As the projectile hits the helicopter, a sudden jolt shakes me from the present into the past. A vivid memory, long buried, surfaces with startling clarity.
I'm back in my office in colonial India, the heat a languid, oppressive blanket. The young 1st Lieutenant Kalakuna stands over me, his presence waking me from a slumber filled with the dull hum of distant battles. He's cursing, a comment about my habit of sleeping in my uniform.
Half-asleep, I mumble for him to go to bed, but he's relentless, slamming a pile of papers onto my desk. "Who's going to work if I don't?" he sighs.
I chuckle, despite myself, and start sifting through the documents. But my attention isn't on the paperwork; it's on him. His mask makes it hard to read his expressions, but I sense his gaze on me.
"What are you thinking, 1st Lieutenant?" I ask, curiosity piqued.
"That you're a terrible Major, Major. Being a Major definitely wasn't your destiny," he shoots back, his tone half-joking, half-serious.
I feign offense, playing along. "How rude, I could get you punished for saying things like this, 1st Lieutenant. Is it because I dislike paperwork? Everybody hates paperwork."
His response is thoughtful, deeper than our usual banter. "No, it's not because of that... Why did you pick up the child?"
I remember my answer, a half-truth. "I told you I did it on a whim. It's nothing to be concerned about. Do you have a family, 1st Lieutenant? Children, maybe? We might die any moment, so it's important to leave a legacy behind."
But Kalakuna dismisses the idea. "No, I don't have any children, and I don't want any."
His reasons are striking, resonating with me even now. "Because I wouldn't be able to give them what they need. Because it would hurt too much to spend so much effort raising them and see them grow up and be gone. Because it would break my heart if they betrayed my expectations of them. Many reasons."
Kalakuna's words linger in the air. I ponder for a moment, feeling the weight of his skepticism. "You don't understand, 1st Lieutenant," I finally say. "A child is like an extension of oneself. It's your duty to raise it in a way that makes betrayal impossible. They can't betray your expectations if your education is flawless."
My words are firm, rooted in a conviction that's been the cornerstone of my leadership. The belief that proper guidance, a flawless education, can shape a child into the image you desire. It's a philosophy I've held onto, a guiding principle in my decision to take in the child.
Kalakuna, however, remains silent, his stance unyielding, the mask hiding any flicker of reaction. His silence is heavy, loaded with unspoken thoughts. Then, with a tinge of irony, he finishes, "Then I can't wait to see the results of your flawless education."
His words are a veiled jab, a subtle questioning of my confidence. But back then, I dismissed it as mere cynicism. I was sure of my path, certain of my methods.
Now, as the helicopter spirals out of control, Kalakuna's words echo hauntingly in my mind. "Then I can't wait to see the results of your flawless education." The irony is not lost on me. The child I raised, whom I believed to be shaped by my flawless guidance, is the very one who stood against me. My philosophy, my conviction in my methods, has been turned on its head.
The helicopter's impending crash mirrors the shattering of my beliefs. The realization hits me with a force as devastating as the looming impact. My education, my guidance, was not as flawless as I believed. In my arrogance, I failed to see the individuality, the will of the child I claimed to mold.
Kalakuna's skepticism, once an annoying buzz in the back of my mind, now rings clear and true. The result of my so-called flawless education is not loyalty, but rebellion. Not gratitude, but resentment. The legacy I thought I was building has crumbled, leaving behind only the debris of broken expectations and misguided intentions.
Blind hate has clouded my heart for so long, burying memories deep within its recesses. But now, as the helicopter descends into chaos, another memory surfaces, vivid and poignant.
I'm in a car, drowsy, the comforting hum of the engine lulling me into a doze. 1st Lieutenant Kalakuna is at the wheel, driving us back to camp. It's the last time I see him, the last time I hear his voice, strangely distorted yet oddly endearing. A voice I had grown to love.
In that drowsy state, his last words to me were a simple "Goodnight, Major," but in my heart, they resonate like a cry for Freedom. Deep down, I've always known that White Snake wasn't responsible for his death. The realization dawns on me, a painful acknowledgment of a truth I've long denied.
Before my eyes, an image of the White Snake appears. Her white hair dances in the wind. She's transforming, growing up right before my eyes. From a malnourished child with a grim expression to a healthy, smiling woman, full of life. The transformation is breathtaking, a rapid evolution that spans years in mere seconds.
