Griff's Hidden Stories

Chapter 1: Shimmering Flames (No.01)

The walls of the barracks shudder with the cheers
of soldiers holding a victory feast.

But in a storage room not far from the feasting hall,
I find the cooling body of one of my subordinates.
This is no accident—his throat has been slit neatly
with a knife, and his blue eyes are wide with regret.

* * *

Murder. Murder within the walls of our own base.

The military police begin to investigate the incident;
it's their job to maintain order in the army, after all.
A few days later, they tell me they suspect our problem
child is the killer. He went missing around the time of
the incident, and they've launched a search to find him.

The boy is a member of my squad, and I found things were
missing from his room—as well as bloodstains in the corner.
But when the MPs tell me they intend to shoot him on sight,
I can't let the decision stand.

"No," I say. "This course of action is entirely too hasty.
You must conduct a more thorough investigation."

No matter how much authority the MPs have, I can't let them
a soldier without trial—especially when they lack anything
but the basest of suspicions.

More importantly, the boy did not do this. I know he didn't.
As his captain, and as someone who has lived with him for an
extended period of time, I know. Sure, he can be a handful, but
he's a kind soul deep down, and not the type to slay a comrade.

When I carried him on my back after his injury in the last
battle, I saw him give his squadmates a trusting smile.
Faint, yes, but it was there.

Someone like him could never kill one of his own.

But no matter how much I insist, the MPs don't listen.
Quite the opposite, in fact: As the captain on duty during
the murder, I am suspended without pay for a month.

* * *

The sun has set, but I can't find it in myself to turn on
any lights. Instead, I stand listlessly in the middle of
my room, a being entirely without purpose.

Most of my days are spent like this now.

The boy is a killer. He will be shot on sight.

The highest-ranking officers have made their decision.
If they deem a thing innocent, so be it.
If they deem a thing evil, then so be it.
They need no reasoning; they are soldiers.

But I still refuse to believe the boy is a murderer.

"You trust him? You're just being selfish."

Though I am alone, I think I hear a man's voice beside me.
Where is it coming from?

As I look around my small apartment, my eyes lock with the
man in the mirror on the wall. Though he has same face as
myself, he wears a lopsided smile as he begins to whisper.

"He ignored your orders and ran off on his own. Had you not
gone out of your way to save him, your blue-eyed subordinate
would still be alive. Saving him was a mistake. Your actions
bring only death to your fellows. You haven't changed a bit—
it's the same as when you your selfish actions got all your
squadmates killed. Oh, you might be able to fool everyone
else, but you'll never be able to fool me."

I turn my gun to the man in the mirror.
But just as I am about to pull the trigger...

"Captain, can you hear me? I have news."

I hear the quiet voice of one of my men from the other side
of the door and I feel the mist clouding my mind vanish.
The man in the mirror is gone. All I see is Captain Craven
with his finger on the trigger.

Chapter 2: Invisible Bullet (No.02)

There'd been a murder at base, and the victim and young
soldier thought to be the culprit were both part of my unit.
The military police decided the boy was guilty and placed
him on the wanted list without even holding a trial.
They also issued an order to kill him on sight.

Eventually, I got word the boy was hiding in a foreign city
on the border. This information came from a few of my
subordinates, good men who snuck it to me while I was still
locked away on house arrest.

And that's how I now find myself on the outskirts of that
foreign city. I'm not supposed to be here—I'm not even
supposed to have left the base. But the same subordinates
who got me the information agreed to distract any curious
superior officers and guards. Still, they can only keep
their attention for so long. I have to find the boy,
and quickly. More importantly, I need to hear the truth
from his own mouth, and in his own words.

The truth that he is innocent.

* * *

The border city sprawls beyond the field of sunflowers that
grows over the old train tracks. The military has long been
waiting for an opportunity to capture this place, and I've
heard rumblings it may be the next target on our list.

Still, this is not a city easily cowed—they're used to
living under siege, and the self-defense force that protects
it allows citizens to live lives of happiness and ease.

I enter the city under the guise of being a common traveler.
Then I begin my search for the boy, venturing along the
main street in search of clues. Eventually, I feel eyes on
my back, and turn to see a group of children staring up at
me curiously. It seems travelers are something of a rare
breed here. Still, these moppets likely have the run of
the place, so I ask them to show me around.

"C'mon, mister!" they say brightly. "You gotta see this!"

With proud little smiles, they bring me to the foot of a
high hill, upon which stands an observation platform that
contains a large cannon.

"Watch! It's really cool!"

A moment later, the world is shattered by an enormous boom.
Yet what comes out of the cannon is not artillery, but a
large ball of water. As I watch it soar across the sky,
the children explain how their people use the cannon to
water the sunflowers growing on the old tracks.

