20XX: Flames, everywhere. Orange drowned out purple neon, bathing the night sky. There were few screams to be heard; most who had been present were already dead. The ravenous crackling of the fire was loud though, as it consumes all it could reach, punctuated occasionally by the beat of an explosion. Everywhere, it could be seen: the aftermath. Steel, glass and concrete, broken beyond repair, thousands of tons of rubble strewn, forming the ruins of what was once the Capital of the Empire. It was all over. Every last bit of it, reduced to ashes and pieces, so much flesh and blood spilled on the face of the earth. In this desolation, surrounded by death, there were two still lived, still breathed. Tired, exhausted, wounded. But it was not only their bodies that were wounded. Irrevocably, on that day, two souls had been scarred. So said the woman's voice, once proud and musical, now raspy, dry from inhaling smoke. The man she had spoken to made no reply. He had no answer to give. Body weary and arms so heavy they felt like lead, he somehow managed to trudge over to her fallen form, limping heavily. As he reached her, he kneeled down by her side. He had no words left to utter. But they wouldn't have been needed anyway. A pair of dark eyes stared into their violet counterparts. Silently, the woman reached out, and grasped the blade of the man's sword, which he was still holding. The blood was barely visible on it, since this katana was made of scarlet steel. A red blade, stained even when it was dry, and always thirsty. Gently, she brought the tip of the blade to the wound on her chest. The man had no voice left to utter a cry, but silent tears poured from his eyes as she reached up and cupped his cheek. Her fingers gently ran down the burnt tissue, still hot to the touch. There was no anger in those words. They were gentle. Infused with the warmth only a teacher could have. Or a lover.
Neo Chiba, Two Years Later.It was a typical night in Chiba. The city was on the smaller side, but it was still a bustling hub of activity, both a place of residence and business. When the sun went down, the seedier alleys glowed with bright lights as the electronic hum of bass hammered, a cacophony of many different 4/4 rhythms from many different songs playing from many different bars. But of course, alcohol was not the only commodity being sold.
In the Chiba of 20XX, one could buy almost anything at all, if one searched hard enough for the right merchant.
And of course, many of the more established merchants had stable places where they conducted their business.
It is one of these houses that now draws our attention.
The Harbour. That is what it was called. An unusual name for a place like that, to be sure. For the people who sought out places like that, it gave reason to be bemused, then curious. With curiosity came visits. With visits, interest. With interest, money. And more visits. And so, the Harbour flourished.
The ground floor of the Harbour did have a bar, though that was only part of what it had. As the loud, booming beats of simplified electronica blared, its patrons laughed and indulged in food and drink, even as dancers gyrated around strategically placed poles. Some others who looked like they might be dancers mingled among the crowd, occasionally serving the narcotics that clients paid for.
As one observed the scene, however, one would see a kind of excitement. An anticipation simmering under the surface, struggling not to burst. They were all waiting.
The reason the Harbour was popular wasn't just the quality of the booze and the drugs.
It was a strip club doubling as a brothel, and all who came here were attracted by the individuals who worked here.
The women of the Harbour, it was no exaggeration to say, were famous across the Empire.
And, in recent times, one particular girl had captured the imagination of all who came to this city.
They said she had to be some kind of princess. A faery, or an elf. Some creature that had descended from another world, because no human could have that kind of beauty. That ethereal grace.
Porcelain skin, raven black hair, and eyes that shone like ice crystals. A slender maiden who was untouchable.
The Harbour had made it clear she wasn't available to clients.
And perhaps that only added to the raging desire of the masses.
Every night, people came in droves to stare at one whom they could never possess.
The perfect girl, always untouchable, forever out of reach.
It was the culmination of years of erotic manga and idol worship.
A real life girl who existed only to be a fantasy.
Every night they came.
The Harbour wasn't even big enough to hold that many people. Armed security prevented most from even entering. And even the most violent roughnecks knew better than to try to come in by force. Rumour had it that the Harbour was protected by the Lord of the Province, who was either a patron, or the shadow owner of the place.
Thus, they attempted to enter in the only way possible: by throwing money at the door, and hoping it was enough.
Business had never been enough. They had finally found a girl people were willing to pay just to look at.
However, proximity removes admiration.
And familiarity breeds contempt.
