Ronin

Chapter One

It is a universal truth, that the warrior is shunned by society until the enemy are at the gates. In times of peace, they are deemed as an expensive drain on society, subject to ridicule and abuse. But in times of war, those who ridicule are the first to remind the warriors of their duty to defend them, regardless of what has been said or done.

Kohta Hirano thought that the same can be said of the Otaku. Throughout their lives, they were bullied for being outcasts from society. Yet when the need arose, the Otaku were expected to stand and serve that same society that had branded them as alien.

So, in many ways, Kohta was happy that the undead apocalypse came. Because of it, he was free of all social rhetoric that bound him and free to be who he wanted to be. Before he was an outcast, now he was a warrior. A contractor working for his former Blackwater instructor's company: Spartan PMC.

He had left Japan a broken boy, and now he returned a less broken man.

May 2016, Tokyo Bay, Japan

Kohta's eye's flicked open as he felt the C5M Super Galaxy transport bank gently to port and begin to descend, causing the contractor to pitch forward in his harness. They were nearly there.

Sat with him around the cavernous, flood light lit cargo hold were twenty-nine other contractors of Spartan PMC. The advanced guard for a large-scale contract they'd signed with the Japanese government. Some were playing cards or talking while others checked weapons or gear. A few were doing press ups in the middle of the cargo bay, but most like Kohta slept, knowing they would likely get little sleep in the weeks to come.

Beneath his canvas seat, something shifted and murmured, a small animalistic noise that was somewhere between a growl and a whimper.

Kohta smiled and put a hand under the seat. "Come on," he said softly. "Come on out, boy." Something wet nuzzled and lapped over Kohta's offered hand, but the owner made no other movements.

Kohta sighed as he withdrew his hand and whipped it dry on his combat trousers. Krieger hated flying about as much as Kohta hated running. As soon as they'd boarded, Krieger had darted under Kohta's seat and refused to come out, like a child hiding from some terrifying monster.

Kohta produced a tennis ball from his pack, holding it in hand and lowering it below the lip of the seat. The bulge in the canvas shifted slightly as the ball appeared below.

"What's this boy?" Kohta asked, drawing the attention of a few of the nearby contractors. "What's this? You want it? You want your ball? Go fetch!"

Kohta tossed the ball across the cargo bay. The canvas shifted suddenly as the ball bounced, but then stopped, like someone had started for something then thought better of it, before settling down again. Kohta sighed as a few of the contractors jeered at him. There was only one thing for it.

Gingerly, Kohta teased a large piece of beef jerky from his pocket and lowered it below the seat. The canvas shifted and Kohta could hear panting and salivating. Kohta chuckled to himself, he'd got him. As with most males of any species, the quickest way to Krieger's heart was through his stomach.

He waved it around for a moment in front of Krieger's eyes, mesmerizing his partner with its smokey scent and potential yumminess, before tossing it across the cargo bay as he had with the tennis ball.

This time the canvas moved and didn't stop. A large flash of brown and black fur burst forwards from under the seat and darted for the jerky, practically snatching it out of mid-air and wolfing it down to cheers and applause from the watching contractors. Kohta smiled as the German Shepherd picked up his ball and wandered back over to him, tail wagging and panting happily.

Oh, the envious life of a dog, simple and clueless.

With a burst of static from overhead, the intercom winked on and the pilot's voice sounded through the cargo hold.

"Attention all hands, we're beginning our descent into Haneda Airport. Touch down in approximately ten minutes. Gear up."

The intercom winked off. Further down the line from Kohta, a contractor well into his fifty's rose from his seat. His MultiCam combat fatigues were faded and his skin was tanned from years of service, framed by a neatly trimmed silver goatee. It was Douglas McCowan, former SAS Staff Sergeant and the senior field contractor for Spartan PMC.

"Right! You heard the man!" He shouted through the cargo hold with a thick, Scottish accent. "Lock and load boys!"

As if commanded by the Lord God himself, the contractors started donning body armor, loading weapons, and checking gear for deployment.

Kohta beckoned Krieger over to him and ordered him to sit, which he did obediently while Kohta removed his combat harness from his bag. As soon as he saw it, Krieger immediately changed from playful pup to Army working dog.

Krieger was a patrol dog assigned to Kohta's recon team. His main job was to sniff out the undead when they were on patrol and act as an early warning system, but he also carried Kohta's spare ammo and some supplies on his harness and doubled as a guard dog when he was alone on sniper duty.

