Kamikaze, page 3
part #1 of Dungeon Samurai Series
“Akuma thinks we are its toys,” Kojima said, “but we are humans. We will show it the error of its ways.”
A Westerner stood from the crowd. “Are we the first batch of people you’ve summoned?”
“No,” Kojima admitted. “Only the latest. This world has claimed untold numbers of lives.”
“What do you mean?”
“By our reckoning, the most senior of us have been here for ten years. Even so, there were other humans before him, and more humans before them. We don’t know how many humans came before us, or who were the first, but in our oral histories, when the earliest inhabitants of our village arrived here, they found the ruins of a small town. They salvaged what they could, built upon the remains, and vowed to survive this world. No matter what.”
The weight of Kojima’s words silenced the crowd. Yamada shook his head. How many thousands, millions, had died here? And how many more would die?
“Death lurks everywhere in this world,” Kojima continued. “In the depths of the dungeon, monster raids, starvation, drought, disease… There are so many ways to die. Every time the population falls below a critical mass, Akuma appears before us to make its offer.
“We accepted every offer.”
“Why did you do it?” the priest shouted. “Why bring more humans here?!”
“We had no choice,” Robertson said. “Either we summon reinforcements or we all die. And if we all die, the demon could simply abduct more humans and restart the cycle.”
“This is… unbelievable.”
“This is the world we are in now,” Robertson said sadly.
“You wish for our help?” Sensei asked.
“Yes. There is no way off this island. Our town, Chikyu Mura, the World Village, is the only human settlement here. As far as we know, the only way home is to conquer the dungeon and defeat Akuma.”
“You said we were on an island. Have you tried to sail away?”
“We have,” Liang replied. “Eight years ago, we built a ship and crewed it with volunteers, seeking other lands where we could find help. But when the boat reached the horizon, an enormous monster rose from the sea and destroyed the vessel. There were no survivors.
“We armed ourselves and attempted a second escape by ship. Once again, the monster sank the ship. Since then, we have not attempted a third voyage.”
“What kind of monster was it?” Sensei asked.
“It is… I do not know. It was too far away to see clearly. The survivors of the second voyage claimed it had the body of a whale, with the tentacles of an octopus. It shattered the ship with powerful jaws and dragged the crew down to their doom. Only a handful of sailors survived. No doubt to tell the tale and discourage future voyages.”
“Ano… I’m not a soldier. Not all of us are. I don’t know what we can do.”
It was the miko. She was seated near the back, hidden by the shadows, her voice loud but strained, her accent… unfamiliar.
“There’s always work to go around,” Robertson said. “If you can’t fight, you can fish, farm, hunt, build, whatever you’re good at.”
“Young lady, you are a miko, correct?” Kojima asked.
“Hai,” she replied.
“Excellent,” Kojima said. “This island is… strange. The power of faith holds greater sway here than in our own world, and is as potent a weapon as the sharpest sword. But first you must receive the blessings of the kami.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Perhaps we should show you.” Kojima clapped his hands. “Bring out the Skill Sphere!”
4
Skill
At Kojima’s command, a pair of burly workmen emerged from the shadows behind the crowd. They carried a large wooden crate, so large that a single man couldn’t comfortably lift it. Yamada wondered where they had come from. He had to pay more attention to his surroundings.
The laborers passed silently through the crowd and set the crate down in front of the elders. They removed the lid and stepped aside. Squatting, Kojima reached inside, cradled something to his chest, and stood to his full height.
“Behold: a gift from the kami.”
It was a glittering translucent sphere. It caught the light and refracted it into a rainbow. Sparks danced in its heart. And it hummed.
The sparks glowed brighter, filling the ball with light. The hum grew louder, drowning out the crackling of the bonfire. Yamada squinted against the light.
The sparks rearranged themselves, sliding across the sphere, forming words. They were in kanji, but he couldn’t quite make out the characters. A minute later, the words broke up, transforming themselves into English.
“What is that?” Hiroshi whispered.
“This is the Skill Sphere,” Kojima said. “No one alive on this island knows its origins. According to the oral histories of those who came before us, seven days after the arrival of the first men on this world, the sphere appeared in the middle of the settlement.
“There were no announcements, no messages, nothing that stated what it was for, and no sign of how it came to be there. It was as if it had simply materialized overnight.
“The humans studied the sphere but found no clues to its origins. Finally, a brave lad picked it up, and was bathed in an ethereal light. When it faded, words appeared above the sphere. It said he had a skill named ‘Vigorous’. And soon, he discovered he could work all day without tiring.
“The sphere assigns a special skill to everyone who touches it. My skill is ‘Organization’, and it allows me to track everything going on in this village with perfect recall.”
The laborers dug a large cushion out of the crate. Setting the lid back on, they helped Kojima lower the sphere onto the cushion. As soon as they stepped aside, the sphere became as clear as glass.
“We do not know where the sphere came from, only that it has brought blessings to us,” Kojima continued. “We can only conclude that it was a gift from the kami, to allow us to survive this ordeal.”
“Gift from the kami?” Sato remarked. “Why? Because the sphere just appeared out of thin air?”
