden by a flower pot as precaution against anti-smuggling raids, and listened to news broadcasts over dinner.
Most of the time, it was just background noise, something to focus on when Kagura's high-pitched wailing over banana fritters scorching her tongue threatened to blow his eardrums. He didn't care much about the going-ons of the universe, though he liked to listen to it when Papi was away saving planets, just to make sure he would go home in time.
The Earth business was a different thing. Everyone talked about it without talking about it, foolishly believing their whispers were quiet enough to elude their children's notice. He heard the low hums of their speculations everywhere he traveled, in the marketplace and dingy alleys behind their apartment, and in his bedroom, where thin walls failed to contain the arguments between Papi and Mami.
What his ears couldn't hear, his eyes witnessed. Through the muddy spyhole on their door and curtains that needed washing, when Mami was too weak to get up from her bed and Papi was away again, he saw many bewildering things. Military officers bearing the crest of the Tendou Sect, their distinctive velvet robe sweeping the floor, made visits to their dirt-poor apartment complex at late hours. Shortly after, the family next door suddenly had enough money to repair their moldy door and purchase a new fridge. Another neighbor bought a new spacepod and left with their family to a better place downtown. By the end of the week, their floor was half-empty, and he'd learned plenty. All Yatos, men and women with decent fighting experience (and even those without), had been recruited on a mission to wrestle an exceedingly precious planet away from the primitives who lived on it. Many signed up, lured by the excitement of slaughter and the rewards. Many, too, saw a way out of this forsaken place, and what an easy way it was.
"Have you seen those weaklings?" he heard the neighbors chatter. "They couldn't lift two barrels of rice without grunting. How can they defend themselves? I bet even the weakest among us can finish a dozen of them without getting a scratch."
Kamui waited for the subject to surface during their inane dinner conversations, but his parents never talked about it, save for a few darting glances when Papi explained why he couldn't play hide-and-seek with the mechanic's son from next door anymore.
Mami's heavy coughs continued to wake him up on quiet nights. Kagura's ripped sleeves and his torn pants remained as they were, waiting for the mercy of his paltry sewing skills. Papi departed for another trip. And the walls remained as thin and fragile as paper.
"Strong resistance from the rebel forces in Edo threatens to turn the supposedly easy operation into a long war. In response to the rebel's hostile response, Tendou's generals has offered the Dakini, Shinra and Yato population strategic positions in their elite force as well as undisclosed financial benefits."
The mechanic's name was Tenshin. In his spare time, he mixed herb medicines for half the price of licensed pharmacies, and his customers called him Doctor. He was rather weak for a Yato, but more impressive than most in Kamui's eyes due to his deftness working one-handed. According to Papi, Doctor's other arm was sliced off during a bloody brawl many years ago. However, much to his puzzlement, the man who greeted him today had two healthy-looking, functional arms.
"Ah, Kamui-kun! Sorry for the mess!"
Doctor looked far more agile and youthful now. Kamui watched him move a dozen half-packed boxes around with little trouble. The new biomechanic prosthetics perfectly resembled a normal hand, flesh and muscle and bones. Kamui had seen the advertisements for such sophisticated procedures before. The surgery cost a lot, well above the earnings of a humble mechanic in their decrepit little town.
"Are you going?" Kamui asked.
"Going where?"
"To the war."
Calloused hand patted his head in gentle reprimand.
"Kids shouldn't be talkin' about that kind of stuff."
"You're going to die."
There was little change in Doctor's genial expression, save for the subtlest of frown on his forehead.
"Everyone dies, Kamui-kun." Under the decaying light, Doctor's flexed fist was as good as the real thing. "...but it's better to live and die out there than in this place."
"Despite generous offers, a number of Yato elites had reportedly declined to join Tendou's army. A letter, though perhaps it would be better called a declaration, was sent by a coalition of twelve to the embassy early Wednesday morning. The letter declares: It is dishonorable to our blood to engage a thoroughly unequal opponent in a fight, and in such cowardly circumstances. The battles we fight are those we choose for ourselves, a test of courage and strength, not an imposition to pillage the weak..."
Two days later, Kamui returned from his training to find the apartment in complete chaos. The front door had been smashed, revealing shards of glass and wood splinters on the floor, remnants of a kitchen table torn in pieces. There was no blood in sight, but he could smell its presence all the same. He readied his umbrella, fearing the worst.
"Nii--nii-san?"
Kagura's whimper, only slightly louder than the rain's loud patter, pierced him with sudden clarity. Huddled beneath the kitchen cabinet, his sister rocked herself back and forth, her arm twisted at a funny angle. Bruises marred her face and wrist and her umbrella looked a little worse for wear, but it wasn't broken--a sliver of hope, quickly crushed when she looked at him with wide, terrified eyes.
"Kagura, where is Mami?"
