The Second Archon War, Imperatrix Uberosa 4 (Patreon)

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Glancing outside his office window, Prime Minister Nakamura frowned. Once again, the sky was cloudy, and thunder rumbled faintly. It did not appear natural, as usual, with an odd purple tinge to flickering light. This time of year, it should have been clearer, with the cold weather bringing less rain and clear skies as fall took hold.

This year had been different. First, Leviathan, who had brought torrential rains and flooding to most of the islands, and now this. Everywhere in Japan, the lingering thunderstorms with odd lightning were increasingly reported.

Ever since She had arrived.

He turned back to the long and exhausting meeting as his ministers argued on.

“-complete control over all of Kyushu, and now most of Shikoku and now parts of Chugoku and Kansai!” the Minister of Transport was ranting, pointing to the map pinned to the wall.

“Are not those the areas most affected by the attack?” the Minister of Justice Ishihara pointed out. “Those are the areas we lost control of anyway in the evacuation. She simply moved in, and gave the needed aid and support this government could not.”

“What concerns me is the number of our Sentai that are pledging themselves to her!” The Minister of Parahuman Affairs, more commonly called the Sentai Bureau ranted. “Half my teams have rededicated themselves to her!”

“Does that surprise you?” Ishihara countered. “None of our Sentai forces could stop Leviathan, not even the Elite. And she’s doing what the Sentai failed to do for years: she’s rooting out the Yakuza, destroying them utterly.”

“Yes, and you should be ashamed!” another minister said, pointing an accusatory finger at Ishihara. “She is holding executions! Public executions! Without your ministry's approval or warrant!”

“She is subverting the government and the rule of law!” another minister pointed out.

“The Sentai had broad legal powers already, and I have granted her an official warrant as a deputy of the Ministry of Justice. Her executions are now sanctioned retroactively,” Ishihara said, pulling out a paper and holding it up.

That caused even Nakamura to let out a cry of outrage, though he held up a hand, and the rest of his cabinet quieted quickly enough. “You are out of line, Minister Ishihara. This is a gross violation of your powers.”

“Apologies, Prime Minister, but I believe these actions are necessary,” Ishihara said, bowing to Nakamura. “Lady Raiden has done what the Sentai could not. She has done what the government could not. She has defeated Leviathan, restored order in regions ravaged by disaster, crushed the criminals, and prevented looting. She is the Spirit of Japan, come to save us, and I will do all in my power to aid her.”

“If we had just waited for Alexandria and the protectorate, we could have-” the Sentai minister began, but in a display of extreme rudeness and a complete breach of protocol, Ishihara interrupted him.

“To lean on the Americans?! Again!? After they abandoned us, after they HUMILIATED us? They would have caused more problems! The American sentai have been present at most Endbringer attacks! Tell me, how many have they stopped? None! And yet, Lady Raiden has only stopped the attack on Japan, but slain the demon kaiju! She is the one we should look to, not gaijin!”

“You go too far,” Nakamura warned. He’d been forced to take on Ishihara in his cabinet, despite his own moderate political views and Ishihara’s extreme nationalism.

But ever since the Americans had been forced to pull back as even they reeled from Endbringer attacks, a collapsing global economy, and internal strife brought on by rampaging capes, sentiment in Japan had turned increasingly hostile towards the USA. Japan had not forgotten its defeat during World War II, and while many like Nakamura recognized that since then the US had extended the hand of friendship to Japan and been far more magnanimous in victory than Japan deserved, they were becoming an increasing minority.

“And you do not go far enough! We have an opportunity! A chance to make Japan great again, for our nation to once more be recognized as-”

“You would have us go back to the days when we were a military junta ruled by maniacs who led us to ruin!”

At that point, even Japanese politeness broke down. These men were exhausted, barely sleeping since the start of the attack nearly 10 days ago, and had been under enormous stress and strain. The Diet was still deadlocked about what to do, and was of little help, with the nationalists like Ishihara raving that Japan should embrace Raiden as some sort of new shogun, while the left wingers wanted her gone, and the moderates were caught indecisively in the middle.

Just then, there was a loud knock at the door, and Nakamura bellowed, “QUIET!”

They had told everyone they were not to be disturbed save for an emergency, so this had to be dire indeed, and not just midmorning tea. When the Cabinet had quieted themselves and sat back down, a junior minister hastily went to open the door.

