Anomaly

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Eiji Kobayashi and
his comrades sprinted silently across the damp earth of the sacred forest
Kitayama. The night sky had begun to clear. This was a favorable premonition;
the gods had surely blessed their mission. The light of the full moon filtered
through the canopy of aged Hinoki pines in luminous strands, made visible by a
thin carpet of mist. The enemy had been warned that the retribution of the
immortal Amaterasu would be swift and merciless if they chose to advance on Kyoto:
the city most beloved by the gods. Eiji’s objective was quite clear, his men
were to intercept the rebel army encamped near the head of the Hozu river, none
were to be left alive. The men under his command numbered only one hundred
strong, however they worried little about their prospects in the battle to
come. Victory had been all but assured. Each of the men had been bred for war
since birth, and although their order had no formal name they had come to be
known as the most feared warriors in all of Japan.
Their expert skills with the Katana were unmatched among even the most
proficient Samurai. The group’s pace quickened as the Tanba
Mountains came into view. The light
mist had grown heavier with every passing step until it was a thick, hindering
fog. The men pressed on, unaffected. Suddenly, the fog began to dissipate and
as quickly as it had set in, it was gone.

            Eiji
halted abruptly mid stride as did his companions. They looked at their
surroundings and could not believe their eyes. The landscape of the Kitayama
forest had vanished, replaced entirely by an elongated stone plateau. The
ground shimmered in the moonlight. To Eiji’s left flank there was a vast dark
ocean, to his right, a steep cliff wall. About fifty yards ahead of he and his men,
was a formation of soldiers. Their polished armor gleamed menacingly. They were
like no men he had ever seen. It was immediately apparent that the soldiers had
spotted Eiji’s contingent, for they had formed a defensive line, shields and
spears at the ready, as if expecting Eiji to order his men to attack. Eiji,
more bewildered than threatened, was almost caught off guard as a spear hurtled
toward him. He quickly ducked and narrowly avoided the blow, the man behind him,
Kenji Watanabe, was not as lucky- dying instantly, he crumpled to the ground
with a soft thud. Eiji, now enraged, immediately snapped back into combat
readiness. These strange men had dealt an unprovoked killing blow. Any
honorable warrior would be expected to take his own life for committing such a
cowardly and disgraceful act. Eiji drew his Katana. His men did the same. At
his signal they began their advance. As Eiji’s force moved closer to their
gleaming ranks, the enemy began to unleash its full arsenal of spears. This
time Eiji’s men were ready, for not one spear met its mark. The enemy, whoever
they were, would pay in blood for their barbarism.

            Within
a matter of minutes the two sides were within mere feet of each other. Eiji
stared angrily at his heavily armored opponents as they drew their short
swords. A man who Eiji assumed was their leader stepped forward, breaking rank,
Eiji did the same. The man shouted something in a language that Eiji could not
understand, the armored line of soldiers behind him grunted loudly, seemingly
in agreement with whatever their leader had said. Eiji said nothing; as soon as
these fools commenced their attack he would focus his sights upon their leader:
the man would be made an example of. Within a few seconds the battle commenced.
Eiji quickly leapt into combat, trying to take his target by surprise. The man
was ready for him. Their swords collided with a burst of white sparks. They
began a furious exchange of blows, but try as they might neither could best the
other. For almost an hour the duel continued but alas Eiji did not bear the burden
of armor and had therefore depleted far less energy. The man was growing weary
and Eiji took this opportunity to begin a complex series of sword strikes in
order to force the bronze-clad warrior to retreat toward the edge of the
plateau. The man faltered and Eiji struck the short sword out of his tired
grip. The man, realizing he had been bested, fell to his knees. As Eiji readied
himself to perform the finishing blow, he removed the man’s helm as was
customary. The man glared at him defiantly and although he knew his words would
not be understood, the man began to speak, just loud enough for Eiji alone to
hear him,

“Hear this Persian. I die so that
sacred Sparta may live.” Eiji raised his Katana and with one clean stroke,
severed the man’s head.

            Eiji
looked around to observe the progress of the battle, with the exception of a
few remaining armor-clad soldiers, his men had all but obliterated their ranks.
Suddenly time seemed to slow and then come to a full stop. Eiji could not move.
A pale man clad in the strangest looking garments suddenly appeared in front of
him. “What do you think you’re doing sir? You are in direct violation of
multiple statutes of both the Temporal Directives and the Inter-dimensional
Accord. I have made numerous attempts to contact you via Tachyon transmission
but have received no response.”  Eiji
could not understand a word the man spoke. Everything about the man seemed
entirely foreign. The man continued, “Upon further investigation, it has become
apparent that neither you nor your accomplices had access to any sort of
mechanism for time travel at all. The Spartan hoplites your men just
slaughtered were not scheduled for termination for another three days, six
hours and eighteen minutes. This anomaly had the potential to irreversibly
change the future. I’m glad I caught you in time. Please remain still while
harmony is restored to the temporal matrix.” The man raised a small device and
pointed it toward Eiji. Before he could react, he had collapsed, unconscious.

            Eiji
opened his eyes, he was back, surrounded by the tranquil pines of Kitayama. Around
him lay the sleeping bodies of his men. After a brief moment of stunned
ignorance the memory of the battle returned to him with sobering clarity. Where
had he gone? Who were the terrible, gleaming opponents he had encountered?
These questions would never be adequately addressed, yet in time he would learn
to put them out of his mind, to move on.

 

by ZR92