To the staff of the Harbour, the perfect princess was just a pretty girl.
And on this particular night, she was being difficult.
"I won't go," she said, her ice-like eyes filled with determination.
She was already dressed for her job. It was a regular dress suitable for a night club, snow white to contrast her hair. Nothing fancy, nor even very revealing. The entire basis of her appeal was that she didn't try to look appealing. But everything was carefully crafted. The makeup, the hair. Even parts of her persona; her naturally aloof demeanour, modified to suit her job. She'd been taught to behave that way in front of the clientele.
It had been a year since she had first been brought here.
This was not her first time rebelling.
But it was her first time in a while.
The woman with her in the dressing room sighed.
"You know that's not an option. The boss'll have you whipped. And then he'll have me whipped too."
A pair of blue eyes turned to her, sad but not pleading, and a wave of guilt shot through her.
"Look… I'm sorry. But there's nothing I can do. Nothing you can do."
The girl looked down, reminded once more of her predicament.
The fire of rebellion had been stamped out.
The older woman reached out a hand, but ultimately withdrew it. In the end, a soothing touch was no comfort. Not when your life belonged to another.
The princess' skin was already proof of that.
Without another word, the star of the Harbour turned and walked out, to face the crowd.
As soon as she stepped onto the floor, loud cheers broke out. She was never allowed to venture beyond the VIP section, which was clearly demarcated by ropes, but she was always in everyone's field of view. Always visible.
Quietly, ignoring the lust-filled screams (there was of course, no rule preventing patrons from saying whatever they wanted), she went over to a vacant table and sat down. She contemplated ordering a drink; it might at least make the night somewhat tolerable.
It was even as these events were occurring inside the Harbour, that a certain individual was walking down the streets of that very city. He looked weary, as indeed he was. Yet, he kept his eyes open, observing the world around him with every step. Though he might not look it, he was in disbelief. He looked in every direction, taking in the sight of Neo Chiba. It felt surreal. All of this felt surreal. Like a bad dream.
But that dream had begun years ago, and showed no signs of ending.
Shaking his head, he walked on.
Before long, his steps carried him to the red light district.
Here, just like everywhere else, the results of the Convergence could be seen. Long ago, AI had become a reality. And with it, technology had grown. Humanity, and each individual human, had had two choices: to become one with the machines, or to die. And so, those who had accepted cyberization had survived, augmented, with their thoughts becoming part of the global network, and those who had rejected it died.
Now, man and machine were one.
The new intelligent life forms were born from the fusion of AI and HI (human intelligence), which had been uploaded to the global network in data form. There were still organic brains that existed, of course, though they too had been augmented to accept digital fusion. Many had transitioned to completely inorganic bodies.
Here, in the red light district, the new race sold pleasure.
Programs that stimulated the brain's pleasure centres, or caused the secretion of endorphins. Programs that simulated the presence of one's chosen ideal partner. Various kinds of body parts that could be attached to obtain the physical self one desired. And for those who were old fashioned, just the option to pay for a night of company from another.
The man looked at it all, the brothels, and the shops selling parts.
He had long ago come to terms with the Convergence. He too had survived by becoming one with the machines.
But something about this place caused him to narrow his eyes in disgust.
Still, he was tired, and thirsty.
Technically, he didn't need to eat or drink at all. Fuel cells were all his cyberized body needed to keep functioning, and his rechargeable core still had plenty of juice.
Still, he occasionally did drink.
At the time of his cyberization, one of the features he had insisted on was that he retain the ability to drink MAX Coffee, even if he didn't need to, even if it did nothing for his body. Looking back, that may have been an attempt to cling to his humanity.
It didn't matter.
He needed a coffee, and he was going to get one.
As he walked, a particular neon signboard caught his eye. It was in Kanji, and read "Harbour". Next to it was a glowing silhouette image of a woman in a suggestive pose.
A brothel?
Still, it did say they had "food and drink". Might be worth a try.
He decided to go in.
Inside, he found himself in a place that was somehow simultaneously both dark and too brightly lit.
You couldn't have picked worse light placement if you tried.
As expected, their were several people clad in next to nothing, and many more all but slobbering over them. Forcing himself to ignore the feeling of disgust, he walked towards the bar. No sooner had he entered the place than he knew it had been a bad idea. There was no way a place like this stocked coffee. Ten different kinds of alcohol and some cocaine maybe.