Nakamura’s pale-faced secretary entered, bowing hastily, then rushing over to whisper into Nakamura’s ear.

What he heard turned him purple with rage. “THEY WHAT!?”

“It’s true, sir. It’s on the news now,” the Secretary said. “The US Ambassador called half an hour before the announcement, but you had said not to be disturbed so-”

A TV was turned on, and Nakamura watched as the image of a PRT press secretary came on, a very irate looking Japanese anchor in the corner of the screen explaining what was being said.

“-again, the American PRT has publicly announced a Kill Order on Her Excellency Raiden, Savior of Kyushu. Ever since that fateful day, Her Excellency has worked tirelessly to rebuild Kyushu and the surrounding affected regions of Shikoku, Chugoku and Kansai. However, the Americans are claiming that Raiden represents an existential threat to humanity, and must be stopped, calling her a warlord who is seizing-”

“Turn it off,” Nakamura growled, his hands clenched into fists. He found he was standing, glaring at the television, his face aflame with anger.

“Do you see?” Ishihara asked, his own voice trembling with reflected anger.

“Yes. For once, I think we are all in agreement, yes?” Nakamura asked.

The jerked nods from around the table and angry faces told him all he needed to know.

“Invite Raiden to Tokyo. I will meet with her myself. This is a Japanese matter, which will be dealt with by the Japanese. Not by meddling foreign governments. I want a very strongly worded letter sent to the American embassy by- no. Summon Ambassador Christopher. I will have words with him in person. Draft an official announcement that we condemn this impeachment on our sovereignty, and that the Japanese government will deal with Raiden and her illegal actions ourselves,” Nakamura ordered.

The ministers all went into action, and the announcement that would label Raiden as a criminal went out.

And the countdown to the collapse of the Japanese government began.

Once, Waikiki Beach had been the premier tourist destination in the world for those looking to relax and experience the near perfect weather of the Hawaiian Islands. Now, Alexandria was helping with clean-up operations, again.

Like most islands, Oahu had been hit hard by the coming of Leviathan, with frequent storm surges. Though the Endbringer had never visited Hawaii, the aftershocks of its attacks and the global downturn of tourism had devastated the shoreline and economy both.

Perhaps with Leviathan slain, things would turn around for Waikiki. A small silver lining that many of the residents of Oahu wouldn’t live to see.

Grunting, Alexandria lifted up another bit of rubble, grimacing at the body she found inside. It had been a week, and the smell was atrocious, but she tried not to let it bother her. She could, of course, have simply stayed at the PRT base, or even just flown aboard one of the ships of the Pacific Fleet that were even now heading towards the East China sea, but she preferred to do something productive.

A cheer arose, and Alexandria looked up, smiling. The locals had certainly been appreciative of her help, as the several colorful leis around her neck testified. Then, she saw what the cheers were for, and her blood ran cold.

A golden figure was lifting a section of rubble not far from her, and rescue teams rushed in. There had been a pocket, and somehow, several people were still alive. The crowd applauded wildly, shouts of “Thank you, Scion!” or “The Golden Buddha!” echoing through the tattered streets.

As had been reported, at least Scion wasn’t naked anymore, though that in and of itself was a concerning development in some ways. How much time did they really have left? Their predictions said decades yet, but, well, the predictions hadn’t accounted for something like Raiden.

For a moment, the golden harbinger turned and looked at Alexandria, and she nearly forgot to breathe. She forced herself to smile and wave. After all, Scion was a hero in the eyes of the public, and so was she. Until that dark day came, she had to preserve that illusion.

Then he was gone. Flying up into the sky, to do another “good deed” somewhere else on the globe.

Shaking her head, Alexandria got back to work.

Sometime later, as she was helping to shift more rubble, a voice called out to her.

“Hey there, beautiful. Fancy going to a lu’au?”

She looked down to see a smiling golden haired man looking up at her. Unlike Scion, however, seeing this man brought a genuine smile to her lips. She set down the rubble carefully, then floated down.

“I don’t know, I was holding out for a hero. Have you seen one?” Alexandria teased.

“Damn, I would get a mirror, but I’m fresh out!” Hero laughed. He jerked a chin at the rubble. “You set for a break? Some of us actually can get tired, and I’m pretty worn out.”

