Silent Fronts

Description: Sixteen-year-old Shimizu Yuki flees her home in quiet coastal home in Nagasaki after a devastating Chinese attack plunges Japan into the ongoing World War III. Seeking safety, she finds refuge in a now-unified Korea, where she meets Xu Haoyan, a quiet and compassionate Chinese boy. Despite strict government rules forbidding relationships between Japanese and Chinese refugees, Yuki and Haoyan fall into a deep, forbidden love-unaware that a hidden truth from the past threatens to tear them apart.

Chapter 1

March 4, 2029

Nagasaki, Japan

The apartment is quiet, like it always was in the morning.

I sat on my bed, buttoning the last button on my uniform. My alarm had gone off a while ago, but I didn't rush. I liked slow and calm mornings, before anyone else is awake. Down the hall, my family was still sound asleep. All I could hear was the distant hum from the refrigerator and the creak of the floorboards. I looked in the mirror at myself. My uniform wasn't perfect, but I didn't want to fuss. Shimizu Yuki, Nagasaki High School, Year 2. That's what it said on the tag inside my blazer. It didn't feel like it meant much this morning. Outside the window, the morning was grey and still. The kind of quiet that felt settled. I slipped my shoes on and put my bag on, pausing momentarily by the door. I looked back at my home and stepped out into the usual calm of a quiet morning.

The street was calm but slowly waking up, just like every morning. I walked steadily, my shoes softly tapping on the pavement. The sky was bright, sunlight filtering gently through clouds you could squish. Sakura petals drifted down from trees, catching the breeze and swirling around me like soft, pink snow. Now and then, I passed someone: an office worker, a student; each one of them moving quietly, wrapped up in their mornings. Yet, no one was in a rush. The air felt light, like it hadn't decided to be busy yet. I sensed the smell of fresh bread from the little bakery on the street, warm and comforting, mixing with the faint scent of the salty sea that always lingered just beyond the city. I glanced at my watch: 8:40. Still plenty of time. It was just a normal walk on a normal morning. The kind of moment you never think twice about.

By the time I reached the school gates, I heard a few students chatting quietly, holding on to their bikes, others standing around checking their phones, and others just walking quietly with their heads down. It's never loud this early, just the low, steady murmur of tired voices. I nodded at a classmate I recognised, but didn't stop. The entrance hall smelled faintly of floor polish, like always. My footsteps echoed softly on the tile as I made my way to the shoe lockers. I swapped my shoes out, placing the pair from home into their compartment, and headed down the stairs. The hallways were warm and half-lit, a type of atmosphere you could fall asleep in. I got to my classroom and went inside, the door wide open for students coming in. A few students were already inside, some working on assignments, and some surveilling the school, looking at which students enter and which students don't. I took my seat in the far back, next to the window, and set my bag down next to my chair. I glanced outside, the sakura trees were still shedding their petals, but just barely. The day felt like it would pass the same way it always did. Quiet. Predictable. Or, that's what I thought.

Our teacher walked in, sat down, and started telling us about current events, like she usually does in the mornings. I don't pay that much attention and usually just glance at a window. The sakura were still falling, but more slowly now. My teacher was going on about the ongoing World War III, how China has the Southeast Asian peninsula under their control. I decided to brush it aside, as I thought that they had just made a peace deal. Then, far off, there was a sound. A low, distant rumble. Like thunder, but not. It didn't echo the way thunder should. A sakura petal landed on the window, and behind it was a bright flash. A few students glanced around. One or two even whispered, but the teacher kept talking. Maybe she hadn't heard it. Maybe we'd imagined it. Then, the faint rumble got close, too close. I heard a faint whistle, getting closer and closer. Something crashed through the window and landed right behind me. A missile: long, scarred, hissing faintly, lay embedded in the rubble behind me, its nose buried in the floor where the wall had been. Shards of desks surrounded it like splinters. I could see Roman letters stamped along its side. DF-15. Chinese. I stared at it, unable to move. It hadn't gone off. It just sat there, humming faintly in the silence it had created. My teacher's voice, hoarse, frantic, cut through the ringing. "Everyone out, now!" I ran outside and saw more missiles falling through the sky like lethal shooting stars. There were many trains and buses bound for nearby airports. I was lucky to get on one of the trains. I looked back on my home, which was utterly destroyed by missiles. I saw soldiers coming out of ships, letting us leave since we're unarmed. Then, as the train left, I saw a young boy replace the Japanese flag on top of our school with a red flag. One that has a yellow star in a corner, with 4 smaller ones surrounding it.