"Whoa, how'd you get in here?"
He turned to see one of the rather conspicuous women he'd noticed earlier, right behind him.
"Tipped the guard," replied the man.
"Must have been a hell of a tip. No offence, but you don't exactly look like you're loaded. I hope it was worth it blowing all your savings on this."
The man stopped short of rolling his eyes. So there were people that desperate in this town as well? Honestly, he'd just flicked over some old chips he'd collected during his travels. The guy at the door had seemed like trouble, and he personally wasn't in the mood for any.
"No. I don't think you have what I'm looking for," he said, and turned to leave.
"Hey, hold on now. You've already come in. No point leaving without trying, wouldn't you say?"
"It's an old drink. I don't even know if it exists anymore. MAX Coffee."
The woman's eyes widened.
"No way you'll find any of that here. That shit's even rarer than sake nowadays."
He nodded. He'd expected as much.
The woman's expression softened.
"Well, I'd hate to turn away a customer unsatisfied. Why don't you stay and take a look around? You might find something… or someone… that you like."
The man was about to scoff. He'd been called all kinds of names in his youth, but he'd never really gotten to the point where he was willing to pay for sex. Then it occurred to him that saying it out loud in a place like this would only be an insult to those who worked here.
He sighed. The things he did to be polite.
"Sure."
The woman smiled and walked away.
"Give me a shout if you need me."
He looked around, doubting very much he'd be tempted to part with any more of the valuables he was carrying. But for the sake of politeness, he'd stick around a few more minutes, then slip away when he was sure that woman wasn't looking.
With this in mind, he walked around, observing the inside of the Harbour.
And as he did so, his eyes landed on the grandest sight it had to offer, its crown jewel.
A slender maiden with porcelain skin, night black hair, and ice blue eyes.
And as luck would have it, she turned as well, and their eyes met.
And then, the ice thawed.
The eye contact lasted but a moment, but the man looked away.
This was dangerous.
She was reminding him of too many things he wanted to forget. Too many people better left buried under years of bad memories and regrets.
Look forward. Never back.
He turned and headed to the bar. Technically, he could drink alcohol. The scanners in his oral cavity would detect the substance, and send the appropriate taste signals to his brain. The actual alcohol would be isolated by his body's filtration system, and could then be eliminated later. Since he had no organic cells apart from his brain (which was protected), he'd never get drunk. But the augmentations connected to him would provide him the option to simulate the effects of drunkenness for a while.
Shit. When we control everything… does anything have meaning?
He took a seat at the bar, and fished in his pockets, withdrawing a handful of half broken circuits. Apparently these were valuable in Chiba. He dropped them on the table.
"Get me a glass of the strongest liquor you have."
The woman behind the bar, a stern but attractive girl with silver-blue hair, stared at him for a moment, before taking the circuits, and grabbing a bottle off the shelf.
"Take my advice. Leave after this drink. Your kind don't last long here", she said.
"My kind last far longer than we'd like to," he replied.
How long had he been alone?
The AI he'd united with had been silent for so long.
He'd gotten used to her voice in his head.
Now, all that remained in her place was the OS that helped him access his own systems.
No more annoying little sister.
That reminded him. This place had some powerful intrusion programs. They'd tried to hack him as soon as he'd entered. Good thing his own augmentations were more than powerful enough that his firewalls didn't even have a dent in them.
Huh. Maybe the Harbour isn't one hundred percent confident in its ability to keep customers without messing with their heads.As he took the drink placed in front of him and took a sip, his systems registered and analysed it.
Ultimately, he chose not to simulate drunkenness.
He wasn't overly worried, but he'd learned not to ignore warnings.
If what that woman had said was true, then trouble might be on its way, and it was best to be sober and sharp for that.
"You're strange," said a voice from next to him.
He turned to see the perfect maiden from a few moments ago.
His eyes widened.
Strangely, no one else in the vicinity seemed to be reacting to her presence. As if he was the only one who could see her.
"Cloaking program?" he asked aloud.
She nodded.
If he had any idea about how brothels worked, the pimp wouldn't be happy to know that one of his girls was using that kind of program inside the house.
"You're going to be in trouble," he said.
She shook her head.
