When the pretty Autumn sky had finally settled into sunset, she put on some jammies and quietly left the confines of her room. Silent, her feet led her to her grandpa’s room. As quiet as she could muster, she opened the door and slipped inside. There he laid in bed, still under the effect of the Ambien. He looked so small and feeble. Sick. Dying. Throat tight, she felt deep sadness travel through her heart as she came closer. Her chair from earlier in the evening hadn’t been moved so she sat down. 

    Eyes on him, she listened to his weak breath, the scratchy wheezing that shook his whole chest. In the quiet and still, she could be honest about what she felt… how she felt. It was okay to allow the impending grief to shelter her. In the dark, with only the light of the moon, it was okay to look into the face of reality… as it were… and try to cherish the moments that she had to even look at him…hear him breathe… see him dream. Reaching for his hand, she took it into her own. It pained her to see how small and frail it appeared now after so many years of being big and strong. Mighty and invincible. Feeling tears well up in her eyes, she swallowed her heavy heart and leaned down to press her face against their hands. 

    “Jii-chan…” She allowed it to come, the soft silent tears that soon fell with ferocity and blinded her.

    “I know you’re tired. You’ve been fighting this alone for so long, grandpa.” Her voice trembled with palpable sorrow. 

    “What hurts me the most is that you never asked for help. You never asked for support.” Crying, she sniffled and lifted one of her hands to wipe away the tears. 

    “You won’t be alone this time, Grandpa. I’ll be here every step of the way. Until your last moment, I’ll be here.” Gently placing his hand back to rest on his stomach, she sniffed, trying to clear her vision. There on the nightstand was an open picture album. One she’d never seen in his room before. He must have gone into his office to get it. Lifting shaky fingers, she took hold of it and brought it up to see. A pain of a different kind spread through her body. A bittersweet one. He’d been looking at pictures of him and Grandma. Pictures she’d never seen before. They showed a private and intimate side to him… to them… that both broke her heart and made it flutter. 

    The first picture was really old, the focus of the camera blurry and the saturation and coloring slightly off. By what looked like an old Ford car, the two of them stood in an embrace oft by the road. There was no date on the picture and she couldn’t help but wonder when it took place. What was obviously apparent was that the two of them had been photographed while kissing one another. The body language was one of relaxation and snug proximity. They were comfortable. In love. Setting it down, she glanced at the second. Yet another almost too candid moment, the two of them lounged in a field of grass. He laid on his back, hands behind his head. He must have worn a prosthesis that day because both of his knees were pulled up. She sat beside him, legs tucked underneath her to the side. her hands rested softly on her lap. He gazed up at her with a gentle intensity. Her expression, however, was soft but playful. 

    The last picture had to be perhaps her favorite. In this same field of grass and trees, they both faced each other, each on their knees. Caught right before they shared a kiss, they both were in their own little world of bliss and obscurity. His hand rested gently on her petite waist and she waited in anticipation, her arms hung by her sides, fingers caressing small white flowers. 

    “Grandma’s love…it healed you, didn't it Grandpa? She gave of herself so selflessly to you…And you did the same.” Smiling watery, she placed the album back on the nightstand. With gentle fingers, she smoothed the skin by his temples. He’d lost most of his hair from the chemo and what it hadn’t taken, he’d requested it shaved.

    “She was there for you and I will be too.”

*** 

    “Take off your dress.” That’s how her morning had started and she was not in the mood. Sleep-deprived and fighting off food poisoning, she had spent the entire night outside with diarrhea and her stomach cramped severely, the pain sharp and stabbing. 

    “No.”  She dared to answer back. Pulling the covers off of her, he grabbed her by her hair and pulled her up, forcing her to get out of bed. 

    “Get up.” He sneered, yanking her towards the door. Not allowing her any shoes or anything to cover up, they exited the building, stepping into what was proving to be a bitterly cold day.  

    “Walk up.” He ordered with a hard shove. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself and kept going. The alleyways in-between barrack row were trodden with dirt and human and rodent feces. Small and terribly narrow, they only provided a slim view of the sky above, creating a sense of isolation, a never-ending hell. Coming to Barrack 28, Row 8, he told her to stop walking. 

    “Today, we’re going on a little field trip, maruta 7017.” He said with what was becoming his trademark grin. Lifting keys, he unlocked the door. 

