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[English TL] Heli-X Short Stories 1 (Part 2)

SKETCH - Nobuhiro Mouri

A short story from the pov of Heli-X's Kanzaki (Seika Kuze) This is not fanfic. It was written by the lead writer and published in the collection "Heli-X Stories 1"

You can find the other story in the collection HERE.

Translation note: “Yamato” is a historical word for Japan. This is how the country is referred to throughout this story, and Heli-X as a whole.

[Full translation below the cut]

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

January 2nd

Seek freedom.

I think we should live independent of everything. The World. Religion. Race. Sex.

Only by severing all connections can an individual be born; the rich soul locked inside. Sometimes I consider abandoning this vessel, my body. A soul, when released from the flesh, regains complete individuality.

Am I suicidal…? Not exactly. But it’s true that the world makes me despair. Actually no, that’s wrong. Saying “the world” is an exaggeration. The despair I feel is about Yamato, the country where I was born.

To be more specific, the despair I feel is about the Self Governing Army, which I belong to.

After the Third World War, Yamato was occupied by the global superpower Unite. I had fought in the war as a member of the special forces. I knew hell on that battlefield, far away from Yamato. Was I living or dying? It was difficult to tell in the middle of such a brutal fight.

And yet… the despair of war was nothing compared to the despair I feel now.

I lost my independence to that war. Even now, as I continue with my duty as the leader of a Special Forces Unit, I continue to lose sight of myself.

Seek freedom. I write it down, reaching a mental dead end.

Seek freedom. Empty words. I don’t intend to take action… but still…

January 15th

Cold. The snow falls slowly. It piles upon the frozen earth, as if to cover humanity's darkest sins.

There was an accident today during training. A newly assigned soldier misfired his gun. The bullet hit the adjutant’s chest. Although he avoided instant death, the bullet penetrated deep and damaged his vital organs. He will probably spend the rest of his life confined to a bed.

He was a great man. A capable soldier. Like me, he had no family and had thrown away all unnecessary emotions on the battlefield.

I didn’t feel anything in particular, just submitted some papers to the higher-ups and that was it. That’s all a human life is worth. A few pieces of paper.

The sight of the officer's blood spread across the snow was beautiful. Like red paint on a blank white canvas. I remember, there was a time when I wanted to be an artist. I don’t know why I joined the army instead.

I just wanted to paint.

I wanted to paint people.

January 17th

I once studied under a painter, with plans to become an artist. He wasn’t struggling for money, so I imagine teaching me was just a hobby for him.

Not that I was a particularly talented student. I was never able to paint anything that truly impressed him. He just calmly gave advice, while I kept painting. This was our everyday life.

I only ever asked him one question. “What’s more important: Intuition or Technique?”

“Trust your intuition”, He told me. “You don’t need to pick up a brush until inspiration strikes. You need to feel it. Otherwise you will only ever be able to paint what you see.”

His words moved me. Even after I stopped drawing, I still think back to what he said, in all sorts of situations. I have learnt to trust my intuition.

January 20th

My unit has been assigned a mission. We are to form a convoy and escort a woman visiting Yamato.

Notes on the Escorted Subject:

The subject is an inmate on death row.

The subject is named Shiori Kanzaki. We are to refer to the subject as “Kanzaki”.

Shiori Kanzaki has killed multiple people.

Shiori Kanzaki has undergone “TRANS”.

“TRANS”

A few years ago, a technology that could edit genetics for the alteration of physical sex was developed. I don’t completely understand the process, but the treatment leads to a complete physical gender transition. (Not a psychological one.)

This new technology quickly spread around the world. Unite quickly recognised it as a human right, essential for people to be able to live authentically.

The freedom to choose your gender. Mature societies promoted it.

I have never considered if my own gender is right for me or not. I have accepted myself as a man. There is nothing more to it.

However, it seems that a significant number of people were dissatisfied with their physical sex. This is evident from the number of people who have undergone the “TRANS” procedure.

