As Yoshimitzu finally made it to the city, he imagined a war-stricken, destruction of a town. But no, to his astonishment, the city was basically as he had left it.
He arrived at a border, taking long, deep breaths. Just before he crossed, a broad, tough looking Japanese soldier stopped him.
“Hey! You!” he called, holding up his hand. “Halt!”
Yoshimitzu stopped, almost dropping his gun.
“Who are you?” the man asked, letting his hand fall by his side.
“I… am Yoshimitzu… Yoshimitzu Matagami…” he said between breaths. “The… the Americans have landed… two of them… we need someone… fast…” and just before he collapsed, the man had run around the post and grabbed him. He called for another man to come out and help the soldier, and then he left, calling for reinforcements with his portable telephone.
The soldier that came to Yoshimitzu’s aid sat in front of him when he came to. He looked Chinese, not Japanese, and he had pitch black hair and dark skin.
“Hello, soldier-of-the-battles,” the man said. “are you recovered?”
Yoshimitzu could tell that this man was not perfectly fluent in Japanese, yet he tagged along with him, talking to the young man.
“’Lo,” Yoshimitzu managed to say. The man handed him a green, metal, canteen filled with stale, but cool water.
“My name Cheng,” the man said, taking the empty canteen from Yoshimitzu’s cold hands. “I’m from China. What your name?”
Yoshimitzu chuckled. “I’m Yoshimitzu. I’m from…er… northern Japan.”
Cheng smiled, and then held out his rough hand.
“Nice to meet you, Yoshi,”
Yoshimitzu took his hand. He had made a friend.
© Copyright 2016 Haku Belmont. All rights reserved.
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