The Eve

A Remenants/WFROSE collaboration

Disclaimer: Kohta Hirano’s got Hellsing. Rumiko Takahasi’s got Ranma. We got bupkiss; so this is just for fun, please don’t sue.

Note: This is Manga Hellsing.

December 7th, 1948

Norihito Sensi stared listlessly at the hospital ceiling, as the insipid English droning co-mingled with the obnoxiously high and grating score of bells that were stuck in sequence to form what the westerners laughably referred to as ‘music’. That’s all he could do these days; too weak to move even a finger, feeling himself slowly ebb away from his once cherished vitality. The doctors had all these words for what was happening to him, all these reasons, and all these explanations. Yet, there were only so many ways to interoperate what really was killing him.

A unique poison that had been given to him by the ones that were defiling the Emperor’s palace, especially from that one man who flew that plane named after his mother over his town… the very same soldiers standing at the door

He was barely able to make his own breaths today; each breath carried by an inorganic device that dutifully inflated and deflated his lungs. He could feel those two soldiers looking down at him smugly and condescendingly; the young one with red hair even had the audacity to offer to pray for him. If he had strength of his youth would naturally have, he would have crucified the soldier then and there, sent him to his ‘Savior’ special delivery, and bid him farewell with a prayer of his own, a Shinto one.

How he wished he had left with his brother, instead of staying here as the Chief Morale Officer. Instead of being one of the heroes that had struck, on this very day of December seventh at the Americans, he stood at home designing posters for his glory the Emperor. He would die forgotten, with history book to mention him in either a bright or dark light, merely leaving him as one of the nameless propaganda voices that littered every war.

His family, his wife, his son… everything that mattered, obliterated in an instant. The only thing that had saved him was a leisurely stroll on the outskirts of town in contemplation of his work. Even several miles away from ground zero, he saw the radiant light that was like a divine spear into Japanese soil.

He had survived; removed from the intense heat and concussive force of the American’s retaliation; but what of it? All that was his was gone and reduced to ruin and ash. As if in Hellish mockery, a scant few years later he would discover that he was dying thanks to the poison that came with the radiant light. He would only live long enough to know the total failure his life had become.

Now he lay here with tears that his pride was unable to hold streaming down his cheeks, as he was forced to listen to those two soldiers laugh at that inane program on the Radio; oh, how he loathed Bob Hope. Sensi desperately wished that he would die now. As if hearing his wish, death approached with its kiss of oblivion.

“Mmm, ‘Chorus of the Bells’, your endearing Herr Hope practices such great taste in music, yes?”

“Hey who the Hell are you two?”

. Sensi was fluent in many languages, as well as their accents; that was what gotten him the honor of becoming the voice of Japan. “Major, are you sure ve need zis man?”

The English was tinged with the hard yet paradoxically lyrical lilt of German this time. What was a German doing in Japan, let alone an American POW camp? Hadn’t they been abandoned?

“What the-? You’re Goddamn Krauts!” The obnoxious redheaded soldier was the one that made the proclamation. A sound of scuffling was followed by the clack of two guns being cocked. “How the Hell did you get in here? Freeze!”

“Doktar, all of uz need a voice. Zis is ze man who vill give us one.” The voice belonging to the first German who commented on the music.

‘What on Earth was going on?’ Sensi tried to see what was happening, to no avail.

“I said freeze bastards!” The redheaded soldier again. Sensi was relishing the panic in his voice.

“Capitan, handle this please.” The first German again, sounding disdainfully bored. The soldiers’ screams and the sound of rending flesh suddenly brought Norihito to almost reconsider his sympathies. He was confused and scared about what was happening, yet also guiltily indulgent in the sense of vindication that had surged through him. Three sets of footsteps approaching told him that he had become the focus of attention, and the smell of blood in the air left him to judge if that was something he wanted.

“Gutten tag Herr Sensi. Oderr, is it Norihito Sensei? Mine Japanese is not so sufficient,” The sound of heels from thick leather combat boots clicking together, something he had heard from videos of the Empire’s allies that displayed their allegiance and unity, the sound of unified praise, of saluting. Oh he wished he could turn his head to see!