I was a little surprised to find this out. Well, I think anyone would be surprised at the figures.

January 27th

The “Kanzaki” escort mission failed.

Three days of combat, of being pursued.

Now, this muddy feeling of exhaustion won’t go away. It clings to my body.

February 1st

The armed group attacked us while we were escorting Kanzaki to the research facility, deep in the mountains. Our enemies were professionals, likely mercenaries who had fought on many battlefields. Thankfully, we weren’t amateurs either. We were the elite of the Yamato Self Governing Army! Even caught off guard, we don’t fall easily.

To complete the mission, we abandoned any soldiers injured in the first battle. That left just five of us, including myself. The enemy was at least twenty strong. We had to act cautiously, hiding in the mountains, waiting for an opportunity to strike back.

Kanzaki simply followed us in silence as we escaped. Nothing more. Didn’t get upset. I wonder if this is normal behaviour for someone sentenced to death? In a situation like that, perhaps it wouldn’t matter where you died.

The research facility we were headed towards was also quite suspicious. We were given no information about its purpose. But Kanzaki seemed aware of what was waiting there: Death.

On the third day of hiding we found ourselves suddenly surrounded by the enemy. The six of us, including Kanzaki, were forced to make a choice. Running out of options, a head-on attack seemed like our best chance for survival. I had the final say. We’d do it.

It would be an intense fight. That’s what we thought. In reality, however-

My memory of what happened is hazy. Kanzaki killed the mercenaries, sucking the life out of each one. Death personified. Then Kanzaki slaughtered my entire unit.

I survived. Kanzaki didn’t kill me. I couldn’t figure out why. I still don’t know. Then she (he?) disappeared.

February 13th

Reasons for undergoing TRANS

◎ “transgender” people

To abandon your past self and become someone else

X Curiosity

? To free the soul

February 16th

Today I learnt the cause of both the enemy and my colleagues' deaths. A terrible and incorporeal force had crushed their hearts. It was a brutal way to kill, even for death herself.

February 19th

I spent two days in the hospital, but not because I was injured.

They subjected me to an excessive number of detailed examinations. I don’t know why. When the doctors finally left, my eyes fell upon a single word written on the stack of medical files beside me: “Compatible”

February 20th

I remember now.

I was usually a light sleeper. One night, I woke up to see Kanzaki quietly watching the snow fall. I wasn’t sure if the others were awake or asleep. Not that it would have mattered.

The criminal on death row watched the snow fall.

The sight was beautiful. I sat up and exchanged a few words with Kanzaki. I told her I wanted to be an artist.

“Me too.” She replied. I wonder… was that why she didn’t kill me?

February 20th

We have identified the mercenaries who attacked us. They belong to a criminal group located within Unite. Effectively, the Mafia. But who led them? Where did their orders come from? We still don’t know.

February 22nd

I was given a new mission: The Capture and Arrest of Kanzaki, dead or alive. The army had already found her location.

I organised a small team, there was no reason to assemble a large one. There is very little you can do against death herself. Our only option is to attack from a distance, unseen.

Still, I would like more information on what she is. My superiors seem to know the details. Yet, they refuse to tell me. I will need to find out on my own.

With some reluctance, I have decided to ask ‘him’ for help.

February 23rd

I went to see Kenjo, a fellow member of the Yamato Self Governing Army. He’s never liked me. That’s probably why I hate him. Kenjo works in intelligence. That’s why I came to him, despite my

distaste. I never would have under normal circumstances but right now, I don’t care. He briefly explained the situation with Kanzaki.

She was what they called a “Heli-X”. A rare mutation amongst people who have undergone the TRANS procedure can cause special powers. Yes, you could call them “mutants”. It’s like something out of a Science Fiction Comic, but real! I had seen Kanzaki’s power with my own eyes.

There were only a few confirmed cases so far, all with different types of power. Not all of them had the ability to kill, unlike Kanzaki.