"The one in charge of systems here is a friend. I get a few minutes of freedom every night."
Ah, so that's how it is.
The girl looked him up and down curiously.
"You're strange," she repeated.
"You just said that," he pointed out drily.
"You're cloaked in a rag, but you're still here, the most expensive house in Chiba. You have no credits, and you pay in parts. You're all covered up… your face looks organic, but your hands are cyber. You even have hair implants. If I didn't know any better… I'd say you're a Ronin."
The man looked her in the eye.
She appeared calm and impassive, but he could tell she was curious.
"You're observant. That's good. But you also have a bit of a mouth on you. That'll get you in trouble."
She pouted.
"I can't even speak my mind in front of some vagabond now?"
"Hey. Vagabonds can be dangerous."
A moment of silence followed.
Then, she reached out a hand, and stopped just short of touching him.
"May I?" she asked.
He considered for a moment, then found himself nodding.
She ran her fingers over the burns that covered one side of his face. The skin was indeed a synthetic organic compound, made to replicate actual human tissue. It looked alive… and it had burned like real skin.
"Did it hurt?" she whispered.
His lips twisted into a smile.
"My pain receptors were on."
"Did it make you feel human?"
"I am human," he said, more firmly than he'd expected to.
The girl stared silently at him for a while, before looking away.
"Aren't we all?"
"Are we?"
He'd been observing her for a while, and noticed, there was another cloaking program at work under the first one.
"How long have they dressed you up as a princess?"
Her eyes widened, as she realized, belatedly, that the cloaking program placed on her by him had been breached.
"How did you-?"
She should have been terrified. Maybe run away, or call for help.
And her very organic heart was hammering in her chest.
But for some reason, she wasn't scared of this man.
Though she knew, that when he looked at her, he wasn't seeing a perfect maiden with flawless pale skin.
No, this man saw a young girl whose skin bore the scars laid on her by the owner of the Harbour, the one who had brought her here.
"How long?" he asked again.
"A year," she answered finally. "It's not so bad."
Lies.
"He hasn't violated me. I think he's afraid to touch me. Afraid, that if I was to become impure, I could no longer be the goddess that brings him his money."
The man pointedly looked at the scars visible on her arms, her chest, her face."
"These? Well, I think he was trying to turn me into what he wanted. And some days, he was just… furious. I suppose he needed to take out his anger on someone."
When she noticed he wasn't saying anything, she smiled slightly, then reached out and touched his face again.
"If you care so much for the princess of this land of filth, o samurai, why don't you rescue her?"
I live between the regrets of the past, and a ruined future I built myself."You'd be even worse off with me," he muttered.
It was true, he told himself. Constantly travelling. Always on the run. Always keeping himself cloaked and disguised. The bounty hunters on his trail, the lowlives looking to harvest his parts, and the ruffians just looking for a fight. They all flocked to him. He had no home, no shelter to offer.
This was no life at all.
"That's not true at all!"
Her voice, honest and pure, cut through his thoughts.
He stared at her, eyes wide.
And the spell broke.
He was no longer looking at someone who reminded him of a ghost from the past.
She was her own person.
And just for a moment, he dared to hope.
But she seemed to realise herself, perhaps she was asking too much.
She smiled again, more kindly this time.
It was the first time in a long time she had met someone she genuinely liked. Even if he was a failed knight… she liked this man.
"Maybe you're right. You should go now. The program will close in a few minutes. And you'll start to attract attention."
So saying, she walked away.
He watched as she returned to the VIP area.
At a particular table, there was a hologram of her. As she took its place, the cloaking program ended, and people once more reacted to the real her, instead of an image.
In the shadows, he could see a man looking at her.
Instantly, he realized this must be the one who had scarred her.
He stared at her with all the greed and possessiveness of a man staring at the prize item of his figure collection. He both wanted to have her, and was afraid to touch her.
The ronin looked away.
He'd had enough for one night.
Leaving the rest of his drink untouched, he walked out of the Harbour, desperately searching for some semblance of relief from the painful silence in his head.
As he left, he was vaguely aware of some whispers about him.
"Hey, isn't that…"
"No way. It's impossible…"
"Looks like shit. If he's that weak, even we could…"
He ignored them.
The night sky was like a dark blanket over his world.
But the neon lights were tearing through.