“We regret the knowledge that you are dying Herr Norihito,” The second male German, the one that spoke with great authority; he spoke to Norihito with the confident knowledge of his grasp of, not wanting to bother with mangling the dying man’s proud tongue and waste words, admirable. “I’m here to zee if you vish to change zat seetuation.”

A wooden chair scraped against the linoleum floor, before it creaked as someone upon it. Next came the almost rougher sound of a metal lid being unscrewed from a glass container. “I am zee head of a special assignment for ze Fuhrer, und I could use somevun of your talents. Are you interested Herr Sensi?”

Norihito Sensi saw his peripheral vision becoming dark, and growing towards the center of his sight; he had nary time left. With what little life he had left, he licked his lips, and forced out a weak.

“Hai.”

December 1, 1969

“Are you absolutely sure that this is what you want child?” Father Periano asked the teenage Japanese nun. “To give up all the vows and oaths you took when you joined us in service to the Lord? Do you realize what you ask?”

“Yes Father,” The young girl smiled at her superior. Mentally she prepared herself for this, knowing people did not just up and leave Section XII that easily, and why. “I feel that the Lord is telling me to take on a new path; that my vigilance is required for a new task as a wife and mother. She bowed her head, lowering her eyes, “Father, isn’t bringing new life into the world a holy task as well?”

Father Periano hemmed for a moment, then went into the ‘Duty to God above oneself’ speech, for all the good it would do. Her mind was obviously made up, and though he would never admit it, he wouldn’t be THAT upset if she left. She seemed to take enjoyment at always correcting him when he misread or misquoted something, and she would always be questioning things; never in a heretical way, but like her argument for motherhood and other subjects. It was always one minor issue after another.

“Father,” He snapped out of his internal musings and back to the nun. “I realize that this is a major change in my life but,” She gently took his right hand. “I swear to raise my children as good Catholics, and if God willing, I may yet still devote my hand… my family, as the bearers of the Lord’s word and his weapons. I plead to you to grant me your blessings, for I would never dream of remaining estranged from the faith that binds my soul.”

“This… to simply leave the grace and matrimony of God you must know is not something taken lightly,” Father Periano stated solemnly. “And not only that, you are a valued asset within Iscariot. Losing you is a victory for the enemies of God.”

The young nun closed her eyes, “I shall never be lost from Iscariot; and though I will continue to love my God, and allow his will to dictate me, I would pray that he forgive me, even if for this selfish want.” She opened her eyes to stare directly into her guide’s, “I’m afraid that I cannot continue in this capacity, and adequately serve our Lord and Savior.”

Father Periano sighed; His Holiness would be furious at this, “Child, follow only where your heart and faith guide you; I am far from one who can decide such for you.” Sitting up straight, the priest spoke in his most authoritative tone, “But know this, you are still under the beck and call of Iscariot. Though we may respect your decision, we cannot guarantee that we shall not intervene in your newfound life.”

“Thank you Father,” she gave a polite bow, feeling as if she had won a hollow victory at best. She had not considered what she pledged. But immediately knew when the priest spelled it out that even her family would belong under the decree of Section XIII.

“So, who’s the lucky man that managed to sway one of God’s most precious brides?” Father Periano enquired, his tone becoming one of mirth and levity.

“His name is Soun, Soun Tendou,” She responded with a wistful tone, beginning to realize what she was giving up, as she began to remove the wedding band from her finger; soon to trade it for another.

November 28, 1999

“How many?” Maxwell demanded over the cell-phone, while trying to remain respectfully silent to the harmonic and heavenly voices of the Vatican Boys Choir performing their rendition of ‘Carol of the Bells’ during Sunday Mass service. He scowl tightened, all his agents understood to disturb him without sincere reason bordering on apocalyptic at this time would receive severe…reprimand. Unfortunately this reason fit the bill for a towering disaster quite nicely.

“At least 40 FREAK Vampires that I am able to account for, a hundred ghouls, and, ‘The Sun of Midnight.”
“May God strike down the heathen monster that reigns over them.” Father Enrico Maxwell was impressed at how fast Junji had gotten the information; it had only been two days since he had asked him to check out the rapidly growing and suspected heathen cult ‘Divine Wind over Hiroshima’.