“I suppose. I thought you were on Maui?” Alexandria asked, sitting down next to Hero. “Though a lu’au seems in bad taste at the moment.”

“Well, we can at least get dinner and enjoy the sunset. Split the bill of course, wouldn’t want anyone to get ideas,” Hero said, putting a hand to the side of his mouth and looking around.

“I suppose. It’s been a long day even for me,” Alexandria said. She waved to one of the local capes. “Honu! I’m knocking off. Be back in the morning.”

“Mahalo to you both! Take a break, you deserve it!”

Alexandria nodded, and she and Hero both lifted off into the sky together, his jet boots surprisingly quiet. “New model?”

He nodded, grinning. “Just finished them! You know me, always-”

“Tinker,” Alexandria said with a groan, then laughed. “So, do we go as Alexandria and Hero, or Rebecca and Wyatt?”

“Neither!” Hero took out two pairs of glasses from a pouch, handing one to Alexandria. “Full body disguise! I call ‘em the Groucho!”

That brought another laugh, and Alexandria smiled. Even in the darkest of circumstances, Hero always could get a laugh out of her. “That sounds nice, actually.”

They changed at the PRT offices, then left wearing the glasses, looking like two tourists from a bygone era. They walked to a local diner one of the local officers had recommended and sat down, completely anonymous. It was nice. While Hero could slip into anonymity as Wyatt Jones, Rebecca Costa-Brown was well known enough that it was hard to have a quiet dinner alone.

“Ooo, a Loco-moco! Never tried one of those before. What are you having?” Hero asked, looking up from his menu.

“I’ve always liked sushi, I’ll try the poke bowl and have a Diet Coke.”

“What, you on a diet? Thought you couldn’t gain weight,” Hero teased, and Alexandria stuck her tongue out at him. The waitress came by to take their orders, then collected the menus and left them with their drinks.

“So,” Hero said, his tone growing serious as he set down his beer. “Raiden.”

“Hmm?” Alexandria looked up, baffled. Shop talk? This wasn’t like Hero. When he took time off, he took time off. No one worked harder or longer, but he was one of the biggest proponents of the secret identity and separation from being a hero. He had more than once voiced his disapproval that Alex didn’t ‘take time off’ as Director of the PRT wasn’t exactly a proper civilian identity.

“Don’t ‘hmmm’ me. A kill order, Alex? What the fuck.”

That got Alexandria to blink. In or out of uniform, she rarely heard Hero swear. “I thought it was obvious.”

“The hell it is!” Hero kept his voice low, but his tone was angry. Furious, even. “Alex, she killed an Endbringer. We should be throwing the woman a ticker tape and erecting statues in her honor! Not putting a bounty on her!”

“And killed millions in the process, not to mention assaulting Fancy Feet. He nearly died, he’s still in recovery with a concussion. And she’s clearly got a god complex and is turning into a warlord who’s more dangerous every day!”

“Is she? It looks to me like she’s stepping in and providing order and stabilizing a region. She’s from freaking Nagasaki, Alex. How hard is it to believe that someone who grew up with A-bomb survivors would be a little upset with American intervention in her backyard?”

“I can’t believe this. You’re defending a narcissist warlord who killed more people at a stroke than any parahuman before her, and could set us back to the stone age!”

“And I can’t believe you’re alienating someone who could give us a chance against HIM. You saw today, didn’t you?” Hero demanded.

Alexandria’s stomach did a flip flop, and she looked away for a moment. “I did. But we’re supposed to be the good guys. We’re not talking people who are an existential threat. You’re the one who’s always helping me remind Eidolon and Legend that the ends don’t justify the means.”

“And you’ve been in this business long enough to know that sometimes, no matter what you do, actions have unintended consequences, and as much as we hate it, people die because of us. Do you think I should go to prison because I fried that family in Denver last month?”

“You had no way of knowing they were in that basement. And you had to take out Bubonic as fast as possible, because the deaths were mounting every second that monster was alive. Don’t compare yourself with her.”

“Well, I still can’t sleep at night, and a fat lot of good my plea of ignorance did for the Bennings,” Hero said quietly, playing with the ice in his glass with his straw.

Alexandria sighed, leaning back against her booth. “Are you going to go public with this?”

