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The following is a work of fanfiction: there is no intent of this author to violate, transgress, profit from or infringe upon the Copyright and Intellectual Property (IP) rights of the parent Copyright or IP holders of characters, events or locations belonging to the same which may be contained within this work. To reiterate; this is a Derivative Work meant to be used under Fair Use as described in 17 U.S.C. § 101 and § 107.

All language is either through Google Translate, or the site 'Bits'n'Bob-stones'

The Sons of Efrafa

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Okay, Service Dress blouse, jacket, and kilt? Check! Duffle bag? Check! Terminal Leave orders? Check! Con-ni-Fa's Yataghan? Check! Here goes nothing. -knock-knock-knock-

"One moment! Joseph, put that down right now! -click- Yes, can I -GASP- Jacob?!"

"M'saia Marli-fa, hlienes laya." (Hello mother, I'm home.)

Chapter 8

Within an hour, nearly everyone from the neighborhood had arrived at the home of Katarin Rautha to welcome Jacob back. The gathering soon turned into a block party; Amelia and Matilda were happily gossiping while Matilda's new husband, Alejandro Alvaredo, who brought his taqueria, was cooking up a storm. Naz Aksoy, who had successfully emigrated two years ago with her son thanks to Zootopia's extremely liberal immigration policies, was working with the Adame's to wrangle the neighborhood children, even as she half-heartedly fended off the attentions of Giuseppe Alagona, a Reman wolf of considerable charm and dubious heritage. Ilkin Kadir Demirci, who had also taken advantage of the porous immigration system, was paying court to Katarin, while she sat with her father; Constantin cradled his old sword and regaled the crowd with tales of the old country. Jacob could not remember his mother ever looking so happy, surrounded by her family. Finally, there were the venerable Mrs. Horowitz escorted by Rabbi Lowe; the nonagenarian lion was universally accepted as the defacto community leader.

Jacob did his best to be sociable, but by the third well-wisher to ask him what it was like to be in combat, his patience and calm were beginning to wear thin. What was he supposed to say, that the smell of cooking meat from Alejandro's cart reminded him of a burned out Mosque he came across during an operation? Or how he kept reaching for his sidearm every time he caught a glance of the darkened culverts along the canals? He was very thankful for the distraction when a sedan pulled up, and out stepped Jean-Pierre DuPrey and Jeannette Deaux.

As Jeannette walked over to Amelia, Jean-Pierre came over to Jacob. "I'd heard that a trouble maker was spotted in town! How are you doing Emanuel?"

"Very well sir. I've a few months of terminal leave to get myself settled in, start looking for a new job. How about yourself?"

"Well, life is certainly looking up." DuPrey said as he glanced towards Jeannette. "Also, Chief Winterhorn finally got approval from the Commissioner's office to stand up a new station house here in the Seventh; it's actually going to be in the old Commons Municipal Police building on Thurman Ave. As such, we're trying to recruit smaller officers, since this is going to be a proper police station, not a TUSK block house or SWAT Barracks. You've heard of the MII?"

"Lionheart's Mammal Inclusion Initiative? Yeah, Turret, a buddy of mine from Incirlik wouldn't stop talking about it when it passed the council vote."

"Well, it has its first graduate; a rabbit, Judy Hopps from Bunnyburrow, just started with the First Precinct this morning. If she made it, you shouldn't have any problems."

Jacob raised his paws, "Easy now, I only just started my terminal leave; I want to have a little time to myself before I jump back into a uniform."

"Not a problem, it'll be a few months before the next recruit training cycle begins. Enjoy your time, and your party."

Jacob nodded and headed back into the crowd. As DuPrey was about to dive in himself, the wind shifted, carrying the scent of cooked meat. The catamount froze in place as he strained to control his emotions. He was jolted out of his fugue when he felt a firm but massive paw rest on his shoulder. DuPrey looked up to see Rabbi Lowe looking into the wind with a pained expression.

"I was but a cub when the Nazi party seized control of the Weimar Republic and tried to conquer all of Europa. Those bloody-minded wolves preached species dominance over everyone, but especially the Eweden, and the flocks which made up the body of the people. We had always been the targets of Europan fear mongering and hatred, but this was taken to a new level.