Kohta slipped the harness on and clipped the straps in place, tightening them so the harness didn't rattle but also was comfortable for Krieger.

"That good?" He asked. Krieger woofed and gave Kohta an affectionate lick to the face, to which he chuckled. "Alright, down."

Krieger hesitated. He whined and looked at the pocket where Kohta kept his jerky.

Kohta sighed. "Fine. One more." He plucked another piece and fed it to Krieger, who immediately lay down across his master's boots and started chewing. The contractor sat next to Kohta chuckled as she slipped on her helmet.

"I swear you feed him better than you feed yourself," Skye said as she clipped her helmet in place and Kohta slipped on his plate carrier.

"I'm just a sniper, Skye," Kohta shrugged as he flashed her a smile. "He works harder than me."

"Ya damn right he does," McCowan agreed playfully as he paused his walk up the line to give Krieger a scratch behind the ears. He glanced up and down Kohta's combat gear. "You reckon you've got enough firepower their lad?"

Kohta smirked back at him, "You think I should take more?"

The Scot shook his head in amused disparity as he continued up towards the cockpit. He did have a point though; Kohta was carrying more firepower than most of his fellow contractors.

Propped on the seat next to him was his primary weapon; an FN SCAR H battle rifle, configured with a CQB barrel, QD suppressor, 4X Elcan scope with a CQB sight, flick down bipod and a PEQ-15 laser light module. Holstered on his right hip was his Nighthawk custom 1911 in .45, and in a cross-pull holster across his chest was a Sig P226 Mk25 in 9mm. He also had a Tanto fighting knife on his left collar bone for emergency's and finally, stowed away in the mobile armory they were bringing with them; an Accuracy International Arctic Warfare Super Magnum sniper rifle chambered in .338 Lapua magnum. Just for those occasions when his SCAR wouldn't cut it and a full sniper rifle was required.

As the titanic C5 began to make its final approach, Kohta did a final kit check, checking that all his magazines, sidearms, smoke grenades and ancillaries were all in order and secure, before quickly tying a green scrim scarf around his neck, donning his prescription ballistic glasses and his MultiCam operator baseball cap. He clipped Krieger's lead to his gear and slapped a magazine into the SCAR.

Now he was ready to face the world.

The Galaxy began to shudder and the Kohta's stomach felt heavy as the aircraft's gigantic wings struggled to keep it aloft just above the runway before the pilots finally set it down with a violent thud and shudder. There was a brief roar from the engines as they engaged reverse thrust to slow the aircraft, bringing the several hundred ton jet to a near stop, before the roaring died and it taxied off the runway before coming to an eventual stop alongside the main airport terminal.

As soon as the engines died, the contractors stood started to gather their remaining equipment, throwing daysacks on their backs and throwing any last remaining items into pouches or pockets.

"Listen in!" McCowan shouted as he made his way back down from the cockpit. Everyone shut up and listened to the aged Scot. "When the door goes down, ye will be directed and go straight into the terminal building! Ya will not stop! Ya will not have a gingangoolie on the tarmac! Do you understand?!"

"Yes Staff!" The contractors shouted back. Colonel Lail may be the one who signed their pay checks, but McCowan held the practical power. If he wanted something done, you did it without hesitation. McCowan grabbed his rifle off his seat and slammed a button on the wall. The pneumatic thud of hydraulic bolts disengaging sounded through the cargo hold and daylight and fresh sea air began to flood into the hold.

"Good! Now get off ma plane!"

As soon as the ramp went down the contractors disembarked; jogging one after another down the ramp and into the bright daylight sky.

It was a warm summer for Japan. Despite the cooling salty sea air rolling in from Tokyo Bay, Kohta could feel the heat from the beating sun making him sweat under his fleece and plate carrier. He pulled the zipper down on his fleece slightly and kept jogging, following the man in front towards the terminal building.

They were flanked on either side by a line of uniformed JSDF soldiers, type 89 assault rifles held in a low ready, locked and loaded, covered by a handful of fifty cal armed Humvees. A half formed thought crossed Kohta's mind before being squashed by military logic.

The contractors were ushered inside and through a security checkpoint, where their IDs were checked and names crossed off a list before being directed into a conference room, leaving their daysacks and bags at the door and taking a seat in the rows of chairs before a raised stage adorned with a Japanese flag.

