The Awakening

Chapter Five: The Pawns of War

A soldier trudged through the trenches. He was somewhat disheveled to anyone who noticed his depressing passing. He looked adrift from his current situation. His ears were open but he could not hear the devastating shots in the distance, he could not hear the screams of the fallen, and he could not hear the cries of the left behind. His eyes were open as well. But in a similar manner, he could not see his comrades bleeding out, he could not see the glint of killing-metal shining in the harsh yellow light, and he could not see the mud covering his boots. A passing commander silently cursed beneath his breath at the lost looking boy just past 21, the age of drafting in their home country. However, the boy continued his slumped search, a search for something he had gone too long without. A whisper of a love long gone.

As the soldier wandered along the deep trenches he reminisced about his past, about the wonders and joys he had felt before this dirt-covered early coffin. He remembered a two-sided boy that led his emotions astray from his wild side.

All of a sudden, the ringing started again. That ear-splitting noise that drove all of the military even deeper underground. Those who could not make it to the depths of hell would be mourned. But he had always wondered what they thought in their final moments. Did they pray? Did they think of their families? How many families were even left to think about? The war had claimed many victims. There was no memorial, no article in the newspaper about those lost souls. They became nothing except a chalk mark on a board, one more tally to be forgotten. The military strategists described them as "collateral", "unfortunate yet necessary losses." Every time the troops returned from the jaws of defeat, they were reminded that they had "lost the battle, but not the war." How many battles would it take?

A nearby man in uniform began to make conversation with the soldier, nudging his shoulder to save him from his heavy thoughts.

"Shitty day, huh?"

He only laughed humorlessly in agreement.

"Where would you rather be than here?" the soldier's compatriot asked.

"At home, with the one I truly love, I left him far too soon."

This time, the man laughed drily in turn. "How I wish I had a love like that. The last person I dated was a slob who didn't care about me. He would only text me seven times a day, and never said 'I love you' even though we had been together for almost two weeks. Also, he was always ditching me to play Fornight, and he always said that he had to carry me even though I had been playing longer than him. He also would always show up to our high school in sweatpants and would laugh if he spilled something on himself! I wish I had a cute guy who appreciated that I wasn't like the other girls at our school. Anyways, who did you leave behind, and why did he go and not you, didn't we all get drafted?"

In response, the soldier said "He was just under 21, and I don't want to taint his being by bringing his name into this god-awful place. Most of my friends are a hair younger than the drafting age too."

"Well, if I can't have his name, what's yours?" the man asked.

The soldier replied, "It's Bakugou. Katsuki Bakugou."

And then suddenly, Katsuki Bakugou was drawn away from his current moment. But to where? Or more importantly, when?

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