All You Need Is Kill

by Hiroshi Sakurazaka

But I never wanted to be a hero, loved by millions. Not for a minute. If I could convince the few friends I had that I was someone who could do something in this world, who could leave a mark, no matter how small, that would be enough.

At the end of the day, every man has to wipe his own ass. There’s no one to make your decisions for you, either.

So what if the world hands me a pile of shit? I’ll comb through it for the corn.

Who knows? Maybe something will change. Or maybe, I’ll find a way to take this fucking world and piss in its eye. That’d be just fine by me.

“Our lives should be written in stone. Paper is too temporary—too easy to rewrite.”

“You shouldn’t assume everything you don’t understand is a message,”

There is what we desire to do, and what we are able to do. When those two things don’t coincide, which path should we pursue to find happiness?

Is there?

“Your mother must have been disappointed when the abortion only killed your conscience,” Rita said.

“Sentimental bastard.” There was a smile in her voice. “I hate red skies.” It was the last thing she ever said.

he knew that in battle, the only rank that mattered was how good you were.

Red was your color, yours and yours alone. It should rest with you. I will paint my Jacket sky blue, the color you told me you loved when we first met. In a field of a million soldiers, I will stand out from all the rest, a lightning rod for the enemy’s attacks. I will be their target.

I sat there for some time holding the last cup of coffee she’d ever made, for someone she’d barely known. Its thin aroma stirred in me an insufferable longing and sadness. A small colony of blue-green mold bobbed on the surface of the coffee. Raising the cup to my lips, I drank.