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Due to the colossal flop that was the Orion Project, mainly due to biting off more than I could handle at the time, I'm going to be scaling down my projects a little, starting with this: Seven Hours, a seven-part post-Hanako good end story born of a dark concept that's been growing and festering in my mind for quite some time.

Criticism appreciated. Enjoy.

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SEVEN HOURS
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Hour One
Thunder

I stood on the balcony of our apartment and stared into the rain slowly building outside with the mixed interest, the pattering of the raindrops mixing with the television blaring a news broadcast in the background. Something about the Hanran getting more agressive or something, military action being taken, etcetera. Nothing that truly interested me, but I had to admit it was slightly disconcerting that there was a rebellion on home turf. It seemed we had decided to join in with the world trend.

Hisao was in the apartment's bedroom, sleeping comfortably in our queen-size bed. It was late; three in the morning. Yet I could not sleep; something itched at me. The Hanran were based in the north, and Lilly was currently at the summerhouse. They had shut down the train lines up there after that incident some days ago, meaning that she was effectively stuck there unless she managed to get a taxi drive who would take her far enough south for safety. I brushed a stray lock of hair out of my eyes; the wind was building and a strange taste lingered in the air. I could hear thunder, too, booming in the distance; very loud, but interspaced strangely. I couldn't quite place my finger on it, but I did see flashes off at the horizon. Many of them, clusters at a time. The incoming storm (for it surely was a storm?) would hit us at any minute. For that reason, I walked back into our comfortable home and closed the balcony door. Sighing, I wiped away some stray raindrops that had hit my face and grabbed for the remote to turn the television off. However, something caught my attention.

Pictures of devastation up north flashed across the television screen. The destruction was trully getting brutal. I sat down on one of the couches and stared, wide-eyed, like someone who wants to look away but just can't.

The photographs held everything, from burning houses to corpses shattered by bullets and what looked like artillery fire. I froze when three corpses, burnt to a crisp, appeared in a photo. Could the Hanran really be so formidable...?

But the greatest shock of all came with a photograph of one of the houses. One which I had seen previously.

Lilly's summer house. It was aflame, the windows shattered, massive chunks of plaster and wood piling the ground around the house. It would have collapsed to the ground by now. In the foreground of the photograph, a paramedic was laying a blanket ove-

I looked closer, not daring to believe what I was seeing. In the half-instant before the next photograph appeared, cars lying abandoned on the road, I saw blonde hair. Unmistakeable.

It took some seconds before the first tear flowed out from my eyes, but yet another couple before the rest cascaded out, following the pioneer. Of all the people who had dared add me to their circle of friends, only one remained. I retched a few times, but nothing came out, so I ran outside onto the balcony. The rain had worsened, changing from the light pitter-patter from before to a deafening cacophony, with the wind playing the second part of the devil's orchestra. I looked out to the horizon to try and hold back my growing sense of relentless nausea, but it only worsened when I realised who the drummers of the devil's orchestra were.

The flashes of light, the bangs of noise; they weren't lightning and thunder at all.

It was artillery fire.

And it was getting closer.

So... Hokkaido and Lilly apparently are apparently blown to hell by what I presume to be some kind of Japanese rebels? Not really sure what to say about that.

I can only wonder how much the Japanese government would have to suck for there to be an insurrection.

... should I already know what a Hanran is?

It translates to "Flood". I'm guessing it's the name of a terrorist org.

Flood, insurrection, rebellion, etcetera...

It's a tad silly, but I guess leaving it in Japanese lets it mean "all of the above."

Mahorfeus wrote:So... Hokkaido and Lilly apparently are apparently blown to hell by what I presume to be some kind of Japanese rebels? Not really sure what to say about that.

I can only wonder how much the Japanese government would have to suck for there to be an insurrection.

They banned all manga-related things. Everything. Yes, that warranted a rebellion. No, I'm not serious, the actual cause will come, don't you worry.

Mahorfeus wrote:Flood, insurrection, rebellion, etcetera...

It's a tad silly, but I guess leaving it in Japanese lets it mean "all of the above."

Well, I had one of those definitions in mind, but I suppose leaving it ambiguous adds a tone of mystery

ParagonTerminus wrote:They banned all manga-related things. Everything. Yes, that warranted a rebellion.