“Do I look like an idiot?” Hero said, snorting derisively. “No. I just wanted you to know I think this is wrong. We can still rescind the kill order. Try to mend the bridges. Raiden’s maybe the biggest hope humanity has had in a long time. Maybe she could even stand up to Him.”

“And maybe she could destroy any chance we have of fighting him by stripping us of our technology. It’s not a risk I’m willing to take, and neither was the Doctor,” Alexandria said, shaking her head.

“I’m not saying I don’t understand your reasoning. Just that I think you’re making a mistake, Alex,” Hero said, meeting her eyes steadily.

She nodded slowly. “Understood. Complaint registered.”

“Good.” Hero suddenly smiled. “Hey, how about dessert too? We could get shaved ice! Always wanted to try real Hawaiian shaved ice!”

And just like that, shop talk was over. Alexandria let the conversation move on, but she felt a seed of doubt within herself now. This was the right thing to do. It had to be. Because if they were making a mistake…they might just be giving up their best shot at taking out Scion and preventing the end of the world.

But she had made her choice. She was saving the world. She had to be. She was Alexandria. And upon her shoulders, rested the burden of the world. For a few minutes, she tried to set down that burden, and enjoy a dinner with one of her best friends.

Because soon, she’d fly off to war again.

Like most of southern Japan, the city of Matsuyama had been hit hard by Leviathan’s assault, with the local populace losing power, and one local gang trying to seize control. With the Sentai Elite mostly wiped out prior to Raiden’s arrival by Leviathan and the rest of the Sentai scattered and exhausted, one gang, the Rengo-Kai, had seized control. They had possessed several rather powerful parahumans, including a Master who had been able to dominate birds to the extent that he’d named himself Hitchcock and not only had a very powerful spy network, but could also enhance various birds to attack others. While he could only control about a dozen killer fowl at once, combined with a couple of Brutes and a very powerful Blaster who could enhance the kinetic impact of objects to the point that she could make a pellet gun into a handgun, and a rifle into a rocket launcher.

They’d ruled the city for about 24 hours, sowing terror and executing the local police chief and mayor.

Then Raiden had caught wind of them, and they’d lasted about five minutes, because that was how long it had taken her to track them down.

The birds may as well have been gnats to Raiden, who could not only move far faster, but had swatted them out of the sky with precisely aimed bolts from the blue that had killed them and then their creator in short order. The first Brute, who was about a two tonner with mild shaker powers that let him create small shockwaves. Raiden had simply disarmed him, by the experiment of cutting off his arms. The other had surrendered, being rather less powerful, and had lived through the fight.

The blaster might have been able to imbue bullets with enough kinetic force to destroy a tank, but Raiden appeared to consider bullets to be somewhere on the side of “far too slow” and had found her efforts entirely laughable. When it became clear that Raiden could both dodge and deflect projectiles that weren’t literally as fast as lightning, the blaster surrendered. She, along with most of the gang, had been taken alive.

Now, however, Raiden seemed to be set on making an example of them, and Kenta had come along with her to see justice done.

The gang members, capes and normals alike, were lined up in the city square, hands bound behind their backs, forced onto their knees.

The capes at least seemed to expect they’d be allowed to swear allegiance to Raiden. Kenta, after all, now known publicly as Mushu, was known in the parahuman community as a yakuza member, and he now stood at her right hand. Other capes with checkered pasts had been allowed to swear allegiance as well, though there was one key difference:

In the crisis, they had put aside their villainous tendencies, and helped.

“Come on, let’s get this over with. I’ll swear allegiance. I’m strong, you know it! I’ll be a good asset,” the brute said, looking up at Mushu.

He looked to Raiden, who was facing the crowd. “These individuals stand accused of grievous crimes: that they have violated the dictates of Eternity, and committed the grievous crimes of banditry, murder, rapine, use of a Vision against the State, and treason against Eternity itself.”

For some reason, Raiden insisted on calling anyone with powers a “vision holder” and powers “visions,” and so far no one had been dumb enough to argue with her.

“Is there anyone who would speak in these men’s defense?” Raiden demanded.

“No! They killed my son!” one distraught man cried, holding up a picture of a young man in a policeman’s uniform. “We demand justice!”

The crowd murmured their agreement.

“Very well. Then I find the accused guilty. For this, there can be but one punishment,” Raiden said.

