Below the towers, and below the streets,
A party rages, day and night.
Its doors never close, and its beats always pulse
The lights swirl, and passion flows.
Come on down, come around.
See how the Silent Dragon awaits.
See how the Silent Dragon never sleeps.
.........................
Mai had grown up listening to Chrysanthemums speak about freedom and equality, shoved from backroom to poorly lit club, with jobs tending tables or escorting guests, eventually leasing her own backroom club, and later bought the neighboring parking stand, and converted it into a danceclub. Toshi stumbled in one night, pregnant and destitute, thrown out by her conservative, mainstream parents. Months later, Haru, who had never wanted more than a place to sleep, joined their makeshift family, and soon after, Aiko was born.
Sousuke Patro sat in a Kyushu tea house sullenly, pondering over the past few days while drinking bland commercial tea and reading the recent news. Though he did not often concern himself with the goings of Hokkaido or the Taus, Sousuke did often take great interest in what would be considered meaningless gossip on the streets of New Tokyo and Honshu. Though, today, not much seemed to occur that he might bring his attention to. The only point that might bring any attention to his eye was the creation of a new nightclub on the New Tokyo streets called the Silent Dragon.
"Silent Dragon?" thought Sousuke, "I might just go take a look after I finish my flight today."
Sousuke then rose from his small table in the dark corner of the tea house, and whisked down the remainder of his tea with a grimace. He then left the house without doing so much as making eye contact with any of the other residents.
[8:32:45 PM] Dusty Lens: Oh no, let me get that. Hello? Oh it's my grandma. She says to be roleplay.
[12:49:19 AM] Elgatodiablo: You know its nice that you have all that proof and all, Bacon... but I just don't believe you.
In the back of the club, there was a staircase. Graffiti sprawled the walls, up to a reinforced door which read PRIVATE in huge yellow block kanji. Behind the door, up another flight of stairs, a loft room sprawled, hanging gate wide open. A baby screamed from the cradle, and behind a bookshelf, and another reinforced door, Toshi scrambled over a printing press, searching for just the right kanji tile to set his sentence.
Mai hosted downstairs, and Haru tended drinks. A lawman, in uniform, made it through the queue without being stopped, and Haru's hackles went up. The man walked across, ordered a drink. Haru stared at Mai, trapped, unable to say anything. A lawman, here, while Toshi printed upstairs. Whats more, there were a trio of GC in that corner, sitting around a table, lips bright orange from the cardamine. This was no place for a lawman, with drugs passing hands and undesirables sitting proudly..How did he even know it existed?
Mai coasted across the front, wearing platform heels and pearl skinmasks, she glowed, reflections dancing across her skin, a conduit of fashion and subterfuge, taking tips and papers, drugs and compliments, passing them all along under the strobes and the pulsing beat, completely unaware of her danger.
Sousuke walked into the nightclub, wearing his golden KNF attire from his service on the Nagasaki. The flamboyance and liberalism of the patrons disgusted him. The smell of drugs, the deflowering of so many young girls, the defamation of the culture Sousuke was looking to save. It was all repulsive, the ignorance of Kusari's youth.
Sousuke walked over to the bar, and leaned precariously and inspected the club, looking to find someone aside from the bartender who might be easier to speak with. A girl walking across the center of the room, wearing tight clothing that barely served its function. Sousuke moved away from the bar, ignoring bartender came to speak with him.
"Konnichiwa, miss," he began, as he grabbed her by the shirt-strap, pulling her from her duties and spilling her tray of drinks over a patron beside her, "I think you can answer a few questions for me."
He then dragged her stunned body towards a nook where the stairs met the wall, not quite a corner, and supplying the most shelter from eyes in the bar.
"Now, then, would you mind telling me who owns this bar?" Sousuke questioned as he held the girl against the wall.
[8:32:45 PM] Dusty Lens: Oh no, let me get that. Hello? Oh it's my grandma. She says to be roleplay.
[12:49:19 AM] Elgatodiablo: You know its nice that you have all that proof and all, Bacon... but I just don't believe you.
He was horrid, grabbing like that. An officer, here? here? She started hyperventillating, as he dragging her into a dark corner...She was going to be raped...she was going to get raped..