"The occupation isn't going as smoothly as envisioned, and the Tendou risk losing face if a decisive win isn't reached within a year. They will win, because those primitive apes never had a chance against their state-of-the-art military forces, but they're wasting time and resources on a battle that should have never lasted half as long. It is a matter of time before they become a laughing stock of other mercenary races, or worse, leave themselves vulnerable to attacks."
Listening to Nebula's news broadcast made Kamui's head hurt a little, and Kagura was none too pleased about the noise either. Normally he would tell her to sleep in her own room if that bugged her so, but he supposed the event this afternoon had been traumatizing enough for his sister. And it was not as if either of them could sleep while Doctor tended to their wounded Mami.
Mami had quite a sharp tongue and Tendou's delegates did not look kindly on those who refused their offer. It was not difficult to imagine how their argument escalated into a fight. When her assailants retreated, perhaps having seen the foolishness of their actions, she went after them, ignoring her injuries and the hazards of exposing her sickly body to the rain. She collapsed three blocks away from their apartment.
On the phone, Papi did not talk much. Mami will make it, he said. Four or five hoodlums in military clothing wouldn't kill her. He said nothing about the pneumonia.
When he returned, a good forty-eight hours later, his clothes were stained with fresh blood, more purple than red. Kamui didn't recognize the scent, but he was pretty sure it wasn't Papi's.
"Papiiiii," Kagura ran to hug him with arms wide open, but the look on his face stopped her cold.
"I'm sorry, Kagura," Papi placed one hand on her shoulder, expression softening. "This won't happen again."
"Mami talked in her sleep," Kagura murmured, burying her face in Papi's coat.
"What did she say?"
"Nii-san won't tell."
Kamui could feel the weight of Papi's questioning gaze, but he couldn't look away from the window. It was as if the perpetual grey skies held the answers to his confusion.
*
"We Yatos may have fallen from grace. But we still have our dignity."
Notes : Yeah, this sucked real hard. Still, the ideas intrigue me. I'm saddened that I might have failed to communicate them very well.
You can feel the reverberations of a war even if you're not the aggressor or the occupied. While Yato possess superior physical strength, they seem to be economically disadvantaged and deprived of bright future in their own land, a state that leaves them somewhat vulnerable to being used as tools.
There are many kinds of power, and many kinds of weaknesses.
*
The first time Kamui heard about the Land of the Samurai, he was a month shy of ten years old, and Papi had just brought home a radio.
Television and newspapers were long-gone luxuries from a more peaceful time, before large-scale riots and petty fights between knucklehead gangs became an epidemic, driving most of the business and infrastructure on their planet into ruins. Radio receivers became highly coveted commodities in the black market, too dangerous to worth a purchase and three times his family's monthly living budget. Fortunately, Papi didn't mind a little unscrupulousness from time to time. When a bottle of semi-illegal, fine Nebula wine came into his possession, he took it to the ladyfox smuggler on the second floor and came back with a beat-up but functional AM/FM receiver. If it was good enough to capture airwaves from all over the galaxy, it was good enough for them. They put the radio in the kitchen, hidden by a flower pot as precaution against anti-smuggling raids, and listened to news broadcasts over dinner.
Most of the time, it was just background noise, something to focus on when Kagura's high-pitched wailing over banana fritters scorching her tongue threatened to blow his eardrums. He didn't care much about the going-ons of the universe, though he liked to listen to it when Papi was away saving planets, just to make sure he would go home in time.
The Earth business was a different thing. Everyone talked about it without talking about it, foolishly believing their whispers were quiet enough to elude their children's notice. He heard the low hums of their speculations everywhere he traveled, in the marketplace and dingy alleys behind their apartment, and in his bedroom, where thin walls failed to contain the arguments between Papi and Mami.
What his ears couldn't hear, his eyes witnessed. Through the muddy spyhole on their door and curtains that needed washing, when Mami was too weak to get up from her bed and Papi was away again, he saw many bewildering things. Military officers bearing the crest of the Tendou Sect, their distinctive velvet robe sweeping the floor, made visits to their dirt-poor apartment complex at late hours. Shortly after, the family next door suddenly had enough money to repair their moldy door and purchase a new fridge. Another neighbor bought a new spacepod and left with their family to a better place downtown. By the end of the week, their floor was half-empty, and he'd learned plenty. All Yatos, men and women with decent fighting experience (and even those without), had been recruited on a mission to wrestle an exceedingly precious planet away from the primitives who lived on it. Many signed up, lured by the excitement of slaughter and the rewards. Many, too, saw a way out of this forsaken place, and what an easy way it was.
"Have you seen those weaklings?" he heard the neighbors chatter. "They couldn't lift two barrels of rice without grunting. How can they defend themselves? I bet even the weakest among us can finish a dozen of them without getting a scratch."
Kamui waited for the subject to surface during their inane dinner conversations, but his parents never talked about it, save for a few darting glances when Papi explained why he couldn't play hide-and-seek with the mechanic's son from next door anymore.
Mami's heavy coughs continued to wake him up on quiet nights. Kagura's ripped sleeves and his torn pants remained as they were, waiting for the mercy of his paltry sewing skills. Papi departed for another trip. And the walls remained as thin and fragile as paper.
