Liberation at Love Hotel
The mission was utterly FUBAR from the word go, especially when we got to the camp and found that none of the prisoners actually wanted to leave. Brainwashing, or Stockholm syndrome, I couldn't tell, but I do know we got swarmed by those monsters shortly after we breached the inner wall of the complex. I remember coordinating exfil for my team before something jumped me from behind, bringing me to unconsciousness. What happened next is no enormous feat to imagine. I was dragged down to this dungeon, and so here I sat. Hours pass, or maybe minutes; it's hard to tell in a cell with no windows; eventually, the sound of boots on concrete begin reverberating down the hall. I turn my lips into a sneer seeing the two guards who appear at the front of my cell. Sickly pale corpses wearing the uniform of the old Imperial Japanese Special Naval Landing Force. Under normal circumstances, they would be dressed in some risqué parody of samurai armor. Yamashita is a bit of an aficionado of Earth history if intel is to be believed. Not to mention dressing as Japanese Marines might be meant as a mocking "tribute" to the Marines operating on the island. Wearing the garb of an old foe.
The corpses regard me with blank expressions before one speaks in a curt and matter-of-fact tone. "Our Mistress would like to speak with you, Lieutenant." She said, her words tinged by a noticeable Japanese accent. I often forget how analogous to Earth some places in their world are.
Taking stock of her words, I cock my head at her odd way of mentioning her superior. "Mistress?"
The opposite zombie samurai shoots a glare at her companion, no doubt for her informality, before clearing her throat and restating the sentence. "The Lieutenant Colonel demands your presence. She has insisted on handling your interrogation personally." She said with a firm voice.
"She "demands" it, huh? Well, I feel honored." I replied, the sarcasm evident in my tone.
The first Ochiwhatsit is obviously aggravated by my flippant attitude. "As well you should be; the fact that she deemed a filthy gaijin like you worthy of her presence is a high honor!" She barks; were she a living person, I have no doubt a vein would have popped on her forehead. I give a short laugh; making one of them lose their cool is a small victory. Now I know what to exploit.
"That's not what I heard; I heard she's given many men the "pleasure of her com- "Pain explodes from my face as the corpse soldier drives her fist into my nose with a sickening crunch.
I hear the more levelheaded one chide her partner. "You should not have done that; our Lady was insistent that he be unharmed."
Ms. Hothead is quick to retort. "I will not stand by and hear him slight our Mistress's honor!" The other shakes her head as she undoes my bindings. I quickly begin rubbing my sore wrists before the more agreeable one motions for me to follow them. Nursing my bruised nose, I have no choice but to comply.
As I am led through the dark corridors of the facility by the two undead, my ears are assaulted by a cacophony of groans, screams, and other sounds of torment and anguish. So, this is the infamous prison complex from which no man has returned, a hell on Earth, and I was being led to a meeting with Satan herself. The halls twist and turn until eventually we arrive at a locker room?
"What is this?" I say, suspicion lacing my words.
The guards look uncomfortable, but one of them eventually speaks. "The Colonel requested you be made… presentable for her interrogation." This doesn't make any sense; if she wants information, she should be keeping me filthy and grimy, uncomfortable. Or maybe she's going in the opposite direction, offering me a carrot in the form of a shower and a shave so that I'll let my guard down and be easy to manipulate.
My mind bats the two possibilities back and forth before I finally make my decision. "Alright, I could use a quick wash anyway." I began stripping off my ripped dungarees, earning a blush from the more neutral one and a look of disgust from the more combative one. Stepping across the concrete floor stark naked until I reached the showers.
The cascade of warm water felt like a Godsend after months of living in country, carrying out operations in advance of the invasion of Okinawa. A shower was something I hadn't had the privilege of knowing for a long while now. The touch of soap on my skin and the promise of a shave felt heavenly, even if a part of me realized I was betraying everything I had been taught in SERE training. After all, rule one as a POW is never to accept anything from your captors save the standard food ration. Pushing the potential treason from my mind, I lost myself in the monotony of soaping every inch of my body. Though as I washed, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that I was being watched, and not only by the two guards. Sparing a glance their way, I see a flash of white hair disappear through the door. Something to keep in mind, but at this moment, I want to have my mental state as straight as possible for the coming interrogation. It takes me a moment, but I recall a photo from my briefing. White hair, SHE has white hair. Of course, she wanted to see for herself if I would take her hospitality. To see if I had the makings of a collaborator, to see if I would betray my ideals and oaths for creature comforts. In that regard, I had failed. Even if I refused a shave, even if I resisted as hard as I could, the fact that I wasn't sweat-soaked and dirt-caked like the rest of these men meant I had compromised with the enemy. These thoughts haunted me even as I toweled off and dragged the proffered razor across my face. No turning back now; I may as well enjoy it.
After my brief respite in the showers, the two corpse guards lead me to a "ready room" of sorts. Laid out in front of me was a dress blue uniform. No ribbons, but they did make sure to include the silver bar of a Lieutenant. "I don't understand. Are you taking me to be interrogated, or am I going on a date?" I say, voicing my confusion.
The more acerbic one snaps at me. "Your understanding is not required, only your obedience!" Once again, her gentler comrade holds her back from striking me, turning again to address my concerns. "Yamashita-chusa holds some deal of respect for you, Lieutenant. She wishes to meet you as a fellow officer, not as a prisoner."
