"Nameless" by Lyn LJ Jackson

NAMELESS

            Kishiro sat in his one room hut. He sat upon a crude bench, his arms resting on a broken table. Kishiro stared down at the wooden mug in his hands. I shouldn’t drink this water, thought he. It’s probably filled with disease carrying germs. I shouldn’t even be breathing the air around here! Kishiro’s anger rose and he threw the mug against the far wall. During the Great War, many senshi had been slain. There was no one left to protect the village of Iida, no one left to guide the people along the right path. At first, Iida seemed to be able to cope with the loss of the senshi. The rivers were had been full of life, and the ground had yielded good harvests. Iida still had its leader Watsuki-dono. Kishiro stood and wandered outside, his feet touching grey earth. Yonder stood another hut. An old man sat by its wall. His body too still to contain life. Yet Kishiro was not surprised.  Time had passed swiftly after the Great War, and the village of Iida was reduced to a barren wasteland. There in the village, few animals lived. It was believed they had moved on, beyond the village gates. There in Iida the sky was always full of dull, grey clouds. The village had become a deathtrap to all who could not find food or obtain fresh water. The ground of Iida long ago had ceased to grow any harvests. The only way to survive was to look outside the village for food and water. Kishiro looked up just as a man came running through. His cloak was wrapped tightly around him. No doubt he was hiding something.

            “Takei? What’s wrong?” called Kishiro to his neighbour.

            “N-nothing… stay away!” Takei kept going without stopping. But in his haste, something small fell from the folds of the cloak. Takei disappeared around the bend in the dirt road. Kishiro’s eyes dropped to the fallen object. It was a fish. His hunger took over, and he snatched up the nourishment. He ripped it in half, expecting to eat it. But the small fish was contaminated. If Takei ate the fish he found, he’d probably die. Kishiro let the creature fall from his hands. It seemed that in the village Iida, you were either dead, or dying.

            Kishiro woke to the sound of thunder. His dark blue eyes fluttered open. In front of him stood an élv.

            “Senshi?” said Kishiro, rubbing his eyes. But when he pulled his hand away, the élv was gone. Kishiro sat up from the dirty straw pallet. It lay in a corner just beyond his crude bench. He flicked a cockroach from his arm as the sounds of the storm grew louder. Today more would die, everyday more died. Kishiro stood and left his hut. He hated being in those walls. Outside he could see hope. Beyond the village gate was a tall and dark forest.  It was rumored that wide rivers ran through the wood and that the ground was rich. Yet people were afraid to venture to the unknown. Kishiro always knew the only way to truly survive was to leave Iida. Every week more and more of the life people knew was gone. Life in Iida was virtually gone. Kishiro’s eyes fell to the road that led to the village gate. His feet led him along the path.

            Sugisaki ran as fast as his feet could carry him. He went to the hut of Watsuki-dono. He hoped to catch Father Kishimoto there also. Sugisaki burst through the door just as an old man was standing to leave. The old man’s name was Togashi. Almost no one around Iida liked him. It was because he was always open to new ideas. Most did not like change.

            “Watsuki-dono, Father Kishimoto,” began Sugisaki, breathing heavily as he bowed. “I need your immediate help.”

            “Sugisaki? What’s wrong?” asked the leader. “You’re all out of breath. Do you need a place to stay? That storm out there is going to turn to a bad one.”

            “No, no, no. I’m not here because of me,” responded Sugisaki, “It’s Kishiro! He’s at the gate of Iida!”

            “The gate?” asked Father Kishimoto, standing. “Doing what?”

            “Well, he’s staring at it. As if he’s trying to figure a way through the gate!”

            At those words, Watsuki-dono also rose from his seat.

            “Let us see what he’s up to,” said the leader as he grabbed his cloak. The old man Togashi quietly followed.

            “Kishiro!” yelled Watsuki-dono. Kishiro slowly turned around leaning his back against the cold, rusty gate.

            “Watsuki-dono? Father Kishimoto? You should be inside. A nasty storm’s coming,” spoke Kishiro calmly.

            “Why are you by that gate?” inquired Father Kishimoto.

            “Well… let’s see,” began Kishiro, knowing they would be against al he said. But Sugisaki and Togashi were also there. Maybe he’d e able to convince them. “The gate is the only way to the outside forest, right? That’s where I have to go.”

