YF should have known that Erika would reject their meeting but mentally preparing for it beforehand did not help him feel better about it. To make matters worse, with the Sentinel Office upgraded to a Ward Police Branch Office, he was still technically transferred to the Ward Police as Reina had promised but had not left Itsugo at all. The home Reina had purchased for him was an hour and half train ride away even by commuter rapid service. YF had tried calling her multiple times to confirm that he would actually go to Nishida proper later on, only to be told by a robot that the phone line had been completely cut off.

He now sat alone in his koban — the local police box stations found in Nishida and now being built in the villages — waiting for lunch hour to arrive. YF was told that he would be stationed with three others from the Sentinel office. But when the koban was built it had been empty for the entire month YF was off. When he arrived it was still empty, with the outside completely spray painted with a modernized image of Tsukuyomi, the moon goddess along with multiple characters in cursive that YF could not decipher. He was rather impressed by the mural, but he was sure at some point they would get rid of it.

There was only one window in his koban which was rather high up and completely barred off. The lighting was even worse than the Sentinel Office. YF pulled open the drawer right below his desk and retrieved a container of blood substitute pills. He then shook it a few times for good luck — something a lot of people did but as far as he knew had no purpose — and then popped two pills. After placing the container back in the drawer, he pushed it in and stared at his terminal. There was a list of video training he had to finish just like Magistrate Kuroda had said, though he could not find the motivation to start even one of them. Instead, he looked up at the digital clock, watching the seconds increment.

Back when the Sentinels were funded by donations, there were some rules on when and where he had to be but nothing like this. Walking in and out of the Sentinel Office was not regulated, and there were many other colleagues to chat with.

YF looked up at the single camera in the corner. Ostensibly it was for his protection, though he wondered if it was also to keep watch of him during his shift. Now that he was officially a Ward Police Officer, his salary increased somewhat and supposedly he had a pension. The happiness from that wore off about twenty minutes into his shift.

YF heard a knock on the door.

“Oi, keisatsu nii-san.”

YF looked at the pistol Uwada had given him sitting in his drawer for a few seconds.

“Oi! Keisatsu onii-san!” Three loud bangs on his door.

YF pushed the drawer back in and stood up slowly, walking to the front door. He opened it slowly. “Yes?”

The closest man to the door motioned with two fingers. “Come out, come out.”

YF stepped out, adjusting his belt. One thing he missed about the Sentinel days was how little they cared about what he wore. Actual police uniforms were more uncomfortable and impractical. Kuroda explained that it was supposed to instill trust in the community.

“You guys all right?” asked YF.

“Nakajima Kyohei from Nakajima enterprises wishes to send you a gift of tea as a welcoming present.” One of the men behind the closest man lifted a beautifully wrapped box toward YF. “For our new neighbor,” the closest man smiled in a way that made YF uneasy.

YF lifted a hand slightly. “We can’t accept gifts from anyone.”

The men chuckled in unison.

“Still fresh from your lectures I see,” said the closest man. “Relax nii-san, a bit of tea hardly counts as a bribe, take it.”

“What does Mr. Nakajima want in return?” asked YF, keeping his hands on his belt.

“Ah,” said the man. “He wishes you to taste the tea and come to the office to discuss the flavor.”

“Your name?” asked YF.

The man bowed by bending his knees slightly and placing his hands on them. “I am Higashikuni Masahiro, Vice President of Nakajima enterprises.”

“You mean wakagashira of the Nakajima family,” said YF.

The men around Higashikuni grew visibly tense.

“Now I know my boys and you got off on the wrong foot, Mr. Sakai Yasufumi,” said Higashikuni.

YF placed his right foot back.

“Now let’s not be hasty,” said Higashikuni, raising a hand. “Many changes are coming to our great nation. The Sentinels have become real police. The families have become companies. All things will be legitimate, and former rifts will be healed.”

“That so?” asked YF.

“Indeed,” said Higashikuni. He motioned for his underling to place the box of tea on top of the raised bed wall, where a few bushes had been planted. “Mr. Nakajima is very interested in your opinion on this tea. Please honor us with a visit.” Higashikuni bowed regularly this time, turning around and walking off down the platform. His men filed behind him.

YF watched the group with his eyes until they disappeared around the corner of another building. Just as he was about to enter the koban again, a tall dark man holding a large plastic bag full of something heavy approached from the opposite end of the platform. It only took one or two moments for YF to recognize that it was Kigali.