A torrent of emotions overwhelms me. Tears stream down my face, not just from the pain of the impending crash, but from a deep, profound realization. I've played a part in her becoming, in her transformation. Despite all the mistreatment, despite the harsh lessons, she has flourished. In a twisted way, I saved her, allowed her to become the person she is now.
I weep, not just from the pain I've caused, but for a strange sense of pride. It's a convoluted mix of emotions – regret, sorrow, and a reluctant acknowledgment of her strength and resilience.
I finally come to understand that her wrath, her defiance, was a fair retribution. The lesson I needed to learn was not about shaping a child in my image but about letting them go, allowing them to become their own person. My role wasn't to control, but to guide and then release.
"I guess it truly was a flawless education... For me, that is," I laugh through my tears, the sound bitter and cathartic.
As the helicopter lurches toward its inevitable demise, my mind wrenches back to the present, to the reality of my team around me. They are more than just subordinates; over time, they've become a family. We were united by a common goal, initially fueled by my quest for revenge against White Snake. But somewhere along the way, it evolved into something deeper, something real.
Looking around, I see their faces, etched with determination and fear. They scramble, working together in a desperate bid for survival. My heart clenches at the sight. For so long, I was lost in my own vendetta, blind to the bonds that were forming right in front of me.
As the helicopter plummets, I act instinctively, tossing cords to my team. "S1, open the door!" My voice is a command, cutting through the chaos. Everybody moves with haste, securing the ropes around their waists.
Once they're ready, I don't hesitate. Pushing them out of the helicopter, I ensure they escape the impending crash. They leap, crashing through the lower floor of the adjacent building's window, rolling to safety. The sight of them, alive and free from the helicopter's deathly grip, brings an unexpected relief.
Then, there's Kako. Young, vulnerable Kako, the one I vowed to protect, the one who needs me most. As I grip his weak body, I can feel his terror, even through the mask that hides his face. "I'm sorry if it hurts, but you need to trust me," I tell him, my voice as steady as I can manage.
He nods, his trust in me palpable despite the fear. We jump together, but our escape is far from smooth. The cord entangles, pulling us violently in the wake of the crashing helicopter. We hit the building hard, my body instinctively wrapping around Kako's to shield him from the worst of the impact.
We slide along the devastated floor, the momentum of the helicopter dragging us in its destructive path. But despite the chaos, I keep my hold on Kako, using my body as a barrier between him and harm.
When the helicopter finally comes to a stop, the silence is deafening. Pain racks my body, but it's a distant sensation compared to the relief that floods me as I realize Kako is safe. Bruised but alive, his body intact.
As I lie amidst the rubble, my body weakens, the grip of life loosening. Death hovers nearby, an inevitable presence, yet a niggling worry lingers in my mind. "If I go, who is going to take care of them?" I wonder silently, thoughts of my team clouding my fading consciousness.
Through my one good eye, I see them gathered around me, their faces etched with sorrow and disbelief. S1 is beside me, her sobs echoing in my skull. I imagine the state of my body must be gruesome, yet strangely, I feel detached from the pain, as if I'm already drifting away.
They stand vigil in silent respect, or perhaps mourning. I'm not sure if I've lost the ability to hear or if they're simply lost for words. They seem adrift, a ship without its anchor, uncertain of their course without me. It's a poignant sight, one that tugs at the remnants of my heart.
As the rain ceases, the clouds part to reveal a vast expanse of blue sky, a canvas of light and color that seems almost otherworldly. The world is suddenly aglow, bathed in a light so pure it's almost blinding.
In this ethereal light, a slender figure appears, clad in the traditional attire of the Sunninketam and a magnificent crown on their head. They speak, their voice barely reaching me, but their presence commands attention. Other agency members start to converge around them, their movements calculated.
S1, in a protective stance, rises to stand between them and me. Her posture is that of a guardian, shielding me from whatever threat they might pose. It's a gesture that fills me with a mixture of pride and sadness.
My vision starts to blur, the edges of my consciousness fraying. The world around me fades to a hazy blur, the sounds and sights dimming into nothingness. As I drift into this final slumber, a name comes to my lips, a whisper lost in the wind.
"Goodnight, 1st Lieutenant Kalakuna."
With those words, my mind surrenders to the darkness, the memories, the pain, and the regrets slipping away. In this moment, I find a strange peace, a resignation to the fate that awaits me. The journey has been long, filled with turmoil and strife, but now, it's time to rest. The Major, the man I was, fades into the annals of history, leaving behind a legacy that will be remembered, interpreted, and perhaps even misunderstood.