I see how this ties in with Hanako. It must've been a permanganate. Deep purple, strongly oxidising.

brythain wrote:

ParagonTerminus wrote:They banned all manga-related things. Everything. Yes, that warranted a rebellion.

I see how this ties in with Hanako. It must've been a permanganate. Deep purple, strongly oxidising.

Only one google and 2 minutes later do I actually get the joke.

I need to brush up on my chemistry a bit...

I know the premise is probably not to be taken all that seriously, but fighting rebels with artillery in a residential area is a bit silly anyway.

Also, she had the news on a moment ago. If fighting had spilled out of Hokkaido, wouldn't that be more interesting than a few burned houses up north?

Note these are just the things that are inconsistent within the premise of the story.

Mirage_GSM wrote:I know the premise is probably not to be taken all that seriously, but fighting rebels with artillery in a residential area is a bit silly anyway.

Also, she had the news on a moment ago. If fighting had spilled out of Hokkaido, wouldn't that be more interesting than a few burned houses up north?

Note these are just the things that are inconsistent within the premise of the story.

Can I hire you as my full-time editor?

Also, the artillery isn't necessarily in the near vicinity of Hanako. She could be on the edge of her residential area, and it might be flat land, and thus easy to see artillery from far away. None of it was specified.

Not at the moment. I just have another largish project in addition to the translation...

ParagonTerminus wrote:

Mahorfeus wrote:So... Hokkaido and Lilly apparently are apparently blown to hell by what I presume to be some kind of Japanese rebels? Not really sure what to say about that.

I can only wonder how much the Japanese government would have to suck for there to be an insurrection.

They banned all manga-related things. Everything. Yes, that warranted a rebellion. No, I'm not serious, the actual cause will come, don't you worry.

Mahorfeus wrote:Flood, insurrection, rebellion, etcetera...

It's a tad silly, but I guess leaving it in Japanese lets it mean "all of the above."

Well, I had one of those definitions in mind, but I suppose leaving it ambiguous adds a tone of mystery

I guess an organisation created by Kenji and others social rejected. (Haran/The Flood reminds me "The Wave" of Tod Strasser, a social experience where the students of a high school form a nazilike movement, and it's especially one of the most rejected who become important in, a little like Kenji)

Brace yourselves...


Hour Two
Riot

Hisao sighed with the strain of pulling the backpack onto his shoulders; it was heavy due to being filled with all those things we simply couldn't leave behind: photographs, memorablia, etcetera. Finally, we were ready to depart the apartment.

We had been packing ever since I woke him, almost an hour ago. He had stared at me, groggy and seemingly slightly annoyed at the early wakeup, but when I told him what was going on and let him watch ten seconds of the news, now having progressed to distressed updates on the Hanran's rapid advance south, his wits sharpened instantly. He had immediately stated that we were leaving the city, and his tone of voice and the situation at hand were not to be argued with. We had decided off the bat to travel light with two backpacks and a shoulderslung duffel bag; the former two filled with assorted things we might need, the duffel devoted to food, drinks, and of course Hisao's medicine. Two years, and he still hadn't stopped taking it.

And that's how we ended up standing outside in the hallway outside our apartment, looking inside longingly, remembering all the pleasurable times we had experienced within. I still remembered with joy the smug look on Hisao's face when he convinced me to live here with him, despite my protests; oh how well it turned out in the end. And now we were fleeing that past. Fleeing more than a year of happy memories and good times. Only when we closed the door for the last time did I remember what we forgot.

A wedding ring, for Hisao. I had wanted to propose to him ever since graduation at Yamaku, but never had the heart, so the simplistic golden little thing had rested in its case, hidden away behind a bookshelf. And there it would stay, until the artillery destroyed the house or the looters found it, as I felt sure we would not be returning here.

So finally turning our backs on the apartment, we worked our way down flights of stairs, mostly empty; it seemed we were either some of the first to try and escape, or some of the last. When we got to the streets, however, it was a whole different story.

The streets were filled with panicking men, women, and children of every type. Here was a pristine man in a business suit, looking as if this was just another dull meeting to him. There was the frightened mother, cradling her small children to her chest as she ran through the streets, calling out desperately for someone, anyone, to take her to sanctuary. The sidewalks and roads, while generally empty when we first left our building, became so much more cramped the further we progressed, with people pushing and shoving to try and get into the few cars that had drivers stupid enough to drive through this human ocean.