So that's what Yamashita's game is. She doesn't want to interrogate me. No, she wants to humiliate me beforehand. Why shouldn't she? My team and I had been a thorn in her side for months at this point, the raid on the prison was supposed to be the cherry on top, and I ended up captured. This is her triumph, letting me know that I am her prisoner. A mocking "tribute" to a subdued foe before the thumbscrews and water torture come out. Might as well enjoy it. I put on a contrite expression and addressed my guards. "The Lieutenant-Colonel is too kind; how could I do anything but accept this gracious offer?" The two undead smiles, the passive one out of what I would think is genuine joy, and the aggressive one out of satisfaction that I had "learned my place." Returning to their place on either side of me, we march more profound into the complex.
As we march past a semi-open door, something catches my eye. "Hold on, what is that?" My guards try to get me to continue, but I push past and open the door wider. What I find is an infirmary, rows of beds in crisp white linen lining either side. Nearby, a green-haired woman with a turtle's shell attached to her back attends to a heavily bandaged man, his left arm below the elbow is gone. The edges of the bandages show the mark of burn scars. The wounds let me know exactly who he is. Kenneth Longshore, one of the junior NCOs on the raid. Mishandled some det cord; we didn't think he'd make it. Periodically he lets out a groan, the sound sending me into a minor rage. No one tortures my men.
"What do you think you're doing to him?" The turtle woman jumps at the sound of my voice, scrunching her head down to try and make herself as small as possible. "I, I, I was j-just changing his bandages. I'm trying to be gentle, but he's in a lot of pain." She squeaks, her accent a tad thicker than my guards.
Her words surprise me. I knew the monsters were keen on taking prisoners over killing us. Still, the common idea was that it was for the purposes of slavery or sustenance. That they either ate humans or used them for labor. But seeing this non-human woman, this monster, showing such care. It didn't gel with what I'd been told.
"You care about him that much?" The turtle girl regains some of her nerve and answers. "Of course, I'm a healer, and beyond that, Ken, I mean, the patient has been very cooperative." Is she… blushing?
Before I can inquire any further, pain blooms in the back of my knee. I recognize Hothead-san as the one who delivered the kick. "You've got your answer; your comrade is fine and is receiving good care. You are giving him the best care possible, right, Kameda-chui?"
The turtle girl scrambles to her feet. "O-of course, I've been tending to his wounds and keeping him company since he first arrived. He was just telling me about his hometown, someplace called Ah-Ber-deen in Washington state. W-which is funny because the briefings made it seem like that city was in the United Kingdom." Dear God, this girl is in love with him. But is it real or just Florence Nightingale syndrome? I don't get a chance to answer further as my two grey-skinned guards haul me to my feet and set me to walk again. I hear some faint mumbling from behind me, and shortly afterward, the Nurse calls out after me. "He said it's good to see you are safe, Lieutenant! He wanted me to tell you to stay strong!"
Ever onward am I dragged, through the halls of groaning prisoners. My captors match my every step, so I don't yank myself out of their grasp yet again. After what seems like an eternity marching, we finally arrive at a door. One not made of metal but accommodating wood. "I don't believe we have to tell you to mind your manners, Lieutenant." The more belligerent one barks.
The more passive guard again glares at her companion and intercedes on my behalf. "He understands he is here as a guest, not a prisoner; he will behave, won't you, Lieutenant?" She looks down at me expectantly, and as a first for either of the girls, she actually flashes a smile.
"Of course, I am the junior officer in this situation," I mumble, putting on an act of contrition.
Satisfied by my response, the duo pushes open the door to the Commanding Officer's quarters and leads me inside.
Almost immediately upon entering the room, my nose and eyes are assaulted by acrid, stinging smoke. It reminded me of walking into the E club in Manila, how cigarette smoking was so ubiquitous that it almost hurt to breathe. A coughing fit sent me to my knees, but the two guards were quick to stand me up again. Waving them off, I try steadying myself, taking a few tentative steps towards the thicker part of the smoke cloud. Taking step after unsteady step as the smoke seemed to grow thicker and thicker around me like someone had dyed it black with ink. I almost half wondered if the room was on fire before I rounded a corner and was confronted by a small space that was entirely devoid of smoke. An area prepared, no doubt, by my host.
A table is laden with food, low to the ground in the Japanese style. The usual assortment of cuisine from Nippon, along with some oddities, like a basket of fried chicken laid out amid the assortment of fish and vegetables. Casting my gaze to the far end of the table, I finally saw her. A face I'd seen dozens of times in mission briefings memorized every feature from her purple eyes to her ash grey hair and her pale, thin lips. She was wearing a brown IJA officer's uniform, the neck tab of three gold stars on alternating red and yellow lines marking her rank of Lieutenant Colonel. The only thing that marked her as different from an officer of the emperor was how her more than generous chest strained the gold buttons of her uniform.
"Miyako Yamashita," I said, the words coming out half a statement and half a question. Even as I addressed her, her eyes were closed, the only movement being her arm bringing her pipe up to her lips for another reef. Which was inevitably followed by a seductive exhale, the smoke tumbling from her half-open mouth, pouring over her lips like stage smoke rolling off a bucket of dry ice.