"The flocks were gathered into camps, where we were segregated; sheep on one side, all others on another. All were worked to death, but the sheep, when they could no longer work… there was an elaborate ceremony, with…"

Jean interrupted, "With fires and chanting, the smell of burning incense and abject fear, and the cry of innocence and helplessness cut off by a knife stroke!" by then DuPrey was openly crying, though he dared not blink.

Rabbi Lowe stepped around and knelt in front of Jean-Pierre. "But we are not in that place anymore. We are not the product of such savagery; we are its survivors, surrounded now by good mammals who have embraced us for our virtues, and will not condemn us for the sins of our forefathers. Come!" he said while clapping the smaller felid on the shoulder, propelling him towards the crowd. "There is much to celebrate, and I would have you introduce me to the lovely young doe you arrived with!"

O'dark-30 is a euphemism used by many to signify any time before what is considered reasonable to be up and active; for military veterans like Jacob, however, it was the time one awoke to start the day. He had told Fivel and Boyan before he left, that the first thing he would do when he got home was sleep in. Much to his frustration, he found himself wide awake at 5:15, making his bed and wondering what he was going to do that day. Within minutes, his nervous energy demanded some form of release, and so Jacob headed out for a run; down to Abram Square, then along Canal St. to the edge of Little Yamato, and finally home; it was about four miles and should take about half an hour, by which time the household would be awake.

As he ran, he thought about some of the conversations he'd had the night before. He was still uncomfortable with the fact that Buyuk had gotten Jacobs' name engraved on his grandfather's blade, but to see the venerable hare reverently trace the line of his fathers and declare that Jacob did indeed belong among them, assuaged a great many of his personal doubts.

"Owslafa is a burden, not a calling or a title." He had said while smiling and grasping Jacob on the shoulder. "You led our people to victory in battle, in defense of a holy city, against an oppressive and cruel foe; how could you be anything other than Owslafa?" The old hare said with tears in his eyes.

From there, conversation turned to plans for the future. It turned out that Amelia had powered through her courses and was only a year away from a law degree. Janet Deaux worked directly under the Executive ADA, and as such had some sway on who was hired. Amelia had a job as a Paralegal waiting for her when she graduated from Barkley Law, and Jacob could not be prouder or happier for his sister.

This helped galvanize his decision to apply for the next recruit training cycle at the Zootopian Police Academy (ZPA). His online search on the matter netted an odd discovery; applications for ZPA admission were hard copy only and needed to be picked up from the Police administrative offices at the First Precinct. Jacob resolved to give Jean-Pierre a call and see if he would be willing to chauffeur him downtown later.

As he entered Abram Square, he noted the early preparations at the Basilica of Our Martyred Lady for the upcoming wedding of Francesca Bagnoli; he remembered her from his time at the Catholic School, and that was one shrew not even Petruchio could tame. After rounding the square and passing the Shalom el Shabbat Temple, he came to St. Augustin's Orthodox Cathedral where he was joined by Father Niko Tatapolis, who was also in jogging attire; the middle-aged Aegean goat had christened every member of the Rautha family born in Foxborough Parish and was a bit of a health nut.

"Good morning, Emanuel! Care for some company?" the priest asked as Jacob approached.

"Of course, Presbytera; I'll even match your pace, so you can keep up!" Jacob joked, knowing full well the old goat was in better shape than most half his age. They both set off for Lower Canal St. Early morning fishers dotted the canal shore, both on Upper and Lower Canal Street; Lapino's, Reman Wolves and Boars were trading friendly barbs and wagers with Efrafan Hares and Foxes and Aegean Goats on who would land the largest perch or the most trout. They paused to wave and greet the two runners by name. The smell of fresh baked bread drifted towards them from the shops on Upper Canal, while several of the factories lining Lower Canal, which had stood empty for more than 60 years, opened their doors again. Everywhere he looked, Jacob saw renewal and hope.

"Father, when did this happen; how did this happen?" Jacob asked.

The priest chuckled. "It happened over the last three years, and it was because of you, my son."

"Me? I've been gone for more than three and a half years, and before that I was part of the reason no-one wanted to open a business here; how can I be the reason for all this?"

"How could Saul, who was a zealous persecutor of early Christians, almost single pawedly be responsible for the survival and flourishing of all Christendom?"

Jacob huffed. "By being called by God to be an apostle; I was arrested and joined the LoNF. Big difference."

