blood earth (sakumoto - friendship), (matsumiya - friendship), (juntoshi) - oneshot
Title: Blood Earth
Author: muohcu_t
Chapters: oneshot (5371 words)
Rating: R
Genre: action, drama, thriller
Parings: sakumoto (friendship), matsumiya (friendship), juntoshi
Warnings: mentions of violence, rape, murder, war, corruption, and child soldiers. character death
Disclaimer: I own only the plot. I make no money of this writing and I only do this for fun. Tatah~~
Summary: Sakurai was a journalist, and he covered stories of war victims, but when he refused to write propaganda for the corrupted government he was forced to be on the run. One day the revolutionaries attack his city. That’s when he met Matsumoto Jun, a stranger who just happened to have a way out of the country.
Notes: Heavily, heavily inspired by the film Blood Diamond. Like, I’ve totally ripped off a couple of scenes from there. Whops.
Sakurai longed for a real bed.
It had been weeks since he had quickly run out of his own apartment with very few belongings, gone to the bank and withdrawn every single yen he had left there. Then he had disappeared into the shadows of the city. Well, he tried at least. There was a constant fear of who he talked to, but living without a name had lead him to a handful of people he could trust. Some were willing to provide shelter if he didn’t find a hotel that didn’t need his name, while some were more willing with providing him with information.
Information about what, one might ask. If there was one thing Sakurai wanted when he got out of this godforsaken country was to bring light to all the horrors of the government. The little he had understood from the foreign media said that the government was conservative, but it was only the revolutionaries that caused the violence in this country, which was not true. The revolutionaries were horrible, but the government was no better.
Sakurai wanted to leave, but he was stuck. The borders were closed; the government controlled every boat and plane that tried to leave the country, and you needed a special passport to be allowed outside. Barely anyone was allowed inside, and none of those allowed inside were journalists. So, Sakurai was stuck in a country that didn’t allow to be reported to the rest of the world. In other words; not a good place to be for a journalist like him.
Sakurai had just gotten a new temporary apartment. He had paid the landlord a decent amount of money to shut him up, and he felt almost safe. Though, the apartment was mostly unfurnished. He had a refrigerator but no freezer, he had an uncomfortable couch but no bed and he had a computer but no TV. Sakurai doubted there was anything useful on TV, though. The news mostly showed propaganda these days.
He was most likely the only one who had the means and guts to do his work, but it was like this was his momentum. It was like all the reports he had done on foreign wars where he himself had to run away from bombs and machine guns had lead up to this point where he would finally bring the whole country down. He had all the names, all the numbers and all the pictures he needed, but there was no way of him to let his work be known in Japan. There were few pages on the Internet that passed the government’s criteria and Sakurai doubted he could publish anything on those pages. The papers, TV-stations and other publishers in this country were out of the question. Sakurai had to get out of the country.
Just as Sakurai was once again about to go through his work on his computer, he heard it. The alarms were going off in the city, and not too far away he could hear the bombs and guns.
“Shit!”
Quickly (well, as quickly as the computer let him), he copied his files over to his external hard drive before he shut it down and packed down his computer in a backpack. His hard drive was hidden in a pocket inside his shirt. He had specially made that pocket just for his hard drive. He knew everything would be lost if he was ever caught, but for those times he had saved most of his information in a small memory stick he kept inside his sock. It wasn’t everything he had gathered, but it was still enough to bring some light to the events happening in Japan.
As soon as he had packed down his computer in his already packed backpack he kept around just for being safe, he grabbed his camera and dashed out of the door, leaving nothing behind that could lead to him.
Outside was chaos. People were running towards the closest bunker they knew of, and they didn’t seem to know where exactly they were. Sakurai couldn’t run into the bunkers, though. He might as well turn himself to the government then. No, he had to rely on his own two feet and his experience on different battlefields.
While people were flooding the streets, running away from the sounds, Sakurai ran into the alleyways. Dark and dirty, but he didn’t have much of a choice, really. There weren’t any people there. The sounds were getting louder. He got out to another main street. Hundreds of people flooded in fear away from the sounds that were coming closer. Sakurai could clearly hear the explosions and gunshots now. People were screaming a lot more. Sakurai moved quickly to the next alleyway.
By now the first revolutionaries had showed up in the main streets. Young boys from the age of 9 to 16 carrying machineguns, playing the big games. “Shit,” Sakurai thought, but dwelled no more. He ran across the next main street, trying not to get hit by bullets. This time he had to follow the stream of civilians a bit, because the rebels were too close.
They had tanks! They were blowing up buildings!
Dust was covering the streets as the concrete buildings were crumbling down. Glass covered the streets. There were bodies lying beneath rocks, crushed by the weight. Sakurai ran amongst people who kept falling to the bullets that hit their head, shoulders, back, feet… Sakurai didn’t have time to check. He had no time to save the wounded. They were doomed.
Sakurai entered another alleyway. It was calmer, but the ground was shaking. Another building was falling apart. He ran in the narrow alleyway, but when he saw the next street was filled with soldiers he quickly grabbed his memory stick, placed it in his jacket pocket and he hopped into the sewers.
It was dark, but luckily he didn’t have to walk in poop water as there was a footpath constructed there. The lights in the sewers were off, so he had to use his flashlight, which was always a bit risky, but he didn’t have the time to worry about that. He fished up his compass from his pocket and continued the direction he was going for. Not west towards the rebels, not east towards the government, but north.
North was were all enemies of the state went. That was also were the revolutionaries had started their conquests. Poverty had always been prominent in the north, but after the revolutionaries began to rebel, things had gotten a lot worse. Sakurai had heard rumours of villages being burned down to the ground, only young boys survived only to be recruited to the revolution.
And Sakurai ran as fast as he could north.
The bombs continued exploding above him, making the ground shake and rumble. Sometimes someone jumped down into the sewers, but Sakurai only turned off the flashlight then and ran as quickly as he could to loose them, but mostly Sakurai was alone. That was until he ran straight into a man who was lying on the ground.
“OI! WATCH IT!”
Sakurai tripled over and landed straight onto the ground. He was sure he scratched his palms on the ground, as if he was 5 and falling off his bike, nostalgic wounds. But he quickly got up again and tried to see who it was he had tripled over. At first he couldn’t see much at all, since none of them had turned on their lights, but Sakurai didn’t hesitate to bring his flashlight to the stranger’s face.
The man seemed to be in his 20s, and he was not wearing combat clothes. His hair was black and short, slightly pulled up by some wax product, but it had clearly messed up whatever hairstyle he had gone for. He had harsh eyes and contrasting full lips, but his most prominent facial feature was his eyebrows, thick as they were. Sakurai didn’t know if he could trust this man, but he seemed to not belong to the revolutionaries at least.
