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[hr][b]2128 AB[/b] - EDO - TOKYO

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	The perpetual grey that blots the earth are like blinds that shield Japan from Ameratsu, the sun. The kami rarely peaks through the dense, polluted cloud system, so the sky towers made by man bless us in her stead. LED fixtures swirl and dance in holographic ads and billboards, coalescing with accented colors that reflect against building windows, and sleek cars in aerial transit. 

	The mega city of Edo Tokyo stands like a bioluminescent mountain, and at the very top, is the massive Shogun Conglomerate Fortress, rivaled only by Mt. Fuji. This massive structure is an ancient design, a gargantuan relic amongst a futuristic landscape. Like many other buildings, shrines, and gardens littered throughout the country, it serves as a friendly, but bold reminder: preserve tradition. 

	Another entity serves as such. The Shinsengumi, the Shogun’s special police, have been dispatched from their Sky Tower headquarters in central Edo, to remind those who’ve forgotten how things are run. 

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	[i]Hmph![/i] Tatsuya hammer fisted the portable heater, burying it deep into the middle compartment. If he wasn’t in vector traffic, 3,000 ft up rainy skies, he would’ve chucked the useless thing out the window of his [url=http://fav.me/d781xss]Hamlet Impala[/url]. Never mind the loitering citation that would instantly ping from surveying traffic drones; with his luck, it would most likely land on top of the head of an unknowing pedestrian down below. That wasn’t polite. Nobody else should be inconvenienced by this piece of shit product.

	“Uzai!” He sneered, giving it another whack, shaking it with frustration, then doubled the intensity after hearing loose, tiny pieces juggle around its insides.

	If it wasn’t broken before, it definitely is now. This marks the third heating appliance from Ichigan products he’s used. [i]Third times a charm![/i] The family owner pleaded, bowing in spasm, making promises the stupid thing couldn’t even keep for a week. No more chances. After this job is done, he’s going to submit a very harsh review online. Such a critique from a Shinsengumi officer, one who is ranked high on the social pyramid, will no doubt bring dishonor to the Ichigan family. There was no remorse left to give. They had to learn, like his family, the Mashiba’s, had to learn... 

[center][color=fff79a]WARNING! Please maintain flight path. If you’d like to reroute onto a different flight path, please engage new coordinates via autopilot. Thank you![/color][/center]

	“Shut up!” Tatsuya punched the dashboard console with one hand,  white knuckling the wheel with the other as he course corrected his trajectory.

	 The black Hamlet classic fell back in line with the rest of the commuters. He let out a sigh and began to inhale and exhale, slow and smooth, just like his automated therapist prescribed. 

	Tatsuya rubbed the dashboard, quietly apologizing to his beloved car. She was a very old model, a foreign import in fact, that dated all the way back to the early generations of cars with flight capabilities. The Hamlet Impala has a timeless look to it, but unfortunately, its rare parts, made even rarer 70 years after its production, makes it a pain in the ass to upkeep. 

	 Hence the broken heater, and the chore of having to buy second hand alternatives to compensate for a problem he doesn’t have time to fix.  

	“Gomen.” Tatsuya said aloud. 
	
	“N-no worries, Tatsuya-sama!” Issoji said. 
	
	“What?” Tatsuya frowned at the new recruit through his rear view mirror, still rubbing the dashboard with his hand as if soothing a frightened dog.  
	
	When Issoji realized his mentor wasn’t who he directed his apology to, he broke away from Tatsuya’s intense gaze, and stared out the passenger window. 

        “Nothing.” The young man was sweating bullets. Never mind the car ride from hell. Heading towards a hostile situation in the Kenshin District, on his first day, was triggering his anti-anxiety stimulants.  

	The Kenshin District in Edo Tokyo wasn’t technically owned by The Kenshin Corporation; they had their own piece of land up north in Echigo-Niigata province. In fact, all of the districts named after the major Daimyo corporations in this city served as a secondary base of operations. While they didn’t own these districts, the Daimyo Corporations still had to govern them. And with Chairman Ueseugi Kenshin’s priorities focused on business affairs within The Kairo, Japan’s regulated cyberspace, he’s allowed The Skullfire Gang to run amuck.

	Issoji cleared his throat at the thought of being face-to-face with those maniacal cultists. He’s read articles about their savagery, watched live feeds of them wreaking havoc in Hannya masks, a symbolic honor meant to appease their Serpentine Goddess. [i]I should’ve taken that assignment in The Kairo. Damn it! What the hell was I thinking?[/I]

	Tatsuya shrugged at the greenhorn, then turned the radio on. The sounds of Smiling Fox, a female folk artist, filled the stuffy cabin with her beautiful voice, and melodic strums from a shamisen. 

	“Oh!” At the flip of a switch, the middle-aged man went from stern-faced and grumpy, to grinning foolishly with content. He turned to his partner, Reika.  

	“A classic! I danced with my wife to this very song on our wedding night. We were poor back then, but still very much in love. All we had was each other, you know? Ha! I still remember bumping into the furniture trying to do the tango. You see, we couldn’t afford a venue, so we just had the ceremony in our crammed village apartment.”

	A stream of memories lapsed into his mind about the good old days, before his marriage ended up in shambles, back when the Mashiba family clan still believed in pride and honor.