Finally, her eyes open, two mauve orbs center themselves on me as her thin lips peel back in a smile. "Ah, so this is my assassin?" she purrs, a hint of amusement in her voice. She taps the ashes from her pipe, the lingering smoke clinging to her like a shroud. She must have read my expression as her grin widens. "Don't act surprised; we've been through the packs of you and your men. It was only natural we would find your orders, and do not pretend that it hasn't been you who has been raiding positions all over the island."
"Lieutenant Michael Taylor, and I won't apologize for my mission," I speak. No matter how hospitable she intends to treat me, I can't forget we are still enemies.
She gives a short, lilting laugh at this. "Hoho, I would not ask you to, Lieutenant. We are at war with one another, after all." Her eyes narrow as her features soften, "That is to say, our nations are at war." She extends an arm to a cushion set across the table from her, offering me a seat. Seeing no other recourse, I sit myself down Indian-style on the pillow. I lock eyes with her once more, attempting to keep my stony demeanor. For her part, she keeps up her placid smile as she again addresses me. "I am quite curious about you, Lieutenant, hence why I brought you here to answer a few of my questions over a nice meal." She stands and takes a few steps over to the table before again assuming her previous sitting position, "You could have easily escaped my camp, but instead you remained behind to ensure as many of your men escaped as possible; I would like to get to know a man like that a bit better."
"Is selflessness such an alien concept to you monsters?" I growl.
Yamashita gives a low chuckle at this, "Some would have you believe that." she looks down at the table and grabs a small white bottle. "Some would tell you that any concept beyond hedonism and debauchery is alien to mamono." She busies herself pouring the clear contents of the bottle into a small saucer-like cup. After she finishes, she repeats the process and slides the second cup over to me. She notes my apprehension, and her smile grows a tad warmer. "There's nothing in the sake, Lieutenant; you need not be so on guard."
I take the cup and bring it to my nose for a quick sniff before downing the contents in one gulp. "Forgive me for being wary of the intentions of a woman who managed to earn the nickname of "The Princess of Hell."
She takes another sip of her sake before giving her answer, "A nickname I did not choose. To be frank, I have always wondered why your military gave it to me."
I think for a while before giving a reply, "This camp is infamous. Men go in and are never seen again.".
She laughs once again, "And why do you think it is that men never return from this camp, Lieutenant?" I open my mouth but am interrupted, "No, let me guess what your men have speculated. You believe that we take men as slaves or, worse, as food. That the reason we seek to capture and not kill is because of those factors. Am I correct?" I try to remain impassive, but I can see her face growing smug the longer I stay silent; eventually, I give a defeated nod.
Her face retains its smug grin as she continues her questioning, "Do I look like I would eat a human, Lieutenant?"
I look her over, "To be honest, if I didn't know better, I would say you were a human yourself."
This piques her interest, "Oh, but you do know better, don't you, Lieutenant?" she purrs, the curiosity coming through with the lasciviousness.
I do; I practiced pronouncing it repeatedly on the trip over, so I didn't look like a tool to my men. "Nurarihyon, is that correct?"
She seems pleased, her eyes gaining a slight sparkle as she addresses me, "Correct, but how much do you know of Nurarihyon, Lieutenant?"
I cast my memory back to the laughable briefings, the top brass attempting to pass off honest to God hentai as "top secret information" on the monsters. "Next to nothing, the brass tried handing us some "Monster Girl Encyclopedia," but it was worse than useless."
Upon hearing the words "Monster Girl Encyclopedia," Yamashita is struck by a fit of laughter, falling over backward as the belly laughs overpower her. "Ahahahaha, Ah, kuso, Sake went up my nose, it stings." She forces out in between laughs. It takes a few moments, but she rights herself once more. "Oh, I apologize, but did your government really try to pass off pornography as actual intelligence?"
The scene is surreal, but I can't help but smile myself, "Yeah, a hell of a thing, ain't it? I mean, they just scanned the damn thing, the page for Nurarihyon had one with her tits hanging out, pardon my French."
She once again seems intrigued, "Oh? And how did that make you feel, Lieutenant?" She leans forward as if expecting an answer. Being put on the spot like this, by a woman no less, is something I'm not ashamed to admit is a tad embarrassing.
"Well, the military censors put tape over her nipples." I say sheepishly, "One of the guys tried taking it off and ended up ripping the page." I begin rubbing the back of my neck apprehensively, "Never actually got to see them." I can see Yamashita's smile takes on a predatory bent for a split second before softening back to its previous jovial state. "If I can ask, Lieutenant-Colonel- "
She cuts me off again, "Please, call me Miyako."
"Okay, If I can ask, Miyako, where did you learn about it? Don't tell me that book actually came from your world." It's my turn to lean forward and await a reply, and while she doesn't look sheepish like I did, there is some embarrassment.
"For your second question, of course not. If we behaved anything as depicted in that book, our civilization would have collapsed ages ago. Who could run a town or a city, let alone a nation, with that kind of non-stop fornication going on?"
Regaining her composure, she pours us both another cup before continuing. "As for your first question, it is a funny story, actually. A few of our advanced guards were monitoring Earth's internet when we found a rather odd forum. Its users were infatuated with mamono to the point of worship. It was so surreal, but I can attest it exists." She takes another nigiri before continuing, "Or rather, it did exist; I doubt your government would let such an openly pro-monster place exist."