“Who are you?” Sakurai demanded, probably showing a lot more fear in his voice than what he wanted.
The man was very calm. He didn’t say anything for a long time as he was studying Sakurai in the dark. He raised an eyebrow, obviously interested in Sakurai’s business.
“What’s it to you?” he asked in the end.
Sakurai didn’t answer. The man just sighed and grimaced at him before he spoke again.
“Well, run off. I don’t care, really,” the man said, lying down on the ground again.
That’s when he noticed that the man was indeed wounded. His leg was bleeding badly and the man was strangely enough not doing anything about it, as if he had given up on it.
“Did you get shot in the leg?” Sakurai asked, suddenly more friendly. He couldn’t just walk away from a life if it was still salvageable. The man looked more annoyed now.
“Again; what’s it to you? Now, fuck off!” he said, closing his eyes, waiting for Sakurai to leave.
Sakurai hesitated. There was a part of him that told him to leave the man behind and just save himself, but he just couldn’t do that. The other part of him told him that this man needed his help and that this man would somehow become important to Sakurai. So, he decided to kneel down by the man and check out the wound. It was definitely a shot wound, but it seemed like the bullet had only graced the man’s leg, no bullet left in the flesh. Sakurai tore off a piece of cloth from his shirt and tied it around the man’s leg.
“Why are you doing that? I could be working for the government, you know?” the man said, but didn’t do anything to stop Sakurai from what he was doing.
“Somehow I don’t think you are the sort of person who works for the government,” he simply said.
“Oh, not like the old men who do nothing but talk to different video cameras with orders to their citizens, but someone needs to do their dirty work,” the man said, laughing a bit. “Those grumpy old men don’t know how to do shit.”
Sakurai ignored him.
“We need to get moving from here. Do you think you can walk?” he asked, still concerned about the leg.
“Do you think I would be lying here if I could walk?” the man said.
“I’ll support you,” Sakurai said, before trying to get the man up, letting him lean over his shoulders.
The man tried his best at walking, but it wasn’t easy and the pace was too slow for Sakurai’s liking. He didn’t say anything, though. He just kept walking. The stranger didn’t say anything either. The ground around them still shook slightly, but the sounds were fading more and more as they kept walking. Hours had passed by before they finally stopped to rest.
The man was panting and seemed slightly lightheaded, but it seemed like he wasn’t bleeding anymore, as Sakurai had tightened the cloth very well.
“How are you feeling?” Sakurai asked.
“Tired,” the man simply stated.
“I suppose you don’t have any water or food with you?” Sakurai asked.
“You’re the one on the run. You should have packed better,” the man said tiredly, but still with a slight edge to it.
“I’ll go up and see if it’s safe up there then we can go and find some help for your leg.”
And that was how Sakurai Sho met Matsumoto Jun.
-----
From then they travelled together. As soon as Matsumoto’s leg had healed they headed up north. Sakurai wasn’t quite sure what benefited him by traveling with Matsumoto, but it seemed like Matsumoto knew his ways around Japan, and he seemed to avoid both the revolutionaries and the government which honestly was what Sakurai needed. Matsumoto hadn’t asked anything more from Sakurai about what he was doing running from both the revolutionaries and the government, but that suited him fine. No need to tell his cause if there was no point in it. Also, he didn’t know what or who Matsumoto was at all.
It all seemed like they both had this unspoken agreement to help each other, but it seemed like Sakurai had been wrong about that. Matsumoto stopped in his tracks one day. Ahead of them they could hear the child soldiers of the revolutionaries playing their rock music on loud speakers while they were probably drinking and getting high. Sakurai didn’t want to know what was going on there and he didn’t understand why Matsumoto hadn’t turned to a different direction earlier.
“Now, tell me why I shouldn’t throw you into this gang of soldiers so they can have some fun with you?” Matsumoto asked, pulling a knife from his belt. Sakurai felt threatened, but also confused.
“What are you doing?” Sakurai asked, his insecurity seeping through in his voice. Matsumoto turned his knife on him.
“What I’m basically asking is why shouldn’t I kill you already, hm?” Matsumoto said while smirking cunningly.
And this was it. Sakurai had to find a way to bargain for his own life, which he had become good at after all his years as a war journalist.
“If you throw me into the pit of hell I will most certainly drag you with me,” he said, sounding dangerous and threatening.
“And you think I haven’t thought of that, heh,” Matsumoto said, but Sakurai stood by with his statement, his own pocketknife waiting to be grabbed.
“I need to get out of this country,” Sakurai revealed in the end, since it seemed like Matsumoto wasn’t giving up his threat.
“Everybody needs to get out of this godforsaken country. What’s your excuse?” Matsumoto retorted back, not missing a beat. Sakurai paused for a moment before he revealed himself.
“I am a journalist,” he said.
“Haaa… I take it that you didn’t like being threatened to write propagandashit,” Matsumoto only stated, his knife not as threateningly pointed at Sakurai as before.
“Something like that,” Sakurai said, not really ready to talk about his journalistic work.
“Hm. Something like that, you say. So, you think you will be saved because of your title. Well, think again!” Matsumoto said before he quickly grabbed Sakurai by his arm, trying to bring him down on the ground, but Sakurai wasn’t completely defenceless. His strength lied in his arms, and Matsumoto was wrong to think he could simply grab him to bring him down. While Matsumoto struggled to drag him down, Sakurai grabbed Matsumoto’s knife and twisted it so Matsumoto had to let it go. Then Sakurai kicked Matsumoto’s feet so he fell out of balance before he sat on him so Matsumoto couldn’t get away.
“Maybe I should throw you to the sharks instead,” Sakurai said threateningly.
“Ok, timeout now. You can’t kill me,” Matsumoto said, slightly irritated by his new position.
“Why not?”
Matsumoto smirked.
“I know a way out of the country.”
And there suddenly Sakurai had his golden ticket to everything he had hoped for. Only it was from the most cold-hearted shit he had ever met, but he would take it even if it meant he would have to amputate his leg.
“And are you willing to share your escape?” Sakurai asked, doubting slightly the too-good-to-be-true offer.
“Depends on how much information you’ve got for me, journalist,” Matsumoto replied dryly.
“Information?”
Sakurai didn’t have time to finish his thoughts as suddenly there were gunshots heard from the revolutionaries’ camp. Screams could be heard and it seemed like the situation was turning into a slightly chaotic one.
“Run off?” Matsumoto suggested.
“Run,” Sakurai replied before quickly getting up and running off into the woods.
-----
It seemed Matsumoto had promised to help out his friend, Ninomiya Kazunari. He had been jailed and was up for execution any moment now. The only reason Matsumoto was still in this country was to get him out of prison. Turned out that Matsumoto had a heart after all.
“He helped me out once with this smuggling episode, so I owe him,” Matsumoto explained.