A giant separation, however, was soon formed by a small convoy of military armoured vehicles attempting to push through, the drivers honking loudly. Soon a hatch opened on top of one of them and a soldier, distress similar to that of the civilians on his face, popped out with a microphone and began barking at people to make way for the convoy. When some people stood there, sinply staring at him, he grew frustrated and brought out his handgun, firing three shots into the air. The crowds promptly parted.

Hisao and I pushed along, holding onto each other for dear life lest we lose each other. His grip on my right hand was as firm as that of a machine's, even with my scar tissue dulling some of the sensation. We had no set destination, just that we knew the general direction we needed to travel in. Follow the crowd, and move away from the explosions.

The first artillery shell surprised everyone. For a while, there was only the slowly-building whistle of something flying through the air, and by the time we looked up, it was too late. It hit the side of an office building, shattering the glass and causing plaster and chunks of concrete to rain down on the people below. Screaming promptly begun, and the crowd, already riled up enough, descended into something defined as a riot. Pushing, shoving, every man for himself, and all while more shells came, accompanied by loud booms, and explosions rocking the ground. I smelled blood, and sweat, and fear. People were trampled, and some, I realised with horror, were stepped on by me and Hisao.

Finally, an opening appeared: an artillery shell, gruesomely timed, impacted a cluster of people up ahead, the high-explosive payload killing them before they could even scream. The nausea from before hit me again, but before I knew what I was doing, I was pulling Hisao along just to get to that little clearing before it closed; just to get a tiny bit of breathing room.

To no avail, unfortunately, as it was quickly closed off by the crowds.

Finally, salvation seemed right ahead as the crowd reached the suburbs after half an hour of fighting ahead; the artillery hits were less common now, but we could see that much of the city behind us was burning. What could cause people to do this? What had galvanized the Hanran into such a state that they would wish to so mercilessly kill innocent people?

Finally, as the suburbs were reached, the crowd began spacing out, enjoying the new freedom of space. Some people ran into homes, hoping for a looting spree; others packed into backyards to get a prayer in or simply try and escape the commotion for a little bit. The crowds soon dissipated for the most part, and we saw many military vehicles driving by at high speed, and always of increasing force: from Hummers to APCs to whole tanks, rolling by in formation with infantry marching along. In the hills up ahead, too, I could see flashes of light and booms; the Japanese army, then, had set up artillery positions here to try and counter the Hanran.

About an hour after we had left the apartment, Hisao turned to me, looking at the same time sharp and at attention, and also seeming eternally tired.

"We're going to need to stop and get a rest, Hanako. Not a long one, but just to get a drink or something."

He pointed to indicate a small, red suburban house set away behind some trees. It looked relatively quiet and unoccupied.

I nodded my agreement and we crossed the street, shoving past the last dregs of the crowd, heading towards the house that seemed to beckon to us.

I still remembered with joy the smug look on Hisao's face when he convinced me to live here with him, despite my protests

Any reason WHY she protested? "It might turn into a warzone soon" was probably not on top of her mind...

Only when we closed the door for the last time did I remember what we forgot.

It doesn't sound like they can't spare the 30 seconds to go back in and get it.

You probably don't intend this as a serious story in the first place - at least I hope so - but it's just too ridiculous for me to enjoy much...

Mirage_GSM wrote:

I still remembered with joy the smug look on Hisao's face when he convinced me to live here with him, despite my protests

Any reason WHY she protested? "It might turn into a warzone soon" was probably not on top of her mind...

Only when we closed the door for the last time did I remember what we forgot.

It doesn't sound like they can't spare the 30 seconds to go back in and get it.

You probably don't intend this as a serious story in the first place - at least I hope so - but it's just too ridiculous for me to enjoy much...

For the first bit, it could be any number of things: shyness, a sense of shock at such an invitation, etcetera. It was never stated.

Second, she can't bear to go in and retrieve it; it's quite the emotional strain for her, and she doesn't want Hisao finding out.

Also, what do you mean by a "serious story"? And what's ridiculous, the writing or the concept? The writing is, IMO, better than in the Orion Project (how much better is up to debate) and the concept isn't exactly a horrendous crime against humsnity, is it?