Silence reigns for a while after that. Just the sounds of chewing and swallowing before her next question gets asked. "You no doubt have more questions for me, Lieutenant; feel free to ask them."
I ponder for a moment, an infinite number of questions to ask. There is one that I've wanted to have answered for ages, and this woman might be my best bet to get it. "Why are you monsters invading Earth?" I ask with some attempted gravity.
Miyako replies without hesitation, "Hm, that seems to be a rather high-level question; what makes you think I know the answer?"
She's not going to dodge the question, not on my watch, "Tell me, why you think your people are here on Earth fighting this war."
She looks pensive, as if she's deciding just how to answer. "Years before we came, there were some among us who told of a universe where men lived in misery, crying out for salvation." She takes another small sip from her sake cup. "That idea became a force in and of itself for mamono, something we devoted all energy and innovation to attaining, our "Holy Grail" to use a term you might recognize."
"Those men on that website, they have similar thoughts?" I ask, wanting to keep her talking for as long as possible. I only now noticed her guards did not follow me in. If I keep her talking, I might be able to get her to lower her guard.
And if she lowers her guard, I can complete my mission.
Miyako gives another small chuckle, "Oh yes, ahahaha, you made me remember something." She braces herself against the table so as not to tumble backward again, "You remember how I told you they near worshipped monsters?" I nod, "Well, they had this prophecy for something they called the "Day of the Rape," crude I know, but the gist of it was that there would be a day when mamono would come and deliver them from their hellish existence of loneliness and oppression."
"Like some kind of Messiah." I offer.
"Exactly, those poor, poor souls." She takes another sip, "I hope they all found their way to our lines and got the wives they so desperately wanted."
That surprises me, "Excuse me, wives?" I say, not sure if the word is meant to be code for something or not.
Miyako looks back, unsure if my question is serious, "Yes, wives, are you unfamiliar with the concept of marriage?"
I scramble to salvage the situation, "No, no, I know what a wife is; it's just this is the first I'm hearing of monsters marrying humans." Thinking back to Ken and that turtle girl, perhaps I shouldn't be so surprised, but I am.
Miyako closes her eyes and gives a small sigh before addressing me again. "Lieutenant, you realize that throughout our conversation, I have not asked you a single question about your mission or the plans of your military." She gives a pregnant pause before qualifying her statement, "Why do you think that is?"
I give my best guess, "This is a date to you, not an interrogation."
She looks a bit glum as she downs the rest of her cup before giving a reply. "Nurarihyon look for... a certain kind of man, and that kind of man for me has been hard to find, Lieutenant."
This might be my in; I got to grease the wheels some more.
"Call me Michael," I say, a hint of flirtation evident in my voice.
Her smile returns somewhat at that, "Well, Michael, as I was saying, monsters in general look for certain kinds of men that tickle their fancy. Nurarihyon, in particular, look for charismatic men, good leaders, and the like."
She places her cup down and moves the table aside with a single push. Picking up her pipe, she takes more of what I am not entirely sure is tobacco from a pouch on her waist. Tamping it into the bowl before striking a match against her boot and lighting it. "I think you can understand where I am going with this, Michael."
My eyes dart to the tanto dagger on her belt, I just have to get close to her, and I can take her hostage. Then I'll get my freedom and be back to fighting this war.
I just need to keep her talking.
"I'm afraid I don't follow." I lie, hoping she doesn't see through me.
Another sigh passes her lips. "You have been running a guerrilla campaign on this island for at least three months now, yet there have been very few monster casualties. It's clear you and your men avoid killing as much as we do." She takes another puff from her pipe before continuing. "Your men are loyal to you to the point of expressing a willingness to die for you. The ones we captured said as much. Do those not sound like qualities I've said a Nurarihyon looks for in a man?"
She flashes her eyes at me in a come-hither stare. Even if I genuinely were oblivious to her overtures, I wouldn't be now. Humoring her, I rise and slowly amble my way over to her.
"I, uh, think I understand now, Miyako." I feign my sheepish expression from earlier, hoping to keep her off guard, "May I sit next to you?"
Her eyes widen, but she nods, and I take my seat at her side. So close now, only a few inches, and I can have freedom for my men and I.
I just need to seal the deal.
I keep up the innocent schoolboy act, "You know, I studied some Japanese in school."
"Oh really?" she said, genuine curiosity in her voice.
I turn to face her, "Yeah, enough to know that your name, Miyako, translates to "Beautiful Child of the Night," I start making my way closer, "It suits you, you know."
Her face flushes red, and her eyes dart away from mine as I continue to move closer. When I don't stop, she closes them all together and purses her lips.
No doubt she was expecting this to have a happy ending where we kiss and fall in love. I'm sorry to disappoint.
In a flash, I tackle her and unsheathe the dagger attached to her belt, putting my full weight on her torso and moving the blade to her throat in one swift motion.
"Your last name, Yamashita, also means "One under the mountain," and underground is exactly where you'll be if you don't do exactly as I say." I bark with as much authority as I can muster.
I expect a look of shock, perhaps even betrayal, from her face. But the look she is giving me now is utterly unexpected. She's got the same smug grin as she wore when she asked me about the nude picture in the Encyclopedia.
