Never Not
Kei Ayano: The Journalist Part 1
...In this world,...
...there are things that cannot be forced .......
...Let me repeat it again....
...In this world, there are things that cannot be forced even if you have fought your hardest....
...I always tell those who are drunk with romance that when you are in love, you will think you are right and others wrong. And that has happened to myself....
...****************...
My name is Ayano Kei. I don't know where to start with this story. Did it start from the beginning that I entered Japanese martial arts training until forced to resign from membership? No, I think it's too long. Was it when I decided to go to Harvard to study journalism? No, I don't think there's anything special to tell there other than how I became an Asian student who still gets racist treatment from people there.
Well, I should just tell you when I first started working in journalism. Yes, I started my career as a war journalist. My first assignment was covering one of the Middle East's most conflicted regions. With my background as a former Japanese martial artist, they entrusted me with covering a vulnerable country at war. They reasoned, I was quite able to protect myself well.
Of course it's a tough challenge. In reporting in conflict countries, journalists must be prepared to accept the worst risk if they have to lose their lives to get news. In addition to risking my life in a country of people, I also have to part with my lover, the woman I love.
I was twenty-five years old. I covered the attack in Homs, which is part of the civil war in Syria. The attack was the worst and worst in a week. It even killed veteran American journalist Marie Colvin.
While explaining the incident in front of the camera, I vaguely heard the sound of female screams that sounded hoarse and weak. I try to stay focused on my coverage which may be being watched by many pairs of eyes. However, that roar sounded even more heartbreaking and even longer the weaker it got.
My concentration was getting faded at the end of the coverage. As soon as the airing is complete, I immediately remove all the attributes of the work. No matter what some of the crew's questions were astonished. My conscience carries this foot forward to the source of the sound, breaking through the recently destroyed building leaving a leniency.
I spread the view. The more I sharpen my hearing and my vision. I'm sure the source of the sound came from this place. My legs advanced slowly, starting to search carefully. How many bodies are clearly visible with legs, hands and head separated from the body. Almost stepped on if not careful.
That's her! Found it! A woman trapped in a hole whose exit is filled with the ruins of a building. His face was pale, with a slight wound on the temple. He didn't stop shouting a word I didn't know, but I could understand if he was asking for help.
I rushed to run towards him, getting rid of the concrete debris around his body. Some of my colleagues followed me and helped.
I crouched down while extending my hand towards her so she could get out of the hole that was trapping her. Surprisingly, he shook his head as I gave my hand to help him stand up. I don't understand why he refused my hand. However, instead gave his hand to my comrade who had just arrived. Oh, yes, my colleague was a woman who served as a spy in getting information.
read next in this novel yes, which here has been cut every chapter.do not read this one is not complete!
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