It also turned out that Sakurai was more than capable of helping Matsumoto out somehow. Ninomiya had been imprisoned in one of the most feared prisons of the country. And Sakurai had to just happen have some valuable documentaries of that prison. Many of his fellow journalist colleagues had been sent there and ended their lives there. He had wanted to shed some light of that place of horrors. He had documents of limbs being amputated without consent or any anesthetic, murders happening without any reason, rape and violence against prisoners among other human right crimes.
Among all of this there was Ninomiya. Sakurai had a list of prisoners and Ninomiya’s name was on it, but it was outdated and there was no way of knowing if he was still alive and in one piece. Still, they had to somehow give it a try, but they had no idea how. They had a map over the prison, but no way of entering it without being imprisoned or executed themselves.
And so they started planning.
They stayed in a smaller city and stayed low, acting like brothers if anyone asked. Sakurai was easily liked by everyone he graced his conversation skills with, so he was often out getting information about whatever the government was up to. Currently there were a lot of riots a bit west from where they were. The government seemed to be working on it, to no use. The riots were coming closer to the easy, gradually taking over city after city, village after village. And Sakurai heard a lot of stories of victims of these riots. The revolutionaries seemed to have the habit of cutting off arms of civilians these days, just to show them what the government really means with their phrase; “the future is in your hands”.
Matsumoto would bring back even worse stories. He knew what kind of people to talk to when it came to find out information about the revolutionaries. He told Sakurai of how they kidnapped the children from their families to join their army; just how they manipulated the kids to think they were doing something right. They were being trained to become soldiers in a war they didn’t understand.
That was nothing new, though.
What was new was that Matsumoto seemed to always know where the revolutionaries were striking next. Sakurai had asked him how he got his information, but the only thing he said was that he knew some Masaki who owned a bar. He, apparently, also happened to deal out drugs in this city. And he seemed to be dealing with the revolutionaries and smugglers a lot.
“That Masaki-dude can’t be a good man,” Sakurai had said one day without thinking.
“What makes a man good?” was Matsumoto’s reply, slightly heated in anger. “In this world we’re living in there’s every man for himself.”
“Yet, here we are planning on breaking into the most secure prison to save your friend-“ Sakurai began, but was interrupted.
“That’s different. I owe him that,” Matsumoto said.
“Doesn’t matter. There are people out there who would leave him be to die in prison, but you’re still here, aren’t you?” Sakurai said. Matsumoto didn’t say anything, just looking straight in front of him at nothing.
“I think that makes you an honourable man,” Sakurai continued, only to bring out a small tsk from Matsumoto. They didn’t say more about that.
Instead they continued to lay low until one day Matsumoto entered their shared apartment with hasty steps. Three months had passed by before finally anything happened.
“We’re going, now!” he said before he started to pack his stuff into a backpack he had.
“What’s happened?” Sakurai asked as he started packing as well.
“The rebels are going to raid the prison. This is our chance!” Matsumoto said.
“Our chance for what?! Get our arms amputated and then killed before we get buried in a mass grave?” Sakurai asked, which made Matsumoto sigh as if Sakurai was ridiculous for being worried about such things during these dark times.
“No, Sakurai. This is our chance to get in and fetch Nino while the security is down and everything is chaotic,” Matsumoto replied dryly.
“But there will be guns being fired and explosions and the possibility of us making it out alive are slim. And Ninomiya might not even be there anymore,” Sakurai said, trying to make his point of how stupid it was.
“Sakurai, there won’t be any other chances like this. It’s risky, but there will be no other day when we can simply get in and get him out of there. We’ll disguise ourselves as rebels, carrying guns and all, and then we’ll find out where Nino is imprisoned, get him and run off!” Matsumoto explained.
“What if we get chased by the rebels then? Or prison guards? We run?” Sakurai asked.
“I’ve arranged a plane out of the country with only a phone call,” Matsumoto replied.
Sakurai thought it was a risk. There were so many factors that could mean the end of them both, and then all of Sakurai’s work was for nothing. He just simply couldn’t let that happen. Right now it was his life mission to get out of the country and document the situation to the rest of the modern world.
“Look, I need you and your map. So, if you don’t join me on this, then you ain’t getting out of the country with us, simple as that,” Matsumoto said.
Well, then. Sakurai’s choice had been decided.
-----
They had waited for days close by the prison grounds. Any time now and they would be storming in with the rebels, but they didn’t know when. They didn’t know if the revolutionaries had changed their mind or if invading the prison had been their plan at all. It would make a bit sense since one of the main leaders was currently locked up behind the prison walls, being interrogated for everything between the sky and the sea.
Since they had arrived, they hadn’t been able to properly move around nor cook any food or anything. They had to lay really low, which meant not standing out from the scenery around them. That meant no fire and no wandering off alone. But it was ok; Sakurai was patient when he needed to be. Good journalism meant sometimes that you had to be patient. Matsumoto on the other hand didn’t always seem to have the patience, occasionally mumbling nasty things about the revolutionaries taking their sweet time partying their way over there.
In the end they arrived at night with a huge explosion.
The alarms went off, and they could hear the guards running around, shooting against the revolutionaries. Sakurai couldn’t see much from behind the bushes, but he could hear screams of children getting shot at, soldiers dying and the wall around the prison breaking apart in the explosions. Matsumoto grabbed Sakurai’s arm and dragged him toward the noises.
As they came closer towards the revolutionaries, Sakurai started to see more of the situation. The revolutionaries had several tanks with them, which would explain the explosions. The walls were already ruins and child soldiers were running inside with their machine guns, shooting everyone in their way. The tanks were blowing up the building they were about to invade.
“Let’s get in there!” Matsumoto said lowly. He aimed his own machine gun at the soldiers at the wall and shot several of them in the legs or arms, keeping them alive, but keeping them out of the game. The revolutionaries thought nothing of two unknown faces among them. They were screaming and shouting slogans like “we are the people,” and “we bring you the future,” without really knowing what they were talking about. If anything the kids must have thought it was fun raiding a prison like that.
They moved into the building without any huge problems. It was inside that they really had to step up their game. The guards were to be found around every corner, making it nearly impossible to move forward. Matsumoto shot several guards down, Sakurai didn’t have time to figure out if they survived or not. They were too busy to find wherever the prisoners were held trapped, and soon enough they found the first hallway cells of the building, but they couldn’t find Ninomiya in any of the cells. They continued to search.
Sakurai could feel the adrenaline pulsing through his veins. For every corner he turned he felt his fear gripping his heart. For every explosion made his legs a bit shakier (quite literally). But he couldn’t relax now. Instead he told Matsumoto where to run to get to the different cells. If Sakurai hadn’t known the map of this place inside out, they surely would have been running between the hallways for hours since the building was so large.