Insulted, I press the dagger against her throat, "Something funny about someone holding your life in their hands?"
Her smile doesn't vanish; in fact, it gets bigger. She also starts to laugh, "I'll give you this; you keep things interesting, Lieutenant; this night has not at all gone as I had planned."
I give my own slight grin, "I bet it didn't."
"No doubt you intend to use me as a hostage, bargain for the freedom of you and your men?" she deadpans.
I say nothing; I can't unless I want her trying to get in my head some more.
"Do you not feel like talking anymore, Lieutenant?" Her stare never wavers from my own as the standoff intensifies; it takes a few moments before she speaks again, "I can tell you now that neither you nor your men will leave this place, nor will you want to."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I blurted unintentionally. Damn it all, now she knows this was all spur of the moment. My best hope is that she doesn't call my other bluff.
She once again begins her slow chuckling, not in a mocking way, more in a way that suggests she knew she had me pegged and was savoring the experience. "I trust you saw your man Longshore in the infirmary; how Nurse Yoko has already become smitten with him?" She lets the question hang for added effect before continuing, "A similar story is playing out all across this camp for all your captured men, Lieutenant." Her face twists into a wicked smile as she speaks her last part, "Even you, Michael, are not immune to this."
"Bullshit," I bark, "I'm in control here, not you!"
Her smile doesn't waver as she slowly moves her arms from her sides. I try to stop her, but some force overtakes me, preventing me from arresting her as she reaches up to unbutton her field blouse, one gold button at a time. At last, with three buttons down, I begin to see pale flesh reveal itself, skin the same pale white as her face, maybe even lighter. The bountiful cleavage certainly catches my gaze, but not as much as the tattoo adorning her right breast. An Orchid if I know my flowers right.
"If you are in control, Lieutenant, then do your duty and end my life." She opens her coat wider, revealing more of her chest, "Plunge that dagger into my heart and do your country proud."
I remove the blade from her throat and position it just above her right breast; the heart isn't dead center like in cartoons, and if it were, stabbing would be useless due to the sternum. No, it's slightly off-center, and even then, a part of me knows a cleaner kill would be to go through the armpit. Still, I attempt to drive the knife home. Again, some force compels me to stop just shy of piercing her skin. I try again, to the same results. My mind is racing, trying to find an explanation.
"Having trouble, Lieutenant?" again, her smug tone mocks me, "Maybe if you think of her, the task will be easier."
"What are you talking about?" I growl, still attempting to press the dagger into her chest.
An odd look mixing sympathy and pride crosses her face, "I said I went through your pack, Lieutenant, you can guess what I found there." My façade falters for the briefest moment, no doubt letting her know she's on the right track, "I believe such a message is called a "Dear John" letter?"
"Stop talking," I whisper.
"I can only imagine how you felt reading it; you no doubt believed she was your one true love."
"I said shut your fucking hole!"
She closes her eyes and smiles triumphantly before delivering the death blow, "She even sent back your engagement ring; how tragic." She reaches into her pocket and produces a golden band, depositing it into my pocket.
Part of me wants to throttle her for talking about it; part of me wants to lay down and die. My body makes the compromise as I sink down lower, the knife tossed to some shadowed corner as my face comes to rest on her chest. A few tears shamefully fall from my eyes. It takes a few seconds, but I feel a hand begin patting me on the back.
"There, there, Michael, it is not a dishonor for a man in your situation to cry; it only means that you still have a heart to break." She coos, her words taking on an almost motherly tone, "If you want to talk about it, I am here."
I can't help myself; I've buried this too long. As much as I know I shouldn’t as much as know I normally wouldn’t. As if compelled by some magical force, I break down.
"She promised she'd wait as long as it took, that she loved me, that she wanted to have my children," I whisper.
Miyako moves to pull me closer to her, "It seems she did, for two whole years, and from what I understand, that is the mark of a "virtuous" human woman of Earth."
My fists clench, remembering the words of the letter, "She left me for some 4F washout, and then said it was because she had "needs," as if I don't have needs too!" I sink deeper into her welcoming flesh, almost becoming comfortable in her embrace. "All I wanted was to build a family-like my father did, a wife who loves me, and kids who look up to me." I give a final, defeated sigh, "Is that too much to ask."
Miyako chimes in, "For a human, maybe," she grasps my chin and puts my face level with hers, "But a monster would have no problem with that dream, for it is the same one many of us have." Her sympathetic grin twists once more into a warm smile, "I am not too proud to admit it is one I have."
We stay there for a few moments, face to face with her amethyst orbs drilling into my sapphire. A million thoughts run through my head at that moment. All the domestic fantasies I played out in my head about after the war come rushing through, but they are fundamentally changed. No longer is the woman in these fantasies my cheating ex, no. The woman in my mind's eye is Miyako Yamashita. It’s not as if I’m consciously imagining her in the place of my ex, no, it’s as if… she’d always been there.
I struggle to keep my cool, trying to process these complex thoughts about a woman who, mere moments ago, was my mortal enemy. I almost regain my composure, almost, until she leans in close and whispers in my ear five little words, "I would have remained faithful."