"Strong resistance from the rebel forces in Edo threatens to turn the supposedly easy operation into a long war. In response to the rebel's hostile response, Tendou's generals has offered the Dakini, Shinra and Yato population strategic positions in their elite force as well as undisclosed financial benefits."
The mechanic's name was Tenshin. In his spare time, he mixed herb medicines for half the price of licensed pharmacies, and his customers called him Doctor. He was rather weak for a Yato, but more impressive than most in Kamui's eyes due to his deftness working one-handed. According to Papi, Doctor's other arm was sliced off during a bloody brawl many years ago. However, much to his puzzlement, the man who greeted him today had two healthy-looking, functional arms.
"Ah, Kamui-kun! Sorry for the mess!"
Doctor looked far more agile and youthful now. Kamui watched him move a dozen half-packed boxes around with little trouble. The new biomechanic prosthetics perfectly resembled a normal hand, flesh and muscle and bones. Kamui had seen the advertisements for such sophisticated procedures before. The surgery cost a lot, well above the earnings of a humble mechanic in their decrepit little town.
"Are you going?" Kamui asked.
"Going where?"
"To the war."
Calloused hand patted his head in gentle reprimand.
"Kids shouldn't be talkin' about that kind of stuff."
"You're going to die."
There was little change in Doctor's genial expression, save for the subtlest of frown on his forehead.
"Everyone dies, Kamui-kun." Under the decaying light, Doctor's flexed fist was as good as the real thing. "...but it's better to live and die out there than in this place."
"Despite generous offers, a number of Yato elites had reportedly declined to join Tendou's army. A letter, though perhaps it would be better called a declaration, was sent by a coalition of twelve to the embassy early Wednesday morning. The letter declares: It is dishonorable to our blood to engage a thoroughly unequal opponent in a fight, and in such cowardly circumstances. The battles we fight are those we choose for ourselves, a test of courage and strength, not an imposition to pillage the weak..."
Two days later, Kamui returned from his training to find the apartment in complete chaos. The front door had been smashed, revealing shards of glass and wood splinters on the floor, remnants of a kitchen table torn in pieces. There was no blood in sight, but he could smell its presence all the same. He readied his umbrella, fearing the worst.
"Nii--nii-san?"
Kagura's whimper, only slightly louder than the rain's loud patter, pierced him with sudden clarity. Huddled beneath the kitchen cabinet, his sister rocked herself back and forth, her arm twisted at a funny angle. Bruises marred her face and wrist and her umbrella looked a little worse for wear, but it wasn't broken--a sliver of hope, quickly crushed when she looked at him with wide, terrified eyes.
"Kagura, where is Mami?"
"The occupation isn't going as smoothly as envisioned, and the Tendou risk losing face if a decisive win isn't reached within a year. They will win, because those primitive apes never had a chance against their state-of-the-art military forces, but they're wasting time and resources on a battle that should have never lasted half as long. It is a matter of time before they become a laughing stock of other mercenary races, or worse, leave themselves vulnerable to attacks."
Listening to Nebula's news broadcast made Kamui's head hurt a little, and Kagura was none too pleased about the noise either. Normally he would tell her to sleep in her own room if that bugged her so, but he supposed the event this afternoon had been traumatizing enough for his sister. And it was not as if either of them could sleep while Doctor tended to their wounded Mami.
Mami had quite a sharp tongue and Tendou's delegates did not look kindly on those who refused their offer. It was not difficult to imagine how their argument escalated into a fight. When her assailants retreated, perhaps having seen the foolishness of their actions, she went after them, ignoring her injuries and the hazards of exposing her sickly body to the rain. She collapsed three blocks away from their apartment.
On the phone, Papi did not talk much. Mami will make it, he said. Four or five hoodlums in military clothing wouldn't kill her. He said nothing about the pneumonia.
When he returned, a good forty-eight hours later, his clothes were stained with fresh blood, more purple than red. Kamui didn't recognize the scent, but he was pretty sure it wasn't Papi's.
"Papiiiii," Kagura ran to hug him with arms wide open, but the look on his face stopped her cold.
"I'm sorry, Kagura," Papi placed one hand on her shoulder, expression softening. "This won't happen again."
"Mami talked in her sleep," Kagura murmured, burying her face in Papi's coat.
"What did she say?"
"Nii-san won't tell."
Kamui could feel the weight of Papi's questioning gaze, but he couldn't look away from the window. It was as if the perpetual grey skies held the answers to his confusion.
*
"We Yatos may have fallen from grace. But we still have our dignity."
Notes : Yeah, this sucked real hard. Still, the ideas intrigue me. I'm saddened that I might have failed to communicate them very well.
You can feel the reverberations of a war even if you're not the aggressor or the occupied. While Yato possess superior physical strength, they seem to be economically disadvantaged and deprived of bright future in their own land, a state that leaves them somewhat vulnerable to being used as tools.