"Is it?" Tatapolis asked. "A miracle is when the seemingly impossible happens; no-one believed Foxborough Parish would ever again be anything other than a Zootopian slum. Then you stood up to the gangs, and the people had hope again. They believed in the community, and fought for it, and it thrived! You gave them that hope. From incorrigible gang-banger to the Hero son of Vulpington Commons seems just as impossible, yet here you are. If that isn't a miracle, then I don't know what one is."

As they came to the end of Lower Canal, they came to Usahito park on the outskirts of the Ko Yamato (Little Yamato) neighborhood, where they turned up Tenno Ave. Bridge onto Upper Canal to head back. Jacob noted several new shops bearing signage with Yamatonese swords. "Those are new." He commented to his running partner.

"Artisan swordsmiths and associated craftsmammals; they moved in last year."

"I'll have to visit them later." Jacob noticed a group of mammals leaning on motorcycles, eyeing the two of them as they passed.

Father Tatapolis noted Jacob's scrutiny. "They moved in last year, too. With the increased police presence, they don't come any farther then Tenno Ave."

"Let's hope I don't have to visit them later."

Upon returning home, Jacob called DuPrey to see if he would be available to help him in his quest to Join the ZPD; that ADA Deaux groggily answered the phone before handing it off caused him to chuckle.

"(ahem) DuPrey speaking."

"Ni-pfeffa, it's Jacob. I was wondering, if it didn't cut too deeply into your plans today, if you might be able to help me out with something?"

There was a stirring in the background and a short conversation in Cajun Patois.

"Sure; what did you need?"

"A ride downtown; I need to hit the DMV, so I can get my International Operator's License converted to a Polis Zootopian Driver's License, and I need to go to Precinct One to pick up an application."

"Hah! I knew you'd cave." Jacob could all but hear the smirk on the catamount's face. "Let's swing by the Seventh first; let you meet your future boss, get her recommendation. It'll go a long way to getting your application approved. It's not necessary, but do you have a degree?"

"I have an Associates of Applied Science in Criminal Justice Degree through the Von Clawswitz International War College." Jacob said with a certain amount of pride; his sister may be more ambitious in her educational goals, but he got his degree first.

"Good, that's better than a lot of applicants. That should put you in better standing for consideration; between that and the Chief's recommendation, you should be a shoo-in. I'll pick you up at your place."

Jacob thought a moment. "Actually, I'll be at Podanski's Deli; I smelled fresh Paczki being made as I was jogging this morning, and if I'm going to be a cop, I should get used to a cop's diet, right?"

"Cheeky brat! Just for that, you're buying!"

After letting his family know about his plans for the day, Jacob dressed for success; ironically, this involved the suit he had worn for Timo's trial four years ago. Jacob had never liked Zootopian style; dragging tailored pants and Oxford-style shirts against the lay of one's fur always irritated him, but he needed to make a good impression today. Once he arrived at Podanski's, he began the arduous process of convincing Petra and Mikhail that he was not accepting a dozen Paczki gratis. He had finally haggled them up to paying the cost of a half-dozen for the baker's-dozen they insisted he take, when Jean-Pierre arrived. Collecting his confections, they headed to the Seventh Precinct headquarters building at Block-House 13, located directly between the Foxborough Municipal Aquifer pumping station and the Aberdeen Dr. electrical substation. The 13 Block-Houses that made up the Seventh Precinct were concrete brutalist monstrosities, and alongside the city-wide network of microwave rectennas, were a stark reminder of the Tannerman Era of Zootopia.

Once inside, Jacob caught himself listening for Capt. Buyuk or W.O. Mendoza; for all the seeming mammalian chaos inside, there was a comfortable familiarity and almost military precision to everything.

"Winterhorn served in the Pacifican State Revenue Cutter Service (SRCS), before marrying and moving to Zootopia. She joined the ZPD almost as soon as she arrived and worked her way up. She was assigned Chief two years ago. She runs a tight ship; a hell of a lot better than Trotterman ever did." DuPrey almost snarled at the mention of the prior, late but not lamented Chief. "Shoot straight with her, and she'll have your back all the way."

They arrived at a fire door with the words, 'Chief G. Winterhorn', sprayed onto it using stencils. Their knock was immediately answered. "Enter!"

They entered a horse-sized space as square and Spartan as the Block-house itself. A large wrap-around desk occupied the center and right of the office, while on the left wall stood several fireproof file safes. A pair of computer monitors, a keyboard and a picture frame were on the right wing of the desk and all were turned away from the door. There was a window, which Jacob supposed, looked out over Foxborough, though he could barely see over the desk. In the center of the room sat a late middle-aged female reindeer whose summer antlers were only now coming in.

