Chapter Four—National Coalition of Organized Protests

Three years ago…

Maybe it was because he was a military man—and had been most of his life—but Ichiro didn’t feel like he had a swan in this stream.

He was a civilian now, so logically he had as much of a stake in what the future would bring as the rest of the citizenry—something his training should have made him aware of.

Or rather, more invested in.

Ichiro knew full well that on a logical level, he should be as worried and outraged as the rest of the people, but instead, he followed along as an observer, a watcher from afar.

There were millions of people out on the streets in every region of the country, protesting Empress Akamine’s decrees.

And everywhere Ichiro looked, there were police and soldiers in thick cordons, ready to act. They were concentrated in the cities, but even in rural districts protests were raging on, fueled from a grassroots level.

As the military lockdowns tightened, forcing many to be without work, so did the aggressive action of the protestors in getting outside and voicing their confusion and concerns.

Ichiro didn’t like so much noise—at least not this kind. He didn’t mind the noise of battle, of dying men and guns being fired.

But crowds of people chanting or angrily shouting, wore him down quickly.

Right now he was up on a hilltop overlooking Capri Asuna, the city so named for its two founders more than two-hundred years prior. How Ichiro knew that, he had no idea, but perhaps the city had some military relevance he had long forgotten about when he was at the Imperial Academy.

The main thoroughfare was devoid of cars because of the lockdown, so now the streets were being used as walkways. The associated press had said that today there were nigh on two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand protestors in this district alone.

Pockets of violence had erupted, but were quickly quelled, mostly by the NCOP internal security forces, of which consisted of little more than men and women who kept an eye on things, but they carried neither weapons nor the authority to make arrests.

And the NCOP certainly had no prisons for particular unruly protestors. It was for this reason that these men and women were working closely with the regional and national police forces.

Some people complained that that was a conflict of interests—and perhaps it was, but the NCOP had no other choice but to work with the police—who were largely on the Empress’ side—when dealing with these issues.

A bad mix if ever Ichiro saw one.

Something about the crowd changed.

It was hard to tell, but Ichiro noticed a slight upheaval, a slight change in the pitch of the chanting crowds.

Something was wrong.

But what?

When the fires started climbing the Overwatch Building, the police began to intervene. And then the military.

The massive surge of crowds swarmed across the road and through the city. On the airways, Ichiro listened as reports of violence from the entire district erupted.

“Firebombs!” the radio host said. “The protesters have brought firebombs and some are mixed within the crowds wielding knives and pipe bombs.”

An explosion rocked the streets ahead.

Ichiro was in the park up on a hill, a place that was relatively out in the open, and so because of this, he was somewhat safe from stampeding protestors screaming in fear for their lives.

The police launched teargas, then stun grenades. Before long the entire city block was a fog of violence and chocking fumes.

When automatic weapons fire tore through the crowd at the cops, he crouched low, and glanced about for his exit.

As he left the populated area and went into the forest, the mechs arrived, firing lasers and anti-personnel rounds.

It was that evening when reports of violence at the hands of the protestors was announced on the local news stations. Every single anchor and reporter said the same thing: Protestors became violent and began to attack the police, and after they got involved, the military as well.

Empress Akamine had no choice but to give her regional governors the authority to defend themselves and their precincts—for the protection of the people, they said.

But it was all too neatly wrapped up—reported with nearly the same language from every outlet. Something about it smelled like a greasy rat from out of the lowest sewers in Paradaisu. Ichiro didn’t need confirmation. It was something everyone knew—something that—even had they rejected it in words, deep down understood.

It was later that night when the empress came on the live airways and announced stricter policies concerning the military lockdowns and the full implementation of martial law.

All civilians were to stay indoors—not to coalesce into groups larger than ten people, weather indoors and especially outdoors. Leaving one’s house was forbidden except for the strictest need.

The police and the military were given the authority to detain or even kill any unruly mobs or individual dissenters that threatened the public good.