Spring Upon the Solstice

XXIV - One Thousand Cherry Blossoms

{ Jhiro Fukiyama }

Klaus draws the gunfire across the catwalk to the far end, using a plate of metal as a makeshift shield to absorb any stray shots that reach him. His arm still bleeds, but he manages to keep it together, and I take the few extra seconds of free movement gladly.

"Back off!" he bellows, tossing down tools and equipment in between shots like miniature orbital strikes.

The guards circle around the hangar, climbing one of the stairwells I used earlier. Yokubari leads the rest into one of the side doors, which I assume leads up to the observation deck.

"Klaus!" I yell, hoping my voice can carry another ten meters up. "Klaus!"

"Huh?"

"Get me a path!"

"That's real bold of you to—"

"—Just do it!"

He groans and throws himself down a flight of stairs, landing on the next layer of the catwalk in spectacular style. With one shoulder squared to his scrapmetal shield, he throws a rectangular object as best he can without making a noticeable motion. I catch it, though I fumble for a bit.

It's a magazine for the handgun he gave me.

"I'm not killing anybody!"

"Do you have a choice?" He ducks to avoid a burst of gunfire, and scrambles across the scaffolding to seek cover behind a vertical I-beam. "Look out! They have a sniper!"

"Ah, shit."

I swing my head towards the observation deck, but not fast enough, because something rips past me faster than the speed of sound, and blows me off my feet.

"Fukiyama!" Klaus yells, though his voice ripples through an ocean of murky water on its way to me.

I force my hand to my temple, where the pain demands all my attention, and for whatever reason, it comes back cold. No, not cold. It's wet, but wet in an excessive way, like I dipped my fingers into a pool of water rather than touching a single droplet. And the water is sticky, and it's a deep, mesmerizing red.

Did I just get shot?

Well, not exactly, because if I got shot in the head, I wouldn't be here thinking about why the water along my temple is red and sticky. I wouldn't even know what happened. The me here talking and thinking would simply cease to be. In fact, the story would straight up end on some anti-climatic note, with my last words being one phrase, primarily: 'Ah, shit.'

So that theory's out the window.

A more likely explanation is that some jackass with a high-powered rifle tore a furrow right through the side of my head, maybe catching my earlobe in the process. It would be a graze, not so much a clean shot. I guess my luck stat isn't so bad; certainly better than Okanabe's, that's for sure.

"Fukiyama, get out of the way!" Klaus shouts. "They're tossing grenades!"

The catwalk shakes, and my eyes and ears implode on each other, which doesn't do anything for the pain already circling the crown of my head. In-game, you can tank a flashbang or two and still keep rolling. But there's nothing about that wave of force in the games, about the sensory overload that rips through anything you can muster as a defense. And even so, that one exploded closer to Klaus, a couple levels above me.

I rub away the blinding light and massage my ears, trying to stay on my feet.

Come on, Fukiyama. Push forward.