"It's your day off, sergeant. Shouldn't you be at home or out with Ms. Deaux?" Her tone was businesslike, but without censure.

"It is ma-am, and I would be, but something came up. I'd like to introduce you to Jacob Emanuel Raibert, recently of the LoNF Military Police Corps." DuPrey gestured to Jacob, who had reflexively assumed Parade Rest. "He is considering joining the ZPD; specifically, the Seventh Precinct."

As soon as she looked at him, Jacob snapped to attention. She quirked an eyebrow and huffed slightly. "Stand at ease." Jacobs shoulders immediately relaxed, though his focus remained on his prospective boss. "Raibert was it? I seem to remember a RICO case about four years ago that involved a hare named Raibert. Was that you?"

"That is correct ma'am."

"Well then…" Winterhorn steepled her hooves in front of her, "…tell me why I should consider hiring a former Happytown gangbanger?"

Jacob bristled slightly but kept his composure.

"You don't like to be reminded of your past misdeeds, do you mister Raibert?" the chief asked sharply.

"My past deeds and misdeeds are a matter of public record…" Jacob replied with disciplined calm, "…I just detest the name 'Happytown'. No one from Foxborough Parish calls it that.

"As for my consideration, if it truly is the intent of the ZPD to police Foxborough, not just occupy it, you will need mammals who are familiar with the community, not just the city layout."

Winterhorn rested her manual hooves on the desk. "Explain." She gestured to the large step stool equipped chair next to the door. When Jacob turned to mount the chair, he noted the wall around the door was festooned with diploma's, citations from both the ZPD and the Pacifican SRCS, as well as several professional portrait photographs detailing her rather long career. Jacob thought it telling that they were arranged more for her benefit, than to impress visitors.

Once seated, Jacob locked eyes with the chief. "There are six major cultural groups that live in and around the Vulpington Commons neighborhood of Foxborough, seven if you count the Zootopians who live in the Abernathy Heights and Williston Park neighborhoods."

"You don't count them." Winterhorn asked.

"Your existing cadre of officers are, mostly," Jacob glanced at Jean-Pierre, "…from Zootopia and already familiar with Zootopian culture. Issues have always arisen from Zootopian authorities neither acknowledging nor respecting the cultural differences in the rest of the community."

"I see, and the other six?"

"The Aegeans and Eweden live in the Meadows out by Abram Square, while the Efrafans, Lapinos and Remans live in Poco d'Arago around Upper Canal Street. The Yamatonese are all in Ko-Yamato, west of Usahito Park and Tenno Avenue. Aside from the Yamatonese, the communities all have a long, inter-related history that I don't think either of us has time to go into."

"What about species, predators and prey?" She raised an eyebrow when Jacob bristled again.

"What about species? The old Reman Empire spanned all of Europa, from the Balkans west, as well as Anatolia and Northern Africanis, and so included all the species found throughout the empire, while the Yamatonese are largely made up of four species linked through a Byzantine network of cross-species marriages meant to unify them as one people. As for Tannerman's propaganda language, Zootopia should have abandoned it in '64 when they did away with 'Predator Behavior-Control Collars'."

Winterhorn sat back, letting her hooves rest in her lap. "You feel that Zootopia is to blame for the social injustices faced by your people?"

"I used to, ma-am. I can't say I've abandoned all of my old prejudices, but I'd like to think I'm self-aware enough to learn from my past mistakes."

The chief sat up. "All well and good, but why should I hire you?"

"Because you need mammals under you who understand the community they are serving: I do. You need someone with experience with the local gang culture, I have that; and you need to be able to put them to work as soon as they arrive. I was with the MP battalion at LoNFB Incirlik which was part of the Treaty Exchange forces, so I worked alongside the AEP as a beat-cop patrolling the neighborhoods surrounding the base; as such, all I need are the training and certifications specific to the ZPD and you could drop me right in the beat without tying up veterans to wet-nurse me through my rookie-period."

"One last question then. If I hire you, and you serve under me here in the Seventh, could you arrest someone from your community?" Her gaze was piercing as she asked.

Jacob hadn't thought about that until she asked, and so he paused for a moment.