She was definitely one of them. Her Heli-X ability had emerged sometime after the TRANS procedure. That’s why she had been sentenced to death. Kanzaki must have murdered many people with that power (with or without the intent to do so). Now she was on death row. The Yamato Self Governing Army had chosen her as a research subject. Their goal was to understand and grasp the true nature of the Heli-X.

Kenjo told me this information, but asked me not to disclose where I had heard it from. Silence? I laughed. I intend to keep it confidential, of course. But why did Kenjo even tell me? Surely he had his own motives. Someone else in the Army must want me to know about Heli-X. But why? And for what purpose?

Regardless, tomorrow we begin the mission.

February 25th

I successfully killed Kanzaki. However, things did not go as planned. With her Heli-X ability, she easily detected our sniper. He was our first casualty. I was left with no options but to charge head-on with my team. It went as well as expected. Kanzaki killed everyone… but not me. Why was I still alive? I asked her, of course, and she replied:

“If I have to die, then I want you to kill me.”

As she spoke, she gestured towards a table, upon which a sketchbook and pencil had been placed. Before I could register what was happening, Kanzaki had removed her clothes and was naked. Of course, she had the body of a woman. She lay on the floor, in a silent pose.

“One last request… would you draw me?” She asked.

How long had it been? I picked up the sketchbook and pencil. I gripped it in my hand… But the pencil wouldn’t move. I couldn’t draw. All I could do was stare at her.

The room was silent. The air was cold. The silence itself seemed to make the room temperature drop even lower.

With her voice, Kanzaki seemed to bring warmth back to the room.

“The first person I killed was my father. He cried when I became a woman. After that I killed a lot of people. Countless.”

After telling her story, she fell silent. Once again, that silence took over. But this time something was different. My body felt hot.

Something stirred within me, emotions swirled, my heartbeat started to race. I felt the blood flow into my hand holding the pencil.

She was beautiful. Not her body but the soul, within her flesh. Free from everything. This was my “intuition”. Finally, I was able to move the pencil across the sketchbook. In the silence.

I drew for an hour. No, two. I drew more than my eyes were able to see.

When I finished, I went to show the drawing to Kanzaki. She refused. I think I understand why. She no longer existed in this world. The sketch was simply proof that she once had. Her soul, having abandoned her body, now lived within the lines of that drawing.

I placed the book down on the table, took out my gun, and pulled the trigger.

February 26th

The existence of Heli-X became public knowledge following the incident with Kanzaki. Rumours are spreading. They say the Army has established a special unit to counter Heli-X threats, in preparation for what is to come.

The name of the organisation:

“The Spiral Agency”.

February 29th

I keep the sketchbook in my room. I can see it now, as I write in this diary. Kanzaki speaks to me. “Seek freedom.”

Are those her words? My own inner voice? I don’t know.

But I think I understand now. There is a way to abandon this body and be free of everything. I’m still bound to this flesh, but someday… I could throw it all away.

That day will be the beginning of my fight for independence. I will take her name.

#Heli-X #english translation #Seika Kuze #butai #transgender short story #Nobuhiro Mori #Nobuhiro Mouri #Hideyuki Nishimori

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messiahprojectproject · 2 months ago

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[English TL] Heli-X Short Stories 1 (Part 1)

Those of us who live in Nightmares - Hideyuki Nishimori

A short story from the pov of Heli-X's Shiden (Dai Goto) This is not fanfic. It was written by the director and published in the collection "Heli-X Stories 1".

You can find the other story in the collection HERE.

CONTENT WARNINGS: This story contains depictions of violent abuse by a parent against a child, vomit, childhood sexual abuse, nudity, gore(?), suicidal ideation and intense gender dysphoria.

[Full translation below the cut!]

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ My eyes fell upon a small piece of paper, faintly glowing white in the moonlight. It lay there upon the gravel and broken asphalt; an empty cigarette box. I had seen it in the satellite imagery sent to my transmitter. No doubt about it. This was discarded by the target of today’s assassination.