It took them 40 minutes, but they finally found Ninomiya. As soon as Ninomiya had heard Matsumoto’s voice yelling his name, he had replied loud and clear: “JUN! I’M HERE!” He had been thrown into a random cell with four other prisoners. Matsumoto ran to the bars.
“Nino! Are you hurt?” he asked frantically, the adrenaline getting the best of him.
“Just get me out of here, Jun,” Ninomiya said, making Matsumoto stand up to his feet.
“Get back,” he only said, Ninomiya obliged.
Then he shot the lock so it broke off. As soon as he did so, the four other prisoners quickly pushed to the door, trying to make their way out, making Matsumoto feel enough threatened to shoot them down.
“Fuck them, Jun! We have to get out of here!” Sakurai shouted, trying to get his companion to focus. Matsumoto stopped his row of bullets only when the prisoners were dead.
“Come on, Nino. We have to run,” he said.
“I might need a bit of help,” Ninomiya said, and then Sakurai finally noticed that Ninomiya was missing his right leg.
“Come! I’ll carry you,” Sakurai said, crouching down so Ninomiya could get on. Ninomiya didn’t hesitate for one second, not caring if Sakurai was a stranger.
They ran off again, Matsumoto in front shooting whoever came in the way and Sakurai carrying Ninomiya in the back. They ran through hallways and different rooms, leaving behind only bodies of guards, child soldiers and escaped prisoners. Sakurai would have protested, but it was their lives or execution so he ran for both his and Ninomiya’s life.
Finally, they got outside. They were even lucky enough to not have to run straight into a tank, but there were revolutionaries, and this time both Ninomiya, who had gotten Sakurai’s gun, and Matsumoto were shooting at the children. Sakurai didn’t like it, but he couldn’t say anything. He didn’t really have anything to say. The situation was what it was, and that was that these children were chasing them through the woods. Fuck.
The plan was to run off to this field that was a bit high up on the mountainside. There a plane would pick them up and they would fly to Korea, before they would head off towards Europe or USA or something, Sakurai wasn’t quite sure. The being-chased-by-child-soldiers-thing kind of complicated the situation a bit. They seemed to loose them slightly when they came to the foot of the mountain, but they couldn't take time to rest. Soon enough, the plane would arrive and they would have to take off immediately after that.
Matsumoto hadn’t said much, hanging behind now as he guarded them. Sakurai thought he heard him grunt and moan slightly, but he didn’t think much about it, since the terrain was a bit steeper than what he had thought. The dawn was slowly approaching them as the sky turned lighter for every minute. They had probably been running for at least a few hours, and Sakurai could feel the burn in his legs. Ninomiya didn’t say anything, probably exhausted from whatever horrors he had faced during his time imprisoned.
Suddenly they heard a thud and a loud growl coming from behind.
“Stop! Jun!” Ninomiya shouted, clearly worried.
Sakurai turned around and carried Ninomiya to where Matsumoto had fallen. Matsumoto looked like he was in pain and his hands were covered in blood. He had been shot, just beneath his ribs on his right side of his stomach. Sakurai instinctively tore off a piece of his shirt and covered the wound with it. It quickly soaked up in blood.
“Jun, get up! We have to catch the plane,” Ninomiya urged, but even Sakurai could see that there was no use. Matsumoto would slow them down too much, and Sakurai couldn’t carry them both.
Matsumoto only groaned and looked away. He seemed to be thinking about something. Suddenly they were interrupted by shouts from the foot of the mountain. The revolutionaries had caught up with them, and they were more than what Sakurai had guessed they were. Matsumoto looked at them like he had decided something.
“Sakurai, take Nino with you and get on that plane. I’ll deal with these soldiers,” he said, determined.
“No, you have to come with us!” Ninomiya immediately protested.
“I’ll never make it out of here. This earth runs through my blood,” Matsumoto said to him before turning to Sakurai.
“Get into the plane and turn your gun at the pilot. He might be a dick about it all, so just threaten him to get you out of here. Somehow get yourself to London and find Ohno Satoshi! Got it? Now, what are you waiting for? RUN!”
Sakurai didn’t need to be told twice.
Jun watched Sakurai hoist Ninomiya over his shoulders and run off up towards the top. He aimed his machine gun at the children down by the foot of the mountain and shot them down until he couldn’t see more of them. He breathed slowly, trying not to hurt himself too much. He looked at the sunrise, beautiful morning. Japan, The Land of The Rising Sun. Jun grabbed his phone and dialled a number.
“Hello?” a sleepy voice answered him.
“Satoshi..,” Jun sighed.
“Jun! Are you alright?” Satoshi asked worried, but more awake now.
“Better than ever. How’s London treating you?” Jun replied, still relieved to hear Satoshi’s voice.
“Drop it, Jun. Are you coming here?” Satoshi asked, making Jun sigh once again.
“I don’t think I will be seeing you for a long while, Satoshi,” he said honestly.
“What? Why not? Are you hurt, Jun?” Satoshi sounded more worried now. Jun didn’t like to hurt him so.
“I’m fine, now that I’m talking to you,” Jun chuckled at his own cheesiness, only to whimper at the pain that shot through him.
“Tell me where to find you and I will come and get you!” Satoshi was shouting now, possibly crying a bit. Not really what Jun had wanted him to be doing.
“You help Nino when he gets there, ok? Some dude named Sakurai Sho will call you and you three help each other out, ok?” Jun simply explained, hearing more shuffling noises from the other side.
“Where are you? Please, Jun, tell me,” Satoshi pleaded desperately.
Jun paused for a moment.
“I’m right where I’m supposed to be; in The Land of The Rising Sun,” he said, staring at the dawn before him. “It’s so beautiful, Satoshi.”
Satoshi didn’t say anything. Jun felt his life drip away.
“I love you, Satoshi,” he said. Satoshi was crying on the other line, but he still managed to reply a weak “I love you” back.
“Goodbye..,” he said, but he managed to hear Satoshi’s desperate shouting just before he hung up.
He laid down his phone on the ground. His blood was soaking the earth beneath him. The sun was blinding his eyes, but he didn’t care. The morning birds were singing the songs of Japan, his home. The wind caressed his face as he gazed at the cloudless sky.
“I am where I’m supposed to be,” he said before finally closing his eyes to rest.
Author's notes:
Well, I thought I was going to be stuck with this one for at least a year. I surprise myself constantly!
I really wanted to make a story that was basically the film Blood Diamond with Leonardo DiCaprio in it, because I really think it's so awesomely brutal and realistic that I just couldn't let go of the thought. I don't know if I really like this version, though. The thought of Japan in a state of chaos? So weird! Oh well, this is fiction.
And aaah, I think I just wanted to steal some of the scenes from the movie. Shit, I should just have made this a series or something, fuck no, stop it, Sárá, you would have never finished it.