"Yes ma'am, I believe I could, if the circumstances warranted it. Everyone is both equally protected and accountable under the law. When Officer DuPrey brought me in," Jacob nodded to the little-big cat, "…I was arraigned and sentenced, with time served for testifying. 'Do unto others as you would have them do unto you' is not just a catchy phrase to me. I also know the community, and they won't hate me for doing my duty."

Winterhorn considered Jacob for a moment, then turned to Sgt. DuPrey. "What about you, Sergeant? Do you think he's got what it takes to serve in the Seventh?"

"Without a doubt ma'am."

Turning back to Jacob, the towering reindeer leaned forward. "Tell you what, I'll do a little digging of my own today; if I like what I see, then I'll have you come by tomorrow and I'll attach my letter of recommendation to your application. Dismissed."

Jacob and Jean-Pierre saluted and left; they still had a long day ahead of them.

It was a little before ten when they reached their next stop, the First Precinct Station house in Savannah Central. Despite himself, Jacob was awed by the grandeur of the brand-new edifice. Jean-Pierre gave him a moment to gawk, then patted him on the back.

"Come along Emanuel, you'll have plenty of time to stare once you're hired on."

Once inside, Jacob noted that everything was scaled to mega-fauna, including the reception desk in the main atrium. A portly cheetah in service blues was seated in front of them, grinning at something while humming to himself.

"Excuse me, officer?" DuPrey called to the mammal before them. "Officer? Officer?!" He squinted at the mammal's name badge for a moment. "Clawhauser!"

The savannah cat jumped at the summons, nearly launching his smart phone onto the lobby floor. Compared to the military sense of the Seventh, Jacob was somewhat dismayed by this first impression of the ZPD's flagship precinct.

Once the desk officer took notice of the two in front of him, he clasped his manual paws to his cheeks. "O M Goodness, another cute little bunny…" At the frustrated look on Jacob's face, he looked somewhat apologetic. "Oh, I'm sorry! I know I'm not supposed to call bunnies cute."

Jacob snorted. "If you call me cute, I'll suggest you get your eyes checked. You call me a prostitute again, and I'll scoop them out and check them myself."

Jean-Pierre tapped Jacob on the head while Clawhauser started at the threat.

"I… I'm sorry, sir!" He looked at Jacobs partner, grasping for support.

"You'll excuse my friend here. He's recently returned from abroad, and some of his things were lost in transit; his manners for one."

"My apologies, officer." Jacob said. "In my neighborhood, the term bunny refers to sex traffickers."

"Oohh, okay. So, what can I do for you today?" What he lacked in fitness, Clawhauser seemed to make up for in exuberance and a desire to be helpful.

Jacob took a calming breath. "I understand this is where I would pick up a Police Academy application?"

"Yessir! I have one right here!" Putting words to motion, Clawhauser gave him a single page, preprinted form.

Jacob paused while considering the form. "I was given a more in-depth questionnaire by the church welcoming committee about potluck Thursday."

"Don't worry about that, this will serve as a cover sheet and starting point for your clearance review. It's all digital and online; save the landfills, save the planet!" the Cheetah perked up. "Once you have that filled out with a copy of your resume, driver's license and at least three affidavits, just bring it back here and we'll get started on processing it right away. The next trainee inlet cycle is in four months, but you should know in about two."

"Thankyou officer." Jean-Pierre drew out his badge. "Could we have the visitors log? I want to show our prospective around the building."

Once forms were filled, and a temporary pass issued, DuPrey escorted Jacob around the building. As the tour was winding up on the mezzanine level, there was a commotion at the front desk as what looked like an innertube bounced up to the front desk.

"I Popped the Weasel!" A grey rabbit in ZPD blues cheered from the atrium doorway.

Jacob and Jean-Pierre could only look on in shock and dismay.

"HOPPS!" A large water buffalo roared from the other side of the mezzanine.

"Aaaand that's Chief Bogo." Jean-Pierre indicated.

Jacob blinked owlishly for a moment. "Huh, good to know. Come on, let's get some lunch before we hit the DMV."

Jacob had always assumed the tales of woe regarding the Zootopian Department of Motor Vehicles were hyperbole; but no, three-toed sloths entirely staffed the DMV. Jean-Pierre insisted that it was because of a fair-hiring initiative, but Jacob was certain it was social engineering by the city planning board; if no-one wanted to go to the DMV, then no-one would have a driver's license, thereby increasing the use of public transportation by the citizens. He'd have to invite DuPrey and Deaux out for drinks, so they could debate the matter properly.