His words cut through the night air. Kojima smiled gently.
“I have seen our priests heal the wounded, cure the sick, destroy our enemies and protect our soldiers through the power of prayer and the skills they were assigned,” Kojima said. “How could it not be a gift from the kami?”
Sato mumbled something and went quiet.
Yamada wondered which interpretation of ‘kami’ Kojima referred to. Local spirits, the traditional Shinto gods, or the Christian God? Or all the above? Yamada supposed he would find out, in time.
“A demon rules this island,” Robertson said. “I’m not much of a believer myself, but we’ll take every advantage we can get.”
“Are there any downsides to using these skills?” the black man asked.
“It depends on the skill,” Kojima said. “Some skills can only be used a set number of times a day. Others may not have such a limitation, but overuse leads to fatigue. But that is all. There is no risk in using skills.”
“These skills are not traps laid by the demon?” the old priest asked suspiciously.
“The demon showed no signs that he knew about the sphere, and we wish to keep it that way,” Robertson said. “And besides, why would it help us slay the monsters?”
“I don’t trust such supernatural powers,” the priest declared.
“We won’t force you to take a skill if you don’t desire one,” Kojima replied. “However, without a skill, you will find yourself severely limited in what you can do.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Very well,” Liang said. “I trust you will see our way in time.”
“Can skills change?” Sensei asked.
“Yes,” Kojima replied. “With enough use, they grow stronger, and can evolve into different forms. You may also learn special techniques related to your skill. In my case, one of my special techniques allows me to speak to everyone around me without raising my voice.”
Yamada blinked. Kojima was soft-spoken, but Yamada heard him with crystal clarity… and so did everyone in the back. No one had asked Kojima, or Robertson or Liang for that matter, to speak louder, even though the trio were using their regular speaking voices.
He should have noticed that. Surely Sensei must have. Yamada had to step up.
“It seems you’ve organized your society based on the skills you’ve been granted,” Sensei said.
“Yes. Those with combat skills go to the army, those with potential for hunting join the hunters, and so on.”
“As Mr. Kojima said, we won’t force anyone to take a skill,” Robertson said. “However, we’re all in this together, and the only way home is to cooperate. If you want to join us, help everybody return to Earth, just step up and touch the sphere.”
“These ‘skills’ are just like a video game,” Hiroshi whispered.
Yamada smiled. “Maybe I’ll get Omnislash.”
“Omnislash… with a shinai.”
They chuckled quietly.
A general hubbub rose among the crowd. Yamada’s fellow students huddled together, eagerly discussing the situation. The Westerners and the Asians, too, conferred among themselves. The loners kept their own counsel or infiltrated the nearest clique and introduced themselves.
No one approached the sphere.
“Do you want to go for it?” Yamada asked.
“This feels… unreal,” Hiroshi replied. “Why don’t you go?”
“I’m not done with dinner.”
“You mean you’re looking for someone else, right?”
“Just trying to read the air.”
Where was the miko? She seemed to have disappeared somewhere. She was not among the Westerners or the Japanese. Was she among the Asians? As he scanned, he saw motion out the corner of his eye.
Sensei stood.
The world fell quiet.
He strode to the sphere, back erect, head held high, with nary a trace of hesitation.
And placed his hands on the sphere.
Bright light issued from the crystal. Motes of light swirled round and round its core in a complex dance, fusing and growing and burning brighter. The sphere hummed again, louder and louder, reaching a crescendo.
Rays of light burst from the sphere, tracing huge words above Sensei’s head.
Sensei.
Quiet laughter passed through the men of the dojo.
“Was there any doubt?” Yamada remarked.
“None,” Hiroshi replied.
A longer description followed the title.
A teacher gifted in transmission. Accelerates the learning abilities of all his students.
“Now that sounds like a useful buff,” Yamada said.
“Passive or active?” Hiroshi asked.
“Knowing Sensei, definitely passive.”
The words shifted, flashing through English, Chinese, a mix of other languages. He understood none of the last. Whatever magic that allowed Yamada to hear Japanese didn’t extend to reading foreign script too.
The elders bowed.
“Domo arigatou gozaimasu,” Kojima said. Thank you very much.
Sensei bowed back. “I look forward to aiding you.”
Sensei returned to his seat. One by one, the newcomers lined up to receive their skills. As Yamada gobbled down his food, he saw flashes of different titles: Tracker, Sharpshooter, Fisherman, Farmer.
Then he saw a familiar figure in a white haori and red hakama. She hesitated a moment, and touched the sphere.
Miko.
A woman dedicated to the kami. May pray for divine intercession.
Yamada chuckled. She was a shrine maiden, and so was her skill. Perhaps skills were linked to a person’s profession or vocation.
Still… ‘Divine intercession’? ‘Pray’? ‘Kami’?
What kind of world was this?
“Let’s go,” Hiroshi said.
Yamada set down his utensils and followed Hiroshi. More words flashed into the air: Blacksmith, Miner, Unmovable, Powerful. Some skills were self-explanatory; others required a careful reading of the descriptive text.
