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“Oh?”

“We were supposed to meet Shinigami in one more in-game day, as you know. They are definitely stronger than us. The original plan was to go to their city and meet them at the agreed upon time. You know, play by their rules. But that’s not what we’re doing now. We’re going tonight and we’ll see if we can catch them off guard.”

The humandroid thinks this over for a moment. “So, you’ve found their exact location then?”

“No, but we will, using our collective skills. That’s the only way I could think of to emphasize the differences between them and us.”

“Good. Are you hungry?” Hajime uncrosses his legs.

“Nope, I’m fine, breakfast was big enough.” His stomach grumbles in protest. He looks down at it, and back at Hajime. “Actually, maybe I could use a snack.”

A prompt appears:

“Don’t worry about it; I can get something.” Ryuk moseys into the kitchen, opens the breadbasket and pops a piece of thick bread into the toaster oven. As it warms up, the smell of toasting bread makes him aware of just how hungry he actually is. Once it reaches the requisite state of golden-brown perfection, he slathers it with Nutellé enhanced with vitamins, minerals, and soy protein. On his way to the table, he also grabs a box of strawberry Pockies. “So what are we doing?” he asks Hajime. “You asked me to log out … ”

“Research,” Hajime says, “but we’re not doing it here.” The humandroid lets his hair down and then tightens it into a man bun. “I think fresh air would do us some good.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s go to Yoyogi Park. It’s a weekday, and I don’t expect too many people to be out aside from mothers and older people.”

Ryuk grins at the humandroid’s astute observation. Most places populated during the day in Tokyo were populated by two distinct classes – mothers and their offspring and active retirees.

“Sure, let’s go to the park.”

“Good, I’ll change into something more outdoor appropriate.”

As Ryuk eats the toast and Pocky, he sips from a small can of Boss coffee. A picture of a grizzled, weather-beaten American actor he’s never heard of is plastered on the front of the can. The actor holds both hands together forming a finger gun, and is in the process of blowing smoke over the barrel. The phrase Shoot to Thrill,スリルにシュート, is written in vibrant letters above the actor’s finger gun.

Ryuk briefly checks his avatar’s progress over iNet.

The Mitherfickers are up against a rogue ninja riding a bearadillo.

Their teamwork strategies are shaping up and currently, Hiccup is using his big-o-shield to protect Zaena while she does her slice and dice act using her ghost limbs. Ryuk’s avatar is the furthest back, firing off knife marbles from behind a tree. For his part, FeeTwix is making his way around the bearadillo, to attack it from behind while it’s distracted.

The screen disappears from his pane of vision with a single thought.

He could also use his fingertips to control his iNet access screen, as every Japanese citizen now has subcutaneous sensors in their fingertips, but Ryuk usually sticks with using his mind to issue and interpret commands.

Case in point: as he thinks about the weather, a manga-inspired icon of a rain cloud presents itself. An icon tells him that it is two degrees Celsius outside and that he can expect rain in the evening. The cloud bows at him, asks him to please dress warmly and to make sure he brings both gloves and a hat, just in case the temperature drops when he is out. It then flashes an Old Banana Navy Gap Republic coupon for a free knit hat with purchase of two scarves.

“What about the guys outside?” Ryuk asks, ignoring the ad. “They’ll have to come.”

“One can come.” Hajime turns to the door. “I’ll tell them to prepare transport.”

“Got it.”

Ryuk dislikes the three additional security thugs his brother has assigned to him, not because of any behaviors they exhibit – they are generally quiet and unobtrusive – but because they were assigned to him in the first place. He wants nothing to do with the business that his brother runs for their mother, or their mother runs through Kodai, as he believes it to be. Call them a crime family, call them Yakuza, call them whatever fits the bill – The Matsuzaki family has more enemies than they do friends.

Ryuk knows that everything he possesses, from his apartment to his state-of-the-art rig, comes from well-executed organized crime.

His father was a master at it, but he also had a tendency to obliterate anyone who got in the way of his grand dream. This lead to dead friends, severed partnerships, and a couple of full-on battles that took the lives of innocent bystanders. Eventually, the way he handled business led to his death, stabbed in the back by someone he trusted dearly.

Hence, the protection.

After Ryuk puts on his thickest black hooded sweatshirt – the one with white fur-lining – he follows Hajime to the elevator and down to the first floor, where two of the security thugs, both in slick black suits, join them. The third security guy stands near the front desk.

The building’s concierge, a humandroid female with sharp bangs, bows her head once she sees Ryuk. She’s in a pressed white shirt with an elaborate black scarf tied around her neck. On her head is a small cap, put there strictly for kawaii purposes. Even though the lobby is empty, the two that were waiting by the elevator flank Ryuk and the third thug takes the front.

The entrance to the building slides open, letting in a cold gust of air. A beeping aeros transport vehicle lowers into a tight space in an alley across the street, ready to distribute alcohol to a local izakaya. An old man on a bicycle clatters by; aeros lift and lower, their whooshing a part of the background noise.

The five quickly move to a waiting vehicle.

Ryuk is funneled into the backseat and two of the three security guards stay put, just as Hajime instructed.

(0)__(0)

With Hajime in the backseat and the hired muscle in the front, the self-driven Uberyota lifts into the air. They don’t have very far to go, and they certainly could have walked there, but that would take them directly through the insanely congested Shibuya Crossing.

Not worth the risk.

The aeros settles into its appropriate skylane.

To the northwest is Meiji Jingu Shrine, a Shinto shrine dedicated to deities of Emperor Meiji and Empress Shoken, the Shinto gods hidden away behind latticed doors and hanging screens. East of the shrine is Harajuku, Tokyo’s fashion couture headquarters that has spilled into the upscale district of Omotesando and engulfed the Meijijingu-Mae Station. During the three-minute drive to Yoyogi Park, the passengers are blasted with inner windshield advertisements hawking everything from anti-aging skincare products to new aloe soda beverages at Family Mart convenient stores across Japan.

Ryuk closes his eyes, only to be bombarded by a shower of cherry blossom petals in an advertisement for a Nagoya Castle excursion. He has now experienced a cherry blossom attack in two worlds, and the oddity and irony are not lost on him.

The aeros lands at one of the many entrances to Yoyogi Park and the three exit the vehicle.

A man in rags sits on an overturned bucket at the park’s entrance. He plays a makeshift drum set made from discarded objects that are all painted red. His chin is like that of a baboon; his lips in desperate need of chapstick. A few foreigners have gathered around him, slurping from venti-sized McStarbucks coffees to keep warm.

To the left of the park’s entrance are the restrooms and a snack stand offering everything from ice cream to salted caramel popcorn. Pigeons peck at the bases of the picnic tables opposite the food stand; a few larger crows scan them from the lower branches of the surrounding Gingko trees, swooping in to steal a morsel as opportunity allows.