            “Outside the gate? But why leave Iida? All you need is here,” reasoned Father Kishimoto.

            “What? Are you blind?!” began Kishiro, his anger rising, “Take your nose out of that bible and look around! Iida is dead. Most of its people have already taken the eternal sleep. And those left are dying. The only way to evade death is to go somewhere else. In the forest there has to be food—”

            “Blasphemy!” yelled Father Kishimoto. “The forest is death! Going in there is suicide. If you enter that wood Hell will be your destination.” Kishiro’s eyes went to Togashi.

            “Togashi, you see what's happening to Iida, don’t you?” prompted Kishiro.

            “A grey fog has settled on this village,” agreed Togashi. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea to find somewhere else to live…”

            “Foolishness,” said Watsuki-dono, “I am responsible for the lives of those in Iida and their future. I will not subject them to some unknown void of trees!”

            “There future? How can you speak of their future?” said Kishiro, disgusted. “All the children are dead! Those innocent, weak souls were the first to die when food ran out!” Sugisaki’s eyes fell to the ground. No reason was ever offered as to why his daughter had to die faster of starvation than he.

            Their loud vices did carry, and the attention of a few more villagers was captured. Watase and Yashiro soon came up behind Sugisaki. Kishiro looked towards the newcomers.

            “All of you, listen!” cried Kishiro, “We have to leave Iida! Think about your own diminishing life and the lost lives of your family! The forest is not so dark as it looks! If we leave, together we can—” Watsuki-dono suddenly went up and delivered an upper cut to Kishiro in the jaw. He fell to the ground like the bodies of the dead.

            “Heed not his words,” instructed Watsuki-dono. “We’re staying right here. I have always looked after Iida and will continue to do so. Sooner or later, senshi will return to Iida and all will be right again.” Togashi ‘s eyes fell to the still form of Kishiro as he shook his head in pity.

            When Kishiro came to, standing above him was another élv. Kishiro turned on his dirty straw pallet. Why do senshi keep appearing to me?, thought he. But something about this one caught Kishiro’s attention. The eyes of the élv were sad and its skin was very pale. It wore the traditional senshi armour, coloured grey blue and— Red?, thought Kishiro, No, blood… And as mysteriously as the vision came, it disappeared. It was then that Kishiro realized that the senshi would never come back. They all died in the Great War.

Kishiro sat up and looked around. Someone had brought him back home. His hand went to his jaw. It was sore. Kishiro then noticed that his table and bench were missing.

“What happened to my stuff?” spoke Kishiro, seemingly to no one. Not that it’s of any use since it’s not food…, thought he.

“Your stuff?” responded a voice. Takei stepped out from the shadows; “It has been confiscated by Watsuki-dono.”

“Confiscated? Why?” asked Kishiro in disbelief, standing.

“He doesn’t want you trying to get over the gate with it. It is for your own good, is what Father Kishimoto believes.” Kishiro only laughed in response, but then stopped himself. The pain in his jaw reminded him of the bruise.

“So I guess you are here to watch me and make sure I don’t go near the gate, right? Well your shift will soon be over.”

 “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Well that fish you found, and most likely ate, was contaminated. You happened to drop one that day. I can see you are already sick… and dying. Everyone and everything in Iida is dying,” informed Kishiro. Takei said nothing. He knew he was sick, but he didn’t know what was causing it.

Kishiro looked out the window of his hut. The backyard, if you could call an open patch of mud a yard, was filled with rubbish. It was most likely debris from yesterday’s storm.

“I hate this place. It’s killing everyone,” spoke Kishiro. “If there were no village walls or gates, no one would be afraid of the forest.”

“You hate Iida? But you were born here—”

“And I’ll die here if I don’t get away! This place is killing me.” Kishiro walked across the small room to the door. “I need a walk.” Takei followed him outside.

That night, Kishiro slept more peacefully than he had since the skies turned grey. During his long walk, he finally accepted what he had to do. Getting over the gate of Iida was now top priority. If his plan were to work, he would need Togashi to be present when he would make his move.

Takei watched curiously as Kishiro began piling up some of the rubbish that lay in his backyard. After stretching, Kishiro took a running jump at the pile… and fell right on top of it. He tried to jump the trash again, but got the same result. Kishiro sat down on the muddy ground and looked down at his chest. A cut was seeping blood. 

