The Golden Scar
The ironworks of Naha hummed with a low, metallic groan that vibrated through the soles of Aiko Kobayashi’s boots, a sound so constant it had become the baseline of her existence for twelve years. She stood in the shadow of the blast furnaces, the air thick with the sulfurous bite of burning coal and the sweet, cloying rot of chemical waste, while around her the shift workers moved in a...
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