I find the entire endeavor to be remarkable. But when I
turn my gaze back to the platform, I see a svelte boy
standing beside the cannon. Though the sun silhouettes him
against the sky, I cannot mistake the form of a subordinate
with whom I've already shared so much joy and pain.

It is the boy. The deserter. The accused.

Boom and a globule of water flies through the air.
Boom and another. Boom. Boom. Boom.

Each one is accompanied by the cheers of happy children,
but I can't hear any of it over the beating of my own heart.

* * *

Sunflowers bloom proudly along the old tracks. According to
the children, the boy passes this place every day on his way
to do his shopping. Knowing this, I sit down to wait.

I sit for hours, barely moving, alone with my thoughts.
Just as the sun began to set, he finally appears. When he
notices me, his eyes widen slightly and he comes to a halt.

"Why are you...?" he begins. He's clearly shocked,
so I spare him any further abuse and get right to it.

"You didn't kill him. Did you?"

All he has to do is shake his head and it will all be over.
Yet for some reason, he doesn't.

"I can clear this entire thing up," I continue. "Just come
back with me and—"

Before I can say more, he draws the blade hanging at his
hip and points it at me.

"No. I killed him. That's why I came here."

Though the tip of the blade presses ever closer to my
throat, I don't move an inch. He wouldn't kill one of
his own. He wouldn't. He couldn't.

Finally, the boy sighs, sheathes his blade, and walks past
me with quick steps. "Just leave me alone," he says before
vanishing to somewhere further down the road.

It's hot. The sun burns the nape of my neck as my head
hangs low. I stare at my feet—at a puddle created by the
cannon on the old tracks. The man I see there—a man with
the same face as me—begins to cackle.

"Didn't I say this would happen? This is all your fault!
You saved him, and now someone with a bright future is—"

I stamp my foot into the puddle and shut the man up.

Chapter 3: Reflections of A Fool (No.03)

There was a murder in the squadron. The prime suspect was
the boy who was known for being a problem, but I knew he
would never do such a thing.

Or at least, I thought I knew.

Because when I broke probation and went to the border city
where he was hiding, he admitted to being the killer.

* * *

"Captain. Are you there?"

The voice is followed by a knock at the door. It's my
subordinate, the same one who helped me slip away
while I was on probation.

I'd returned to the barracks two weeks ago, and he'd
checked on me every day since. I know he wants to hear
what happened in the city, but I can't tell him.

I can't tell anyone.

Because my men would never forgive me.

If you didn't go out of your way to save his life, there would
have been no murder. Everything you do leads us into
the jaws of death. All you know how to do is sin.

When I come to, I'm crouched in the corner of my room
waiting for it all to be over.

Aw, look how upset you are! Keep that up, and your
soldiers will never take you seriously again.

That voice again. Shaking it off, I stand and plant
myself in front of the mirror, looking back at the man
who shares my face.

I know how you can escape this darkness, he says.

I reach out and brush my fingertips against the glass.
"Tell me."

The man in the mirror smiles kindly. It's easy. Kill the
criminal and atone. That's the only way to save your soul—
and the soul of your dead subordinate.

"I have to...kill him?"

Yes. Kill him. Just like you killed me.

As I gaze into the darkened eyes of the man in the mirror,
I think back. My selfishness once cost the lives of many of
my compatriots. So once I became a captain, I strove to
always be thoughtful and attentive so I wouldn't make the
same mistake twice.

I killed the true me—the arrogant face in the mirror.
It was the all I could think to do to absolve myself.

Kill him with your own hands.

I must...kill him.

I must kill him. It's the only way to atone.

So that night, I slip out once more, seeking to avenge one
of my soldiers and absolve myself of sin for good and all.

* * *

I walk for hours before finally coming to a familiar set
of train tracks. As midnight comes and goes, I see distant
flames dancing in the summertime sky.

The fires of battle rage in the border city.

As I pass retreating soldiers, understanding finally dawns.
Our army has finally launched an attack on this city.
They did so while I was on probation.

As the sunflowers along the tracks crackle and burn,
a small moth descends and vanishes into the flame.

Chapter 4: Midnight Star (No.04)

The young boy from my squad confessed to murdering one
of his fellow soldiers. If I hadn't gone out of my way to save
the boy on our previous mission, the other man would still
be alive. This is all my fault.

I make for the border city where he's hiding so I can kill
him and absolve myself of this sin. But when I arrive,
the city is nothing but a burning husk. The army had long
been plotting to advance on the city, and this was the
night they finally put their plan into motion.

I walk and walk and walk, but all I see are bodies. Bodies.
Bodies. There isn't a single survivor to be found.

As the smell of burning flesh fills my nostrils, the stench
makes flashes of a hell I once witnessed play in my mind.
A time when I had just joined the army—and when my own
selfishness caused my entire squad to perish.