With the target’s ability still unknown, the operation was at a stalemate. My mission: provide cover for Ryujin and Shunsui. I was to team up with Wakakusa, lure the target into Operation Area 8 and close in. I must never leave my position. When facing a Heli-X with unknown abilities, the slightest error could be fatal. But I… Despite my internal conflict, I jumped out from my hiding position behind the warehouse’s brickwork. Leaning forward, I sprinted. The sound of kicked-up gravel echoed around me. About fifty metres… I could make it! Faster! Sliding to a stop, I grabbed the “Hope” brand box, focusing my mind on the word that triggers my own ability. “Psycho-…”

An angry shout drowned out my whisper. Directly in front of me stood the man we were supposed to kill. Bloodshot eyes met my own. His body instantly transformed into a glossy, dark grey metal. Metal transformation… I would be at an overwhelming disadvantage in hand to hand combat. Firearms probably wouldn’t work either. Retreat was my only option; I was well aware of that. But when this middle aged man looked at me… For some reason, I couldn’t move. He raised a metallic fist. My entire body shuddered with fear. I… I smelt a nostalgic smell. The scent of death.

Suddenly, a sound like a gunshot. The shock reverberated through my skull. Brilliant light shone from all sides. A vortex of noise, like an orchestra of bagpipes, engulfed me. The scenery flickered and disappeared.

As suddenly as it began, my vision cleared. A flesh and blood fist was in front of me. It sank into my cheekbone, throwing me headfirst into the floor. Pots, pans and dirty dishes clattered down all around. …Pots? Looking down, I saw I was wearing a yellowed white dress, stained with blood. I raised my head. Silhouetted by the light of the iridescent bulb behind him, my father stood before me. As I lay there, he shouted again. Again and again, he brought those fists down upon me. I tensed up each time, bracing myself for each blow. The taste of blood filled my mouth. From deep inside my body, I heard the crack of a thin bone breaking. …Again. Over and over, I relive the nightmare from my childhood.

My father’s toes dig into my chest, targeting my unprotected solar plexus, forcing me to double over and violently vomit up stomach acid. Yellow bubbles turn to froth in the toilet bowl. He grabbed the back of my head, repeatedly dunking my face in the murky water. Running out of breath, I swallowed. Gradually, I felt myself get sucked into the stagnant waste filled water, sinking deeper into the filth…

With the sound of a slap, I came to, leant against a wall, barely breathing. Between my laboured breaths, I heard the sound of a distinct hum. A military aircraft flew low over the slums. It reverberated through my core, my stomach. Anger I had kept buried began bubbling up like magma, violently rising from deep within. From the other room, sickly sweet love songs from the last century drifted over. My hands found their way to a rusty hatchet that lay abandoned on the floor. I grasped it. My father sat there in his underwear, lost in a bottle of moonshine. Despite my body screaming in pain, I stood over my fat father, weapon in hand and leapt towards his back.

TRANS. A technology that can alter your sex from your birth assigned gender. On occasion, it has been known to give humans supernatural abilities. These ‘superpowered’ people are known as Heli-X. Many feared this unknown, leading to cycles of discrimination and acceptance, exclusion and inclusion. Many lives were lost. Crimes committed by Heli-X became more frequent. In response, major countries created special agencies to suppress them.

The Spiral Engine, which I belong to, is one such agency. It was established as a division of the Union’s Central Bureau of Investigation; an organisation to fight Heli-X crime. The Union established Spiral Engine branches in all allied nations, creating a wide network of surveillance. After the Third World War, a Spiral Engine branch was set up in the island nation of Yamato, which was under Union rule.

