1 Prologue

The dark war room shook from the impact of a nearby blast, officers from the IJA and IJN's Rikusentai (Marines) looked over a map of the island. Americans held beacheads to the East and South while the garrison and reinforcements from the Navy held the highlands and a fire base. In total, thirty thousand Japanese men were pitted against the smaller but better equipped Americans. On the seas, the fight was lopsided on the side of the Japanese, even if the Americans took the island, they would be quickly starved out. In spite of this, they fought with ferocity. Just about the only thing the Americans truly had superiority was in their control of the skies, from which they could bombard the garrison and force a pyrrhic victory.

"Where are our damn fighters! We have radioed Carrier Group 4 and they are still prepping for another damn naval engagement!" yelled Suzuki Arakawa, Colonel of the local garrison forces. "If it wasn't for these Naval babies, we would've been able to take control of the skies!"

"Calm yourself, Arakawa-kun! This is no time for interservice squabbles. The garrison's airforce was shredded before they took off, they are doing their best to correct our mistakes. Show some respect and you'll find yourself out of this rut you've fallen headfirst into." stated the commander, Major General Yamazaki Taro. His wrinkled face and shaky demeanor led one to think he would fall over over the softest of breezes but a pushover, he was not. "Akira Ryuu, you're up."

Without missing a beat, the Akira Ryuu Taro spoke of jumped out of the bench he had been resting on. Waltsing over to the table, he opened his eyes and looked down. The battlefield represented by ink on paper seemed silly, before him was the fates of thousands of soldiers with lives of their own.

"You're giving him command? You're crazy!' yelled Suzuki. The army officials winced despite sharing his sympathies.

"Yamazaki-sama, with all due respect, he may be one of ours but surely there is a rank system to go by in this situation." reasoned Captain Hiroyuki Kubo. "He is reckless and unproven, I could.." he was cut off by an intense stare from the elderly Yamazaki.

"Let the young man prove himself, the military is not just a place for old men." adressed Yamazaki. "Ryuu-kun, listen well. You will be given command of the 102nd and 106th Rikusentai battalions and the 49th Infantry brigade."

Akira gave him a nod. He pulled out a folded piece of paper and left it on the table, the tense atmosphere afterwards left the room in silence. Stepping out into the cold and wet cave floor that surrounded the room, he walked briskly over to a group of well armed Rikusentai marines.

"You all, with me. Load up for close quarters combat." Akira said, grabbing his set of swords, a Type 19 submachine gun, and body armor. The dim light of the cave reflected off of the dark metal barrel. Closely inspecting all of his equipment for even the slightest defects, Akira reassured himself. Strapping the interlocking and complex armor was more trouble than he would let on but it was soon finished.

"So they're giving you a turn at killing Americans? As if this is worth a damn." exclaimed a cocky Suga. "Give them another three hours and they'll be done for"

"Show some respect for your opponents, Suga. One rarely wins a war with delusions and bravado." retorted Akira. The rest of the marines held their mouths as to avoid reprimand. "The Americans have an advantage, air power. We're turning that on them."

He picqued the interest of the squad, eager to hear more of what he had in store. The group briskly approaching a truck, waited for a follow up to the bold declaration.

Hopping in the back of the truck, he motioned the rest of his squad to jump in. They gingerly walked inside, anticipating something that would never come. The driver confirmed they were indeed all there and took them through the tunnels.

Akira began to start flipping his standard issue knife. Each of it's elegant dances through the air interrupted by his hand. Boring of just flipping, Akira took the knife and started to balance it on the tip of his index finger, the cold blade struggling to maintain equilibrium on the bumpy, unpaved road. Suga yanked the knife and shoved it in his pocket.

"Talk to us. What's your grand plan here?" requested Suga. The other marines gazed first at Suga and then Akira.

"We lure the Americans further inland and engage them at close quarters, their air support would have trouble in the thick jungle so they'd either bomb their own men or focus on the fire base and be torn by AA. Our American friend's aren't exactly masters of the bayonet like we are so it'll be relatively easy." droned Akira. "Look, give me my damn knife back or I'm dismissing your ass."

Suga reluctantly handed it back but ultimately satisfied with his newfound knowledge of the plan. Akira resumed playing with the knife until the truck stopped at a transport depot filled with milling engineers and military police. The squad took yet another truck, this time to a forward operating base in the south-east portion of the jungle.

The screams, blasts, and gunshots of war drew closer and closer as the truck drove onwards to the FOB. Suga and company gripped their weapons tighter, the oncoming storm of death, despair, and depression that no amount of psychological training could prepare you for. Akira appeared unphased, commanding respect and scorn from his men.

"We're here, kill a few for me" said the driver. The truck stopped and the squad walked out. The evening sun gently shone through the canopy of the jungle while subdued fauna did not give much trouble on the well travelled trail. The soft ground welcomed the boots of the soldiers, giving some trouble.

The distinct smell and taste of smoke hinted at incendiary weapons; napalm, gasoline, forest fires. They were all the same, bad news. The garrison needed to fight closer.

"Alright, men. We're going straight into battle, watch for friendlies and fires. Try not to die" ordered Akira. The 18 year old had been in battle before, only once. He more or less kept his fears internalized.

The squad ran forward until the sounds of battle engulfed them, a scream to their right, then a little further up, then to the left. The hectic battle had found them. Akira drew his Daito and charged at an American soldier, he gave little in the way of a fight as his cumbersome rifle was overcome by Akira's blades. He looked to be in his early 20's, poor bastard was born the wrong time. The agile Akira, managed to slash at the man's throat and then heart. 'Don't let them suffer' thought Akira as he plunged his katana straight through the man.

Pulling back, he tried to not think he had just taken a life. He danced through the field and over to the next poor soldier whose life he would have to take. The katana flew through the air and skewered his throat while Akira drew his Shoto, sliding next to the American. He slashed at his legs and then, using the Daito, decapitated the soldier. Blood splashed on his face.

Akira promptly sheathed his swords and drew his Type 19, using the submachine gun to shoot a group of three soldiers moving up on a fellow Rikusentai Marine. The area was clear of Americans, meaning they had to move up. Swords danced, guns rang, and bodies fell. Whatever American not killed in the first counterattack was either pushed to the shores or captured.

An elated Akira was driven back up to the war room, a brilliant facade for a scared boy playing soldier. Upon entering the room, the officers straightened themselves out. Yamazaki stood up.

"Akira, boy. You have delivered us a great victory. We are incredibly greatful." Yamazaki bowed. "That would conclude your officer training."

The other officers began to clap. For some, forced and rough while others' were more sincere.

"I am deeply honored Yamazaki-sama." said Akira with a deep bow, such reverance was to be demanded of the Wall of the Busan. He then motioned at the naval officers, his days of shogi and tea with the old man were over. They escorted him to an aircraft set for the carrier Kaga which was bound for Tokyo, home.

He smiled, then frowned, shed a tear, and then struggled to settle on an emotion. His life truly began here.