“I thought something cut me,” said Kishiro to himself.  I’ll have to keep practicing for my plan to work, though, thought he.

“What are you trying to do? Beat yourself up?” asked Takei.

“No, I’m working at getting over this pile.”

“Jumping… you're trying to jump over that trash… Why?”

“Oh… I don’t know. To keep myself busy during the day.” Takei only shook his head. Later Takei changed shifts at watching Kishiro with Watase. Takei made his way to Watsuki-dono’s hut once he saw Watase was with Kishiro. Takei soon got there, and he saw Watsuki-dono standing in the doorway.

“I was hoping you’d come,” said the leader as he pulled Takei inside. “So what is Kishiro up to now?”

“Well, he’s practicing jumping piles of garbage,” reported Takei.

“I always knew that Kishiro was a daft as a brush,” came Father Kishimoto’s voice. Takei turned and beheld the man sitting on a wooden chair by the fireplace. Takei hadn't seen him when he entered.

“All that talk of leaving has finally gone to his head,” spoke Watsuki-dono.

“Maybe,” consented Takei, “But he didn’t seem out of his mind to me.”

When Kishiro woke, it was Watase who was watching him.

“Watase? Don’t you have the afternoon shift? What are you doing here?” inquired Kishiro.

“Takei’s dead.” Kishiro’s eyes fell to the floor; the village of Iida had claimed another. Kishiro stood and went to the backyard. He had a lot of wreckage piles to jump over.

Kishiro looked over at Watase; he was still asleep. Silently, Kishiro crept out of his hut and went to the main road. He didn’t have far to walk until he came to the hut of Togashi. The old man was seated on a large stone by the doorway.

“Kishiro? I thought Watsuki-dono had men watching you,” spoke Togashi.

“He does. Watase’s still asleep. I wanted to show you and everyone else my jumping act. I learned it over this month,” revealed Kishiro, “But Watsuki-dono and Father Kishimoto can’t see it.” Togashi’s eyes narrowed. He knew something was up. “Bring your grappling hook, Togashi, and tell everyone to meet me on the road to the gate.”

“What are you planning Kishiro?” asked the old man.

“Something beneficial. Something that will hopefully save the people of Iida.”

Kishiro stood a few meters away from Iida’s gate. His eyes scanned the small crowd. He saw Sugisaki, Yashiro, and Togashi all watching him curiously. The small group only assembled because Togashi guaranteed they would see something spectacular.

“Everyone, watch this,” began Kishiro as he addressed the crowd. “I will now perform my jumping act for you all. Togashi, have you your grappling hook?” The old man nodded as he handed the object to Kishiro.

The grappling hook’s rope was made of shirogane. It was one of the few things left in Iida that had been used in the Great War. Kishiro turned his back to the crowd. Keeping the grappling hook safely in his hand, he began to run— straight towards the gate. Kishiro soon landed on the other side, and he didn’t even remember when he had jumped.

His eyes were constantly looking around. The trees were green, and the earth brown. Life did indeed exist beyond the village Iida. Suddenly, Kishiro looked up. Beyond the boughs of the trees he could see a bright sun shinning through the lofty branches. Kishiro’s eyes fell back to the grappling hook in his hand. He couldn’t let himself get distracted from his plan. Kishiro used the grappling hook to pull himself up to the top of the gate.

He sat on Iida’s wall, looking down at the villagers. They were all silent; some with wide eyes, some with dropped jaws, and some with stiff bodies of shock.

“I’m perfectly fine… and unharmed. I didn’t commit suicide. Am I dead?” began Kishiro. “Come over the wall with me, and we can find a new place to build a village. The trees over here are green and the sun shines from a blue sky. If you stay in Iida, you’ll die as quickly as the others.”

“Blasphemy!” bellowed a voice. Kishiro immediately knew who it was: Father Kishimoto. “The forest is death.” Watase, Watsuki-dono, and Father Kishimoto were approaching. Watase must have woke and saw everyone gathered, thought Kishiro. Sugisaki turned to Father Kishimoto.

“You said going not the forest was suicide, and that Kishiro would go to hell. Kishiro isn’t dead and he went completely over the gate.” stated Sugisaki. Heads began to turn toward the man.