I shake my head, erasing the sight. There's no time to be
thinking of the past. I have to find the boy, kill him,
and finally atone.

But look at this place. Nothing could have survived.
If the boy was here, he's already dead.

As that thought crosses my mind, a sound comes from the
burnt building beside me. If memory serves, it was once the
HQ of the city's self-defense force—the organization that
tried so desperately to bring life to the town.

The fire has died down, so I slip through the entrance,
hold my breath, and make my way down the hall as I follow
a trail of blood.

This will be a fine resting place for you.

I find the boy in a room at the end of the hall. He's on
the floor, holding the bloody corpse of a woman in his arms.
Next to her is a single burned sunflower.

The blood in the hallway must have belonged to the woman.
It seems impossible for the small-framed boy to have carried
her all this way, but he must have done so. Whoever she is,
she looks almost exactly like him. But none of that matters
now, because my only objective is to finish this.

I stand in the doorway and aim my gun, ready to finally
absolve myself of my sins. But as my finger slips to the
trigger, he looks up at me with a tear-stained face that
causes me to take a step backwards.

In that instant, it all comes flooding back. Memories of
the time when I'd just joined the army. When I pushed my
squad to annihilation because of my selfishness. And the
absolute hell I'd existed in ever since.

Captain, I...

I'd sobbed over my captain's body, repeating those two words
over and over. As I cursed my foolishness, I told myself I
would never make the same mistake again. I would never lose
another ally the way I lost him.

"Shoot him!" cries a sudden voice. I look up and see the
man with my face shouting at me from a reflection in the
window. "Shoot him! Erase your sins! That's why you're here,
isn't it!?"

Yes. That's why I'm here. I can only atone by killing him.

Had I not saved him in battle, he would have never killed
the other man. It's my fault I lost another of my allies,
and I have to fix my mistake.

But the boy with the corpse in his arms and tears
streaming down his face...

He looks so much like me.

"Shoot!" cries the man in the window again. And this
time, I obey. I pull the trigger. The bullet flies, shattering the
window where the face had been a moment before.

I lower my weapon and rush to the boy, who drops his gaze
and begins to mutter in a voice thick with tears.

"Thought...I told you to stay away from me..."

"Yeah. You did. But..." I pause, unable to figure out what
comes next. But at last, I say:

"I'm glad you survived."

That's all.

The boy admitted to killing his squadmate. Yet. And yet.
He is still one of my own, a comrade-in-arms with whom
I've survived battles and hardships.

And I cannot be happy with his death.

Now that he sits before me, I finally realize I'd taken up
a gun to right my own mistakes. I was going to kill for the
sake of a dead comrade.

That's not atoning. It's ego. Selfishness.

I'm not interested in saving my companions. Oh no.
I just want to be forgiven.

"Everyone wants to hear your side of the story," I say.
"Come home. Tell the truth." But he just shakes his head.

"There are some things I can't say," he says in a voice
colored by agony. And when he looks at me again,
I can't bring myself to force the truth from him.

＊ ＊ ＊

A month has passed since we parted ways at the border city.

I'm currently rifling through files in the storage room
where the incident occurred. I want to know the truth the
boy was hiding, but I'm coming up empty. No surprise there—
any files have likely been intentionally destroyed. Hell,
even the fact the boy was once part of my squad is now
nothing but a distant rumor.

When I think about it rationally, it's all been so strange.
A murder happened between two people with a boring, normal
relationship, and the military ordered the perpetrator shot
on sight without even holding a trial.

Light leaks in through the crack in the reference room door.
I stare at it, recalling how distressed the boy had looked.
He was a criminal who killed one of his own, which is a
fact I've grown to accept. But why did he do it?
What was the reason?

I wish I could have brought some light to the dark truth
that weighed on him. I wish I could have helped him.
That's also the job of a captain, and I failed.

If I ever get the chance to see him again, I'm going to
learn the truth. Nothing will stop me this time—no matter
how many orders I have to break.

Chapter 5: The Soldier's Crimes (No.05)

Hello. Mama here. I read over
the report you made on the
captain. Though it was quite
well-written, I feel you are
avoiding certain things by
using unclear language.

Let's take a look at this
part, for example: Though they
called him Captain Craven
behind his back, he was a
calm and gentle soul. But his
skills as a soldier kept his
hot-headed squad together,
and everyone recognized that.

Now, you're right that his
squadron felt like a family
because of his kindly nature.
But you also know what
happened back then, right?
Don't shy away from what the
man is like on the inside.
Remember what he's done to
protect his men, and how guilt
weighs him down as he fights.

These things are important for
you to write down, because I'm
certain it will prove a bit of
salvation for him as well.

