Undisclosed Location
Japanese Ghettos in Tokyo ("Wohngebiet der Japaner in Tokio"), Tokyo (Tokio), Colonial Japan
Several Days Before
Japanese Ghettos in Tokyo ("Wohngebiet der Japaner in Tokio"), Tokyo (Tokio), Colonial Japan
Several Days Before
"Zutritt Verboten", said the many signs along the boundary separating Tokyo into two. On one side were the German quarters - spotlessly clean, gleaming beacon of German imperial grandeur, the truly remarkable product of a bloated world-dominating ego. On the other, where most Japanese have decided to stay in after the start of the German occupation as a form of protesting against the military defilement of their homeland.
It was the latter where most of the little people of Japan stayed in: the ruins of old Tokyo. Although some could have swallowed their pride and forced it down to receive recognition by their German overlords as "Honorary Germans", the rest couldn't help to do the same thing as their compatriots, who had long since been labelled "collaborators". They evacuated Tokyo, and thus, became squatters and stateless individuals on their own lands, stolen of their means to reconstruct by the Germans, who took pride in their quick (re)construction of "Tokio".
Most of the outlying settlements only barely avoided demolition to make way for "urban renewal" because local community leaders and their citizenry had fiercely repelled the encroaches of German corporations. However, they were still the little people. The Germans had the guns. It probably wouldn't be long before the Japanese were driven to a dead end, if the policies devised by the Germans were kept up.
Thus, many a resistance organization - labelled as "terrorists" by the Germans - arose against the German authorities. Despite that, even the largest of them all, the People's Army of Japan, had still not managed to succeed in creating a major victory in the face of the Germans; whether that victory be Pyrrhic or temporary. Some were starting to become disillusioned with everything they had been doing.
One such person had sought refuge, in the ghetto areas of Tokyo.
Eerily silent were the rubble-scattered streets, save for the sounds of small fires burning and the cries of small children. In comparison to the pastel-colorful world the Germans tailor-made for themselves to live in, the ghettos were quite damp and bleak. But quite the sight there was; when something - or somebody - too bright to belong to this distant, cold land suddenly walked among its denizens, with proud steps; unfazed, undaunted by the angry glares and fearful looks directed at him.
He appeared before an old warehouse with opened gates, and continued inside the spacious building. On one of the crates sat a burly middle-aged man in military uniform, seated with his legs spread wide supporting one of his arms, with the other holding onto what appeared to be a bottle of alcohol. His messy black-haired head was held down, his eyes staring at the bottle in hand. As the light from the outside invaded the building and the shadow of a person appeared before his sight, the man looked up.
What he saw, he didn't like. It was a very sharp-dressed, lean young man with short blond hair, deep blue eyes and the most extravagant crimson clothing that only the Junkers could ever possibly afford. German nobility, the man hatefully muttered.
"You've got some guts German brat! Wearing your sissy clothes and showing up here; what business have you other than to anger my people further eh, fucking German?"
The young man said nothing. He proceeded to approach the person before him.
"Ignoring me? I know you Germans have no courtesy, but to the point of not answering my questions?!?", the middle-aged man threw the bottle away, it breaking apart due to violent force. "DO YOU SO CRAVE DEATH NOW, BRAT?!"
The man stood up and stomped his way towards the supposed Junker. He aggressively grabbed the collar of the young man's clothes.
"So kill me then, old man. See whether that would lead the people out there to. See if they'll gain their precious freedom.", the young German challenged, in perfect Tokyo-accent Japanese.
"Have you grown so used to your arrogant ways that you forgot you are in the middle of the Ghetto that your kin had designed to shove us in and forget about us? Haven't your dreams about a perfect Germany for a perfect people gotten shattered when you walked in this embarrassment of a slum?"
"Why don't you fight to break out of this vicious cycle then? You've got some nerves yourself, knocking up with booze and then getting into trouble with a German nobleman while living among starving people."
"WHY YOU-"
"Think about it, hypocrite. While you're busy sitting here, making up excuses to stop your struggle, your compatriots are scraping by against food scarcity and lack of sufficient clothing, under German supervision. They couldn't get their hand on rice, let alone alcohol."
The middle-aged man stopped to think for a moment.
"Or maybe, that is what it should be after all... they chose it for themselves. By staying away from the Germans and clinging onto the ruins of their once glamorous city, the Japanese have exhibited the pride of the conquered. Instead, shouldn't they swallow that pride and kneel before their German slave drivers to beg for their new "Honorary German" dog-tags?"
"-YOU FUCK!"
The young German was so brutally punched in the face that he flew backwards and landed on his back, sliding some more before laying flat. As the middle-aged Japanese gritted his teeth, the young man chuckled, lying still on the floor.
"Just what I expected from the miracle maker of Kyushu."
"What?"
"I know you from the stories I've been told by the master.", he finally sat up, "You were in the military when Japan fell to the Germans. You led multiple war efforts in Kyushu. And yet, with the death of your men having been for naught, you have become disillusioned, unwilling to sacrifice any more as you allowed yourself retirement, to fall into obscurity. What a pitiful excuse."
"W-Who... ARE you? At times you speak just as the German swines, and then you'd switch to being reasonable and all... And only now have I noticed, your Japanese sounds like it's spoken by a native. By one of us."
The German cackled.
"I forgot to introduce myself, didn't I? ... I'm Reinhardt von Karlstein. The Karlstein bloodline, German bloodline, runs through me. I have stayed in Rheinland for all my life. But my late mother was a Japanese. I'm no descendant to the position of the family's head, as I am an unrecognized bastard only brought back to Germany as my father's last act of kindness towards my mother, who was then killed in one of the Germans' operations. Oh, well, but enough of my trivial background.
You see, the organization I'm working in is working with the People's Army of Japan. We're recruiting you for the latter. The formation of the United World Federation, recent surges in uprisings in Japan and all over the German realm itself, these factors are contributing to the growth of the People's Army of Japan as of late. It's only natural that you'll be found, sooner or later."
"You're calling me to fight?"
"If you want to get blood on your hands. That's what war is about. But not yet, General Hosakage. Not just yet. We still have a few loose ends that we need to tie up.
... does our little talk still leave you hesitant. Or do I have your agreement?"
Only then did Reinhardt wiped the blood from his mouth and offered the General a handshake. The circumstances were strange; but, nevertheless, the General had become vital personnel for the PAJ.
Eiffel Tower
Paris, France, UWF
1600 Hours
Paris, France, UWF
1600 Hours
"Yes. Don't you worry, General Hosakage is with us.", Yukiya said to his two "guests". "The question is Germany. How much longer would it take before the citizenry can no longer stand the lies and the repression.
So many factors must be taken into account. We need even more careful preparations - this can't be hurried."
