20/9/2018, A kissaten Kochi-shi, Shikoku Region
1:00 hours, cloudy, warm
September of last year seemed close at hand to Samon today. She reckoned she'd remember that turbulent autumn for the rest of her life. There were magnificent highs, pitiful lows, and moments wherein she found herself clasped between anger and fear, and through it all she'd emerged a changed woman. Stronger, smarter, and most importantly, alive and well.
But this was more than she could say for some of her comrades. She had taken holiday from her studies that fateful week to travel to Niigata, and found herself in the thick of the crowd when the first shots rang out. As she turned about, her foot caught a rock embedded in the hardened mud, and she might've surely been trampled had a figure not stepped in front of her.
He had been a striking figure to behold. A young warrior-monk from the area, clad in bright orange robes and carrying a naginata. His head was bald, his skin was tawny and gleamed in the sun, and every inch of his body was thick with taut muscle. He effortlessly planted his feet and split the flowing crowd, like a wuxia master might have parted a coursing river. Then, when the crowd had dispersed, all that stood past him was a wall of armed policemen.
He looked over his shoulder and spoke, "Daijobu?"
To which Samon could only stammer "H- Hai!"
"Good. Run."
But Samon could not. She was still dizzy, and captivated by the mythical visitor before her. Seeing this, the monk fixed eyes upon one of the policemen that was charging towards them with a baton. There was a great deal of shouting, and the policeman readied for a swing. But in place of the monk's head, the baton found empty air. Instead the monk had effortlessly sidestepped the swing, and in a moment that had been burnt into the stuff of Samon's mind, had skewered the policeman in a profusion of blood.
It was only then that she realized the gravity of the situation she'd found herself in. The monk again shouted for her to go, and this time she obliged. She looked back often as she barreled towards the trees, but the monk soon disappeared into a swarm of policemen. She never heard anything about him again.
Samon herself wondered if the whole story was apocryphal. Yet the officer had died - she'd carried his blood all the way home. Regardless, to say the incident had left an impression on her would be the understatement of ten-thousand years. She regretted not having her camera handy, but she'd painted the incident directly from memory, and analyzed it countless times.
Today, she was ready to share those conclusions. But first, a chance encounter with a friend from high school.
Fujimoto: "Yoo, Akarin! Is that you?"
Samon's eyes widened. She hadn't heard that voice in years.
Samon: "Akko..?"
She looked up from her papers, and a bewildered smile swept across her face.
Fujimoto: "In the flesh~. Long time no see, hun! How've ya been?"
Samon: "Heheh. Irreverent as ever, I see. I've been well, just somewhat tired of things."
Fujimoto: "Tired of life?"
Samon: "Just a little. I... regret to say, my father passed away last week."
Instantly, the grin left Akko's face. It returned as a very small smile as she sat beside Akari, held her hand with both of hers.
Samon: "It's... fine. These things happen."
Fujimoto: "I'm terribly sorry to hear that though... Are those papers for the procession?"
Samon: "Not quite, though they'll do my old man just as proud. They're speech notes for the rally today."
Akko seemed surprised, though she kept herself from appearing too chipper.
Fujimoto: "That's wonderful, sweetheart. I'm so happy for you. What's your platform?"
To Akko's surprise, Akari was already smiling again.
Samon: "Well... To put a long story short, love, I'm tired of tradition being the territory of the far-right. The Social Democratic party did a good job of letting Japan's culture determine its own trajectory, but ultimately these were tied to economic incentives. I'd like a worker's Japan, built by working hands, run by working minds. The new administration has done a remarkable job, and I'm angling to keep them around. But now the time has come for our peoples to take one final step."
Hereupon Akko's ears perked up. Something had changed about her old friend. She leaned closer, but in return Akari shook her head and peered out the window.
Samon: "I'll bet I could go on for hours about my ideals. Suffice to say, they come from the heart. You'll hear them proper in good time."