    “Do you recognize this place?” Fear sliced through her and she held herself tighter. This was one of the barracks of Unit 100. Said to be the place where victims were doused with ice-cold water and made to stand in the alleyway until their limbs froze. At her lack of an answer, he opened the door and stepped aside, leaving the entryway open. She made no move, staring into the dark room as if she were staring right into her grave. He didn’t say a word, took his hand, and gave her a hard shove, making her trip and fall onto the floor. Stepping inside, he swiftly closed the door behind them. 

    “It’s a wonder he tolerates you. Were you my woman, I’d have killed you long ago.” He said quietly, lifting a hand to turn on lights, lights that were cold and blaring. The intensity of them made her see dots and she tried to blink them away. 

    “How much do you know about Matsuda?” He asked, surprisingly, in English. 

    “What is there to know… he’s just as much of a monster as you are.” Her response made him chuckle and he drew near, punishing her with a brutal slap across the face. Kneeling in front of her, he took hold of her face. 

    “Was a monster. Before he met you.” Wrapping that same hand around her neck, he forced her to stand. 

    “Before he met you, he would have made a woman like you strip before him, lay you on the ground, and fuck you until you bled.” She shuddered, nails digging into his wrist. Their conversation before he was deployed brought a chill to her. 

    “When he finished, he’d stand and calmly resume proper dress. Casually, he’d lift his gun to your head, ignoring your pleading and crying. And BANG!” She jumped. 

    “He’d pull the trigger.” He let go of her neck and turned his eyes to the right. 

    “Matsuda and I grew up in the same town but we never knew each other. I, however, had heard like all the other kids about his father. The great military leader who brought Japan victory against the Chinese rats. He was the son everyone wanted.” She said not a word, chin trembling. 

    “Matsuda was literally groomed for this by one of the greatest men of the Meiji era… He hasn’t gained any of his military career by bragging. He hasn’t gained it by pulling favors or by arrogance. He’s worked hard to accomplish what he’s gotten so far.” Looking at her again, he snarled up his lip.  

    “And then there’s you. There’s something about you, in particular, that makes him soft. Weak.” His eyes left her again. 

    “Perhaps to blame is his mother’s influence after his father died. Her feminine touch has marred his masculine abilities.” Taking a shaky breath, she slowly turned to look in the opposite direction he had.

    “He loves you. I’m sure you’re aware of that by now.” Turning her eyes back towards him, her heart pounded in her chest. 

    “As much as he loves you, he hates you. He wishes he could silence you, his enemy, once and for all, and make it as though you never existed at all. But, he can’t.” Stepping towards her, he grinned. 

    “I, however, don’t have to love or hate you. As the insignificant fuck hole that you are, I can make sure that your…’womanly influence’ does not threaten his legacy again.”

    “Again?” He didn’t reply. Finally, her eyes turned in the same direction he had and the sight of what was before her stopped her dead. 

    “I heard she was a friend of yours.” Her heart shattered into a million and one pieces and she couldn’t control the tears that had started to come to her eyes. No….. no it… it couldn’t….couldn’t be. It couldn’t be Ruby…Not Ruby… Grabbing her by the arm, he brought her closer. 

    “She’s fascinating to look at. It’s amazing how much she resembles a human.” Taking her face in his hand, he forced her to look, grinning as she began to heave. 

    “Maruta 308 is the first in a collection we hope to expand. We’re going to call it the Negro collection.” A shrill shriek left her throat and he let her go just in time as she began to vomit there on the floor. He watched her retch, a smirk forming. 

    “I was the one who introduced her to her death. She, like you, refused to obey me. She was a disobedient ape bitch.” Stooping, he lifted a hand to brush back her hair from her face. 

    “Like you,” 

    “Ruby…….Rubyyyyyyy….” She wailed, curling up into a call. Disinterested, he stood once more and looked upon what remained of the woman. It was simply magnificent what they had done, some of the best medical professionals in the world, let him tell it. They had cut the bitch completely in half, having to saw through her skull to expose her brain. They had placed the right and left half of her in two separate jars and each side showed all of her internal organs. Everything from the tendrils of her spine, heart, and intestines was there to witness. 

    They’d taken the child out of her womb and it too had its own jar. Its features were said to be the mixture of superior Japanese genes and that of the subhuman ape. Its chest cavity had been cut away, revealing its lungs, stomach, and other gastrointestinal organs. Its tiny heart and brain had been pickled separately in adjacent jars. Nakakawa’s favorite, appropriately called ‘The Negro womb’ was in a much smaller jar, even tinier than that of the child. Stretched from housing the child, it had been salted to shrink it and the shape of fallopian tubes and ovaries had begun to form once more. 