It was nearly 5:00 when his license was ready for pickup. As he was reaching for his new city identification, the agent in front of him was interrupted.

"Hey…Priscilla."

"Yes…Flash?"

From two booths over, Jacob and Jean could hear a familiar female voice frantically trying to prevent the impending glacial conversation. Jacob was so thankful the day was almost over.

Jacob spent the evening talking to Presbytera Tatapolis and Horace Hornblower III on social media, apprising them of his choice and how the day went. While he had no doubts of the Father's support, he was pleasantly surprised when Horace offered himself as one of Jacob's character references. He also insisted that he be present to 'mediate' when he and Jean-Pierre debated the true reason for a sloth-run DMV. That was going to be one hell of an evening.

The next day Jacob walked to Ko Yamato, with a linen wrapped bundle in hand. As he had no need to be interviewed that day, he chose a utilikilt and loose linen shirt, rather than the Zootopian style. He had thought he might need to argue his case to his mother, but once he explained his plan she simply shook her head.

"These blades are your birthright. I have no doubts that you will do right by them and your ancestors. You do what you must; I'll keep Father in line."

He arrived at the row of swordsmiths, and after some asking around, some pantomime, and one thinly veiled bribe, he was finally directed to the shop of Inaba Kitsuhito, who was the master sword engraver on the street. Outside was a slight Yamatonese vixen in traditional garb, sweeping the sidewalk.

"Excuse me, miss?" When she looked up, Jacob continued. "I don't mean to be rude, but do you speak Anglican?"

She smiled and bowed slightly. "Hai!" He hoped that meant yes.

"I was told this was the shop of a Horomonshi?"

"Horimonoshi, sword engraver." She gently corrected with a bow.

"Yes, thank you. I have a blade I wish to be engraved. Is the master in?"

"Hai!" She bowed again and gestured inside, at which Jacob followed her in.

The lobby of the shop was also its workspace, and all around were both tools of the craft, as well as what he assumed were examples of the master's work, such as metal blocks with finely detailed scenes, both pastoral and martial, as well as floral and calligraphic patterns. This was the shop he was looking for, now he just had to convince the master to take on the job.

The master in question was an ancient white hare seated at a bench in the back, huddled over what appeared to be a dagger in a vice. The hypnotic sound of hammer and chisel was interrupted when the young vixen spoke quietly into the old masters' ear. Jacob was almost thankful for his time in the DMV the day prior, as the slow approach of the old hare was nothing in comparison.

Once seated, Jacob found himself under the master's scrutiny while the young lady, whose name Jacob assumed was Kitsuko from half understood conversations, prepared tea. Once everyone was settled, Master Inaba Kitsuhito spoke while Kitsuko translated.

"Grandfather wishes to know why you are here?"

"My name is Jacob Emanuel Raibert. I am recently returned from abroad and wish to have a sword engraved, as a gift for my grandfather." Jacob lay his package between them, still in its linen wrapping. He also pulled out a sheet of paper with Purrsian Cuneiform on it. "This is what I desire to be put on the blade."

There was a short exchange.

"Please pardon, but grandfather says he does not engrave tourist trinkets."

Three years ago, Jacob thought to himself, he'd have come across the table at the mammal; how times change. "Nor would I ask such of him. This is…" Jacob was cut off as the shop door was slammed open, and the shop began filling with mammals in biker pleathers. There were 30 seconds of sharp verbal exchange between Kitsuko, Inaba Kitsuhito and what Jacob assumed were Bosozoku enforcers for the local Yakuza boss. He quickly determined the raccoon-dog in the middle of the crowd was the gangs' leader, based on how everyone kept glancing his way through the conversation. Eventually they noticed Jacob's interest and lack of concern.

Their leader barked, "You, gaijin! What do you think you're doing here?"

Jacob slowly stood and turned towards the gang, the wrapped sword still in hand, interposing himself between the bikers and their prey.

"You're on the wrong side of the world to be calling anyone foreigner," there was a general gasp at that, "… as for your question, I'm here in the shop of a sword engraver, to have my sword engraved."

Jacob's calm clearly unsettled the gang, but fueled by youthful bravado, the leader of the seven-mammal strong squad pressed on.