Finally, it was Hiroshi’s turn.
“Yosh,” Hiroshi murmured.
He stepped up to the sphere. Placed his hands on the smooth crystal. The ball flared to life.
Kishi.
The elders exchanged glances. The guild leaders chattered quietly among themselves.
“Ano… What’s the matter?” Hiroshi asked.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone with a skill called ‘Knight’ before,” Robertson said.
“Neither have I,” Liang said. “It must be a new skill.”
“What does it do?” Hiroshi asked.
Liang pointed. “Read the description.”
A man called to protect the weak and vanquish evil. When activated, boosts combat abilities of the user and all friendlies within line of sight.
This sounded exactly like a description from a video game. And yet… here they were now.
“Shounen, kami-sama must be watching over you,” Kojima said. “With a skill like this, you seem well-suited for the battlefield.”
“I hope I can live up to your expectations,” Hiroshi said.
“I have no doubt about that.”
Hiroshi walked away. He tried to appear calm, but Yamada knew the expression on his face too well.
“Daijoubu?” Yamada asked.
“I… It’s a bit of a shock.”
“I can imagine that.” Yamada patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll help however I can.”
“Thank you.” Hiroshi licked his lips nervously. “I’ll be okay.”
It was Yamada’s turn now. With mounting trepidation, he approached the sphere. If Hiroshi received Kishi, what would he get? Hiroshi was a born warrior, but him? He had just barely qualified for randori, and that was only after years of hard practice. Yamada could only hope that he would be assigned something useful.
Steeling himself, Yamada touched the sphere.
The crystal ball bathed him in pure white light. The sparks within danced round and round. As the sphere hummed, subtle energies filled his body, like a kind of vibration, in sync with the otherworldly sound. Warmth flooded through him, surging up his fingers and his arms, rushing into his heart, and spreading throughout his body. Staring at the sparks, he had an uncanny feeling that they were forming a great unblinking eye that penetrated the depths of his soul.
The ball flashed, and fresh words appeared.
Kamikaze.
A man chosen by the kami to live his life as a cherry blossom. When activated, all combat skills will be augmented, and the user will feel neither pain nor fear.
Robertson’s face tightened. Liang flattened his expression. Kojima’s face darkened.
“What’s wrong?” Yamada asked.
“It’s nothing,” Kojima said.
Yamada shook his head. “You wouldn’t react like that if it were nothing. What’s wrong with Kamikaze?”
“Commander Marshall can explain the skill to you better than I can,” Kojima replied.
Yamada pursed his lips. He felt he should press the issue, but there was a long queue behind him.
“Very well,” Yamada replied.
Yamada found Hiroshi back at his seat, now thronged by a gang of fellow students.
“Kishi, eh?” Sato said. “Does that mean you’ve been knighted now?”
Hiroshi shrugged. “I don’t even know what it does. It’s just a stupid name.”
“The old men seem to like you.”
“Only because they’ve never seen anything like it before. You guys are all much better fighters than me.”
“You must have done something to earn that title.”
“It’s randomly assigned. That’s all.” Hiroshi looked up. “Ah, Yuuki. You’re back. What did you get?”
“Kamikaze.” Yamada shrugged. “I don’t know what that does either.”
Sato pursed his lips into an exaggerated frown. “There’s a lot we don’t know about this world.”
“We’ll find out soon enough,” Yamada said.
The last of the newcomers took their skills. The priest, however, loudly and repeatedly refused.
“I cannot place my trust in supernatural powers,” he pronounced.
“It is your choice,” Kojima said. “But should you change your mind, you can always approach me later.”
In their cliques and groups, the newcomers eagerly discussed their skills in ever-growing tones. Robertson clapped his hands, the sound somehow cutting through the hubbub.
“In our village, we have a simple rule,” Robertson said. “He who works, eats. He who doesn’t, won’t. If you contribute to our community and help us fight the monsters, we’ll look after you. If not, you’re on your own. Does anybody want to leave?”
Nobody volunteered.
“Excellent. Our guilds will help you settle in and make the most of your new skills. The guild leaders will take over from here. If you’re unsure which guild you belong to, come talk to us and we will help you.”
Unsurprisingly, everyone in Sensei’s dojo possessed a martial skill. But so did many of the Asians and Westerners who had been abducted alongside them, as well as a few of the loners.
The guild leaders spread out, shouting out the names of their guilds. Sensei brought his students to the leader of the human military. The moment the newcomers were gathered around Marshall, he began his opening address.
“I will not force you to fight,” Marshall said. “You may join another guild if you please. If you stay, I can only promise you bloodshed, suffering, disfigurement and death. This army is only for those stout souls willing to fight, to kill, and to die for all men. If you are not resolved to die, leave now.”
Yamada looked around. Nobody stepped away. Someone chuckled. Marshall fired a searing glare in that direction.
“Our mission is to march into the jaws of death and win a way home. All the legions of Hell stand between us and our goal. I have seen many men die for want of caution and for underestimating the enemy. If you think I jest, you’re useless to me. Leave.”
Nobody moved. Nobody said anything.