But in the end, it doesn't matter. My story is over, my role complete. As I embrace the quiet embrace of oblivion, I leave the world and its troubles behind, my final thoughts a silent farewell to those I've led, those I've wronged, and those I've loved. Goodnight, 1st Lieutenant Kalakuna. Goodnight, Gini. Goodnight, world.
Standing beside Boginya, I watch the helicopter crash, a final explosion that marks the end of a long and tumultuous chapter in my life. My hand finds hers, gripping it tightly, a silent communion of shared emotions. Despite everything, my feelings toward the Major were never simple hatred. He was a part of my past, a complex figure who shaped so much of who I am.
Boginya's voice breaks the silence. "Are you alright?" she asks, her tone laced with concern.
"Yeah. I'm alright," I reply, my voice more steady than I feel. The turmoil inside me is a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, but in this moment, I find a semblance of peace.
Boginya smiles, her wet hair curling in front of her face. Her gaze shifts to the sky. "Look, the rain is gone. It must be a sign. It's always a sign in manga!" Her words, light and hopeful, bring a small smile to my face.
The feelings I've held back for so long, the emotions I've suppressed in the name of survival and vengeance, now surge to the forefront. In losing the last threat in my life, I find myself free to embrace my true feelings, to acknowledge the depth of my emotions.
In a moment of unbridled passion, I pull Boginya into a fierce embrace. Our lips meet under the sun's warm rays, a kiss that is as violent as it is passionate. It's a release, a liberation of all the love I've kept hidden, a love that has survived and grown despite the darkness that once shrouded my life.
As we kiss, the world around us fades into insignificance. All the pain, the anger, the battles – they seem distant now, part of a past that no longer has a hold on me. In this moment, under the bright, clearing sky, I allow myself to be true to my heart.
Dick's cough, pointedly timed, is a reminder of his presence. He's turned away, the quintessential gentleman, but I can almost feel his frustration radiating from where he stands. The thought is so amusing I can't help but burst into laughter.
As my laughter subsides, a sudden realization hits me. "Hey, Boginya, who was the guy you came with? I've never seen him at the Triads."
Her face morphs from amusement to horror as she exclaims, "OMG, GLASSES GUY! I FORGOT NANAYA!!" She bolts down the stairs, and I follow, laughing again at the absurdity of it all.
"Where did you meet him?" I ask as we descend.
"He's from the yakuza. It's a long story, I'll tell you everything later," she replies, her voice a mix of urgency and exasperation.
Reaching the first floor, we encounter the group of yakuzas again. The one in the yukata, whom I distinctly recall and would rather avoid, is interrogating a beaten-up blonde girl. She's wearing a vest with a ridiculous-looking dinosaur on it, and seems uninterested in responding to the yukata girl's queries about someone named "UMA and NANAYA."
Suddenly, Boginya rushes over to the blonde girl, speaking with the familiarity of old friends. "NANAYA is still dying in the parking lot and needs help," she blurts out before quickly returning to my side. The yakuzas spring into action at the news, scattering in different directions.
The blonde girl doesn't move, but the yukata girl takes charge, barking orders. Deciding it's best to leave them to it, Boginya and I turn to find ASCLEPIUS and Abhi. They're engaged in a banter, exchanging verbal jabs over their differing cartoon preferences.
From a distance, Abhi suddenly spots someone familiar. He waves enthusiastically at a man who's part of Boginya's sister's team. The guy, sporting a guitar case on his back and a lit cigarette between his lips, waves back nonchalantly before walking away.
Intrigued, Boginya and Abhi chase after him. "ORPHIE, LIFT ME UP!!" they shout in unison, like children begging for a piggyback ride. ORPHIE, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, squats down and gently pats Abhi's head. I'm taken aback by Abhi's reaction; he's usually not so open with other adults.
As I observe this interaction, it strikes me how much has changed.
Now, I’m glad the remaining two aren’t showing up or my good mood would be instantly soured.
…
Walking through the streets of Tanumm, Boginya, Abhi, and I are flanked by members of the Triads, who are helping us move our belongings to our new home. Our journey is filled with light-hearted banter about how we might have stayed with the Triads if it weren't for the Banta forcing us out. Amidst our jokes, XIAO SHUI leans in, his voice a soft murmur, confiding that the Triads' superiors had found our presence increasingly bothersome.
We arrive at the apartment, a place that looks more like a recently abandoned battleground than a home. The walls and furniture are haphazardly patched with tape and cardboard, giving it a makeshift, almost comical appearance.
