November 1st, 1945
South-East Waters of Kagoshima
6:00 AM JCST
X-Day
One of the first items that she got for herself stateside was a gun.
She was walking through the far side of town, trying to clear her mind a few days after they had moved into their new home within San Diego, where she had come across a small, old gun shop. Sitting alone between a condemned saloon and a dried up water well, it did not look far from the fate that befell its neighbors. What windows weren't boarded up were cracked terribly, the wood rotting beneath her steps. Its sign hung on one rope, the other one frayed and snapped years ago, and she exerted a great deal of effort to push open the old, oak door that dragged itself on the ground.
The inside was musty, with a thin layer of dust coating everything around her. The light shone dimly through the opaque window panes, illuminating little, yet still enough, of the room around her. She passed by many store cases, their contents long gone and their insides filled with nothing more than cobwebs and a few empty boxes or shell casings. On the walls, she spied the remnants of old gun posters and advertisements, their text faded and hard to read. 'Perfect for the ladies as well!' read one ad. Another stated, 'The Thoroughbred of the…World!' when talking about its pistols.
As she continued through the store, she stepped onto a particularly old piece of wood-
Eeeeeeeeeaaakkkkkk
And the wood creaked slightly, the noise quite evident inside the empty shop. She backpedaled off the plank, glancing around nervously, as if she had expected someone to hear it.
"D'nt you see the sign?"
Evidently, someone had.
She jumped back again, as an old man hobbled his way through the door frame, his dull eyes staring straight into hers with a sense of alertness. He took one more puff from a burned out cigarette, letting it slip and fall onto the ground before grounding it out with the tip of his foot.
"We're closed. Indefinitely."
She put her hands up defensively, trying to dissuade the man that she was a threat. "S-sorry, sir. I thought this place was abandoned."
"By all rights, it is," the man argued, as he pulled out a chair from behind the counter and sat himself in it, "There ain't nothing left here, and all business shifted to the factories for the war effort. I can't seem to keep up with these old bones."
The man looked at her some more, judging every inch of her, from her old army boots that she filched off a sleeping sentry, to her drab green button-up polo shirt that she swiped from the base's Quartermaster stock. He spied the khaki pants that she was given by a helpful Australian coast watcher, and the old ivory pocket watch that she had been given by her father for her 17th Birthday, slowly ticking throughout the hour.
"...you know what?" He grunted, after a minute. He walked slowly to her, his feet making heavy *thuds* along the way. He tapped her to move aside, and she sidestepped to allow him to go through. Rounding the corner, he came behind the counter labeled 'Revolvers'. He knelt, pushing aside some things, and muttering all the while, before standing up slowly, and placing a gun on the counter.
It was a Colt Single Action Army, chambered in .357. Unlike everything else in the store, the gun was well-kept and clean. Its barrel was smooth and shiny, its hammer was precise and cocked back smooth. The grip was solid wood, and given a dark varnish to clean its look.
She looked at the gun, and back at the man. At a nod, she gingerly picked it up with her right hand, and stared at it in front of what noon sun could come inside the store. She swapped it between the left and right hand, feeling it on both sides.
"One of the last things we got here," the old man muttered, digging around and placing a box of ammo on the counter. "Hadn't displayed it, so it wasn't sold like everything else at the start of the war. Been meaning to offload it before I shut the place down for good."
"...how much for it?" She asked, not taking her eyes off the piece. She pressed the button on the side of the grip, and shook the gun to spin the chamber out of the gun.
"Let's say, $20?" The man asked, stretching out his hand towards her. With one eager motion, she slipped him the cash that she was given by the army for the month, and shook on it.
Thinking back on it, she never really knew why she was so eager to buy the weapon. Maybe it spoke to her in some way, of her desire to fight one against the country she once called home. Maybe it's because she recently got her first government allowance and wanted to buy something meaningful with it. Maybe she just really wanted a gun. Either way, after she bought it, she was chewed out for it, and forced to hand it over once she got home. The gun sat, empty and unused, on top of the cabinet for the next few years.
But now, now she might be able to use it for once.
"Nishizumi," her friend called out from the side, breaking her concentration. Opening her eyes, she spotted the tall girl leaning against the bulkhead, arms crossed in some form of disappointment. She had her helmet on, unstrapped, and was fiddling around with a combat knife. "Come. It's 6 in the morning. We're about to begin."
She smiled softly, and slipped the gun into its holster. "Sorry about that," she said, standing up and making her way over to her friend. "I was thinking about some stuff."
"Just make sure it doesn't take away from your duties." Her friend rolled her eyes, moving aside for the shorter girl, then following behind in lockstep. "We have to be concentrated. Today is an important day."
"You don't have to tell me twice, Nonna." She said, continuing through the narrow walkways of the ship. It rocked softly in its berthing, as it patiently waited alongside the rest of the transport fleet.
The two of them snaked their way through the ship, passing by rooms and rooms of soldiers alike, all preparing themselves for the gruesome day ahead. Men finished their beers, played final hands of poker, and bantered around for what very well may be the last time. Some loaded their guns, others prayed.
Clambering up rapidly on the staircase, she emerged on the deck of the transport, where her platoon of tanks awaited. Two by two, they waited, sitting in their flotation canvas skirts until they deployed.
"What's the word, girls?" She asked, as they met the second half of their group waiting atop their tanks. One was conducting last-minute maintenance on her tank's gun barrel, and the other sat in front of the hatch to the driver seat, radio set in hand tuned to the command frequency. "Pepperoni?"
"Saratoga is ready to go," Pepperoni said, dusting off her hands in her jacket and wiping her brow, "Barrel's clean as it can be."
She nodded at that, "Nishi?"
She looked up from the radio set, "Word up is the Japanese rejected the last offer for surrender. NGFS should start right…about…"
*Boom* *Boom* *Boom*
The four girls covered their ears, as the thunderous roar of all 9 guns of the nearby USS Wisconsin began its mission to tear up the beach. All around them, the fleet began to order their guns to hammer the shore defenses. Planes buzzed through the sky as they came from behind, ready for strike missions where needed.
"Well, seems like it's started, girls." She yelled, throwing her hands in the air. Around them, men began to file out below the ship and onto the deck, organizing into lines to enter their landing crafts. "Get your crews, we're about to weigh off."
As Nonna and Nishi nodded, turning around to enter their tanks, Pepperoni rested a hand on her shoulder, a worried look strewn across her face, "Are we ready for this, Maho?"
Maho smiled sadly, and shook her hand off gently, "No, Pepperoni. I don't think so."
AN: Rewrite, gents. I didn't think the previous chapters I wrote were good (which, given I bs'd them without actually putting thought into them, they aren't), so here we are. We're starting from the landings this time, as opposed to the technical 'thick of it' in Kagoshima.
AN (for SV and SB): Finally got around to cross-posting here, yay. This is a rewrite, hence the AN
