War of the Sun by Mack Maloney Page A

identifiable by its yellow gunwales and its orange mast. And though she did not go out on the brightly-painted boat like her father and her two older brothers, she worked with her mother on other essential tasks on shore.
    Her favorite job was the mending of the fishing nets. Not only was it less messy than cleaning fish, it also provided her with a social life of sorts. On certain days she and her mother would take the nets to a beach near the town’s docks. The other village women would bring their mending there, too, and gossip as they worked. Mizumi would listen to the other women’s talk, and do her work conscientiously.
    It was not an easy life, yet she’d been content there simply because she loved her family and her neighbors and the sea itself. She couldn’t imagine wanting to live anywhere that didn’t border the vast expanse of water.
    She had awakened this morning happy and excited because it was net-mending day. Little did she know that this was the day her idyllic life in the village would end.
    By full dawn she had seen her father and brothers off to their boat, knowing if the fishing was good, they might not return for two days or more. She was helping her mother gather the nets that needed mending when her father suddenly burst back into the house.
    He was out of breath, his features pale with alarm. There was a ghastly look of terror on his face.
    Wild-eyed, he looked at Mizumi a moment, then ran to his wife’s side.
    “Soldiers are here!” he had told the mother in an anxious whisper. “They are looking for a girl to … to serve …”
    “Serve Hashi Pushi?” her mother had answered, saying the words her father could not.
    “They’ll take Mizumi,” her father had cried, no longer trying to mask his words in whispers. “We must hide her!”
    From her room, Mizumi had heard everything—yet she was not even sure what her father was talking about. She had heard of this Hashi Pushi, but she had never thought of him as a real person. His name was spoken only in solemn murmurs, if at all, and more as a mythical character than anyone real. She had always imagined him to be a mighty godlike warlord, someone who lived in the clouds far away, his only connection to Earth the tribute the village paid on a monthly basis.
    “We’ll send her running up to the mountains,” her mother said, fighting back panic. “My grandmother’s sister-in-law’s niece has relations there.” As she spoke she was already hastily gathering items to pack into a rucksack.
    But at that moment three soldiers burst into the house. They were dressed in identical orange uniforms with garish black helmets. All three had their guns raised. Their eyes were full of desperation.
    Mizumi’s father bravely confronted them, but was immediately struck down with the butt of a rifle.
    “We are on an errand for our lord, old man,” one spat, leering down at the bloody face of her father, who now lay prone and dazed on the floor. “You were very foolish to interfere.”
    This soldier seemed to be the leader of the trio. With cold eyes, he shifted his attention from the father to the trembling mother and finally toward Mizumi. He studied her for a moment, taking in the classically beautiful face, her evolving figure. Then he saw her red hair.
    The soldier smiled cruelly.
    “We have found our treasure,” he declared.
    With that he gestured to the two other men. They rushed forward and grabbed Mizumi by the hands and feet. She struggled with them as they carried her out of the house and down the road toward their troop truck. She was screaming uncontrollably for her neighbors to save her, but it was no use. No one dared to challenge the soldiers.
    Mizumi was now screaming desperately for her parents. But suddenly there was the sound of two rifle shots coming from within her house. At that moment, everything seemed to stand still. Mizumi was able to turn her head and see the soldier who’d struck her father come out of the door, his