"Now, then, would you mind telling me who owns this bar?" Oh. Just that. Just That..Mai was going to kill her. If the officer didn't, first.
"Mai, Sir...Sir, she owns the club, sir..Mai owns it." She pointed a finger at Mai, a brightly lit form dancing serpentine through the crowds. "Can I..Can I go, sir?"
Sousuke let the girl go without so much as a word, his gaze fixed on the woman at the front of the room. Sousuke's heart burned with a hatred deeper than the Honshu seas, not for the girl herself, but for what she represented. His hatred burned for the lives she had altered, the change she is bringing to Kusari, the Kusari he had left to fight for, and had hoped to return to, but had only found a disheveled, broken shell of what it used to be.
Sousuke stopped moving, not ten feet away from the woman the girl had pointed to. He looked upon her, examining her, not doing much to hide his distaste. He saw her, her skintight leggings, her revealing top, her gaudy jewelery, his heart burned hotter, seeing now its true enemy. She turned her head and locked eyes with him, sensing something not quite right.
[8:32:45 PM] Dusty Lens: Oh no, let me get that. Hello? Oh it's my grandma. She says to be roleplay.
[12:49:19 AM] Elgatodiablo: You know its nice that you have all that proof and all, Bacon... but I just don't believe you.
When he walked in, she'd given him a nod. It was a wonderful irony, his suit. Done up and perfect, proud, imperial. She'd expected him to look settle right in, collect a few admirers for his costume. Order a drink, something.
It wasn't a costume.
She started breathing heavily, sweating...her eyes darted around. Panic set in.
She whispered: "Ok, ok, Mai..You own this bar. You own the club. You have every permit. You've militants in the back, and are surrounded by your people. If it goes badly...Here, a fight's on our terms. Relax, Mai."
Sousuke took a step towards the supposed owner of the bar, but was stopped short by a weight hanging on his right shoulder. An orange-lipped woman hung off Sousuke with both arms, apparently attracted to his dull golden coat. She stared into his face with black shadowed eyes, barely open from the drugs that colored her lips.
"Oh, how cute, a uniform!" she began, attempting to be seductive and tugging on Sousuke's arm, "Come dance with me, soldier, I want to dance!"
"Let go of me, witch," Sousuke responded, ripping his arm from her.
"Witch!" she shrieked, calling quite a crowd, "Now, darling, why would you call me that?"
"Because you are a witch, and nothing more," he responded with animosity, "And I do suggest you refrain from touching me in the future."
"Why would that be?" the woman asked, reaching for Sousuke again.
Sousuke put his entire palm on her face as she rested it on his shoulder and shoved her to the ground. Sousuke walked out of the club. Attempting to speak to a lion in it's den wasn't often the smartest idea anyway.
[8:32:45 PM] Dusty Lens: Oh no, let me get that. Hello? Oh it's my grandma. She says to be roleplay.
[12:49:19 AM] Elgatodiablo: You know its nice that you have all that proof and all, Bacon... but I just don't believe you.
Traditions are incredibly powerful. They hold families together, strengthen nations, and form the foundations of our society, our every day lives. Everything, in Kusari, is bound by the force of tradition, of a chain of a million lives stretching back from each one of our own. But to argue that traditions, in and of themselves, are good and pure, or that any specific tradition is the best possible tradition, that tradition should be unchanging and set, is the hight of arrogance. Any man, or woman, who refuses to accept that he could be wrong is wrong, simply by declaring he is always right.
And so comes the hypocrisy of the Kusari Empire. The empire refuses to admit even the possibility that its traditions could be wrong. It declares that they have merit and value simply because they are tradition. Because this is how we have always done things, there can be no better way. We, as a people, are not perfect. Our ways are broken, in any of a hundred places. Our society disvalues basic human rights in favor of the horrid and dark. We are trapped in a tradition of accepting tradition, and its a cycle that will ruin the entire people. We cannot survive under the current system, and so often, we refuse to even acknowledge that there are other systems.
The empire is fighting its visionaries, murdering its leaders. It is a beast turned on its own head, refusing to accept any new thoughts. It is stagnant, and it is dying. And it is in open revolt. It must change.
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