The Hundred Year Plan
Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Science Fiction, Slow,
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Did you ever wonder just how pissed off the Japanese got that we dropped the A-bombs on them during World War II? This is the story of an American fighting against a Japanese group, bent on revenge.
The Enola Gay made military history in the early morning of August 6, 1945. The bombardier dropped the first atomic bomb used in war and released the most destructive force ever known on earth. By the end of the year between 130,000 and 150,000 people in Hiroshima died because of the bomb.
Hirano Satoshi was in his office on the morning of the tragedy. A man of inflexible routine, he always arrived early. He was proud of his position as the senior public official in the water department. He liked to greet each of his employees as they came in with a personal comment or question. Satoshi was large for a Japanese, and followed the ways of the ancient discipline of Jojutsu, which kept him in excellent physical condition.
It was a morning like every other to Satoshi. He watched as those around him began their daily routine. Sitting down at his desk, the room suddenly lit up like a thousand flash bulbs going off at once. The air was stifling hot, it was difficult to breathe. Satoshi yelled to his workers to lie down on the floor quickly. Less than five seconds later, the shock wave hit. No one was prepared for what happened next. Windows imploded, as the whole building trembled and began it's journey to complete collapse. The last Hirano Satoshi realized before losing consciousness was that he was falling.
Satoshi didn't know how long he was unconscious. He did realize he was under a lot of rubble, but his arms and legs were free. As he started to think more clearly, Satoshi realized he was partially under his desk and that it had probably saved his life. He began to move loose boards from above him and to push them under the knee hole of the desk. Soon he had enough of an area cleared that he could see the gray, blackened sky above. He half stood and forced his way up through the last of the rubble. His heart nearly stopped as he realized there was no roof above him.
The sight that awaited him was like something out of Dante's Inferno. Black, bellowing smoke rose from crumbled buildings, uncontrolled fires spreading, lapping at anything that would burn. Dead bodies were everywhere. People were stumbling about blinded by the flash. Some of them had the skin peeled from all exposed parts of their bodies. Everyone was screaming, some were cursing, all were asking questions that no one had answers for. Satoshi looked up at the sky and saw that half of it looked like a beautiful summer day, while the other half looked as black as the darkest night.
Off in the distance, other buildings exploded and started to burn for no apparent reason. Mountains of distorted rubble were everywhere, burned bodies lay in the tangled mess.
Satoshi started trying to find the employees in his building. He heard a low moan and moved some loose boards to his right. One young woman who worked for him was pinned under a ceiling beam of the office. Her once young face was now a mangle of crushed bone and tattered skin. "Please help me," the woman gasped as blood oozed from an open gash on her head. Satoshi frantically tried to lift the beam, and began calling for help. Two young men rushed to his side, their clothes tattered and blood soaked as they strained to lift the beam. One young man paused as fear filled his eyes. Suddenly smoke rose from the ruin near the young woman.
The three men increased their efforts, but it was soon apparent they couldn't free the young woman without equipment. The smoke became flame and the flame became an inferno. When the heat became unbearable, the men slowly backed away from the young woman and bowed very deeply in apology for having to leave her. The screams of the young woman lay heavy in his heart, as they turned away from her, unable to watch her perish so horribly.
Satoshi stumbled away from the growing fire in search of his family. It was only five blocks from the water department to the Hirano residence, but it took Satoshi over an hour to reach his home. When he arrived, he almost wished he hadn't survived the trip. The first thing he saw was his sixteen-year-old daughter, Atsuo, lying with her head in her mother's lap. At first he couldn't see anything wrong with her and he asked her how she was. Atsuo smiled faintly at her father and told him she was feeling better now, and that the pain wasn't so bad. Satoshi glanced at his wife who shook her head and pulled aside the blanket that was covering Atsuo. A sheet of flying glass had slashed her stomach, and her intestines were draped over the lower part of her body. As he watched, Atsuo slumped further down and her gaze became fixed on something that was not of this world. Satoshi gently covered his daughter and helped his wife to her feet.
As they started down the street in search of their younger son, Satoshi asked his wife, Isao, if she was injured. She told him she had suffered only a condition like a mild sunburn and that she didn't think that it was anything to worry about. Satoshi gazed upon her once lovely face. Her cheek bones were sunken, the skin around her eyes had reddened as small blisters had formed on her neck. He knew in his heart she had more then a mild sunburn. His eyes filled with tears as he brought her close to him, kissing her gently on the forehead.
