Authors Note: Full Metal Panic isn't mine. I have watched it way back when I was still struggling as a depressed, despondent student. I loved Souske and his innocence. There was nothing in him that I didn't cherish. But as a kid, I couldn't exactly express his pain and the harsh reality one must live through in order to survive in world that isn't as hospitable as the one I was born in. I wanted to give his pain justice. More tha that I wanted to see if I can create a window into the mind of a soldier cursed with purity and strength.
WHAT LIES WITHIN
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
- "Invictus"
The mission must be undertaken in any and all circumstance.
The mission must be completed regardless of conditions and the necessary casualty expected from war.
The mission is vital—it is necessary.
The mission must be accomplished at all times.
Nothing stands above the mission.
The mission is of the utmost importance.
DAY 1
The ground beneath my feet is smooth…even…paved for once—not with newly turned earth, not with gravel stolen from some illicit quarry but rather with citified asphalt—all the hallmarks of a civilized world so far from what I am used to. Here the terrain yields with the most minuscule of effort, barely exerted and hardly noticeable…the streets uncluttered save for the occasional scarp of packing paper or fallen leaf. There are so metals shells…no gun casings…no discarded weapons waiting for enterprising hands to sell it to the thriving black market that hides on every nook and hole in the wall.
My stride is unbroken by the caution instilled by a childhood spent being aware that landmines could trigger wherever my feet lands. The paths and street corners before me unhindered by abandoned vehicles—here, they are actually in use. In constant motion…like time flowing…like the humid air of the desert—flowing ever steadily, ever readily until they vanish into the unknown yonder just behind the setting sun.
My ears strain from the noise of the Metropolis—the strange cacophony of people and machinery blending into a seamless symphony proclaiming life and progress and peace. The sounds so oddly foreign to my acute hearing…deafening in their stillness as some part of me kept trying to single out and wait for the whistle of mortars firing…the keening bray of gunfire and haunting strains of the wounded and dying to sound off in my ears. Here there were none of the shouts and cries of pain and anger…none of the cold voices cutting off angry tirades…pleas for mercy…none of the whispered conversations in clandestine darkness. In this bastion of development there were none of the machinations of the petty, the powerful and the powerless. Here, I could barely remember sounds of conflict that I have grown accustomed to. But there was none of that here. Here in this suburban paradise, there was nothing to remind me of a war-torn home from where I was born.
My gaze swept across the faceless façade that encloses me…a trap laid bare for all to see…one that welcomes the poor souls that came running towards it with open arms. The skyline dotted by buildings seemingly racing to see which one of them could touch the heavens first. The vista should've been reassuring and yet it was anything but to me. It felt crowded…I felt caged. The impersonal edifice around me proclaimed from the heavens all the merits of peace. Nowhere in sight can I find busted walls and collapsing statues from bygone eras of tyranny and misspent wealth. There were no ruins here...only marked passage of improvement and progress. No crumbling walls hiding the shivering bodies of children abandoned by death or circumstance. Here there was none of the image of decadence standing side by side with the glaring scream of poverty and despair. Here there was the impassive quality of nameless walls of metal and glass.
When a gust of wind blew past me I was nearly felled by the scent of life inundating my senses. Here was none of the scent of death that has clung to me for the longest time. None of those tendrils of inescapable stench of bodies rotted by carnage and violence, left behind to wither and suffer the final indignity under the punishing heat of an unforgiving sun. Here the winds are cool…fresh—untainted. I found myself closing my eyes, fearful of such abandon yet helpless to do more than yield to the seductive allure of a taking a deep breath, drinking in air free of burnt gunpowder and that bittersweet after taste of despair. I parted my lips and savored the taste of peace, my gut clenching in reaction to the absence of fear tainting my air.
I almost didn't hear the calls hailed by my teammates. I stared at the city where mere minutes passed since I we were deposited to our new base. I let my gaze sweep across the city where my ancestors must have been from and found myself wondering why I wasn't the least bit nostalgic. I finally home came home.
Preview:
Covert
Day 2
A soldier is a master of his surroundings.
A soldier is one who is always prepared for any eventuality.
A soldier is one who will always see a mission through.
A soldier follows the chain of command and never deviates from the stated course.
A soldier will never compromise a mission for the sake of personal preference.
No soldier is above the cause or the mission.
Chidori Kaname. The name was synonymous to a new mission. That's all he needs to know. Nothing more, nothing less. His task was to keep one Chidori Kaname alive. That's all that a soldier need ever know.