Any hope of salvaging control is lost; my mouth meets hers with wild abandon. Our tongues engaged in a struggle somewhere between a dance and a duel. What follows is a frenzied fumbling of belts and buttons as we struggle to free ourselves from the obstructions to our passion. A more learned man might have remarked on the irony of the situation. Two foes cast aside their uniforms (a symbol of their enmity) to be joined as lovers in each other's arms. Oceans of pale skin reveal themselves as her stomach, thighs, and other areas are laid bare before me. Casting aside her bra, I finally get an eyeful of her generous breasts. Alabaster mountains with peaks of palest pink, their beauty so great that I stand transfixed for a moment.
"Much better than an illustration in some book, aren't they?" She said, her voice snapping me back to reality. I give her a nod in response, not wanting to look away from the rare sight before me. I can hear Miyako give a sigh as she once again intercedes, leading my head to one of her pale pink nipples, bidding me open my mouth. Gingerly, I gave a flick of my tongue before latching on to her breast, alternating between licking and suckling like a babe in arms. No matter my technique, it didn't change the long sighs and short shivers that seemed to wrack her body. With some impatience, she forced the nipple from my mouth, quickly replacing it with her tongue. A quick but deep kiss that she quickly breaks off.
"I am ready for you, Lieutenant; I only ask that you be gentle," she whispers, "It may seem hard to believe, but this is my first time." She averts her gaze after saying that, as if she'd just admitted a secret none but those closest to her knew. Taking a step back, I can't help but admire the pristineness of her quim. A single perfect slit with only a generous dusting of dark hair serving to break the alabaster exterior. My instincts yell at me to take her as is, to sate the lust that has been building all these years; the lady just admitted this will be her first time. Anything less than the best would be an insult to the gift she'll be giving me. Slowly, I part her thighs, bringing my face closer and close to her white marble womanhood. With two fingers, I spread her labia as gingerly as I could, a flash of pink adding yet another vibrant color to the palate that is Miyako Yamashita. My sudden interest in her nethers seems to confuse her, her head cocked as she looks down on my fumbling.
"W-what are you waiting for, aren't you going to-?" Her words die in her mouth as I give an experimental lick at her pale, perfect lips, ending with a playful flick of her cherry blossom nub. A jolt of electricity seems to run through her body as her thighs close around me, her intent clear. I've had a taste so now I need to finish my meal. A light panting issues forth from the formerly reserved woman with each motion of my tongue, every errant lick of her pleasure bud sending another spasm through her body. For my part, her taste is near indescribable. Bitter, as one would expect, but sweet as well. Almost like dark chocolate. Honestly, as a man who never particularly cared for eating pussy, I can't deny that I could almost get addicted to the taste. I'd complain about the hair, but Japanese girls are Japanese girls, even if they come from another world… and aren't human.
After a few minutes, the quivering grows far more violent, and I brace myself in anticipation of the coming deluge. But it doesn't come. Instead, I feel hands on either side of my head, raising me up to eye level with the now red-faced Lieutenant Colonel. Her eyes betray her lust, but also frustration. "No more games, Micheal; I'm ready."
"Are you absolutely sure?" I ask, "if it's your first time, then I don't want to make it any more painful than it has to be."
Her face lightens at my words, "You're sweet for caring, Lieutenant, but the pain is a price I'm willing to pay for this experience."
As gently as I can, I line up my member with her entrance; there's no need for further lubrication with how wet she is. I begin easing into her by millimeters. Every now and then, she lets out a small whimper or whine, causing me to stop until she gives me a nod, her sign to keep going. There's no getting around it; this bandage needs to be ripped off, "Miyako, do you trust me?" I query, looking to gauge her reaction. She says nothing but gives another quick nod, guessing my intentions and closing her eyes in preparation for what is to come. I enter her with one swift motion, piercing deeply into an area no man has been before. As I do this, a muffled scream passes her lips, quickly silenced. Pulling out, a thin trickle of blood ran down the length of my rod; she wasn't lying about being a virgin. Settling into a steady rhythm, I begin to move, slow enough for her to adjust to the sensation. Each thrust brings another muffled whine; it's clear that this isn't pleasurable for her yet despite her assurances to the contrary. Though partway through, I feel her arms wrap around me.
It's been years since I've been with a woman. So long that I'd almost forgotten the feeling of being with a woman. Of being inside a woman. It's almost heavenly, the tightness of Miyako's virginal pussy, the feeling of her folds caressing my cock. But I'm not oblivious to her needs; I keep my pace slow, slower than I ever took it with her. But then again, she wasn't a virgin, even when we first met. To ease the pain, I busy myself with her erogenous zones. Running my hands across her supple breasts and the soft curve of her hips. Slowly, the muffled whimpers are replaced with gentle sighs and even the occasional squeak. She's finally feeling pleasure.
"Please, go a bit faster," she breaths, and I oblige her. Increasing the pace as she kept her arms around my neck, our mouths meeting as her body pressed into mine. The sensual dance of her tongue against mine, feeling her perfect breasts flattened against my chest, cock and pussy wedded like lock and key. At this moment, I can tell what people mean when they talk about "two becoming one" during sex. It's… there's only one way I can describe it.
"Sublime…" I sigh, bringing my cheek to hers and relishing her cool, smooth skin against my freshly shaven face. At that moment, I feel her seize suddenly, that same electricity from earlier running through her body. I stop my rhythm for a moment, fully appreciating the opportunity to ride out her orgasm inside of her. After the shaking subsides, she falls back, allowing me to see her in her full glory.
