Preparations

[Courtography]

(Kinpatsu Sakamochi memories start)

There was a long, narrow room approximately two by twenty meters. Near the green metal door there was an elm desk with stacks of papers, a bulky desktop computer, and some family photos. By the desk there was a gray spinning office chair with worn armrests. The walls were painted a bright red, the official color of the Republic of Greater East Asia. The floor was made of cypress boards which had been stained dark brown. It was all brightly illuminated by the florescent tube lights that ran across the ceiling. On a section of these boards was a line of white tape. Behind that line stood a man named Kinpatsu Sakamochi.

That wasn’t the interesting thing. The interesting part was the three targets on the thinner wall. They had the normal circles one might expect at a shooting or archery range. However, there was one key difference: these targets had the faces of three children on them. On the left there was a girl with large eyes, a small, crooked nose, and thick lips with a vulgar ring piercing on one side. Her haircut was short and asymmetrical. It disgusted Kinpatsu, but not all instructors instilled proper discipline in their students like he did. The middle target had a tall, attractive boy with the feathered hair of an idol, and a strong chin. Kinpatsu hadn’t liked him either. The boy had been very defiant when they first met. The rightmost target was tattered (the printer had jammed when Kinpatsu Sakamochi was printing new sheets, but Mr. Nomura was working on fixing it) and the detail that could be made out was a mouth with buck teeth, some thick eyebrows, and the sides of a bowl cut.

The man smiled a broad grin and tossed back his long hair. It took milliseconds for the thin white knives to find their way from inside the sleeves of his tattered suit into his hands. Moments later the targets had a flood of points sticking into them with satisfying thunks.

It wasn’t as enjoyable as the memories, but as he told his students, perfect practice makes perfect. His fun was cut short when the tube lights started flickering again. He had instructed maintenance to get it fixed yesterday. He couldn’t understand why it wasn’t done. He wasn’t allowed to push out his assignments. Starting a Program even one day late could add costs running into the millions. Additionally, didn’t they understand who he was? A Program instructor was a respectable position, not like their dead-end positions. He would remember this for later so he could tell his children to focus on school so they wouldn’t be in that position later. Especially since Sakamochi was not a nice man when something had not been completed per his requests.

Kinpatsu grumbled and went back to the desk, slumping into the chair. It rolled a few inches due to the uneven distribution of weight. The next Program was starting in a matter of days. The preparations were almost completed. The forces just needed to pack the last of their gear for deployment, then the students would be picked up, and the families would be informed of their children’s new duties. It was essential to the survival of the Republic, but some guardians got upset, despite how honorable it was.

Kinpatsu and the other bureaucrats had ways of bringing guardians around. It was crucial that dissent be silenced before it even made a sound in men’s throats. It’s what allowed everyone to have a prosperous society. A full belly, electricity, and some leisure time for a surprisingly large number of approved hobbies, and most people would accept that over scarcity with freedom.

Or that’s what Kinpatsu believed. Like almost everyone else alive in the Republic of Greater East Asia, he had never known anything different.

He looked over the papers on his desk. He was alerting the guardian of a couple students himself this time. She was a young woman who ran an orphanage. A very pretty one. Kinpatsu wondered if she would cry. He always enjoyed that. He usually gave a cheery smile back.

Sakamochi’s pants felt tight.

There was a knock on the door and a young man entered holding a sheet of paper.

“Mr. Nomura, thank you.”

There was much to do but he’d do a little bit of additional practice before they were off. He had a feeling he’d need it.

(Kinpatsu Sakamochi continued elsewhere)