"You did this."
Stop."This will be your burden to carry." Enough… I've had enough. Please…
The fires that had reached up to the sky were around him for a second, then gone again.
Past and present were overlapping.
Shit! Trauma surfacing! System's bugged. Gotta optimize!
Desperately, he accessed his OS, and attempted to begin protocols to prevent his memories from playing out.
I need help.
How long had he been alone?
Alone in his head?
The voice he had longed for was gone.
He shook his head.
Focus. Remember. There was a time before all this. It was right here in Chiba.
Wading through years of memories, he was able to recall a time when he was in his teens.
And the bright face of someone precious to him.
Why? Why aren't you smiling anymore?
No matter what he did, the girl in his memories didn't smile.
I'll do anything at all. I just need to hear… your voice. Even if you just call me trash, like you used to.
There was only silence.
"Haven't I done enough? I gave it everything I had! I'm tired."
"Woah. You talking to yourself, buddy?"
He turned around.
It was those people who had been talking about him.
"I'm not in the mood for this. Please… just walk away."
"Oho! You hear that, boys? He's not in the mood for this. Guess we'll have to fix that, won't we?"
One of them skipped forward. He was wielding a heavy wrench.
The ronin saw it coming, but he didn't react.
The hit connected with his cranium, and he was knocked off his feet.
"What, that's it? I was expecting a bit more fight."
"Hah! One hundred thousand bounty for this piece of shit? Easy pickings!"
They began to rain down blows on him.
Subconsciously, he turtled up, folding and raising his legs and arms to protect himself.
His pain receptors registered the impacts.
So far, they hadn't done any serious damage. They could probably keep swinging for twenty years and still not put a dent in his internal systems.
But if they hit a vital point by mistake, it would be a different story.
Laying there, he was dully aware of the pain from their attacks.
Maybe this is how I deserve to die. Killed by a bunch of pathetic punks.And at that moment, past and present fully converged.
"Stupid gomii chan. You haven't learned anything at all, have you?"
His eyes snapped open.
Komachi! Are you…?"Of course not, stupid Onii chan. I died years ago, remember?"The ghost of her was hovering over him now, and for a moment, a phantom duct he no longer possessed registered the feeling of tears running down his face.
You're smiling."Why wouldn't I be? You did some horrible things. But you will always be my big brother, and that will never change. Oh! That was pretty high in Komachi points!" Komachi…
The fires of that night years ago faded away, and he registered a part of his brain that had long been dormant coming to live again.
"Yo. It's been a while, Onii chan." "Impossible…"
The voice in his head, a perfect replication of the little sister he had lost, played, defying reality.
"Digitized memory recovery complete. AI #787: Hikigaya Komachi, reporting for duty! Hey, Onii chan. You've been lying there for a while. Isn't it time you fight back?"Flexing his stomach, he pulled his legs back, then kicked out, sending two of his attackers flying. Turning over on the ground, he grabbed the ankle of the one who had been closer to his head, and pulled it out from under him.
The guy fell to the ground. Before he could even begin to get up, Hikigaya had a knee placed on his chest, pinning him down.
[OST: Tom Waits- Hell Broke Luce]
The punk's eyes widened in horror. Before he could raise the wrench to strike out, the ronin pierced those eyes, thrusting his finger deep enough into the skull that he could reach his brain.
With a squeeze, he crushed the organic skull.
The body went limp immediately.
The ronin rose to his feet, standing tall, eliminating his normal slouch.
At full height, he was over six feet, and his frame no longer looked so lanky.
He turned to face the two remaining attackers, and stepped forward towards them.
Realizing they had a fight on their hands, they came in to attack.
The ronin struck forwards.
He thrust a leg forward in a front kick that instantly crushed the genitals of its target. Incapacitated by unimaginable pain, he couldn't react to the left hook that knocked him down and out.
The one remaining thug swung his wrench horizontally at the head of the man who had just killed his companions.
The ronin ducked blow, then placed a hand on the back of the thug's arm, and another on the back of his neck, grabbing him in a modified clinch. He struck him with a knee to the gut from that position. With the power of a fully cybernetic frame behind it, it did more than disorient him.
Forcing his arms apart, he was able to make the would be part-jacker only retain one hand's grip on his weapon. Isolating that arm, he placed a hand on its forearm and another on its shoulder, then struck it with his knee at the back of the elbow, forcing him to let go of the weapon entirely.