Chapter 6: A Letter to a Boy Soldier (No.06)

Hey there. How you holding up?

Just kidding. I already know
you get all mopey whenever we
put you in the discipline room,
but I really want you to think
about what you did this time.
I understand wanting to sneak
a little extra food when you're
on mess-hall duty—I really do.
But getting scolded for it
doesn't give you a free pass to
knock out one of your fellows.
You need to work on solving
problems like that with words
instead of fists, and that's
something I'm going to help
you with in the future.

Oh, and while we're at it,
please be a little more
thorough when you're on
laundry duty. You don't want
the enemy to smell us coming
from a mile away, right?
And yes, I know this letter is
veering into nagging territory,
but I really need you to be
more considerate of your squad.
If you treated them even half as
good as you treat the horses...

You know what? I'm not even
Going to finish that sentence,
Because you'll just get mad.
But that said, the horses are
always in a great mood whenever
you work the stables, and I
appreciate how you always treat
them with so much love and care.

Anyway, look forward to having
you back in the squad soon.

Chapter 7: Promotion Proposal (No.07)

The tide of battle turned
greatly in our favor with this
recent operation. The brave
judgment of one particular
soldier brought this about,
and his achievements in our
most recent operation are
beyond reproach.

It is for this reason that we
propose his promotion to the
rank of Captain.

I am aware that his temper was
was a topic in a recent
meeting, but this likely stems
from discord with his activist
father —and is also not that
unusual with young people
today. Furthermore, I hear he
has been calmer since losing
his squad in a recent mission,
so perhaps that experience has
served as a catalyst for self-
improvement. However, even if
this change of heart does not
stick, command is well aware
that soldiers with his
personality type are very good
at controlling subordinates,
which makes the subject of
his temperament ultimately
inconsequential.

It is our opinion that his
particular blend of combat
prowess and tactical aptitude,
coupled with his personality,
will help him rise through the
ranks quickly, and that he
may, in fact, lead our entire
force one day.

Chapter 8: Fifty Years Post-War (No.08)

Retired Soldier A: That battle
was hell. I could hear my
fellow soldiers screaming for
help all around me, and with
each shriek, I told myself
they were going to be fine.
I had to, you understand?
Otherwise, I'd never be able
to get them out of my mind,
which would have been the
end of me.

Anyway, that's when I saw the
enemy captain pointing his
gun at a soldier begging for
his life. His eyes were the
devil's, cold and heartless
as an ice storm. I don't think
that man had a drop of human
blood in him; hell, he was the
same one who sculpted the
mountains of corpses and
unleashed the rivers of blood.
And sure, I survived, but I
still remember the fear.
The fear never went away.

I hear that devil is still
hailed as a hero in his
homeland. I suppose war
grants boons like that to
creatures such as him.

That sounds like a terrifying
experience. May I ask,
have you been struck by any
particular feelings in the
half-century since the war
came to an end?

Retired Soldier A: Fifty years
already? My god...

Well, that war may be over,
but I doubt mine will ever
end. Not unless I find a way
to forget the look in that
devil's eyes...

Chapter 9: Confidential Recording (No.09)

"This is the western dispatch unit. I need confirmation
on a certain matter. Over"

"Make⁠...quick."

"I wanted to ask about the child we rescued
from the kidnapper."

"Get to⁠...point."

"Was it really the enemy that kidnapped him?"

"Yes. When he⁠...rescued from⁠...returned...
parents delighted."

"But the way he was crying made me think we
were the kidnappers."

"...surprised⁠...the army⁠...home."

"He was clinging to the corpse of his so-called kidnapper."

"⁠...a point? If so...quickly."

"Are we sure the kidnapper wasn't his real parent?"

"...to say...orders were mistaken?"

"I can't rule out the possibility."

"If you⁠...career as a soldier, then⁠...not entertain
unnecessary thoughts."

"Yes, sir. I apologize. Ending transmission. Out."

"...This is the right thing for a soldier to do.
I can't question it."

Chapter 10: A Letter from a Hero (No.10)

I gathered all the information I could find on the secret
operation and wrote it down in a single document—one
I'm now planning to release to the public.

It's wrong for a soldier to do such a thing, and I will
doubtless be named a traitor to my homeland if I go
through with it. But at this point, I'm used to committing
sins. I've completed missions as ordered, and killed more
people than those orders even required. My sins are legion,
because I firmly believed that by killing, the dead men
in my squad would forgive my selfishness.

But if I'm going to keep doing wrong, I should finally
commit a wrong on the right side of justice.

I've steeled myself for being ridiculed over my definition
of justice, but in the end, it doesn't matter. I've made
up my mind. The world will know of this inhuman operation
that has brought so much pain to my men.

And they will know it because of me.

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