Quick update
I am going to die.
The thought is actually not even half as bad as I expected it to be. Rather kind of… numbing.
Of course, my dad warned me about the possibility already when I first came up with the idea of joining the army. But hey, I was sixteen, and like every self-respecting sixteen year old, I was collecting SOLDIER cards and devouring the two-gil paperbacks about the adventures of Trotters and his pals wreaking havoc in the green hell of Inner Wutai.
When the officers appeared in our village, it was just natural I signed up. Had I known that half a year later the war will break out, I probably would’ve ran away screaming, but alas, I didn’t have the foresight back then that I have now.
Of my impending death nonetheless.
It is some weird cosmic joke that my father always has to be right in the end? Sometimes it feels like that the Goddess, Fate or the Starpeople or whatever you choose to believe in are just out there to have the time of their life watching us suffer.
If only I could just pack my stuff and go home where there are no rice lands, no monsoon and most importantly, no war. I can remember so well the calm pine forests and the lake where we would have family picnics. I would even tolerate Holler, that idiot tagging along. Last time he brought along his two dogs. They just turned out to be huge hairy monsters who ate my barbecue.
Great. My life is already flashing before my eyes. That is what certainity of death does to you, is it not? Well, it’s not like I can do much but sit in the middle of what they dare call a kitchen and staring at my hands folded in my lap wait for the inevitable.
You know that saying? Because of a nail, a horseshoe was lost, because of a horseshoe, a horse was lost… et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. Well, see, that is the kind of situation I’m trying to deal with now. Had the slit-eyed little devils not decided to bombard the damn bridge, the supply trucks would’ve reached us by now, and I would be pretty darn busy.
But no, those wretched excuses for machinery broke down in Shunai and didn’t reach the river before it was already too late. Meaning, we have three Wutai Generals coming over for negotiations and no food except for troop rations.
I see you are starting to get it.
I swear the bastards did this on purpose. I might be a country boy, but I’m not stupid, you know. You try and tell General Sephiroth that the bridge was blown up, therefore the trucks didn’t arrive, therefore you couldn’t make dinner, therefore the damn envoys had a reason to be insulted and call everything quits.
I am so dead.
Unless…
---
It is already late in the night when they leave. I stand by the tent, watch as they bow politely for the last time then disappear into the darkness in the direction of their vehicles with a few SOLDIERs accompanying them.
From what I can see, the Firsts seem pretty content… I’m about to sneak away with newfound hope when Angeal motions to me. Obviously, he is about to have a few words with me… thank Goddess it’s him and not one of the other Firsts. I would probably piss my pants otherwise. About Angeal at least everybody knows that he is just to a fault.
“Sir?”
“Richter, right?”
“Y-yes, Sir.” I’m trying to swallow the lump in my throat, but pinned under the stern gaze of my superior it is a pretty futile attempt.
“You did well, Private. Our guests were pleased.”
“Thank you, Sir!” I allow myself a grin. Hey, it’s not every day you get praise from one of the Firsts after all. And he is not just any First, mind you.
“How did you do it? I just heard about the bridge.”
“Umm, you see, Sir... I reckon the scouts will need replacement for their chocobos that went... uh, missing.”
He laughs, a full-belly laugh that pulls my own mouth into a grin that is threatening to split my head.
Maybe I’m not so dead after all.
The thought is actually not even half as bad as I expected it to be. Rather kind of… numbing.
Of course, my dad warned me about the possibility already when I first came up with the idea of joining the army. But hey, I was sixteen, and like every self-respecting sixteen year old, I was collecting SOLDIER cards and devouring the two-gil paperbacks about the adventures of Trotters and his pals wreaking havoc in the green hell of Inner Wutai.
When the officers appeared in our village, it was just natural I signed up. Had I known that half a year later the war will break out, I probably would’ve ran away screaming, but alas, I didn’t have the foresight back then that I have now.
Of my impending death nonetheless.
It is some weird cosmic joke that my father always has to be right in the end? Sometimes it feels like that the Goddess, Fate or the Starpeople or whatever you choose to believe in are just out there to have the time of their life watching us suffer.
If only I could just pack my stuff and go home where there are no rice lands, no monsoon and most importantly, no war. I can remember so well the calm pine forests and the lake where we would have family picnics. I would even tolerate Holler, that idiot tagging along. Last time he brought along his two dogs. They just turned out to be huge hairy monsters who ate my barbecue.
Great. My life is already flashing before my eyes. That is what certainity of death does to you, is it not? Well, it’s not like I can do much but sit in the middle of what they dare call a kitchen and staring at my hands folded in my lap wait for the inevitable.
You know that saying? Because of a nail, a horseshoe was lost, because of a horseshoe, a horse was lost… et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. Well, see, that is the kind of situation I’m trying to deal with now. Had the slit-eyed little devils not decided to bombard the damn bridge, the supply trucks would’ve reached us by now, and I would be pretty darn busy.
But no, those wretched excuses for machinery broke down in Shunai and didn’t reach the river before it was already too late. Meaning, we have three Wutai Generals coming over for negotiations and no food except for troop rations.
I see you are starting to get it.
I swear the bastards did this on purpose. I might be a country boy, but I’m not stupid, you know. You try and tell General Sephiroth that the bridge was blown up, therefore the trucks didn’t arrive, therefore you couldn’t make dinner, therefore the damn envoys had a reason to be insulted and call everything quits.
I am so dead.
Unless…
---
It is already late in the night when they leave. I stand by the tent, watch as they bow politely for the last time then disappear into the darkness in the direction of their vehicles with a few SOLDIERs accompanying them.
From what I can see, the Firsts seem pretty content… I’m about to sneak away with newfound hope when Angeal motions to me. Obviously, he is about to have a few words with me… thank Goddess it’s him and not one of the other Firsts. I would probably piss my pants otherwise. About Angeal at least everybody knows that he is just to a fault.
“Sir?”
“Richter, right?”
“Y-yes, Sir.” I’m trying to swallow the lump in my throat, but pinned under the stern gaze of my superior it is a pretty futile attempt.
“You did well, Private. Our guests were pleased.”
“Thank you, Sir!” I allow myself a grin. Hey, it’s not every day you get praise from one of the Firsts after all. And he is not just any First, mind you.
“How did you do it? I just heard about the bridge.”
“Umm, you see, Sir... I reckon the scouts will need replacement for their chocobos that went... uh, missing.”
He laughs, a full-belly laugh that pulls my own mouth into a grin that is threatening to split my head.
Maybe I’m not so dead after all.