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[img]https://image.ibb.co/meQMDz/yakuza_border.jpg[/img]
[h2]Fujimura Syndicate[/h2]
[h3]Native District, Miyama[/h3]
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[@Sageage][@Argonaut][@Seirei no Hai][@Floodtalon]
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The Yakuza focused on entrenching themselves into what territory they had, making sure to keep control of their larger places of operation while migrating away from the smaller ones. As they traveled throughout the night, in groups, to the larger territories they owned, they focused more on protecting the refugees under their belt than they did with whatever resources they had previously. They were forced to travel light, after all, looking to get to their destinations as fast as possible. On the bright side, they had the aid of two exceptional martial artists; the Horse of Fuyuki, and, uh... a foreign girl named Riyu. However, between the rioters, the Mafia, and rumors of a bloodsucker roaming the streets, the Yakuza were having a rough time. They would accept just about any help given to them at this point...

[right]... Except for some Mafia handouts. The Fujimura Syndicate ain't no rats![/right]
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[center][h1]Hours Ago...[/h1][/center]
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Marching through the wasteland known formerly as Miyama Town was a man, one whose greatness rivals the vastness of the plains that he walked. He wore a long, white coat with its collar popped, mostly plain aside from the writing printed on the back in an Eastern script; it would read '藤[b][color=red]•[/color][/b]村', or in English, 'FUJI[b][color=red]•[/color][/b]MURA'. Underneath this coat was nothing but a pair of trousers, revealing some of the man's expectantly toned physique. His trousers were made of denim, a rather rare fashion choice for a man of this era, especially in the East, as they clung somewhat tightly to his legs. It was unknown if his belt buckle, a horseshoe pointing up, was a symbol of fortune, a callback to a fond memory, or just a love for horseback riding. His boot, which were embroidered in a way similar to the ones seen in the American West, indicated that it might have been the latter, with only a pair of spurs keeping the ensemble from being complete.

None of these things, however, were as notable as the man's hair. Standing upright and shining as the sun's rays bounced off it, it served as some sort of insignia, or symbol that would best identify the man in question. Like the top of a mountain, the roof of a skyscraper, or the [i]sorin[/i] of a [i]pagoda[/i], it stood tall. It was a sandy brown beacon of human providence, hopes and dreams piled high on its bushy peak. It was a [i]pompadour[/i], a hairstyle that, while unpopular in the current age, would soon be the iconic symbol in the future for an [i]age of cool.[/i] It was a fitting hairstyle for a man who has become 'human prosperity given form.'

As the man continued traversing the wastes, the sun had begun to shine over his face to a point where even his glorious could not shade his eyes from its bright rays, he simply dug a hand into his coat pocket. From it, he produced a pair of spectacles, tinted black, in a style that's so not fitting the current era; indeed, it wasn't that it was 'too modern,' no, but that it was 'too cool' for the current time period. Putting the sun-glasses on, the man once known as Gin Yoshiyaki marched forth for his destination, no longer blinded by the bright future ahead of him...
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[img]https://image.ibb.co/gO8WLp/Ginglasses.png[/img]
[h2][color=darkorange][b]FUJIMURA[/b][/color][/h2]
[h3]'DDD' Hot Springs, Miyama Town[/h3]
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[@Phonic]
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[h3][center][color=darkorange]"Sorry fer being late, boys... hope you all had your fun while I was away. It looks like you did some great work with the architecture 'ere, but now we've gotta do our duty. The Native District's all over the place, and it's our job to fix it. I can't rebuild Fuyuki on my own, so we gotta do it together! Put your glasses on and let's get to it!"[/color][/center][/h3]