"Kajiwara!!!"

I rise up as if from a bad dream to the smell of gunpowder and lead. My ears ring with the clamor of battle and the roaring sky.

"Lieutenant!" a voice yells over the din of gunfire and explosions. I scramble to my feet, disoriented, my uniform soaked and clinging to my skin. Around me, the battlefield stretches out in a chaotic tableau of smoke, mud, and the crisscrossing fire between olive and grey shapes. Bullets zip past me, close enough to hear their deadly whistling. I duck instinctively, trying to locate the source of the voice calling me.

"Lieutenant Kajiwara, this way!" The voice is more urgent now, and I turn to see a soldier waving me over to a hastily erected barricade. I don't recognize the soldier, but his uniform is undoubtely that of a Japanese Armyman. His face is smudged with dirt and sweat, but his eyes are focused, alert. I dash towards him, my boots slipping in the mud. As I reach the barricade, I take a quick survey of my surroundings.

"Sir, are you hurt?" the soldier says, checking me over for injuries as I catch my breath behind the safety of the barricade.

"I'm alright," I reply, assessing myself quickly. "What's the sitch?"

"We're holding the line, but just barely," the soldier explains, reloading his rifle. "The Germans have been pushing hard from the north. We've got snipers in the trees and machine gunners to the east. It’s a mess, sir."

"How many men we got?"

"About a platoon's strength left, sir," he answers grimly. "We've taken heavy casualties. Artillery took out our communications, the supply line is broken; we’ve been improvising since dawn."

I look over the barricade, observing the battlefield. The muddy field before us is marked by the chaos of war: shell holes, broken equipment, and the war dead. The sound of gunfire is nearly constant, punctuated by the deeper booms of distant artillery.

"We need to stabilize the line and push 'em back!" I say decisively. "Where's the nearest machine gun post?"

"Just there, sir," the soldier points to a small rise, where a machine gun team is laying down a line of fire towards advancing enemy troops. "But they’ve been targeting it heavily."

"Alright," I say, making a quick decision. "I'm going to reinforce that position and coordinate a counter-push. Keep your men focused here. Can you do that?"

"Yes, sir!" the soldier replies, determination settling over his features.

I grab a rifle and extra ammunition from the ground and make my way to the machine gun position, staying low to avoid sniper fire. Each step feels heavy in the sodden earth, but my resolve strengthens with each movement forward.

Reaching the machine gun team, I find them operating with efficient desperation, the gunner firing in controlled bursts while another soldier feeds ammunition. I crouch beside them, shouting over the din, "I’m gonna coordinate a push-back! When I give the order, shift your fire to cover the right flank. That’s where they’ve been breakin' through! We'll use that as a diversion and push forward from the center."

The gunner nods, understanding the plan. "Got it, sir!"

As I relay the strategy, I scan the field to assess the enemy's movements and positions. The German forces are pressing hard on our right, seeming like they aim to encircle us, which means they're extending themselves, probably more than their supplies and reinforcements can support.

I sprint back to the barricade where the rest of the platoon is hunkered down. "Listen up!" I shout, raising my sword into the air, drawing the men's attention amidst the relentless noise of battle. "We're gonna make a push! Machine guns will cover us from the right while we advance through the center. This is our chance to break 'em! I need every man ready and focused. We move on my mark!"

The soldiers, spurred by the prospect of action, check their weapons and prepare for the assault. Their faces are smeared with mud and sweat, but their eyes burn with a fierce determination. They know the stakes are high, and the success of this counterattack could turn the tide of the battle in our favor.

As the machine gunners begin their barrage, targeting the German positions on the right, I signal to the platoon. "Now! Move your asses!"

I rally my men, shouting orders over the cacophony of battle. We move forward, guns at the ready, advancing through the war-torn landscape. The ground is muddy, littered with the remnants of what once was a lush forest, now shattered by the ravages of war.

"Stay alert, keep yer heads down!" I yell to my men, as we navigate through the treacherous terrain. I can see the determination in their eyes, mixed with the unmistakable glint of fear. We advance cautiously, using whatever cover the shattered landscape offers. I signal my squad to flank the enemy's position, hoping to catch them off guard. Suddenly, a burst of gunfire erupts from the way opposite. We drop to the ground, returning fire while trying to pinpoint their exact location. One of my men is shot in the leg, and few men in another squad get taken out by machine gun fire. I spot a group of German soldiers maneuvering through the rubble, trying to encircle us. "On your left, flank them!" I shout to my squad. We respond in unison, and I open fire with my pistol a couple times before they start returning fire my way, my officer's sword jingling as I drop to the dirt. Once they're taken out, I whip out my sword and stand up.

"Charge!" I shout with a resounding cry.

The scene explodes into sheer chaos, smoke bellowing up the trees, men tearing each other apart, stabbing each other with bayonets and beating each other with the butts of their guns. One of the men pushes me into a ditch as the machine guns start firing again, yelling "Kajiwara, get down!"