    “I’ll ask one last time. Take your dress off.” She tripped over her tears and for a moment couldn’t will herself to get up. But slowly, she lifted up onto fours and reached a hand onto the table to help herself stand. Face twisted in anguish, she didn’t bother to wipe away the remnant of vomit still cornering her mouth and chin. Unsteady fingers unfastened the buttons to her dress and he licked his lips at the skin being revealed. Soon, her breasts were uncovered and he stopped her shaky hands with one of his own. 

    “It amazes me how you and your kind are shaped.” He thought aloud, lifting to take one of her breasts in his palm. He pinched the mound with his fingertips. 

    “Your mouths and lips are useless unless wrapped around the cocks of men. But, your bodies are…strangely aesthetic. 308 had a more curvaceous figure. Her breasts were plump and large and hung low. Your figure is not as wide and fat. Slim…flat stomach. Thick round hips. Your breasts aren’t as saggy. They are round and protrude upwards, nipples are high and appealing.” He spoke his observations openly, taking one in between his pointer and middle finger. Brushing the soft smooth flesh of it, he pinched firmly. 

    “How he didn’t fuck you I don’t know. I can only imagine how wet and tight you are.” Letting go of her, he dropped a hand to massage his nether regions. With a lustful gleam, his eyes traveled down the rest of her. 

    “Turn around.” He ordered, beginning to unbuckle his belt. She felt stiff as she took step by step in a circle, her back now facing him. He roughly pushed her against the table, his breath hot on her neck. Hands slipped down and around her stomach and she felt vomit rise in her throat. Forcing her to bend over, he lifted her dress and jiggled the cheeks of her buttocks. Pressing her face into the table, she took deep breaths, feeling a rumbling in her stomach. Just as he spread her cheeks, a projectile stream of watery diarrhea erupted from her rectum. With a loud disgusted exclaim, he let go of her. 

    “Filthy bitch!” He hissed, gawking in disgust at the feces now wetly sprayed all over his uniform. Grabbing her by her hair, he threw her onto the ground and removed his belt. Striking her, he let out a furious growl as the lashes drew more of the fecal liquid, causing it to puddle underneath her. With one last thrash, he reattached the belt. 

    “Tomorrow, you will clean the latrines with your bare hands. That’ll teach you to behave.” Spitting on her, he stepped over her bruised body and left her there, laying on the floor. In the silence, her laughter turned to weeping. 

***

    It was unknown to me when I’d fallen unconscious. The pain was too great for my body to handle. When I came to, I was surrounded by members of the medical staff at Mukden. They assessed me and found that I was too disoriented to comprehend what was happening. Words jumbled together and I felt as though at any moment I’d take my last breath. It would be just over 24 hours before I would reach Mukden’s medical facility. By then, the beginnings of gangrene had started to set in. 

*** 

    They began to cut off the uniform, only to discover in horror that some of it had melted to his skin. 

    “We must hurry. That leg has to come off. Now.” 

    “What if he wishes to keep it?” 

    “Don’t be a fool. His foot is hanging off. He has no say in this. Not now.” Having been put to sleep, now he laid upon the surgical table limp. 

    “Scalpel.” Handing Nakakawa the small metal blade, he began to cut into the flesh of the leg. 

    “I should cut off his cock while I’m down here.” The old man grumbled, surprising some of the newer, younger surgeons. Nothing else was said as he performed the surgery and soon, the barely hanging on limb was removed. He had cut just below the knee and sutured it up nice and neat, his specialty. 

    “Take him to recovery bay and consult with his Captain pertaining to his future orders.”

    “Yes, Doctor.” 

*** 

    After such a long sleep, finally, he’d awakened. Opening watery blurry eyes, his gaze tried to adjust to the room. Turning his eyes he blinked as he set sight on a woman. She held his hand close to her face, almost as if she were praying. 

    “Bea?” The woman looked up, her cheeks flushed with color, eyes wet. 

    “No, Grandpa… it’s Asami.” Swallowing, he eyed the nightstand which still had the picture album he’d been looking through and his glass of water. 