Ah, time for bed now.
Author: muohcu_t
Chapters: oneshot (5371 words)
Rating: R
Genre: action, drama, thriller
Parings: sakumoto (friendship), matsumiya (friendship), juntoshi
Warnings: mentions of violence, rape, murder, war, corruption, and child soldiers. character death
Disclaimer: I own only the plot. I make no money of this writing and I only do this for fun. Tatah~~
Summary: Sakurai was a journalist, and he covered stories of war victims, but when he refused to write propaganda for the corrupted government he was forced to be on the run. One day the revolutionaries attack his city. That’s when he met Matsumoto Jun, a stranger who just happened to have a way out of the country.
Notes: Heavily, heavily inspired by the film Blood Diamond. Like, I’ve totally ripped off a couple of scenes from there. Whops.
Sakurai longed for a real bed.
It had been weeks since he had quickly run out of his own apartment with very few belongings, gone to the bank and withdrawn every single yen he had left there. Then he had disappeared into the shadows of the city. Well, he tried at least. There was a constant fear of who he talked to, but living without a name had lead him to a handful of people he could trust. Some were willing to provide shelter if he didn’t find a hotel that didn’t need his name, while some were more willing with providing him with information.
Information about what, one might ask. If there was one thing Sakurai wanted when he got out of this godforsaken country was to bring light to all the horrors of the government. The little he had understood from the foreign media said that the government was conservative, but it was only the revolutionaries that caused the violence in this country, which was not true. The revolutionaries were horrible, but the government was no better.
Sakurai wanted to leave, but he was stuck. The borders were closed; the government controlled every boat and plane that tried to leave the country, and you needed a special passport to be allowed outside. Barely anyone was allowed inside, and none of those allowed inside were journalists. So, Sakurai was stuck in a country that didn’t allow to be reported to the rest of the world. In other words; not a good place to be for a journalist like him.
Sakurai had just gotten a new temporary apartment. He had paid the landlord a decent amount of money to shut him up, and he felt almost safe. Though, the apartment was mostly unfurnished. He had a refrigerator but no freezer, he had an uncomfortable couch but no bed and he had a computer but no TV. Sakurai doubted there was anything useful on TV, though. The news mostly showed propaganda these days.
He was most likely the only one who had the means and guts to do his work, but it was like this was his momentum. It was like all the reports he had done on foreign wars where he himself had to run away from bombs and machine guns had lead up to this point where he would finally bring the whole country down. He had all the names, all the numbers and all the pictures he needed, but there was no way of him to let his work be known in Japan. There were few pages on the Internet that passed the government’s criteria and Sakurai doubted he could publish anything on those pages. The papers, TV-stations and other publishers in this country were out of the question. Sakurai had to get out of the country.
Just as Sakurai was once again about to go through his work on his computer, he heard it. The alarms were going off in the city, and not too far away he could hear the bombs and guns.
“Shit!”
Quickly (well, as quickly as the computer let him), he copied his files over to his external hard drive before he shut it down and packed down his computer in a backpack. His hard drive was hidden in a pocket inside his shirt. He had specially made that pocket just for his hard drive. He knew everything would be lost if he was ever caught, but for those times he had saved most of his information in a small memory stick he kept inside his sock. It wasn’t everything he had gathered, but it was still enough to bring some light to the events happening in Japan.
As soon as he had packed down his computer in his already packed backpack he kept around just for being safe, he grabbed his camera and dashed out of the door, leaving nothing behind that could lead to him.
Outside was chaos. People were running towards the closest bunker they knew of, and they didn’t seem to know where exactly they were. Sakurai couldn’t run into the bunkers, though. He might as well turn himself to the government then. No, he had to rely on his own two feet and his experience on different battlefields.
While people were flooding the streets, running away from the sounds, Sakurai ran into the alleyways. Dark and dirty, but he didn’t have much of a choice, really. There weren’t any people there. The sounds were getting louder. He got out to another main street. Hundreds of people flooded in fear away from the sounds that were coming closer. Sakurai could clearly hear the explosions and gunshots now. People were screaming a lot more. Sakurai moved quickly to the next alleyway.
By now the first revolutionaries had showed up in the main streets. Young boys from the age of 9 to 16 carrying machineguns, playing the big games. “Shit,” Sakurai thought, but dwelled no more. He ran across the next main street, trying not to get hit by bullets. This time he had to follow the stream of civilians a bit, because the rebels were too close.
They had tanks! They were blowing up buildings!
Dust was covering the streets as the concrete buildings were crumbling down. Glass covered the streets. There were bodies lying beneath rocks, crushed by the weight. Sakurai ran amongst people who kept falling to the bullets that hit their head, shoulders, back, feet… Sakurai didn’t have time to check. He had no time to save the wounded. They were doomed.
Sakurai entered another alleyway. It was calmer, but the ground was shaking. Another building was falling apart. He ran in the narrow alleyway, but when he saw the next street was filled with soldiers he quickly grabbed his memory stick, placed it in his jacket pocket and he hopped into the sewers.
It was dark, but luckily he didn’t have to walk in poop water as there was a footpath constructed there. The lights in the sewers were off, so he had to use his flashlight, which was always a bit risky, but he didn’t have the time to worry about that. He fished up his compass from his pocket and continued the direction he was going for. Not west towards the rebels, not east towards the government, but north.
North was were all enemies of the state went. That was also were the revolutionaries had started their conquests. Poverty had always been prominent in the north, but after the revolutionaries began to rebel, things had gotten a lot worse. Sakurai had heard rumours of villages being burned down to the ground, only young boys survived only to be recruited to the revolution.
And Sakurai ran as fast as he could north.
The bombs continued exploding above him, making the ground shake and rumble. Sometimes someone jumped down into the sewers, but Sakurai only turned off the flashlight then and ran as quickly as he could to loose them, but mostly Sakurai was alone. That was until he ran straight into a man who was lying on the ground.
“OI! WATCH IT!”
Sakurai tripled over and landed straight onto the ground. He was sure he scratched his palms on the ground, as if he was 5 and falling off his bike, nostalgic wounds. But he quickly got up again and tried to see who it was he had tripled over. At first he couldn’t see much at all, since none of them had turned on their lights, but Sakurai didn’t hesitate to bring his flashlight to the stranger’s face.
The man seemed to be in his 20s, and he was not wearing combat clothes. His hair was black and short, slightly pulled up by some wax product, but it had clearly messed up whatever hairstyle he had gone for. He had harsh eyes and contrasting full lips, but his most prominent facial feature was his eyebrows, thick as they were. Sakurai didn’t know if he could trust this man, but he seemed to not belong to the revolutionaries at least.
“Who are you?” Sakurai demanded, probably showing a lot more fear in his voice than what he wanted.