Iron cuts through the air, my man is shot in the leg, but I don't know his name. I yell out, "Medic!" and push him down with my hands, trying to keep him calm. I press down on his leg to stem the bleeding, my hands slick with blood.

"Medic! Can anyone help me? I need a fucking medic!"

The man's face is contorted in agony, but he nods, gritting his teeth. The medic arrives, scrambling into the ditch with us. He begins to administer first aid, applying pressure to the wound and wrapping it tightly with bandages, but he nearly slips. His big red shoes are too big for his feet, so his toes curl up into the side of the ditch. That's when I notice that the medic is wearing a clown costume.

"Why the fuck are you wearing a clown costume?!?"

"Sir! So that the Germans don't know that I'm a medic, sir! If they do they'll shoot me, sir! But as it happens, they're too distracted by how I'm dressed to realize what I'm doing...sir!"

"Feuer!" I hear a man shout from the opposite line, and the clown medic is taken out immediately by a cannonball. Acrobats begin to appear from the treelines, flipping and tumbling amidst the gunfire. I shake my head in disbelief, trying to make sense of it all.

While the men are distracted, I advance the line and a magician appears in the bushes, firing darts at me from a heart-attack gun. I charge towards him and beat him senselessly with a lacrosse stick until he's pacified. A lion jumps out from the bunker, causing many of the men to flee from the scene. The stage production ends and the studio lights fall, exploding and erupting into fire; I run towards the hills and cut through the dense leaves with my machete, pressing through the Tropical Andes for hours, hearing the grunts of pursuers, possibly military police, chasing me through the forest until I reach a river that stands completely still, where a man sits at the edge, beside a crudely built raft.

"Where ya headed?" he asks me as I pass him by.

"Huh?" 

"I said, 'where ya headed?', stranger."

"Look buddy, I don't want any trouble from you. I'm trying to get out of here!"

"Have you ever been to the end of the world?"

"'The end of the world?' Listen man, the military police are searching high and low for my ass! You're wasting my precious time."

"Oh, so you're a deserter are 'ya?" he shouts, tugging me by my shirt as I start to walk away. "There's two ways'a gettin' outta' here quickly, but that's only if I take ye' 'long the river. You ain't gettin nowhere by foot."

He points northwards, "That way leads to Thule," then gestures in the opposite direction, "The other way goes to Blighty. I can take you to either one, stranger. It’s your choice."

"Thule? What the hell is that?"

"Nobody knows what's in Thule. But it lies at the end of the world. Nobody has ever come back from it."

"And what about the other?"

"Blighty is a city of riches that sits in the land of Tear...but you can only go there if you got a good ticker." he says, tapping on his chest. "Get my meanin'?"

"There must be some kinda catch, right? Unless you're trying to play a trick on me." I say, grabbing him by the collar. 

He smiles and slowly unfolds my fingers from his tattered robe. 

"Aren't you interested in gold?"

"How much of a sucker do you think I am?" I say crossing my arms, "I ain't in it for the riches anymore. The days when money would have helped me are long gone."

"Then you're the perfect fit, aren't you, lad?"

"Hmm," I mutter, rubbing my chin, "What are you getting at?"

He raises his finger before he speaks. 

"All those who are led to the land of Tear by greed are either killed, or suffer a fate worse than death," he says before pointing at me, "But a man who is led to Tear by a heart of gold is right where he belongs."

"Then you've got a deal gramps. But you better not try anything funny." I answer firmly with a toothy smile,' boarding the boat alongside him and drawing my sword forward.

As I step onto the rickety raft, the old man flashes his toothless grin and shoves off from the shore with a long, weathered pole. The river, previously still and quiet, begins to flow as if awakened by our departure. The surrounding jungle seems to recede into a blur of greens and browns as we pick up speed, heading towards the unknown.

"Never thought I'd be trusting my life to an old codger," I say, settling into the rough wooden planks of the raft, "Are you sure you're strong enough to drive this boat?"

"Ah, but stranger fates have befallen men," the old man replies, his eyes scanning the river ahead, "Not to worry, we'll be there before long. I've still got it in me."

We emerge through lily colored palm trees and land on a beach carved from diamond rocks.  A lady with pure white skin and long black hair approaches us, introducing herself as Izanami. The old man's boat departs, and without saying anything, Izanami bows and begins walking in the other direction. I follow, and she leads me towards a pyramid made, not of gold, diamond, silver, or any precious metal known to man, but some substance that I've never seen before. At first glance, I'm not sure what to think of it. In it's reflection, I see everything I've ever desired, every person I've ever wanted to become wrapped up in a cloud made of rainbows, and I struggle to take my eyes off of it. I close my eyes as I approach the pyramid further, and the lady prompty takes my hand and leads me the rest of the way, guiding me up the steps until we reach a chamber. A man sits upon his throne, covered in silver jewelry and gold armor, and I recognize him immediately as Siegfried.

"It's about time you came to Blighty," he says, "Do you know how long I've been waiting for you?"

"You know I'm going to kill you, right?"

"That's why there's no time to waste."