The Union declared “Gentle governance, not domination” and integrated their Spiral Engine with the Yamato Self Governance Army. This was probably only done to preserve Yamato’s dignary. In reality, the Union’s Central Bureau of Investigation was firmly in charge of directing and planning all of the organisation’s activities. Within the ranks of the Yamato Self Governance Army, many of whom aspired for national independence, the Spiral Engine is known as the Union’s dogs. It is the object of intense hatred.

All of us who belong to this unit are Heli-X. In addition, under Commander Kanzaki’s direction, each agent has some kind of criminal past. Since we were all recruited through less than legal means, we are treated like complete outsiders by the greater organisation.

I was born in a slum that clung to a bazaar. A dumping ground for those left homeless by the Third World War. My father, a former soldier, earnt money by having me sleep with many men, long before I hit puberty. He was the devil.

“You. You’re nothing but a mistake, a useless piece of shit.”

He once told me, while counting the bills left on the floor by a high ranking government official. A burning sensation formed in my lower abdomen. Blood that had flowed from my genitals stained the grimy sheets. I know… I’m trash. A useless lump of flesh that only breathes, scavenges for food and roams the slums.

Using water drawn from a bucket, I washed my body. Pausing, I stared at my chest, swollen like ripened fruit. I can’t remember how many times I’ve wanted to rip them off. I hated my father. I hated that I never had the power to resist. But more than anything else, I hated myself. My body. I desperately wanted to escape it, to discard the person I was born as. They controlled because I had no power. I didn’t have the strength. If only my body was… Surely…

The day after I turned seventeen, I underwent TRANS with the money I’d scraped together from a decade of men. Now he couldn’t control me! I was getting out of this hell…!

When my father saw I had transitioned, he was furious. Grabbing a rusty hatchet from the floor, he jumped upon me. But my body, now male, obeyed my own anger. I grabbed the weapon from my father’s hand, and the tyrant who had enslaved me was instantly reduced to a pulp of bloody flesh. While detained in a holding cell, I grasped the cruel reality. My body had changed from female to male. My soul was released from domination. And yet, the voice of the curse that clung to me only seemed to scream more shrilly.

You are trash. Scum. A defective object unworthy of life. A lump of rotten flesh.

In my shallow sleep, I floated in that bottomless pool of filth. My breathing stopped but my consciousness remained. No matter how I struggled, I couldn’t escape myself. I screamed inaudibly. It’s pointless. It’s pointless. This “you” is endless. You will always be a girl. You will never crawl out of this hell…!

I screamed, clawing at my flesh, tearing my throat.

When I woke up, I found myself bound to an unfamiliar bed. A tall slender woman in a military uniform approached me. She introduced herself as “Kanzaki” and told me “As of today, you will be serving as an agent for the Spiral Engine. If you refuse, you will spend the rest of your life within the walls of this correctional facility.”

A subdued declaration, there was no choice.

…But why me?... A doctor later explained that, due to TRANS, I had developed a special “ability”.

…I’m Heli-x?

I had heard that Heli-X abilities formed due to a combination of the trans procedure and a deep emotional wound. A deep emotional wound? Just living had been so painful for me, I couldn’t even imagine what my deep emotional wound might be. From that day on, a new agent joined Commander Kanzaki’s Spiral Engine.

That was my birth.

When I woke up, I lay on a bed in the Spiral Engine’s lab. A monitor in the empty room sensed I was awake and reacted. Through a haze, I watched orderly lines of text fill the screen.

Apparently, I had suffered multiple fractures and internal injuries. I had undergone emergency resuscitation and recovered at this lab. I tried to recall what had happened, but my memory cut off at the moment I saw the target's hardened metal fist.

With a notification tone, a message box appeared on the monitor. “URGENT, REPORT TO THE COMMANDER'S OFFICE”

It was from Commander Kanzaki. I had disrupted the mission. I could have caused a fatal injury to one of my team members. Because of me… weighed down by anxiety, I rose up from the bed.

The lift’s glass walls reflected my own frightened eyes back at me.