“It is unconfirmed that The Sun of Midnight is their leader, he has ties to them, however I think his obsession with the Americans keeps them from following him devotedly. He is also a genius at attracting men into his zealous and misguided quest of vengeance. At the rate his recruitment is going, I expect it to at least triple by December Seventh.”

Maxwell considered the date mentally; a Tuesday of all days. Pursing his lips at the peculiar date, he enquired further, “What’s so special about December Seventh?”

“Pearl Harbor.”

Maxwell mused over that, gaining a notion of understanding to this Sun of Midnight’s intentions. “Alright, anything else Brother Junji?”

“Yes, I think I’ve been discovered.”

“What?!” Maxwell quickly turned to give looks of apology to his fellow brothers under the word of God for his outburst.

“I’m sorry Father Maxwell, it was pure carelessness on my part. I’m calling you from the airplane, I had to get out of Japan.”

Mentally Maxwell took back half of the praise he had given the young agent. He took a sigh. “Of course, perhaps it couldn’t be helped. Is there anything helpful you can give me?”

“I do know where the cult gets their weapons from. I’ll personally give you the information when I arrive. I hope it helps.”

“That it will Brother Junji, you have done a commendable amount of work in a short amount of time, regardless of sudden requirement for discretion. Go with God.”

“Thank you Father, and shall God be with you always. I shall be arriving within six hours.”

Maxwell hung up the phone, and quietly left the mass, with a confused Father Renaldo following behind him. It was something never done by any of his rank, but all that watched the head of Section XIII depart understood that something very grave had come up, acknowledging his allowance to be dismissed.

Maxwell walked to the Maserati Quattroporte, as Renaldo held the door of the rear passenger seat open for him, and hit one of the speed dial numbers on his cell phone. “Heinkel, Yumiko, I require you in my office within the next half hour, please.”

The two nuns were standing at attention in front of Maxwell’s desk. Having just heard the end of their briefing on the situation.

“Forty vampires Father?” Heinkel asked unsure. “Tventy ist no problem, thirty maybe, but veirzein?”

“Couldn’t you just send Anderson? I’m sure he’d be happy to take care of something like this.” Yumiko gave Maxwell a shaky smile.

The Iscariot leader groaned, already having considered Iscariot’s chief assassin, “Anderson is busy with his…hobby.” Internally Maxwell cursed Hellsing and its pet. “So you two are all that’s available.” He raised his hand to forestall further commentary. “I am confident of your capabilities, and I will endeavor to gain you assistance as quickly as possible. I have one possible candidate that I may prove yet useful.”

“Oh? Who?” Yumiko asked.

“Someone who owes us a favor, a former member of Iscariot. Her family lives in Japan,” Maxwell explained, “Though the previous head of Iscariot had wished not to involve her in further matters of such, I’m sure once the situation has been explained, her remaining family may prove compliant.”

“Remaining?” Yumiko enquired.

Maxwell nodded, “That particular agent is unfortunately deceased at least of a decade. Her family was that of martial artists, so they may yet prove invaluable.

“Alright, zo, ven are we leaving for Japan, und where do we meet zese ‘sleeper’ agents?” Heinkel asked.

“Tonight, and you will find her in the Nerima Ward. The Tendou residence. Here’s what records we still have on them, though we had not kept a great deal of updated information on them.” Maxwell handed the pair a printout. “The plane’s waiting at the airfield, God be with you both. Amen.

“Amen.” The two girls prayed, before leaving.

On the plane for Japan Yumiko turned to Heinkel. “I hope Nerima’s as a nice place as I remember.”

“Oh you have ties zere?” Heinkel said absentmindedly as she looked over the dossier on the person they were to meet.

“No, I had merely visited the district on occasion when I lived in Japan still.” Heinkel responded with a noncommittal grunt. “Who is it we’re picking up anyway?” Heinkel passed her the handouts and tried to get some sleep.

Yumiko leafed through the pages and stopped at the page with the personal information and the picture. “The Tendous seem like a nice family, but are you sure they can help us?”

Heinkel didn’t respond, pretending to be asleep instead of voicing her own doubts.