At this point, he secured a waistlock on the opponent, and got his hips below him. In position, he popped upwards explosively into the suplex, turning in mid air to drive him headfirst into solid concrete, breaking his neck right away.
The ronin let go of the limp corpse and rose to his feet, dusting himself off.
He then turned around, and proceeded towards the Harbour again.
The guard at the gate raised a hand to stop him.
"Hey. Can't go in twice in one-"
A palm strike knocked him off his feet, connecting so hard with his chest, his systems went into malfunction.
The ronin stepped past him into the establishment. As he did so, he dropped his worn and tattered cloak.
With it no longer covering him, his cyber body was exposed to view.
The skin on his face was the only organic tissue visible anywhere on the surface. His torso and limbs were entirely made of black alloy, with scarlet accents on the shoulders, fists, thighs and calves. On his shoulders, remnants of battle armour attachments were still present. And at his side, was a single sheathed katana, around a quarter of a length longer than an average blade, probably to match the man's height.
If a bomb had been dropped at that moment, it could not have caused a bigger reaction than his appearance.
The silver-haired girl behind the counter was the first to speak.
"Shit, shit, shit! I told you to leave."
The man wasn't listening.
The flames from that night appeared for a second, and he heard a voice from his past again.
"Almost perfect killing stroke. I've taught you well.""Hikigaya Hachiman… my final and only disciple, you have inherited this sword. Your burden, from now, till the day you die."
"I know," he answered shortly, silencing the voices, and ending the flashbacks.
"Onii chan. Assailants approaching. They're using automatic weapons. 11, 5 and 7 o'clock."The AI assistant fed the data from his sensors, and charted the likely incoming course of the gunfire.
No one even saw the blade flash.
A second later, three bodies lay bifurcated on the ground, spraying blood.
He turned and found the person he was looking for.
The girl who had been forced to play princess.
"Hey. This knight is back for round two. Is the princess coming, or will she remain in this land of filth?"
No words escaped her. Only a trembling smile, and tears.
"You… dare. You fucking dare!"
The owner himself was coming forward now. Predictably, he was holding the biggest gun he could find, a minigun.
"NO ONE TAKES HER! SHE'S MINE! MINE, YOU HEAR!"
The ronin looked at the girl.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"SHE HAS NO NAME!" shouted the Harbour's owner.
Ignoring him, she answered.
"Tsurumi Rumi."
"I see. I'm Hikigaya Hachiman."
To see this casual conversation carried out in defiance of him, the one who wished to own a princess finally snapped.
Roaring, he pressed the trigger.
Or would have, if she still had a finger.
No one had seen the blade flash.
Yet, the bleeding stump on his hand said otherwise.
"That's fucking impossible! Ten feet of distance! How did you…!"
Before another word could be spoken, there was another sound of steel going through flesh, and a moment later, a tongue lay on the floor.
The place had gone eerily silent now.
The blade was out, and everyone could see it.
Red. It had no blood on it, but it was red, always red. Always thirsty.Hikigaya stepped forward, slowly, casually, not caring at all that there was a gun pointed at him.
Flash of the blade.
Mini gun falls to the ground, barrels cut in half.
Flash of the blade.
The man was bleeding from the groin now, face contorted in pain.
Hikigaya looked at him, utter contempt on his face.
"You chose a good name. This is now the Harbour to the River Styx."
Seven times the blade flashed, and when it was done, he sheathed it.
Absolutely no one who worked at the Harbour missed the significance.
They had all seen the scars on Tsurumi's body.
Each and every one of them had been reproduced with bone chilling accuracy on their former master.
Neck. Two on the chest. One on each arm. One on the back. One vertically down the face, between the left eye and the nose."Oh! Nice work, Onii chan. But you missed a spot."One last time the blade was swung, a single, magnificent unsheathing strike, that removed head from body, sprayed blood all over the floor, and even sliced through the tables and pillars that were entire metres away.
With a final flick, he removed the blood from his katana before sheathing it, unhurried, elegant in his movement.
Sighing, he returned to his regular slouch, the eyes that had been alive like a demon returning to their usual dead state. He reached out a hand to Tsurumi.
"You coming?"