“Yo,” said Kigali upon arrival, holding up the bag. “Beer’s on me this time.”

“Give me a second,” said YF, opening the door and looking at the clock. He closed it. “Lunch hour started ten minutes ago but there’s no one to relieve me. Let’s just sit on the bench out here.”

“Works for me.”

The two of them sat down on the bench in front of the raised bed. Kigali looked over at the spray painted picture over the koban wall. “Sexy picture.”

“Yeah I guess. They’ll paint over it later.”

“Shame,” said Kigali.

“Don’t think the Ward Office has quite as much fun as the villages.”

Kigali rummaged through the bag and pulled up a tall can, handing it to YF. He then pulled out a smaller can, handing it to him too.

“Can’t drink this much on the job,” said YF.

“The other one’s for your eye. You look like shit.”

“Yeah I got in a bit of a scuffle,” said YF, placing the taller can down and opening the smaller one. “But I’ll be all right.” He took a sip of beer.

“Bruises don’t look fresh,” said Kigali. He took out a kara-age bento box and handed it to YF.

“Itadakimasu.” YF pulled the rubber band off and removed the chopsticks, separating them. “Yeah it happened a week ago.”

“What happened?”

“Bar fight,” said YF.

Kigali looked YF up and down. “I see.”

YF took another sip from the beer. “Better than the one I bought.”

“Well I’ve had a bit of a windfall.”

“Right.”

“Which is what I wanted to talk to you about,” said Kigali with a disturbed look on his face. “Who were the mods sold to exactly?”

“I don’t know,” said YF.

“But not to Viper Sect.”

“Does Viper Sect have them?” asked YF. He was sure nobody knew who did the job in the western wilderness, and the government would not report a failure to that magnitude.

“I’m not sure,” said Kigali.

YF expected Kigali to press the issue further but he did not. Instead, he switched the subject.

“Why are they called sects?” asked Kigali.

“What do you mean?”

“Everywhere else what the sectarians do here would be considered gang activity.”

“If you haven’t noticed, they’re slightly more sophisticated than Ardan gangs.”

“Looks about the same to me,” said Kigali.

“You never read any books about the Age of Elements?” asked YF.

“Not really,” said Kigali, shaking his head. “Tales about magic are not so useful for me.”

“There used to be Ardan sects too, you know. Probably came from Xian like everything else related to all that. In this part of the world kai and kaishu were the closest thing to religion we had other than The Way.”

“So Kazen sects started as different religious groups?”

“More or less,” said YF. “Related to the elemental techniques, or magic if you want to call it that. But of course when you get enough power — particularly to that level — it’s hard not to become political. Everyone thinks they can use their power for a little good.”

“Sure have come a long way from magic to money, women, and drugs.”

“There were probably money, women, and drugs back during the magical days too” said YF.

“And ostensibly to help the poor.”

“Yeah everyone’s heard that one,” said YF, washing down the last piece of fried chicken with the remainder of the beer. “There are a few who say that getting labor laws to apply to the villages was the doing of the sectarians. I personally think that claim is overblown.”

“Before your break is over though, I did want to talk about next steps,” said Kigali.

“I remember you mentioning the vehicle mods need to make their way into the hands of the Ward Police. Favors for further shipments I presume?”

“Something like that,” Kigali replied.

“I already talked to somebody from the Ward Office a while back about it. She brought it up to the Ward Magistrate, who shot it down.” YF recalled an image of Honda in his mind. Of course, she was scowling.

“With the way things have changed, can’t you try again?” asked Kigali.

“What’s in it for me?”

“Oh-ho,” Kigali chuckled. “Fresh cop wants a bribe?”

“Man, shut up,” YF snapped.

Kigali held up his hands. “Whoa, easy there.”

YF handed back the unopened can of beer before placing his empty can in the bag with the bento. “I need some more information on Nakajima and what he’s doing around here.”

“What sort of information?”

“For now, whatever you can give me. But things like if he plans to blow up my little office would be nice too.”

“That serious, huh.”

“Yes,” YF replied.

“So you’re going to meet with the Nakajima boys?” Kigali pointed down the road.

“It seems I’ll have to eventually or they’re going to keep messing with me, unless you can give me something in a week.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Just as Kigali spoke, his voice and all the sounds around them grew muffled. YF found his eyes wandering to Kigali’s neck, feeling a sudden urge to lunge forward. Before he could move though he grabbed his chest, averting his eyes.