The man was very calm. He didn’t say anything for a long time as he was studying Sakurai in the dark. He raised an eyebrow, obviously interested in Sakurai’s business.
“What’s it to you?” he asked in the end.
Sakurai didn’t answer. The man just sighed and grimaced at him before he spoke again.
“Well, run off. I don’t care, really,” the man said, lying down on the ground again.
That’s when he noticed that the man was indeed wounded. His leg was bleeding badly and the man was strangely enough not doing anything about it, as if he had given up on it.
“Did you get shot in the leg?” Sakurai asked, suddenly more friendly. He couldn’t just walk away from a life if it was still salvageable. The man looked more annoyed now.
“Again; what’s it to you? Now, fuck off!” he said, closing his eyes, waiting for Sakurai to leave.
Sakurai hesitated. There was a part of him that told him to leave the man behind and just save himself, but he just couldn’t do that. The other part of him told him that this man needed his help and that this man would somehow become important to Sakurai. So, he decided to kneel down by the man and check out the wound. It was definitely a shot wound, but it seemed like the bullet had only graced the man’s leg, no bullet left in the flesh. Sakurai tore off a piece of cloth from his shirt and tied it around the man’s leg.
“Why are you doing that? I could be working for the government, you know?” the man said, but didn’t do anything to stop Sakurai from what he was doing.
“Somehow I don’t think you are the sort of person who works for the government,” he simply said.
“Oh, not like the old men who do nothing but talk to different video cameras with orders to their citizens, but someone needs to do their dirty work,” the man said, laughing a bit. “Those grumpy old men don’t know how to do shit.”
Sakurai ignored him.
“We need to get moving from here. Do you think you can walk?” he asked, still concerned about the leg.
“Do you think I would be lying here if I could walk?” the man said.
“I’ll support you,” Sakurai said, before trying to get the man up, letting him lean over his shoulders.
The man tried his best at walking, but it wasn’t easy and the pace was too slow for Sakurai’s liking. He didn’t say anything, though. He just kept walking. The stranger didn’t say anything either. The ground around them still shook slightly, but the sounds were fading more and more as they kept walking. Hours had passed by before they finally stopped to rest.
The man was panting and seemed slightly lightheaded, but it seemed like he wasn’t bleeding anymore, as Sakurai had tightened the cloth very well.
“How are you feeling?” Sakurai asked.
“Tired,” the man simply stated.
“I suppose you don’t have any water or food with you?” Sakurai asked.
“You’re the one on the run. You should have packed better,” the man said tiredly, but still with a slight edge to it.
“I’ll go up and see if it’s safe up there then we can go and find some help for your leg.”
And that was how Sakurai Sho met Matsumoto Jun.
-----
From then they travelled together. As soon as Matsumoto’s leg had healed they headed up north. Sakurai wasn’t quite sure what benefited him by traveling with Matsumoto, but it seemed like Matsumoto knew his ways around Japan, and he seemed to avoid both the revolutionaries and the government which honestly was what Sakurai needed. Matsumoto hadn’t asked anything more from Sakurai about what he was doing running from both the revolutionaries and the government, but that suited him fine. No need to tell his cause if there was no point in it. Also, he didn’t know what or who Matsumoto was at all.
It all seemed like they both had this unspoken agreement to help each other, but it seemed like Sakurai had been wrong about that. Matsumoto stopped in his tracks one day. Ahead of them they could hear the child soldiers of the revolutionaries playing their rock music on loud speakers while they were probably drinking and getting high. Sakurai didn’t want to know what was going on there and he didn’t understand why Matsumoto hadn’t turned to a different direction earlier.
“Now, tell me why I shouldn’t throw you into this gang of soldiers so they can have some fun with you?” Matsumoto asked, pulling a knife from his belt. Sakurai felt threatened, but also confused.
“What are you doing?” Sakurai asked, his insecurity seeping through in his voice. Matsumoto turned his knife on him.
“What I’m basically asking is why shouldn’t I kill you already, hm?” Matsumoto said while smirking cunningly.
And this was it. Sakurai had to find a way to bargain for his own life, which he had become good at after all his years as a war journalist.
“If you throw me into the pit of hell I will most certainly drag you with me,” he said, sounding dangerous and threatening.
“And you think I haven’t thought of that, heh,” Matsumoto said, but Sakurai stood by with his statement, his own pocketknife waiting to be grabbed.
“I need to get out of this country,” Sakurai revealed in the end, since it seemed like Matsumoto wasn’t giving up his threat.
“Everybody needs to get out of this godforsaken country. What’s your excuse?” Matsumoto retorted back, not missing a beat. Sakurai paused for a moment before he revealed himself.
“I am a journalist,” he said.
“Haaa… I take it that you didn’t like being threatened to write propagandashit,” Matsumoto only stated, his knife not as threateningly pointed at Sakurai as before.
“Something like that,” Sakurai said, not really ready to talk about his journalistic work.
“Hm. Something like that, you say. So, you think you will be saved because of your title. Well, think again!” Matsumoto said before he quickly grabbed Sakurai by his arm, trying to bring him down on the ground, but Sakurai wasn’t completely defenceless. His strength lied in his arms, and Matsumoto was wrong to think he could simply grab him to bring him down. While Matsumoto struggled to drag him down, Sakurai grabbed Matsumoto’s knife and twisted it so Matsumoto had to let it go. Then Sakurai kicked Matsumoto’s feet so he fell out of balance before he sat on him so Matsumoto couldn’t get away.
“Maybe I should throw you to the sharks instead,” Sakurai said threateningly.
“Ok, timeout now. You can’t kill me,” Matsumoto said, slightly irritated by his new position.
“Why not?”
Matsumoto smirked.
“I know a way out of the country.”
And there suddenly Sakurai had his golden ticket to everything he had hoped for. Only it was from the most cold-hearted shit he had ever met, but he would take it even if it meant he would have to amputate his leg.
“And are you willing to share your escape?” Sakurai asked, doubting slightly the too-good-to-be-true offer.
“Depends on how much information you’ve got for me, journalist,” Matsumoto replied dryly.
“Information?”
Sakurai didn’t have time to finish his thoughts as suddenly there were gunshots heard from the revolutionaries’ camp. Screams could be heard and it seemed like the situation was turning into a slightly chaotic one.
“Run off?” Matsumoto suggested.
“Run,” Sakurai replied before quickly getting up and running off into the woods.
-----
It seemed Matsumoto had promised to help out his friend, Ninomiya Kazunari. He had been jailed and was up for execution any moment now. The only reason Matsumoto was still in this country was to get him out of prison. Turned out that Matsumoto had a heart after all.
“He helped me out once with this smuggling episode, so I owe him,” Matsumoto explained.
