"Come on, Marie, let me see it." Captain Ishida Hisashi pleaded with his patient, a rather harassed looking girl of about 10, even though what harassed her was herself and the wooden floor. Marie merely shook her head.

"I'm sorry, doctor, she's just shy." Marie's mother said, "she actually likes you, Hish. You know how it's like."

"Yes, I do." the medical officer replied to the mother before turning to the child again. From a corner of his eyes, he could see the blood seeping through the girl's skirt. She's had a bad fall, rolling down uneven terrain, her leg torn by broken wood, splinters and nails when she finally made it to even ground, "You know, I have something for you..." Hisashi swivelled his salvaged office chair around and rummaged through a cardboard box as he said, "if you show me how tough you are." From within the cardboard box, he produced a small bag of gummy bears. To be specific, it was a bag full of gummy Hamtaros infused with a range of vitamins and minerals. It was produced post-war, if the lack of luxurious colouring and the date of expiry was anything to go by. Hamtaro, the anthropomorphic anime hamster, was wearing a helmet, and gunning down an anime zombie with an inaccurately drawn M16 that looked good anyway. A speech bubble floated aggressively above its head, with indecipherable kanji (at least to the average American) being shouted.

"Doctor- You don't have to- It's too much for so little-" Marie's mother, as if presented with a million dollar vase, was shocked at the treatment.

"No, it is fine. Marie needs supplements. Her last health screening worried me." Captain Ishida Hisashi defended his decision. Marie reluctantly took the pack of vitamin Hamtaros and lifted her skirt, slowly as she winced in pain. It was bad. Appeared bad. A patch of bloodied skin, the outermost layer peeled at some places. Splinters were sticking out. Sergeant Maiko, the medical officer's most able and trusted medic, could not help but to come forward.

"It will be fine. Captain Hisashi take care of you." Maiko said in near perfect English as she gave Marie a gentle squeeze in the shoulder. It was funny that she should say that, considering that the child was surrounded by Japanese soldiers armoured from head to toe, looking like soulless robots, with swords dangling from their sides, and guns stuck to their bodies. The medical officer was the only soldier in the room with his helmet off. The only consistent concession they had made with their full battle order was their backpacks, which were close by.

What played out next was less than fine. A bloodcurdling scream could be heard a few shacks over even if it had all happened within a first-aid tent - the medical officer could only be pleased that it didn't travel far enough to attract any of the Kyonshi (as they were called in Japan). A few flicks of the tweezer, a wash of antiseptics and bandages later, however, and it was over. The child had been crying throughout, but she would live to see another day, and certainly to munch on her vitamin gummy Hamtaros.

It was certainly not the end of the day, however, even when the sun was dying, even when a heavy rain had stolen whatever daylight had remained. Then a radio call came in from one of the Kyonshikirapeitai patrols. A fight in a bar. One casualty. There was no longer such a thing as a 9 to 5 job anymore, with 24/7 being the norm. Hurrying over to the 2-man team who received the news and called it in, he approached what the humourous locals had called the 'bar-n'. He had to give them credit though, for not letting the grim reality of present life beat them down. It certainly did bring a smile to his face, even as he lowered and locked his visor.

It had faded when he entered the bar-n though, as he saw how men and women in low spirits drank to forget with lowered heads. With two of his fellow Kyonshikirapeitai flanking him, he quickly got to the casualty, who was in a daze and leaning against a wooden pillar, probably suffering a concussion. His face was covered in blood. There was a puddle of vomit nearby, though the stench was masked by the smell of alcohol and residual waste. In any case, he was stable, as the bleeding had stopped. All that was needed were antiseptic and bandages. The concussion, however, would be a problem in the longer term.

"These Americans." Captain Ishida Hisashi said to his men in Japanese, "As if the dead rising isn't bad enough, they are still trying to send each other to the grave."

"What can I say? They're Americans." Private First Class Ichiro followed up bluntly in the same language. The conversation was not continued from here on, as the officer in command found it hard to agree, yet just as hard to disagree.

What had set the medical officer off about the violence that had erupted over a game of cards and gambling, game of cards and gambling, mind you! Was that the victim looked to be about 18, if even that. He wouldn't be a man at all in many countries. It had cut a little too deeply into his hope for children living as normal a life as possible. "Who did this?" He asked, calmly, the people around him, however. Violence was not his way even if things appear to require it. There was reluctance around him at first, until a discreet finger was pointed in the direction of a man sitting at a makeshift bartop.

Captain Ishida Hisashi's eyes were drilling holes into the back of the culprit's skull soon after. He could tell even from the man's back that he was twice the boy's age. Flanked by his fellow JSDF soldiers, he made his approach towards Jack, his left hand gripping the mouth of his katana's sheath. "You! You there! I need to talk to you." He said, almost shouted, but kept the rage as far down as possible. His voice had almost wavered towards anger.

Some of the bar patrons were starting leaving.