Yeah. I'm starting another (I really hopes its a short) story. It honestly really shouldn't be very long. I don't know how detailed it is going to turn out, but I lovelovelove historical fiction, and I'm thinking about going into the military and getting my history degree (still on the fence about both things) so I thought I'd try my hand at a little historical fiction.

Your Letters Have Become My Heartbeat

1.

"I asked the Congress to declare … a state of war."

-Franklin D. Roosevelt

December 8, 1941

Dear Tadashi

Hiro Hamada was only nine when his older brother was drafted into the army. While the child was smart for his age, he still didn't agree with the fact that the government could just pick people to go fight. If Hiro's older brother wanted to join the army when he just turned seventeen, he would have. But he didn't. For a reason.

But of course, the President decided 'hey! That kid just turned eighteen a few months ago, we didn't celebrate with him. To make up for that, let's send him to war!' Or at least, that's what Hiro bitterly thought went through the President's head when the man stated that the nation was now officially at war.

And of course, Hiro's older brother had this complex where he just had to help everyone he met, everyone he's passed on the street, everyone who has ever glanced his direction. The mandatory twelve months of service was nationally changed to eighteen. Then his brother, bless Tadashi Hamada's hero-complex beating heart, decided he was going to voluntarily go back out for another year and a half of service.

Four years. Almost four long, worried filled years.

Hiro was getting excited, his brother had less than four months of service left and then he was finally coming home.

You're almost coming home.

Hiro started out his daily letter to his brother. He wrote a letter everyday, saved them then sent them every Friday; they'd reach his brother in a week or so's time. They both decided that they'd write and send them in that way so that when they finally did arrive to their respective recipients, they'd open them up on that day of the week.

I can't wait. I'm pretty sure you can't either. Aunt Cass has gotten into the habit of moving the living room furniture around when she's nervous or excited now. Between her two habits, I prefer her constantly changing where the couch is as opposed to making sugary things in the dead of night then stress eating them the next few days.

The letters were always filled with mundane things. Like what the two did that specific day, or a mini-rant about a subject Hiro was having a tough time with at school or a sergeant Tadashi had knocked heads with by accident; just little things to keep the two in the loop with each other.

But guess what! Aunt Cass and I had a meeting with the dean at school, and he said I had enough credits and courses taken that I can graduate at the end of this year! Just after you get back! So, don't be late!

Hiro had always been incredibly smart, borderline genius; he was always breezing through classes, skipping grades, and taking advanced courses. Dean Charleston had called a meeting with Hiro and his aunt the week prior, explaining how Hiro had completed all the necessary courses he needed to pass high school. And he was only thirteen!

Did you get the pocket watch? We saw it in a window downtown and since you seem to love pocket watches, we thought you'd like it. And it was small enough to be able to send to you so you wouldn't have to wait for a birthday present until you got home. I'm really sorry we couldn't find a chain for it, though.

Hiro hated that his brother had to spend his birthday, for the last few years, in some foreign country away from his family, away from his friends. Hiro also hated that any birthday present they had gotten for him, they had to wait to give it to Tadashi until he got back, and the two Hamadas at home hated that, them being gift-givers and wanting Tadashi to know right then what he got and if he liked it or not.

I have to go now, Aunt Cass is swamped in the café and I have to run these letters down to the Post Office so you can actually read these, then I gotta help out around here. (And maybe get her to put the living room back to the way it was…. She's tried to Fung-Shui the room last night… I didn't know it was possible to trip over a couch. But lo-and-behold, that's what I found out this morning.)

Love you Tadashi, can't wait for you to come home.

(-)

There were times during Tadashi Hamada's day where he'd think to himself 'why do I keep signing up for this?' By nature, Tadashi was not a violent young man. He never got into fights at school, sure, he knew karate but that was more for self-defense in an actual emergency – like if his life was in danger from someone attacking him on the street or something, not to show someone up at school.

But them the draft was instated, he was forced to serve since he had no way or reason to get out of it, legally that is. No, four years later and he's still not a violent young man. But he had a duty to do and a country to protect – his aunt and little brother to protect. Now he knew karate, hand-to-hand combat, and how to shoot a gun.

But from the first time he had to shoot that blasted contraption, he knew he'd never be the same. The act of purposely having to shoot someone – fatally shoot someone – was something Tadashi thought he'd never have to do. And from the first time he pulled the trigger at a living, breathing human being, he knew he was going to be reliving that moment night after night for the rest of his life; knew that he was forever changed because of this stupid war because people just can't get along civilly and feel the need to attack one another for the sport of it, for petty differences and greed. He just hoped he was going to be at least a little of the same person he left as.