    “Water.” Sniffling, she let go of his hand and handed him the glass. Wetting his throat, he struggled to swallow and began to choke. 

    “Jii-chan…” Wheezing, he lifted a hand, coughing the rest of the water up. 

    “It’s fine… I’m okay.” Clearing his throat, he sucked in a breath. 

    “How long have I… been asleep?”

    “14 hours.”

    “Fourteen?” 

    “Mmhm. You needed the rest.”

    “Not that much.” She didn’t argue, sitting back in her chair. 

    “For a moment I thought you were your grandmother.” The comment made her smile. He always had told her she favored her. And that, he always said, was why she was his favorite grandchild. 

    “You tell me that all the time.” He smiled to her surprise and grimaced in pain, making her stand. 

    “I’m trying not to be an old dying bastard. I’ve even opened up to Ito.” 

    “I see.” She said, tone proud of him, full of a smile. 

    “That boy still likes you.” Their college romance seemed so long ago but she couldn’t deny that sometimes, her heart still fluttered when he was around. 

    “We broke up so long ago Jii-chan.”

    “Whatever.” She began to laugh and grabbed his hand once more. 

    “May we go for a walk? I hear it’s supposed to be a gorgeous day today.” As was his way, he grumbled complaints and she helped him up. 

    “….too much like that woman. You sound just like her for fuck’s sake…” He said, frowning as she helped affix his prosthesis. 

    “Come on Grandpa…please?”

    “Hurry up and let’s go. Don’t annoy me.” They took their time and their steps were un-rushed. Down a stair, at a time and out through the backyard into a man-made trail he’d forged so many years ago when he and Grandma would take their walks. They’d go to this beautiful spot overlooking Mount Mansfield. Hugging his arm tighter, she pressed her face against his arm, closing her eyes to stop more tears from falling. On a day like this one, she wanted to remember a happier time. 

*** 

    Silence. Dead quiet. Never-ending still. A faint noise. It sounded like soft pitter-patter. A sprinkling shower. A delicate boom. Silence. Dead quiet. Never-ending still. A louder noise now. Louder pitter-patter. A slightly amplified boom. Faint voices now sounded like they were shouting… screaming… warped as if underwater. The boom grew louder, dissonant. Ringing ears. Louder. Louder and louder now. MATSUDA! MATSU-

    He shot up, soaked in sweat. Breath haggard, his eyes were wild and he tried to pick up his weapon… to fire against the approaching white bastards. But there was no gun. There was no bunker and no strewn body parts. 

    “Ichiro,” Chest heaving, he turned towards the voice. Beatrice. What was Beatrice doing here? She’d been sitting having taken his hand. Her eyes were wet as if she’d just finished crying. But now… now she stood, leaned over him, hands caressing either side of his face. 

    “Take a breath, soldier. You’re all right.” Her hand slipped down to press against his chest, bare and flushed. 

    “Lay back down.” At the gentle nudge, his back met the bed. He swallowed thickly, eyes trying to take in every detail about her. 

    “When did I-”

    “Two nights ago.” She answered, taking her hand away from his chest. She sat down and made no attempt to touch him any further. 

    “What of my men? Did they make it?”

    “I don’t know. You were lucky to survive as it is.” Taking his eyes away from her now, they focused on the singular window in the hospital room. 

    “My guess is that they had you so doped up on morphine. You’re coming to now… which means the pain will also come.” Silence between them now. He looked down at his body. They’d removed his uniform and he wore hospital trousers. Feet bare. One leg was normal. The other…the other was gone. 

    “It’s a disgrace.” He commented, looking at himself in disgust. 

    “You’re alive… what about that-”

    “To die on the battlefield is the highest of honor.” He hissed, turning angry eyes towards her. 

    “My men died beautiful deaths. And I-”

    “You did the best you could.” Sighing, she stood up. 

    “I’ll return later. I should get back to work.” Turning to leave, he grabbed her hand, bringing her to a halt. 

    “Under whose orders?” He questioned, tightening his grip on her fingers.  It took a while before she replied. 

    “Takahashi.” 

    “Consider those orders null and void.” She still hadn’t looked at him and he tugged her arm slightly, making her turn. 

    “Sit. Keep me company.”  She still said not a word as he pulled her closer. She sat back down in her chair and he withdrew his hand. For a moment, the two of them stared at each other, unspoken words lingering between them. When the pain started to slice into him, she got up at once and went to retrieve a doctor.