/jp/ - Otaku Culture

My eyes are open, yet my vision is the same as that of closed eyes: A sea of burning red and black, visible from east to west, expanding and with no end in sight. Thick smoke blocks the sun, and the flames gleam against the scarlet sky like meteors. My housemaids tend to the people they can or lie motionless in pools of red, just like my samurai do as they run and shoot or are shot at. The mortars are being prepared, and our weapons, rifle and mounted, are experiencing famine of ammo already—80 years of accumulating ammunition, preparing… Not even an hour of full warfare—screams, gunshots, the weird sound of Danmaku and the cackling of the constant fire are the melody of this day.

The day of my greatest fight.

Akyuu stands motionless at my side, watching over the hell I have unleashed upon my enemies.

She remains just as perfect as the day I saw her close her eyes for the last time, but her light purple bangs hide her expression, and with these hands covered in blood, I dare not touch her pearly skin— “Whose blood?” When Akyuu asks, I turn to look at her, just in time to avoid a Danmaku bullet with a small head movement. Not even my men or I could perceive it, so absorbed in their own personal hell.

It's rather sad her voice is drowned out by the cacophony, but I drink off it anyway, as in all episodes so similar to these, though no nostalgic memory comes, my mind fixated on the here and now. “Enemies. Blood of enemies.” I look back at the golden shields of light piercing the skies, keeping the filth inside protected; it doesn't matter. Even magic succumbs to the might of the rumble of human triumph, as Hieda texts of old recount the day the Great Barrier shook, for humans outside had brought the sun down from the sky twice, if only for a few moments.

“… You have many enemies.” She muses. “This is the death of our clan.”

Sanae is fighting the immortal above; their destiny already decided. Not just theirs, no. Today was a declaration—a declaration that we will never give up, that humans will overcome all odds, and that, should the need arise again, the scorching sun will kiss this land once more.

Today is just the beginning.

I try blinking, but I cannot do it… What…? I cannot blink, not even manually, meaning I watch with no respite as the Human Village crumbles.

Behind the samurai mask and beneath the broken kabuto bearing two horns anyway, these eyes—wide open like plates—never close.

They hurt.

I try rubbing them, force them to blink, or just close a little… But nothing happens, and the pain grows tortuous. “You have no clan anymore, father; it's uncertain if I’ll ever live again… All you have are enemies.” I cannot cry in hopes of offsetting the agony, and Akyuu's words continue to hammer inside my skull. It takes monumental effort to look in her direction; mouth struggling to not scream—

—I gawk at Akyuu's face… She has horns like those of Onis, her eyes are blood-red and her wrists bear shackles.

Youkai.

There's no thought, merely reaction.

I slash Akyuu’s neck open.

… The sword she wrote many haikais about, that she innocently hurt herself with while struggling to reproduce her father's movements…

Like the witch, she slumped off the fence and plunged to the consuming flames below, and my eyes followed suit, never capable of straying or closing.

I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. Why? Crying is a human! It does not matter why—

“You…” Her faint voice reaches me as her body is engulfed by flames, heart aching to jump after her in frantic despair and my mind racing as my hand holding the sword stretches to the pit of charred tar; catch the blade, please, Akyuu, come back to me—Akyuu smirks as her face melts and exposes the ruptured cranium beneath, her lips wilting as if flowers under a blistering sun, and the foul smell of burnt hair shakes my entire body. “You don't even have your humanity anymore, father…”

And so, my only child perishes in those flames.

Flames I created.

My trembling hand recedes, and these eyes that never close watch as, from beyond, shackles of iron bind the wrists of my samurai armor, heavy chains hitting the wooden floor…

This samurai armor, once a family heirloom, feels like a coffin.

These flames I created, the weapons I fired…

… They would never have been used if the witch, the immortal demon, and her legion had not forced my hand, seeking to destroy my home so thoroughly!

My Akyuu had just returned—she smiled like a human, burned like one too—and they've killed her—they did it, my Akyuu—

— “Hieda-sama!” Eyes jump to the samurai who had approached, his eyes as wide as mine, but they close and look down. Fear. “M-Mortars are ready, and we'll be using 35% of ammunition against Toyosatomimi’s golden pillar—”

“Use everything.”

“… H-Hieda-sama…? Y-You can't be serious; we must save some for future com—”

“Use. Everything.”

A moment of silence hangs before, in fear, he bows and leaves.

These people—murderers—die today…

… My Akyuu.

These eyes cannot cry.