“Something wrong?” asked Kigali.

“I’m…all right,” said YF, with a cough.

“You look like you need a blood sub.”

YF slowly looked up at Kigali, the urge to attack gone, but the hunger still lingering. He had just taken his daily dose the same as every other day. What was going on? “Yeah…you’re probably right.”

“Don’t worry,” said Kigali. “If I freaked out every time someone forgot to take their subs and looked at me that way I couldn’t live here.”

“I’m sorry,” YF croaked. “It’s…been an adjustment being out here.”

Kigali nodded. “I understand. Better get back to it then.”

YF stood up slowly and started toward the koban door. “Yeah…I will. I’ll come back to Itsugo Park 4 in a few days. Where we usually meet.”

Kigali stood up as well. “If you don’t see me I’ll leave a note.”

YF waved him off. “Got it”

YF stumbled back into the koban, collapsing into his seat when he arrived. He ripped out the desk drawer and extracted the container of blood subs, grabbing what would amount to a whole daily dose in his fist and popping them into his mouth. He then grasped the water glass, which was still half full the way he left it and drained the remainder in one gulp. YF’s reaction to the subs was instantaneous, the tension in his body loosening. YF suddenly felt a chill and touched his chest, where his shirt was completely damp with sweat. He looked around for his official police jacket and extended his reach to grab it with the tip of his fingers, draping it over himself.

“Hopefully nobody shows up for the rest of the shift.”

A few seconds after his breathing returned to normal, YF slowly glanced up at the clock as if dreading what he would see.

***

“There’s nothing wrong with these,” said Takamatsu, holding up YF’s container of blood substitutes.

Takamatsu was the “sub-man”, the blood sub vendor, on Kamakura Boulevard where YF grew up when his father’s shop was still operational. Every main street had one, and the rumor was sub-men were funded by sectarian money. The government never guaranteed blood subs for village level residents, a key point of tension and something the sectarians never ceased reminding people about.

“Is it because of the transition?” asked YF.

“What transition?”

“You know what I’m talking about Takamatsu,” said YF. “With the village being incorporated into Nishida aren’t they sending inspectors to stores like these?”

“The vendors will try to put that off as long as possible,” said Takamatsu in a low voice. “For one simple reason, the mandated dosage is lower than what I give you.”

YF lowered his voice to a whisper. “What incentive would your vendors have to give us more than the mandated dosage in the cities? Doesn’t make any money.”

“It’s…” Takamatsu looked away.

YF looked down the street to where his father’s business used to be. He then remembered that Takamatsu’s shop used to be across the street from there, having moved after the bombing incident. The sudden realization caused YF to stand up.

“The appliance shop—”

Takamatsu raised two hands. “I’ve said too much, but since I’ve started, you need to sit down and listen to me.

“Whether I stay or leave will be decided in thirty seconds. You’d better start talking,” YF seethed.

Takamatsu waved his hands. “I’m the victim too! It was my shop they attacked!”

“Talk.”

“I had no choice…” said Takamatsu. “My wife needed refined pork’s blood to recover from her disease. The subs were not being absorbed by her body.”

YF unclenched his fists.

“You know none of us can afford real blood,” the old man continued. “The vendors gave me a bag on the side if I agreed to thin the subs. Chiyokawa’s men somehow found out and told me I needed to up the dosage.”

YF waited in silence.

“But if I cross the vendors, where would I get the money to pay dues to Chiyokawa? Who would supply my business?”

“So you stalled the sectarians until they were fed up and took action,” YF murmured.

“The bomber was a civilian, unaffiliated,” said Takamatsu. “Officially they determined the motive as him being upset over the thinned blood substitutes. Though I think we all knew what happened.”

“So it was Chiyokawa?” asked YF. A million different thoughts ran through his head, but all with the same conclusion that Chiyokawa had to pay for what had happened to YF’s family. He started to leave.

“It was not!” Takamatsu yelled out, raising his hands. “Chiyokawa’s office was raided by the Ward Police right after, and a thorough investigation did not reveal anything. Still, he had to remove the first segment of his left pinky, and his family was disbanded. For a few weeks nobody knew where he had gone, until both the elder Nakajima was found on the ground level, seemingly having been tossed over the barrier during maintenance hour. They had to identify him through his ring. The men who had been supplying me were found similarly dealt with at different sections of the village.”

“Who were the vendors?”

Takamatsu looked at the ground, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Who else could get access to the government factories?”