Yeah, almost home; just a little bit longer.

He loved the system him and Hiro had worked out, letter writing wise. He'd get a package on Saturday, then open the letters one by one as the week wore on until he got another package. He'd keep that day's letter in the inside breast pocket of his jacket, re-reading it throughout the day when he could. Once a month he'd ship all the letters Hiro and his aunt wrote to him back home so he wouldn't lose them.

I can't wait to be home either. How's Mochi doing? I'm sure he doesn't like Aunt Cass moving things around. Two reasons. One, he has no place to hide now. And two, he doesn't get donuts and cake every day – which is probably a good thing since cat's aren't supposed to eat that stuff.

He always started his daily letter out by answering his little brother, replying or commenting on just about everything his little brother mentioned.

I did get the pocket watch, just opened it the other day. It's amazing, thank you. I've been carrying it in my pocket with your daily letters. And I'm sure I have a chain somewhere that can work with this, if not, we'll just have to go on a chain hunt when I get home.

As he wrote the letter, he held the gifted pocket watch in his hand, turning it over and over in a soothing manner. He had a rough day, a day he would refuse to describe to his brother, but holding the pocket watch has made him feel closer to home ever since he received it.

I am so proud of you! Graduating at thirteen? That's got to be some sort of record. That is amazing news, Otōto! Well I must go, got an early call in the morning. Try not to trip over any more couches, that's bad for you. Thank you guys again for the pocket watch; I love it. And I love you guys.

Only a little while longer. Love you little brother.

(-)

The sky was overcast, dreary and grey with rainy spots.

But Tadashi wasn't paying attention to any of that, too busy having to defend his country, protect his family, his unit and himself as him and the unit he was in shot at the line of Germans that they were up against in that moment. It was he and two other guys in that particular little trench they had dug out, all three taking turns shooting at the approaching enemies.

"What do you guys miss most about home?" One of the guys, Fred was his name, if Tadashi was remembering correctly.

The other guy, Wasabi – a nickname granted to the bigger built male by Fred after an unfortunate incident with the Japanese condiment, sighed. "Everything being tidy." He simply stated as he pulled the trigger of his gun, hitting the oncoming target. "What about you Tadashi?"

"My little brother and my aunt." The young adult sighed. He couldn't afford to think hard about them at the moment, they were in the middle of a fight for Pete's sake! He couldn't be distracted at a dangerous time like this. "You?" He asked the original questioner.

"Eh, nothing much. I have a lot of pointless things back home." The blonde male told them as he reloaded.

They fell into a silence as they continue firing at the enemy for a handful of minutes.

Then all the shots from the other line stopped.

And that's when things went south.

A whole group of Germans appeared out of nowhere, easily outnumbering the American unit by a dozen or so; but that's not what Tadashi's two friends were worried about, their unit could easily take this group of Germans down. Instead they were worried about, and standing over their now fallen comrade.

At first, Tadashi didn't know what happened; one second he's pulling the trigger of his weapon, and the next second there's a beyond believable painful pressure on his chest and his arm is completely numb and he's on the ground trying to keep his eyes open.

"Hold on Tadashi!" He heard Wasabi tell him. "Just hold on!"

(-)

There was a knock on their apartment door as Cass and Hiro were setting the table for dinner.

"Hiro, can you get that?" His aunt asked as she attended to what she was cooking.

The thirteen year old ran to the door. "Hello?" He greeted as he opened it a crack, seeing a uniformed Western Union messenger standing there. His heart instantly sank and his blood ran cold.

Seeing these men at your door when you had a loved one fighting was never, ever a good thing.

"Aunt Cass." Hiro called for his aunt before the man even had time to ask for her. His heart was pounding in his chest; he could plainly see the yellow piece of paper in the man's hand.

"Just a minute." She called from the kitchen.

The thirteen year old stood there, giving the man in front of him a very pleading look, a look that asked for him to go away and not come back. His brother was fine and he'd be coming home in a few months time. This man that stood in front of him better have the wrong address and family to give horrible news to.

"Hello." Hiro heard Cass hesitate the word when she came up behind him, placing an anchoring hand on the small shoulder, giving him a small squeeze. Whether that was for her or for him, he was sure.

The Western Union messenger handed a small postcard sized paper to Cass, a slightly upset expression on his face. He tipped his hat and began walking away before Cass even began reading the paper.

Hiro promptly shut the door and turned and looked at his aunt, her eyes glued to the words of the paper, tearing up at what she was reading, hand pressed over her mouth.

"He's coming home, right?"