It also turned out that Sakurai was more than capable of helping Matsumoto out somehow. Ninomiya had been imprisoned in one of the most feared prisons of the country. And Sakurai had to just happen have some valuable documentaries of that prison. Many of his fellow journalist colleagues had been sent there and ended their lives there. He had wanted to shed some light of that place of horrors. He had documents of limbs being amputated without consent or any anesthetic, murders happening without any reason, rape and violence against prisoners among other human right crimes.
Among all of this there was Ninomiya. Sakurai had a list of prisoners and Ninomiya’s name was on it, but it was outdated and there was no way of knowing if he was still alive and in one piece. Still, they had to somehow give it a try, but they had no idea how. They had a map over the prison, but no way of entering it without being imprisoned or executed themselves.
And so they started planning.
They stayed in a smaller city and stayed low, acting like brothers if anyone asked. Sakurai was easily liked by everyone he graced his conversation skills with, so he was often out getting information about whatever the government was up to. Currently there were a lot of riots a bit west from where they were. The government seemed to be working on it, to no use. The riots were coming closer to the easy, gradually taking over city after city, village after village. And Sakurai heard a lot of stories of victims of these riots. The revolutionaries seemed to have the habit of cutting off arms of civilians these days, just to show them what the government really means with their phrase; “the future is in your hands”.
Matsumoto would bring back even worse stories. He knew what kind of people to talk to when it came to find out information about the revolutionaries. He told Sakurai of how they kidnapped the children from their families to join their army; just how they manipulated the kids to think they were doing something right. They were being trained to become soldiers in a war they didn’t understand.
That was nothing new, though.
What was new was that Matsumoto seemed to always know where the revolutionaries were striking next. Sakurai had asked him how he got his information, but the only thing he said was that he knew some Masaki who owned a bar. He, apparently, also happened to deal out drugs in this city. And he seemed to be dealing with the revolutionaries and smugglers a lot.
“That Masaki-dude can’t be a good man,” Sakurai had said one day without thinking.
“What makes a man good?” was Matsumoto’s reply, slightly heated in anger. “In this world we’re living in there’s every man for himself.”
“Yet, here we are planning on breaking into the most secure prison to save your friend-“ Sakurai began, but was interrupted.
“That’s different. I owe him that,” Matsumoto said.
“Doesn’t matter. There are people out there who would leave him be to die in prison, but you’re still here, aren’t you?” Sakurai said. Matsumoto didn’t say anything, just looking straight in front of him at nothing.
“I think that makes you an honourable man,” Sakurai continued, only to bring out a small tsk from Matsumoto. They didn’t say more about that.
Instead they continued to lay low until one day Matsumoto entered their shared apartment with hasty steps. Three months had passed by before finally anything happened.
“We’re going, now!” he said before he started to pack his stuff into a backpack he had.
“What’s happened?” Sakurai asked as he started packing as well.
“The rebels are going to raid the prison. This is our chance!” Matsumoto said.
“Our chance for what?! Get our arms amputated and then killed before we get buried in a mass grave?” Sakurai asked, which made Matsumoto sigh as if Sakurai was ridiculous for being worried about such things during these dark times.
“No, Sakurai. This is our chance to get in and fetch Nino while the security is down and everything is chaotic,” Matsumoto replied dryly.
“But there will be guns being fired and explosions and the possibility of us making it out alive are slim. And Ninomiya might not even be there anymore,” Sakurai said, trying to make his point of how stupid it was.
“Sakurai, there won’t be any other chances like this. It’s risky, but there will be no other day when we can simply get in and get him out of there. We’ll disguise ourselves as rebels, carrying guns and all, and then we’ll find out where Nino is imprisoned, get him and run off!” Matsumoto explained.
“What if we get chased by the rebels then? Or prison guards? We run?” Sakurai asked.
“I’ve arranged a plane out of the country with only a phone call,” Matsumoto replied.
Sakurai thought it was a risk. There were so many factors that could mean the end of them both, and then all of Sakurai’s work was for nothing. He just simply couldn’t let that happen. Right now it was his life mission to get out of the country and document the situation to the rest of the modern world.
“Look, I need you and your map. So, if you don’t join me on this, then you ain’t getting out of the country with us, simple as that,” Matsumoto said.
Well, then. Sakurai’s choice had been decided.
-----
They had waited for days close by the prison grounds. Any time now and they would be storming in with the rebels, but they didn’t know when. They didn’t know if the revolutionaries had changed their mind or if invading the prison had been their plan at all. It would make a bit sense since one of the main leaders was currently locked up behind the prison walls, being interrogated for everything between the sky and the sea.
Since they had arrived, they hadn’t been able to properly move around nor cook any food or anything. They had to lay really low, which meant not standing out from the scenery around them. That meant no fire and no wandering off alone. But it was ok; Sakurai was patient when he needed to be. Good journalism meant sometimes that you had to be patient. Matsumoto on the other hand didn’t always seem to have the patience, occasionally mumbling nasty things about the revolutionaries taking their sweet time partying their way over there.
In the end they arrived at night with a huge explosion.
The alarms went off, and they could hear the guards running around, shooting against the revolutionaries. Sakurai couldn’t see much from behind the bushes, but he could hear screams of children getting shot at, soldiers dying and the wall around the prison breaking apart in the explosions. Matsumoto grabbed Sakurai’s arm and dragged him toward the noises.
As they came closer towards the revolutionaries, Sakurai started to see more of the situation. The revolutionaries had several tanks with them, which would explain the explosions. The walls were already ruins and child soldiers were running inside with their machine guns, shooting everyone in their way. The tanks were blowing up the building they were about to invade.
“Let’s get in there!” Matsumoto said lowly. He aimed his own machine gun at the soldiers at the wall and shot several of them in the legs or arms, keeping them alive, but keeping them out of the game. The revolutionaries thought nothing of two unknown faces among them. They were screaming and shouting slogans like “we are the people,” and “we bring you the future,” without really knowing what they were talking about. If anything the kids must have thought it was fun raiding a prison like that.
They moved into the building without any huge problems. It was inside that they really had to step up their game. The guards were to be found around every corner, making it nearly impossible to move forward. Matsumoto shot several guards down, Sakurai didn’t have time to figure out if they survived or not. They were too busy to find wherever the prisoners were held trapped, and soon enough they found the first hallway cells of the building, but they couldn’t find Ninomiya in any of the cells. They continued to search.
Sakurai could feel the adrenaline pulsing through his veins. For every corner he turned he felt his fear gripping his heart. For every explosion made his legs a bit shakier (quite literally). But he couldn’t relax now. Instead he told Matsumoto where to run to get to the different cells. If Sakurai hadn’t known the map of this place inside out, they surely would have been running between the hallways for hours since the building was so large.