"So, hah, that is, hah, that is what it is like with a man?" she gasps, the afterglow apparent even in the dim light of the room. With a look my way, a sly smile crosses her lips, "I don't think I'll be able to go back to using my hands after this, Lieutenant."
I don't respond, just shoot back a smile of my own and continue my business as before, though with a bit more force than before. It isn't long before that familiar pressure builds inside of me.
"Miyako, I think I'm close."
Her response is immediate, delivered in a harsh yet sensual tone, the perfect marriage of the military commander and virgin maiden. "Don't you dare pull out; you come inside me and erase the memory of that woman once and for all!"
Her encouragement drives me wild as I begin thrusting into her like a mad beast, my cock sawing into her at an increased speed. With one final, triumphant roar, I grab her hips and bodily slam home, sealing her tight against me. Shortly after, I explode inside of her, years of pent-up sexual frustration transformed into roiling ropes of cum that I can feel blasting into her virgin womb. With every throb, her walls seem to massage me, coaxing more and more semen from my deflating member. In a moment of clarity, I realized the severity of my actions; I very well could have impregnated the woman I was sent here to kill. Though fatigue quickly drives those thoughts from my mind. I finally pull out with some reluctance, a trickle of white following behind from her (still pristine) slit.
"I, I don't believe you'll be needing this anymore," she pants, grabbing the returned engagement ring and slipping it on her own finger. I try to offer protest, but it dies in my throat. Not that it matters as I quickly collapse forward, right on top of her. Miyako repositioned herself so that I nestle in beside her, our faces as close as possible and her body wrapped in my arms. Just as I drift off to sleep, I swear I hear her voice, "I love you, my little Lieutenant."
I wake up with the sun shining in my face through a window, blinding me and causing my head to turn away, directly into the grey-haired head of the woman slumbering next to me. Seeing her brings back memories of last night and all the mixed emotions it brings with it. Pride that such a high-ranking woman in the monster army chose me as her partner. Shame that I was literally sleeping with the enemy. Hope that her words from last night were true, fear that this was all some trick. As I grapple with my thoughts, I hear the doors open and see the two guards from last night enter. The more acerbic one carries a covered tray, what I assume to be breakfast for her mistress, and the other holds a fresh uniform.
The more aggressive one drops her tray upon seeing me naked next to her superior, her eyes widening and then narrowing into a look of pure hate. "Kono yaro," she growls, venom dripping from every syllable. She takes a few steps forward, fist raised aggressively but finds herself stopped by a single word.
The clattering of silverware must have awoken Miyako, as she now stands stark naked between her undead servant and me. The Ochi spits harsh words that I cannot understand at her mistress, though her body language makes it plain she greatly disapproves of the state she has found us in.
Miyako remains impassive, taking the words with little indication of their impact on her. Finally, she does see fit to give a response, "Leave us; I have much to discuss with my new husband."
The calmer one leads her hotheaded colleague out of the room; she stares daggers at me as she walks out. Once the door is closed, Miyako lets out a large sigh. "I apologize for Junko; she has made up her mind that she despises you."
I shrug, "Kinda figured that was the case."
"She is a good friend and a loyal servant, but she does worry too much at times." Miyako busies herself, changing into the uniform that has been left on her chair. "It really is none of her business who I choose to marry."
"You know, you keep saying words like "husband" and "marriage," but I just met you," I say, also busying myself with gathering what clothes I can find. "It usually takes more than one date before a man and woman consider each other ready to marry."
Miyako snorts at that, "We will have plenty of time to get to know one another over the next few months, considering I'm being transferred soon."
That catches me off guard, "There wasn't any word in the briefings about a transfer."
"Because it wasn't finalized until now, but after last night I'm certain that I would benefit from some R&R."
She shoots a glance in my direction, "Go home, see my family, introduce them to my new husba…" she cocks her head for a brief moment, "My new boyfriend." She finally says, dejectedly.
I reach out to brush an errant strand of hair behind her ear, "Hey, show me a good enough time, and I wouldn't mind being promoted to fiancé."
She flashes me that dazzling ivory smile as she pulls me close, "Of that, I have no doubt, now get dressed, Lieutenant, that's an order."
Chuckling to myself, I walk to the small bathroom adjacent to the CO's quarters. With all the smoke last night, I must have missed it. The small sink proves a blessing, a few handfuls of cold, clear water doing wonders for me, one going down my parched throat and another splashed on my face. I notice some clothes have been laid out for me as well, not the gaudy dress blues from last night, but some freshly laundered BDUs. Taking a final look in the mirror, I can't help but feel I look… younger. As if that one night washed away the three years of struggle and strife from this brutal war. I should be ashamed of myself; I am a traitor and a turncoat, a disgrace to my nation. The worst part is, I'm beginning to worry that I don't care. I love my country, but I love Miyako as well. It's a twisted time when a man must choose between his heart and his homeland. With a final resolute nod, I push away from the sink and turn to meet the woman I love.
As I am about to reenter the room, I can hear Miyako engaged in a call, a satellite phone held close to her ear as she speaks in a casual tone to an unknown party. "I really should thank you; the plan went off without a hitch. Oh yes, he's exactly my type, and the other girls are finding the men to their liking as well."