"Oh really, well if you give it to us, we might let you walk out of here with only a few bruises." To add emphasis to the threat, the gang began drawing knives.

A lifetime of fighting and four years of training and actual combat made getting to the ringleader laughably easy, and for the first time in centuries, the Rautha blade tasted blood, if only just a taste. The ancient but lovingly maintained bronze sickle sword rested against the base of the right side of the leader's jaw, at the end of a one inch freshly shaved strip of the mammal's neck. Stepping in while keeping the sword on his foe's neck, Jacob calmly addressed his prey.

"I am here to conduct business. You are interrupting that business. I will kindly ask you, once, to wait outside until we are finished." The scent of fear and urine told Jacob that they understood. Once he withdrew his sword from the mammal's neck, the gang made a hasty and clumsy retreat.

After reseating himself, Master Inaba gestured to the blade now cradled in the black hare's arms. The ancient master reverently took the sword and began scrutinizing it, from the forge-tempered edge, to the minute cuneiform script, which covered most of the blade. Once he finished, he solemnly addressed Jacob through his granddaughter.

"Grandfather says it is his honor to work on such a blade and wishes to know where you wish the passage to be placed."

As Jacob stepped out of the shop empty handed, the Bosozoku gang met him. Their leader had apparently emboldened them, as they were arrayed in a semicircle with weapons out, a mixture of knives, pipes, and chains. The rat on his left with the chain was too close to the building's awning to get a good swing; that would be his starting point.

"Well, I waited outside. Now I think a few bruises is not enough to remind this town who runs it. Get him!" The tanuki yelled as he stepped back; his compatriots advanced menacingly.

A swift stutter step brought Jacob on top of the rat, whom he kicked in the chest; the rodent was launched five feet before slamming back first into a fire hydrant, the chain falling from slack digits. In one move, Jacob was no longer cornered and surrounded, but flanking and facing only one opponent. The pipe wielding fox was too slow to turn, as Jacob immediately moved behind him. Placing a manual paw against the canid's right elbow to control the weapon arm, Jacob looped his left arm under the fox's left armpit and across his chest to grab a fistful of neck ruff. While sliding his right paw down his opponent's right arm to the pipe, Jacob wrenched his left paw outward, throwing the todd to the ground while disarming him, and tripping the hare next to him.

The momentum of the fight stalled with the sound of a motorcycle engine, as the raccoon-dog ring-leader started to leave. Seeing half their number dispatched in less than five seconds while their leader ran, broke the fight for the remaining bikers; they promptly dropped their weapons and ran. Jacob dropped the pipe and retrieved the rat's chain, which he hurled as a ball at the retreating motorcycle's rear tire. The rider was thrown when the chain became tangled in the rear wheel and stalled the motor. Stalking over to the fallen gang leader, Jacob calmly spoke while digging out his phone.

"Time was, I would have cut off one of your ears and nailed it to a telephone pole as a warning. I'd like to think I am a better mammal now, so I will simply wait here with you for the cops to come."

"911dispatch, what is the nature of your emergency?"

Had it not been for the shopkeepers along the Yamato side of Lower Canal Street vouching for him and filing copious charges against the captured Bosozoku, as well as heaping praise on Jacob for dealing with their leader, Jacob was certain that Chief Winterhorn would have arrested him on the spot.

"I know you're trying to help the community, but if there are any more vigilante stunts like this, I will personally shred your application." She handed him a signed page filled with text. "Don't make me regret this."

Katarin met Jacob at the door when he got home.

"Emanuel, this came for you by courier, right after Presbytera dropped this letter off." The envelope bore the monogram of Bull-Horn Telecommunications.

"Narn-ni! These are some of the things I need for my application."

With a quick call to DuPrey, Jacob was off on another day of driving around Zootopia, though this time there was neither frantic rabbits, nor enraged water buffalo. Jacob was back home well in time for the church's potluck dinner.

The next morning, Jacob awoke with a new dedicated sense of purpose. As he was sitting down to breakfast, his sister came downstairs, she looked shell-shocked while addressing the family.

"Brala veth nahl! (I can't believe this!) Lionheart-rah olme zorn daynt ZPD léaont! (Mayor Lionheart was arrested last night!)

"Bleth?!" (What?!)The whole family was up and surrounding her as she showed them a live stream of a press conference on the arrest.

"The animals in question; are they all different species? Yes, yes they are."