It took them 40 minutes, but they finally found Ninomiya. As soon as Ninomiya had heard Matsumoto’s voice yelling his name, he had replied loud and clear: “JUN! I’M HERE!” He had been thrown into a random cell with four other prisoners. Matsumoto ran to the bars.
“Nino! Are you hurt?” he asked frantically, the adrenaline getting the best of him.
“Just get me out of here, Jun,” Ninomiya said, making Matsumoto stand up to his feet.
“Get back,” he only said, Ninomiya obliged.
Then he shot the lock so it broke off. As soon as he did so, the four other prisoners quickly pushed to the door, trying to make their way out, making Matsumoto feel enough threatened to shoot them down.
“Fuck them, Jun! We have to get out of here!” Sakurai shouted, trying to get his companion to focus. Matsumoto stopped his row of bullets only when the prisoners were dead.
“Come on, Nino. We have to run,” he said.
“I might need a bit of help,” Ninomiya said, and then Sakurai finally noticed that Ninomiya was missing his right leg.
“Come! I’ll carry you,” Sakurai said, crouching down so Ninomiya could get on. Ninomiya didn’t hesitate for one second, not caring if Sakurai was a stranger.
They ran off again, Matsumoto in front shooting whoever came in the way and Sakurai carrying Ninomiya in the back. They ran through hallways and different rooms, leaving behind only bodies of guards, child soldiers and escaped prisoners. Sakurai would have protested, but it was their lives or execution so he ran for both his and Ninomiya’s life.
Finally, they got outside. They were even lucky enough to not have to run straight into a tank, but there were revolutionaries, and this time both Ninomiya, who had gotten Sakurai’s gun, and Matsumoto were shooting at the children. Sakurai didn’t like it, but he couldn’t say anything. He didn’t really have anything to say. The situation was what it was, and that was that these children were chasing them through the woods. Fuck.
The plan was to run off to this field that was a bit high up on the mountainside. There a plane would pick them up and they would fly to Korea, before they would head off towards Europe or USA or something, Sakurai wasn’t quite sure. The being-chased-by-child-soldiers-thing kind of complicated the situation a bit. They seemed to loose them slightly when they came to the foot of the mountain, but they couldn't take time to rest. Soon enough, the plane would arrive and they would have to take off immediately after that.
Matsumoto hadn’t said much, hanging behind now as he guarded them. Sakurai thought he heard him grunt and moan slightly, but he didn’t think much about it, since the terrain was a bit steeper than what he had thought. The dawn was slowly approaching them as the sky turned lighter for every minute. They had probably been running for at least a few hours, and Sakurai could feel the burn in his legs. Ninomiya didn’t say anything, probably exhausted from whatever horrors he had faced during his time imprisoned.
Suddenly they heard a thud and a loud growl coming from behind.
“Stop! Jun!” Ninomiya shouted, clearly worried.
Sakurai turned around and carried Ninomiya to where Matsumoto had fallen. Matsumoto looked like he was in pain and his hands were covered in blood. He had been shot, just beneath his ribs on his right side of his stomach. Sakurai instinctively tore off a piece of his shirt and covered the wound with it. It quickly soaked up in blood.
“Jun, get up! We have to catch the plane,” Ninomiya urged, but even Sakurai could see that there was no use. Matsumoto would slow them down too much, and Sakurai couldn’t carry them both.
Matsumoto only groaned and looked away. He seemed to be thinking about something. Suddenly they were interrupted by shouts from the foot of the mountain. The revolutionaries had caught up with them, and they were more than what Sakurai had guessed they were. Matsumoto looked at them like he had decided something.
“Sakurai, take Nino with you and get on that plane. I’ll deal with these soldiers,” he said, determined.
“No, you have to come with us!” Ninomiya immediately protested.
“I’ll never make it out of here. This earth runs through my blood,” Matsumoto said to him before turning to Sakurai.
“Get into the plane and turn your gun at the pilot. He might be a dick about it all, so just threaten him to get you out of here. Somehow get yourself to London and find Ohno Satoshi! Got it? Now, what are you waiting for? RUN!”
Sakurai didn’t need to be told twice.
Jun watched Sakurai hoist Ninomiya over his shoulders and run off up towards the top. He aimed his machine gun at the children down by the foot of the mountain and shot them down until he couldn’t see more of them. He breathed slowly, trying not to hurt himself too much. He looked at the sunrise, beautiful morning. Japan, The Land of The Rising Sun. Jun grabbed his phone and dialled a number.
“Hello?” a sleepy voice answered him.
“Satoshi..,” Jun sighed.
“Jun! Are you alright?” Satoshi asked worried, but more awake now.
“Better than ever. How’s London treating you?” Jun replied, still relieved to hear Satoshi’s voice.
“Drop it, Jun. Are you coming here?” Satoshi asked, making Jun sigh once again.
“I don’t think I will be seeing you for a long while, Satoshi,” he said honestly.
“What? Why not? Are you hurt, Jun?” Satoshi sounded more worried now. Jun didn’t like to hurt him so.
“I’m fine, now that I’m talking to you,” Jun chuckled at his own cheesiness, only to whimper at the pain that shot through him.
“Tell me where to find you and I will come and get you!” Satoshi was shouting now, possibly crying a bit. Not really what Jun had wanted him to be doing.
“You help Nino when he gets there, ok? Some dude named Sakurai Sho will call you and you three help each other out, ok?” Jun simply explained, hearing more shuffling noises from the other side.
“Where are you? Please, Jun, tell me,” Satoshi pleaded desperately.
Jun paused for a moment.
“I’m right where I’m supposed to be; in The Land of The Rising Sun,” he said, staring at the dawn before him. “It’s so beautiful, Satoshi.”
Satoshi didn’t say anything. Jun felt his life drip away.
“I love you, Satoshi,” he said. Satoshi was crying on the other line, but he still managed to reply a weak “I love you” back.
“Goodbye..,” he said, but he managed to hear Satoshi’s desperate shouting just before he hung up.
He laid down his phone on the ground. His blood was soaking the earth beneath him. The sun was blinding his eyes, but he didn’t care. The morning birds were singing the songs of Japan, his home. The wind caressed his face as he gazed at the cloudless sky.
“I am where I’m supposed to be,” he said before finally closing his eyes to rest.
Author's notes:
Well, I thought I was going to be stuck with this one for at least a year. I surprise myself constantly!
I really wanted to make a story that was basically the film Blood Diamond with Leonardo DiCaprio in it, because I really think it's so awesomely brutal and realistic that I just couldn't let go of the thought. I don't know if I really like this version, though. The thought of Japan in a state of chaos? So weird! Oh well, this is fiction.
And aaah, I think I just wanted to steal some of the scenes from the movie. Shit, I should just have made this a series or something, fuck no, stop it, Sárá, you would have never finished it.
Ah, time for bed now.