Dick is there to greet us, opening the door with a dramatic flair that's become his trademark. The Triads members still refer to him as "The Master of Romance," a title whose origins remain a mystery to me. He announces his impending departure to England, entrusting us with what he affectionately calls "his baby."
I can't help but comment on the state of the apartment. "You've been treating your baby quite badly, it seems." Boginya bursts into laughter at my remark, her joy infectious.
Dick responds with a string of curses, his theatrics never waning, before reluctantly handing over the keys to us. We begin to discuss plans for the apartment, envisioning how we'll transform this battered space into our home. The Triads members, ever eager to assist, offer their help, but we insist they return home. They say their goodbyes, tears glistening in their eyes, a touching display of their affection for us.
As they leave, Abhi, ever observant, reflects on our time with them. "They were a nice bunch of losers, but they were nice nonetheless."
...
We waste no time, the three of us heading straight to the agency to validate Abhi's adoption papers with the Banta. As we approach the agency, I catch a glimpse of a familiar slender figure ducking out of sight. I can't help but chuckle silently. "I'll ignore you for today," I think to myself.
Inside, Kote greets us warmly and leads us to the Banta's office, a place that I grew accustomed to. The Banta greets us with a soft smile and spongy cake, his demeanor reflecting his approval of our decision. He asks Abhi if he's happy to be with us, and Abhi's immediate nod brings a chime from the Banta's earrings, a sign of his contentment.
Just as we're about to leave, the Banta holds us back with a curious proposition. "By the way, your recent actions allowed both of you to rise fairly high in the agency. Did you notice?" he asks, pointing at Boginya and me. We exchange surprised glances, shaking our heads in disbelief.
The Banta continues, "I know you have still plenty of things to take care of, but maybe you would agree to get a more difficult mission. It's paid accordingly, of course." Boginya doesn't hesitate to accept, and her gaze urges me to agree. We could use the money for our new home.
As the Banta's earrings chime again, he invites three more people into his office. They are ancient members of the Major's mercenary squad – a man with blindfolded eyes, a red-haired girl, and a boy wearing the 1st Lieutenant Kalakuna's mask. They're handcuffed and silent.
The Banta explains their predicament – part of a workforce program to help them reintegrate into society. The task he offers us is to guide them, a challenge that I'm initially reluctant to accept, especially when I recognize the ginger-haired girl and remember her treatment of Abhi.
But before I can voice my refusal, Boginya covers my mouth. "Sure, we'll do it," she says confidently, then whispers to me, "Don't you get it? It's the best way to make her pay! And the third one reminds me of Abhi, so he can't be that bad. And think of the money!! You thought of it? Think harder! Good."
Nodding, the Banta chuckles softly, promising to send us more details later. As we turn to leave, I overhear the ginger-haired girl asking for permission to visit someone in the hospital before returning to jail. I push the request from my mind, focusing instead on the path ahead with my family.
He’s not part of it anymore.
I'm in the casino, the atmosphere thick with excitement and the clinking of chips. My friends and I are gathered around the blackjack table, each of us caught up in the thrill of the game. We banter, laugh, and cheer as the cards are dealt. The dealer's hands move with practiced ease, flipping cards with a flourish that adds to the drama of the moment. I'm on a winning streak, the cards falling in my favor. My friends rib me, half in jest, half in envy, as I rake in another round of chips. The air is electric.
Suddenly, our laughter and the ambient sounds of the casino are shattered by an ominous noise. The sound of a blade slicing through the air is followed by a deafening crash as the back door explodes into splinters. Instinctively, we all reach into our pockets, drawing out guns, our expressions morphing from amusement to alert readiness.
Through the haze of dust and debris, a figure emerges from the ruined doorway. It's a man in a white suit, but it's no ordinary suit – it's splattered with blood. Bandages wrap around his waist and cover his privates. In his hand, he grips a beautiful katana, its blade glinting menacingly in the dim light of the casino.
The man's face is a mask of pure, unadulterated rage. He limps slowly into the room, each step difficult, his eyes burning with an intensity that's palpable. He points the katana at us, his voice booming through the now silent casino. "To you who dared put yourself between me and the love of my life... Fear my wrath!"
Before we can react, the man's weakness vanishes as if it were never there. He lunges forward with a speed and agility that belies his injured state, the katana slicing through the air. I barely have time to register what's happening before I feel a sharp, searing pain at my throat.
As I collapse on the floor, my chips burying my body, the last words I hear are his, filled with a ferocity that can chill anyone to the bone. "I'll find you... TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH!"
END OF ARC 4