They found their son Muso two hours later in an over crowded aid station. Muso had been in the area of the black rain that was caused by the fallout from the blast. It had gotten on his clothes and skin and it wouldn't wash off. The overworked doctor at the station suggested they take Muso to one of the temporary shelters that had been set up on the edge of town farthest from the blast.
By the time they reached the shelter, night was falling. The volunteers who helped them to find cots were haggard and worn. The Hirano family were so tired they collapsed onto the three cots they were assigned and fell immediately to sleep. Muso never woke up.
Over the next two weeks, Satoshi watched his wife grow thinner and weaker. When she could eat, she soon lost it. Satoshi felt himself becoming weaker also and he wondered how long it would be before he could no longer eat. Isao died on the sixteenth day after the blast.
Satoshi's son, Kiso, arrived in Hiroshima two weeks after his mother died. The sky was overcast with a gray mist, the sun found no way to pierce its vast denseness.
Reports received by the Army and relayed to the concerned military personnel couldn't cover in words the devastation he saw. Everywhere there were collapsed building and collapsed bodies. Some of the bodies already dead, some should have been dead. The smell of burnt wood, decaying bodies and fallout caused his stomach to retch. Kiso stopped amid the devastation. Sweat poured from his body, he could smell the odors surrounding him, clinging to him. The urge to run from the horror was overpowering. Honor for his country and love of his family kept him where he stood. Kiso forced the bile back, his determination to find his family was great.
He forced away the reality of what he saw as he searched throughout the city without learning anything about his family. Finally, after two days of searching endless shelters, he met an old family friend who told him where his father was staying.
When Kiso arrived at the shelter, he asked for his father and was taken to his cot. Kiso stared at the man who was once his father. He didn't recognize him. The large robust man was gone. In his place was a shrunken being that looked like a skeleton with parchment skin. The thick glossy mane of hair he remembered was almost gone, only grayish ashen clumps remained. Kiso knew there had to be some mistake... some dreadful mistake. This wasn't his father; it couldn't be. As he was about to go looking for one of the volunteers, he saw the eyelids flutter and open. The sunken eyes focused on him and a smile moved the shrunken lips. A voice, barely audible spoke. "I told them I would not die until you got here," he said. "I am pleased that you came home, my son". The skeletal hand rose from under the old blanket, rising towards Kiso. Kiso hurried to his fathers side, kneeling, he took the cold, almost lifeless hand in his. "I have many things I must tell you before I can allow myself to depart".
During the next couple of hours, without moving from his father's side, Kiso listened as the story of the bombing slowly emerged. He watched as Satoshi forced the words out, wincing in pain while he was told of the fate of his brother, sister and his mother.
"The Hirano are direct descendants of the Samurai, my son," Satoshi whispered. "Very few people know this. It is kept secret because we are descended from the Shishi. You have read in your history books that the Shishi were violent Samurai who opposed the Emperor and were disgraced." Satoshi's voice rose in honor as he spoke of his heritage. "That is not the case. The Shishi strongly revered the Emperor. They believed that the influence of the foreigners, who were increasingly invading our homeland, were responsible for our problems. It was the foreigners that allied with factions opposing the Shishi who defeated them. We have passed the knowledge and beliefs of the Shishi down from father to son, as soon as the son proved worthy of the knowledge." Satoshi's frail hand clung to Kiso's. "My son, you have proven yourself in war and in your dedication to the family."
"You are aware my son, I started you in the discipline of Jojutsu at an early age. This is because the Shishi are required to practice the art. It is up to you to carry on the traditions of the Shishi. After I am gone, go to the Dojo in Tokyo and ask for Okawa Yukio. Tell him that I have died and you are to take my place on the Shishi council. He will instruct you in all you must know." Satoshi paused, forcing himself to continue.
"There is one thing more I must charge you with, my son." His fingers bore into the skin of Kiso's hand as he spoke, as an unseen strength gathered itself in Satoshi. "Foreigners have taken the honor from our country for nearly two thousand years. Now they have killed our entire family except for you my son. They must pay for this." Kiso watched the eyes of the man he knew to never hold an ill thought against anyone, become hard and cold. "They must suffer as we have suffered. Promise me you will make them pay. Promise me you will win back our honor." Kiso gazed at the sunken eyes that had always spoken of honor and tradition. He rose from his fathers side. Holding back the tears he felt stinging his eyes, he stared at the broken proud man before him. His heart soared with the honor and respect he felt for his family. He bowed low to his father. "You have my promise Father. I will return the honor of our family, if it takes a hundred years."
Satashi's mission was complete. His head bowed ever so slightly, in honor of his son. Slowly he closed his eyes and allowed himself to slip away to join his ancestors.