“He’s right,” agreed Togashi, “I heard him say that too. Which means he lied to us. And so has Watsuki-dono. I always knew Watsuki was a liar.”

“Come over the gate with me!” called Kishiro. He opened his arms wide. “Start a new village where everything around you is alive!” Kishiro set the grappling hook so the rope was hanging into the village. Togashi walked over and began to climb it. Kishiro helped him down the other side.

“I’m okay, too!” announced Togashi’s voice to the villagers. Sugisaki ran for the rope and Yashiro was close behind him. In half an hour, everyone was over the wall except Watsuki-dono and Father Kishimoto. Kishiro still sat upon the wall. He saw Watsuki-dono hesitating in deciding whether to follow everyone.

“Come on, Watsuki-dono. It’s okay to come over,” spoke Kishiro, “Maybe you will be able to lead us the right way now.” Watsuki-dono walked over and began to climb the rope.

“Watsuki? What are you doing?” asked Father Kishimoto, “In that dark forest is—”

“Just be quiet already. Can’t you admit we were wrong?” spoke Watsuki-dono just before he disappeared on the other side. Father Kishimoto looked at the ground.

“Father, it’s your turn,” said Kishiro as he gazed over at the villagers who were looking around in as much amazement as he had been. “Father, come on.” Kishiro pleaded with him, but the man would not come. “Still too proud, huh?” he turned on the wall, ready to jump into the forest. “I’ll leave this rope for you, just in case you change your mind.”

Watsuki-dono was at the head of the small group. The leader and a few villagers had their knives out. Hunger was on everyone’s minds.

“So where are the animals?” asked Yashiro.

“Hiding, probably,” responded Kishiro. The villagers soon came to a tall stone wall.

“What’s this?” asked Watsuki-dono, talking to himself. “Who put a wall in the forest? I didn’t know other people survived the Great War.”

“Well let us see where it leads,” suggested Togashi, “There has to be a gate somewhere.” Watsuki-dono, Togashi, and Sugisaki followed the stone wall.

The three returned to the other villagers an hour later.

“So what did you find?” questioned Kishiro curiously. The villagers looked at their leader expectantly.

“There is no gate,” stated Sugisaki.

“We are trapped in this area. And the wall is solid stone at least a foot thick,” informed Watsuki-dono, “I didn’t even see any animals… and no rivers, aside from the wasted one that run through Iida. We never should have left.” Everyone turned his or her eyes to Kishiro.

“No, they must be mistaken,” said Kishiro, seeing the angry gleam in the villagers’ eyes. “There has to be animals around. Where else could they have gone?” The small group began to close in on Kishiro as fear crept into his heart.

“WHAT IS GOING ON IN HOKKAIDO?” asked a voice. It belonged to an old scientist who wore glowing white robes.

“IT SEEMS THAT THE PEOPLE OF IIDA HAVE TURNED ON KISHIRO,” answered a different voice. It was a young scientist in blue robes. The white robed scientist looked in the stone cage labeled ‘Hokkaido, Post WWIV’.

“YOU MEAN TEN-NINETEEN. I TOLD YOU NOT TO NAME THE SPECIMENS. IT IS NOT GOOD TO GET FAMILIAR WITH THESE THINGS. THEY ARE NAMELESS,” reminded the old scientist, “TAKE OUT TEN-NINETEEN AND PUT IT IN THE CAGE WITH THE OTHER POTENTIALS.” The young scientist picked up some tweezers and removed Kishiro. “WHY WERE THE OTHERS ATTACKING HIM?”

“WELL,” said the blue robed one, “PROBABLY BECAUSE I REMOVED ALL THE ANIMALS THE DAY BEFORE.”

“DID I TELL YOU TO DO THAT?”

“NO.”

“DO ONLY WHAT I SAY, YOUNG ONE. THESE EXPERIMENTS HAVE TO GO RIGHT,” said the white robed scientist. “NOW WHAT OTHER POST WORLD WAR FOUR COUNTRY SHOULD WE TEND TO NEXT? RUSSIA?”

“HMM… HOW ABOUT STATES ON THE EAST COAST OF NORTH AMERICA?”

“YES, I AGREE,” consented the old scientist. “WE ARE BOUND TO FIND GOOD RESULTS THERE.” The two scientists approached another stone cage, labeled ‘New Jersey & New York & Philadelphia, Post WWIV’…