December 28, 2025.
Today was unforgettable, yes, that's a good word. Doctors, soldiers, families, orphans, all of which had flocked together for this single miraculous moment. This moment of relief and tears of happiness and excitement for the future to come. The Republic had triumphed in the vanquishing of a corrupt rebellion so vast and powerful it would put superpowers across the globe to shame. With the victory of millions, in front of an even larger amounts of pedestrians, the President, among his cabinet and tens of high-ranking military commanders and generals, he stood. The podium towered over the masses, no speech was needed, and while raising the flags the President lifted a single arm, and I swear it was almost as if the ground itself shook with ear-piercing commendation and celebration.
No one could have noticed, yet among the crowd there was a single soul straying away from the direction of the podium. No one could see his face, no one felt a budge as he was walking by, not a single man or woman would have noticed him and even if they had, it would be a matter of time until they forgot. That night, pubs and bars were full to the brim, halls were rented out for masquerades and the cups and jugs were crammed with alcohol and beverages. For the whole week, the city was decorated with radiant colours, the newspapers sold out almost as soon as they published. Needless to say, the city of Tokyo had a blast of a time with it's festivities. Shortly after the celebrations had concluded, the Republic was revolutionised.
October 2nd, 2025. In the Aokigahara Forest.
I love the woods, or at least I used to. You see, the forest has this way of making you think that if abandoned in it, you lose all your problems and gain a major one, as if it was a way of temporary escape. Before the war, the forests would call to you, they would sing your praises and most of the time would make you feel like you had a chance of redemption for all the mistakes you have done. When the war started, fear would spread to you like disease, diffused in the air, those who chose to fight against the fear either ended up in the military or dead because they physically couldn't or they didn't want to. During this war, the forest would stop calling to you, stop alluring you, there was no need, for you would run there in desperation for protection.
The snow came early this year, you could see the flakes hanging on the unripe berries from the bushes or trees. In a matter of hours, the snow would get up to ankle length and the floor would make a weird crunching sound when you stepped. As I was making my way with a bag on my back to collect whatever remained of food around these parts, I saw it. What looked like an amalgamation of horror, a manifestation of what this war created in the hearts of each person suffering itself. The man wore a black armour, something like a samurai, except the chest piece was different and impractical for battle, he was simply lying still, sword in chest. It was clear, he was dead. What was once snow around him turned crimson and flayed, he who looked lifeless once somehow looks exacerbated.
"Poor lass, I can only hope he died fast."
In these times, caring for another is certain death, especially if you are hunted or amidst two crosshairs. The only ones with that privilege are the ones with families and the ones fighting for families. Naturally, I followed my own rule, trying to help will get me killed in the worst case scenario, and plus, I have no time on my hands to be carrying a dead body. It's best to just leave this one to the wolves.
October 5th, 2025.
Three days, it took three days for the Rebellion to go from completely oblivious to heavily aware. They know the location of this forest, normally that would not be a problem, but it seems they are starting to piss the Republic off by setting fire to it's landscapes, and the embers caught up to me. I'm running, and as fast as I can too. With no way to extinguish the fire, and my temporary abode already reduced to ashes, I can either sit and wait for the smoke to knock me out or run and live another day. While sprinting, I saw a confusing sight; a patch of blood left on the snow, with a sword stuck in the middle of it. There was no corpse, there was no footsteps or traces, and certainly nobody around me either, could that lone samurai have been transported somewhere? Maybe someone threw him in the fire a while back. Either way, it was not my problem. I hear the trotting of horses on the snow, and I need to find shelter.
January 7th, 2026. In Tokyo City.
"Sir, the recent reports on crime throughout this city since the war ended have gone down considerably, this may be an all-time record for this country. If this continues, I have no doubt that Japan will turn into the safest country in the world."
"Great, it seems the war made everyone focus more on their newly found 'freedom', if we keep this up then I'm certain Japan will become an inspiration to world leaders throughout the Globe."
"You're dismissed to your active duties, General. Keep up this amazing work, and I'm sure that when I'm gone, you will take my place as the Head of the Police Force in Japan."
The Superintendent General left the Commissioner General's office as soon as he uttered those words. Leaving no time for relaxation, the Commissioner General signed his residue paperwork and left his quiet office with immediacy.
The Commissioner General was a smart one. Every time he had the chance, he would study to gain perspective, to gain further clarity, and most of all; to gain further intelligence then what he currently has and what he was given from birth. He always knew where danger was, he would not even go near it. However, for some odd reason, the General was Commanding Officer of the Military Police in Japan. It seems strange for such a cautious man to put himself within the way of protecting against threats. Whatever the reason was, it did not matter, not anymore, and with the conclusion of the previous war he had a life to live.
As soon as he got home, he plucked out a bottle of fine whiskey from a wooden cabinet and poured it in a glass, served neat. Making sure not to drink it all in one go, he took a couple of small sips to savour the oaky taste. Prestigious, the drink must have been pure and divine. Taking the glass with him, he went on his balcony, he had lived in an expensive suite, tens of feet above sea level, and he peered over the city, the city he helped protect. Yet, something was off.
On the balustrade was a peculiar piece of armour, a head piece that looked like it belonged in either an antique store or in a museum for display. This head piece had qualities of a helmet on a samurai's armour. It surprisingly looked clean, for something that looked so old it was immaculate. The General looked at it, his facial expression had not changed a single bit, not frown was lifted in confusion or in anger, he was not happy or excited, nor was he scared. He placed the glass of whiskey down, along with the head piece, and without warning, he climbed up on the balustrade and jumped tens of stories off his balcony.
Splat, it was only lucky that he did not hit any civilians, anything resembling to him was gone, he went from recognizable to a large piece of meat, blood and organs on the side of the street. Screams began to unfold from the public, one after the other everyone every so quickly dispersed and the police and ambulance was called for investigation and autopsy.
On the balcony, a mysterious figure appeared, possibly the owner of the helmet, his face unrecognizable. He picked up the head piece and left without a word, without a presence.
In just a matter of days, celebration turned to mourning and anguish, cheers turned to screams and what decorated the streets then may have once been 'radiant colours' but it is now crimson blood soaking the road.