Behind the reflection, I watched the interior of the facility go past. It reminded me of one of Escher's paintings. Infinite corridors. A giant spiral. Silver white boxes, armoured with ceramics, floated through the spiralling vortex. It seemed to me that they carried humanities anxieties within them.

The Third World War had turned both land and moral frameworks to ashes. In a world where philosophy and theology rang hollow, humanity craved a new freedom. A future found in the mysteries of the double helix. A world of genetic engineering. This resulted in the creation of the Heli-X. An unknown terror inflicted upon a humanity who dared to invade the domain of the divine.

Commander Kanzaki silently gestured to the mission report on the monitor behind her. “Killing completed.” Target eliminated.

Aside from myself, there were no injuries amongst the team or civilian casualties. Good…

No one was hurt because of me. But the fear inside me remained. While fighting for our lives, I had selfishly acted on my own. I disrupted the entire operation…

“I order you to take three days leave. That will be all.” She declared, with her usual icy gaze, motioning for me to leave. Her focus returned to the cool glow of the monitor, as if I had never been there. A snow queen. Yet, the guilt remained in my chest, heavy and unresolved.

“U-uh… I… I…”

“Any deviations from the plan that occurred during the mission will go unpunished. You were the one who successfully executed the target, after all.”

“...I…I did?”

“Ask Wakakusa for the details. She will be covering for you during your leave.”

Black, white, black, white… I stared at the large alternating tiles beneath my feet, still caught within my own guilt’s tight grip. The next day was supposed to be the first day of Wakakusa’s time off. For members of the Spiral Engine, free time is precious. It had been four months since I had taken a half day off. As far as I knew, it had been six months for Wakakusa. Shunsei once told me he had heard Wakakusa underwent TRANS with the sole aim of having a child. She was supposed to be seeing her husband and child on this vacation. After half a year… But I… now… God, I am trash.

From the shadows behind a pillar in the hallway, I secretly looked into the bar area. Usually you might see Ryujin munching on rations while excitedly cheering on a dog race on the terminal, or Shunsei cooking meat in the kitchen with a look of pure joy upon his face. But not today.

Wakakusa sat alone eating her yoghurt and cereal as usual. She watched an old cartoon on the screen. A caricature of a cat and mouse endlessly engaged in a morbid game of chase.

I couldn’t take another step.

I would have understood if she greeted me with blame or anger. But that wasn’t what stopped me. More than anything, I was scared to see the sadness in her eyes. The pain she must have felt at not being able to see her beloved family. I became a motionless pawn on the chessboard floor. Trapped within the merciless moonlight that streamed in from the window.

When Wakakusa left, I finally stepped into the communal area. Opening the bin, I found the empty yoghurt container and small disposable spoon Wakakusa had discarded. I picked up the spoon.

Focused my mind. I couldn’t look at her eyes. I didn’t want to see her sadness. But, I wanted to know how she was feeling about me. Coward. The usual voice berated me. Shut up. This was the only way I knew how to live.

“Psychometry.”

Upon uttering the word, an image appeared in my mind. I sharpened my focus. A grave appeared before me, beneath a huge tree trunk. Looking closer, there was a visual display. Several photos appeared and disappeared as I watched. In one picture, Wakakusa stood next to a man and young child. She wore an unfamiliarly gentle smile. But that must mean… Wakakusa’s husband and child… This grave…

“What are you doing?”

A voice snapped me back to reality. Shivers ran through me. Terrified, I turned towards the voice. Towards Wakakusa.

“...spying? Not a good hobby to have.”

I froze, unable to make a sound. Aware or unaware of my condition, she beckoned me. “Come.”

Like a thief being dragged to their execution, I followed her. Wakakusa used her implanted ID chip on a door in the back of the bar, and we walked out onto the roof.