I have to cock my head; who could she be talking to? Not announcing myself, I stay in the doorframe, intent on hearing more.
"I would wait a few more weeks before dispatching another team; Commander Shirotora won't be here for another month. Though when you do, send someone with some fire; you know how Jinko can be." She speaks casually.
Poking my head out slightly, I'm taken off guard by my reflection in a full-body mirror, bringing me into full view of a now perturbed Miyako Yamashita.
"Can you hold? I have to take care of something." She says, only half closing the phone as she heaves a sigh, turning to face me as she does. As she rounds on me, I can't help but shrink back, her eyes conveying her disapproval quite well. Though as she gets closer, her face does soften slightly, "Didn't anyone teach you that eavesdropping was impolite, my love?"
"Who are you talking to, Miyako?" I ask.
Her face betrays nothing, a simple smile adorning her face as she stares into my eyes. Into my soul, it seems like.
"It's nothing you need to worry about anymore; just sit down and start eating; I'll join you shortly, darling." She answers, her words dripping with honey and yet laced subtly with venom.
Never one to be cowed, I match her lavender gaze with equal intensity, sparks flying in the space between our heavy stares. Eventually, I heave a sigh; there's not much I can do at this point except concede defeat; after all, I am still her prisoner.
"Alright, just don't make me wait too long… sweetness."
I can feel myself cringe at the last word. This place is obviously getting to me if I casually tossed out something so corny. Though the effect it seems to have had on Miyako is undeniable, her jaw hanging open in shock, quickly morphing into that same soft smile she's worn all morning.
"Fufu, well now, how can I say no to that?" she says, gently cupping my chin and guiding it closer and closer to her mouth; with mere inches left between us, I pull in to meet her kiss. It is a simple kiss, lip to lip, with neither of us breaking the seal, but it's enough to let each other know our feelings haven't changed.
"Five minutes?" I offer, a look of feigned concern on my face.
She moves to caress my cheek one last time, "I'll try to have it wrapped up in three."
We part with a smile as I move to take my place at the small Japanese-style table, visions of how we'd spend the day and every day afterward running through my head. Would her parents like me? Would I ever be able to introduce Miyako to my parents? Thoughts I never would have had about the woman I had initially intended to kill, at least before coming to Site Lima Hotel.
Lima Oscar Victor Echo, it all makes sense now. As I tuck into a surprisingly delicious plate of eggs and rice, I can't help but think of the lyrics to an old song, "you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave."
With Miyako at my side, I don't think I'd want to either.
"I have to compliment you again; he really is a wonderful man."
"Ah, I knew you'd like him, Lieutenant Colonel; Lieutenant Taylor is nothing if not eager to please. I'm sorry if the rest of the men were… lacking in compatibility for the rest of your personnel."
"Don't beat yourself up over it. I have no doubt the rest of the men will follow the example of their dear Lieutenant if given a chance."
"Too true, too true, but to be clear, it'll be another month before another "rescue mission" should be organized?"
"At least, Mike, that is to say, Lieutenant Taylor and I will be leaving within the week, but a full personnel replacement shouldn't be finalized until August at the earliest."
"Fair enough, that's more than enough time to "gather intel" and put together a team to my and Miss White Tiger's liking."
"Of course, you've grown quite adept at it, being a turncoat, that is. Does it ever bother you?"
"It does, but it's too late to turn back now, isn't it? I quit now, and I'm a dead woman."
"I'm just glad the "monsterized women immediately lose any objection to monsterization and embrace their new sisters unquestioningly." idea actually worked, even if just as a placebo. It would have been troublesome if you'd monsterized and remained loyal."
"Yeah, yeah, don't remind me."
"Oh, don't be like that, just think of it as being on the inside track to the future, Madam Vice Admiral."
In a darkened office in the Pentagon, a woman sits at her desk. Her placard reading, Vice Admiral Sarah Doering, Chief of Naval Personnel. A photo on her desk shows her at the beginning of the war, a woman of nearly sixty, ravaged by a high-stress career in the military, a far cry from the gorgeous woman currently occupying the office chair across from the picture.
"Whatever, "sisters," my ass, I'm just a glorified matchmaker for you damn creatures." She grouses into her "special" phone, the one that no one ever sees, bearing an etched mark of a heart on the case.
"Matchmakers are highly respected in Zipangu, Vice Admiral, just know I'll be thanking you at my wedding," Replies a voice half a world away. "And don't forget you're one of those "damned creatures" too."
With a short click, the call is severed, leaving the Vice-Admiral alone in her dark office.
"Fucking bitch," She spat, depositing the "special" phone in its place under the false bottom of a desk drawer. With a look at the august woman in the photograph, a heavy sigh wracks her youthful frame. Without even thinking, another drawer opens, something handing her up a polished shot glass and a bottle of cheap bourbon leftover from her predecessor. Just a few twists and a pour are all separating her from numbing fermented bliss. It's the only feeling she wants right now… well, the feeling of viscous pink slime snaking its way back into her most intimate parts isn't too bad. But unlike drinking, masturbating at her desk would be harder to explain.
"Inside track to the future, huh?" she ponders, downing a shot, "We'll just have to see about that."