For a minute, nothing happened. A few of the contractors began to chat among themselves until a side door opened and three people stepped onto the stage. The first was Colonel Lail, the founder and CEO of Spartan PMC, dressed in a formal suit rather than his usual combat fatigues.

The people that followed him were who made Kohta's eyes widen.

The first was Don Souichiro Takagi, the towering titan of a man who'd taken him into his home and given him the right to bear arms to protect his daughter. The man was much as Kohta remembered him to be, his predatory orange eyes were just as intimidating as when they had he'd confronted him over his right to keep his guns. Kohta felt the Don's eyes pause over him, and he fixed Kohta with a stare that felt like it could melt the Kevlar off Kohta's vest, before continuing his scan of the crowd.

Standing with the Don, slightly to his right and rear, was Saeko Busujima. Saeko had grown a few inches since Kohta had last seen her and she seemed slimmer and more curvaceous than last time, but she looked much the same as she had before. What surprised Kohta most about her appearance, however, was that she was wearing: a charcoal gray business suit complete with knee length skirt and short office heels which looked out of place with the crimson red of Murata-tou's saya, hanging from her belt at her hip.

If she did spot him, she didn't show it, But Kohta found it interesting that she was, judging by her dress, positioning and stance, serving as some sort of secretary or bodyguard to the Don. It made him wonder two things; Firstly, if maybe Lord Takagi had some of his old group in his service too.

And secondly: Why would a warrior as capable as Don Takagi, a man who Kohta had seen scythe his way through a horde of undead armed with only a sword (and his gun toting wife), need a body guard in the first place? The fact that it was Saeko wasn't that surprising to him. He was the one after all, who'd entrusted her with that sword and she'd proven herself a more than capable warrior. But the fact that he even needed one made Kohta wonder if they were facing something more dangerous than the 'Training, assistance and Logistical support' they'd been contracted to provide.

Colonel Lail cleared his throat on stage and grabbed the attention of the contractors.

"Ladies and Gentlemen." He said in his slight Texan accent. "Welcome to Japan. Did we have a good flight?"

He paused to allow a slight affirmative mumble punctuated by the odd "Yes sir" from the crowd.

"Glad to hear it," he continued. "Now before we begin our acclimatization briefs, Prime Minister Takagi would like to say a few words."

'Prime Minister?' Kohta though. Clearly, the Takagi's had been busy since he'd left.

"Thank you, Colonel." The former Lord of Tokonosu said with a respectful nod to the Colonel before stepping forward and addressing the assembled men and women seated before him.

"Ladies, Gentlemen, on behalf of myself and the people of Japan, I welcome you to our great nation."

Kohta sat up and listened with vivid interest. He wanted to know what had been happening in his homeland since his departure nearly five years ago.

"In the last five years, we've accomplished much." Lord Takagi continued. "We've established over a dozen settlements around Japan, each contributing to the state as a whole. But our efforts have been hindered by a lack of experience in special operations and by the activity of rogue elements…"

'There it is.' Kohta thought. 'The military would have picked up how to fight the undead or avoid the undead in time. But they don't have any special forces capability to deal with rogue settlements or raiders. So they need us to train them to do it, or pay us to do it ourselves.'

"… With your training and assistance, we can track and deal with these rogue groups, and begin to reforge Japan into the great nation she once was. Thank you."

Lord Takagi bowed slightly to the contractors, as did Saeko. McCowan stood from his seat and addressed the Lord.

"I think I speak for everyone here when I say, it's our pleasure to be here, sir," he said with a nod. "You're in good hands. We'll sort you out right."

Lord Takagi nodded respectfully to the Scot before Saeko stepped forward and whispered something in his ear. Takagi nodded and he and Saeko departed, although Kotha swore he saw both him and Saeko give him a final glance as they left through the side door they'd entered through. But before he could dwell on it further, Colonel Lail retook center stage again.

"Alright, we've got a lot to cover so get comfy and listen in." the man said, flipping over a clipboard and beginning his briefing.

"Actions upon contact with an infected…"


A/N Thank you to all who have been following my work and who take the time to review. Each one encourages me to write more and more.

Special shout out to Draco38 who takes the time out of his busy schedule to beta and troubleshoot my stories.

Please Read, review and Favourite my work.

Jango


Update 11th October 2017

Change of Kotha's sniper rifle from AI AXMC to AI Arctic Warfare Super Magnum due to date error