Shiro 2015

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By Ben. Originally posted on x_project.



Shiro was a fan of Akira. An engaging plot, wonderful writing, and stunning art. All the things a great anime needed. But as much as Shiro idolized Katsuhiro Otomo, he never wanted to actually live in Neo-Tokyo. But after years of warfare between rival Yakuza clans, and then between the survivors and the secret society known as The Hand, the once magnificent capital city of Japan was a dystopia. Between the mutants who now controlled the Yakuza and the mystic ninja of The Hand, ordinary people had no hope. Efforts to rebuild had left Tokyo an Asian Gotham City; still apparently prosperous and highly populated, but riddled with crime and more corrupt than any American jurisdiction.

Balancing on the balcony railing on the top floor of the tallest skyscraper in the city, Shiro sighed heavily. Fifteen million people lived below him. How many of them were honest? How many of them really worked hard to provide for themselves and their families? How many were worth saving?

He'd learned the answer to the last question many years ago: all of them. While most of his dreams had died as he grew older, Xavier's Dream still meant the world to him. It wasn't his place to judge who was worthwhile and who was worthless. In the eyes of the law, everyone needed to be saved. If he forgot that rule for even one instant, then it was time to turn in his leathers.

But that didn't mean that the guilty should not be punished. While it wasn't Shiro's job to actually correct the guilty, it was his duty to turn them in. And there was one person in Tokyo who needed punishment more than the rest of the city put together.

"I expected your arrival many years ago," said a booming authoritative voice behind Shiro. "Do your own people not warrant your consideration anymore, Yoshida-kun?"

"I hoped for once that you would save your people and your city, Harada," Shiro responded, not turning around. "It pains me to see that you have let your greed and cowardice lead you down this path. What is the point of wielding so much power if you only use it to advance yourself at the cost of others?"

"Again, you speak on matters of which you do not comprehend." Harada's voice was like steel, cold and hard. When he was younger, Shiro would never have dared to speak like this to his cousin, but times had changed. Neither of them were the people they used to be. It was time Harada understood this.

"Your sister and my sister are dead at your hands," retorted Shiro as the cool winter air became stiflingly hot. "You did nothing to save Onee-san from Matsu'o, and Leyu-chan was caught in the middle of a crossfire between your men and The Hand." The metal banister he was standing on began to glow orange-red. "You were instrumental in the destruction of our capital. You cannot deny it. So either surrender quietly or deal with me. And I can guarantee that the outcome of that will not be a pleasant one for you."

Shiro turned carefully to face Harada, not surprised to see his cousin clad in his brilliant silver armor. His brown eyes flashed dangerously from behind his mask as he drew his katana from its sheath. The blade shined in the moonlight, bathing the two of them in an eerie white glow.

"Then let us see how Charles Xavier has trained you, Sunfire," taunted the Silver Samurai. "The winner gets Japan."