I had taken away Wakakusa’s precious free time. I hadn’t even been able to apologise. Then, I used my powers to sneak a look into her mind. I even saw a secret she was likely hiding from everyone. I wanted to be punished. She should have crushed me without a drop of mercy. Wakakusa… please…

Gazing towards the moon that floated dimly behind the clouds, she calmly and professionally explained the details of the operation. She suspected I was going to die from my encounter with the target, so she used her ability on me. Nightmare. It induces nightmares in whoever she chooses, dragging them into a state of semi-consciousness. Repressed turbulence from the affected parties' unconsciousness then drives the subject into a wild confused state. I had lost myself in the nightmare Wakakusa induced. The target, falling into the same nightmare, lost control of his own abilities, returning to a flesh state. In my madness, I unloaded every bullet from my gun into him, killing him. Without me knowing, that was the outcome of the operation.

“You left your post in a hurry. Too eager to prove yourself. That’s what happened.” Wakakusa saw right through me. Unlike the other agents, I didn’t have any particularly helpful skills. Despite my military father and combat training, I was barely average. I was never able to achieve the same kind of results Ryujin, Shunsei and Wakakusa did. If I couldn’t prove my worth, I shouldn’t even be there. So I tried to get results. I needed to, quickly…. Or else… I didn’t belong there. Somehow, Wakakusa seemed to understand my silence.

With a deep breath, she asked me. “What did you see?”

I knew what she was asking. What had I seen of her mind with my ability? I couldn’t bring myself to say it outloud.

“I won’t shoot you.” She reassured.

Although, perhaps it would be better if she did. Her eyes bore into me, as if she knew everything I thought. I lowered my head.

…I have to say it… I have to. I’m sorry Wakakusa. I…

“A… a grave.” I stuttered.

She sighed and stared into the distance. A breeze from the sea played with her long hair. The smell of black smoke silently rose from the barrack building, as if to curse us. After what felt like an eternity, she suddenly broke the silence.

“Being alive. It’s like being in a nightmare, isn’t it?”

…A nightmare. I tried to imagine Wakakusa’s nightmare. She altered the body she was born with for the man she loved. She cherished the time she spent with them. But now, that was all lost. Her lover, no longer in this world. All that remained was the body she altered for the purpose of creating life with the one she loved. She must have carried an intense amount of sadness. How much regret weighed her down? A nightmare, she had said…

I understood. Wakakusa had loved her husband and child with her entire heart and soul. Observing that I was lost for words, Wakakusa spoke again. “You’re the same, aren’t you?”

I had never told her about my past. Not Wakakusa, not anyone. No one else knew of that hell. But she sensed it. When she saw me in that deranged state, brutally offloading bullets into the target. She had learnt something that went beyond words.

But I knew. Her words weren't true. Compared to Wakakusa’s nightmare, mine was nothing. It was pitiful and pathetic. I was just trying to escape from a prison made of awful memories. I had never loved, never connected with anyone or entwined my own soul with another person. To me, those are things from distant fantasies. Never reality. But Wakakusa had loved someone. She had nurtured life. In this twisted world, she had experienced a miraculous encounter. But then she lost it. God gives so generously only to take away, knowing fully the cruelty of such an action.

I had nothing. There was never anything for me to lose. But Wakakusa? Wakakusa had something precious. The pain of losing something like that must weigh far heavier than anything I could possibly imagine…

My vision blurred with tears. I was sorry she would compare my own life to the nightmare of losing something so precious. I shook with emotion and Wakakusa spoke.

“Struggle on. Keep struggling until you get what you truly desire.”

Her words were direct but the compassion within them filled my heart. I couldn’t move. Leaving me there, Wakakusa turned and left the roof.

When I returned to my room, I lay down on the bed, wrapped myself in blankets and spent the next three days rolling around. Someone like me shouldn’t be alive. I was born broken. I killed my own father. No use to anyone, the only thing I’m good at is hurting others. I’m incompetent. Worthless. Every time my thoughts stabbed at my heart, Wakakusa’s words would reach out to stop the blade. “Struggle on.”

Struggle on… I was struggling. I had always struggled. I’m weak. The smallest wound felt like a deep cut to me. Everything left me writing in pain.

I’d be better off dead. Finger hovering over the trigger of my gun, I thought that many times. Inside, my heart screamed with rage. It’s too much. I can’t do this anymore. Wakakusa! What should I do?

What do you want from me?

At that moment, her words entered my mind. “...get what you truly desire.”

What I truly desire… me? Who am I kidding, I didn’t deserve that. Why would she say that to me?

I’m not worthy of having ‘desires’. She must have meant something else…

“Desire it.” A voice rose within me. Like a choir, echoing through my heart. I couldn’t! I wasn’t allowed to. I… I shouldn’t have desires!

“Desire it.” Stop it! Even if I did… That would only tear my miserable heart apart. “Desire it.” Stop. Please stop. I couldn’t think of anything I desired. What was I even supposed to want?

SPLASH!

A rush of water enveloped me and, before I knew it, I was back floating in that lake of filth. A familiar nightmare. My heart’s home. Suddenly, there was a glimmer beyond the murky wastewater. Without meaning to swim, I drifted towards the source of the light. It was a thick transparent acrylic panel. Straining my eyes, I attempted to look through it. There, beyond it lay countless people engaged with their own daily lives.

Humans passed each other by. They fell in love. Workers sweated at their desks.

I watched as people met, became family, and lived in houses. They cried tears, laughed loudly, and formed bonds with each other. Each found people to lean on. They were living. It was the human world I discarded long ago, like a fairytale from a far off land.

As if driven by impulse, I began banging on the panel. The murky water ensnared me, slowing my movements but I kept thrashing. Voiceless screams escaped my mouth. Anger rippled through me. I struck the wall again, harder this time. A primal urge, not a thought. I wanted to go there. I wanted to be there. I wanted to connect with others' hearts. I wanted to share my secrets, have casual conversations, experience the simplicity of everyday life. I wanted to fall in love, have my heart stolen. I wanted to live for someone else. I wanted to cry and laugh over the smallest of things, with others by my side.

An impossible wish? I knew that better than anyone… but now? Now I had heard the cries of my inner consciousness. I wanted to walk with friends. I wanted to be someone's family. Someday, I wanted to experience a peaceful death knowing I shared my own happiness with others.

Normal.

I didn’t care if ‘normal’ didn’t truly exist, I wanted to live a normal life. I wanted to be a normal man. My damned soul yearned for heaven. I wanted to live! I wanted to live a normal, uneventful everyday life. I… I desired normal!

When I woke up, there were tears in my eyes.

…I knew what I wanted. But knowing just how out of reach that wish was filled me with despair. My gun lay on the desk before me. I had pressed its barrel against my temple many times before. I got up from the bed and held the gun in my hand.

Just then, the screen above my desk flickered to life. A message box opened. “RETURN TO DUTY.”

An alarm echoed throughout my room as an emergency request appeared on the screen. Someone was calling me. I looked at the gun in my hand. But I, I knew my own desire. A sweet and desperate wish. Could I survive this nightmare, knowing my heart's true wish? My mind was torn between two choices. This nightmare? Or death? Time stretched out, it felt like an eternity passed. But then, Wakakusa’s voice entered my mind once more.

“Struggle on.”

That clear melody, composed from the depths of a murky nightmare, swept across my heart like a gentle wind.

I quickly put on my combat uniform and returned the gun to its holster. I opened the door and began walking towards the Commander’s office. Anxiety and fear raced more fiercely than ever within my heart. But for now, I had decided to walk forward through this nightmare. My code name would continue to be displayed on the screen in my room, but I was a Heli-X who couldn’t die, a man bound by nightmares, an agent of the Spiral Agency.

Shiden. That is my name.

#Heli-X #english translation #butai #gotou dai #dai goto #transgender short story #Hideyuki Nishimori #Nobuhiro Mori

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