Kenta stepped forward along with several sentai who had sworn allegiance to Raiden, including Kaiga, who was looking faintly green. They all had authentic katanas, and were dressed in rather traditional looking kimonos, with the purple eye with triple bladed helix emblazoned on the back as Raiden’s personal heraldry. Kenta drew his sword, his expression grim. This could have been him.

“What!? You can’t do this!” the brute cried, standing up and breaking his bindings, despite them being reinforced. He roared, his skin glowing slightly as he rushed towards Kenta.

That was expected, and Kenta transformed. Not, thankfully, into a little dragon. It seemed that if his powers kicked in outside of combat, he’d turn into a gag character. Inside of combat, they worked as well as ever. His skin scaled over, and he breathed out fire, slamming the other parahuman to the ground.

He raised his sword, or rather, Raiden’s sword. The blade crackled, and he brought it down, hard. He wasn’t exactly a kendo master, but he had decent aim. After a couple of chops, he’d separated the man’s head from his shoulders. He picked it up, then held it up. A few of the others were fumbling, and several of them, especially the former Sentai, looked sick, but they did as Raiden had instructed.

“Such is the fate of all who defy Eternity,” Kenta bellowed, his breath coming out hot enough to singe the hair of the dead man. “Let all who would rebel against the Almighty Narukami Oshogu be warned now: such is the fate of traitors!”

There were a few gasps of shock from the crowd, and one woman, the former deputy mayor, stumbled forward, looking outraged. “This is not right! There was no trial, no investigation, no judge!”

Raiden gave her a cold stare. “Do you dispute their guilt? The time to plead for their lives was given, and you did not give voice.”

“No, I…I saw that one kill Mayor Fujimoto myself, but…surely…this cannot be justice!”

“This is the dictates of Eternity,” Raiden said simply, and turned away, walking to the edge of the square.

There, Kenta saw Kenichi, a mousy looking man who was some sort of engineer, and one of Raiden’s most fervent followers. He bowed to Raiden, motioning to a place he had marked, and a pile of steel girders had been placed.

“It is not good for the people of this city to be deprived of the blessing of Eternity. Therefore, I return to you your electro now,” Raiden declared, and raised her hands.

The steel girders crackled with power, rising into the air and molding themselves into the shape of a tree. Lightning struck from on high, and the metal turned white hot. Within moments, it cooled, and as it did so, a tree of living metal bloomed: a sakura tree, covered in sparking purple blossoms, roots diving into the earth and pumping power into the electrical grid.

Around them, traffic lights flickered on, and the hum of power filled the city.

The horror of the crowd turned instantly to awe, and Kenta shook his head slowly in admiration. He understood this from his time at the Yakuza. The bosses would bring harsh punishments, but could also be magnanimous. The carrot and the stick. Raiden had a deadly strick, true, but the blessings she offered were nearly incomparable.

The bodies were disposed of, and Raiden held a feast, offering up food for the hungry citizens of Matsuyama. Despite offerings of meat, the fancy desserts he knew she loved, and other choice offerings, Raiden refused all by the meanest bowl of rice for herself.

“Until all our people may sleep with full bellies, I shall not partake of more than is necessary for sustenance,” she said.

Kenta himself took only a little rice, though he would have to eat more later. He needed to fuel his powers somehow, and while it didn’t all come from calories, when he was weak and hungry he struggled to use them. He glanced at Raiden, frowning when he saw she’s barely eaten even the rice. “Don’t you need to eat?”

“Gods do not sup upon dishes as mortals do. We enjoy the act of eating, and the vessels which we inhabit require a small amount of sustenance, but this is not what sustains us. Instead, we live upon the offerings and prayers of our followers,” Raiden explained.

Off to the side, Kenta noticed Kenichi writing furiously. The man had recently shaved his head, which was an improvement considering he’d been balding, and was dressed now in something similar to Buddhist monk’s robes, complete with the straw hat, though that was now hanging loose on his back as he carefully wrote down Raiden’s words. The main difference in the wardrobe was the addition of the same three spoked helix, the same as the one on Kenta’s own kimono.

“All this,” Kenta said, gesturing to his robes and twin katana, as well as the very traditional mats they knelt on as they watched the citizens receive the meals and go to sit under the blossoms of what was being called the Thunder Sakura. “Are we cosplaying or something? Are you trying to found a religion?”

“These are connections to the past of Japan. To truly embrace Eternity, one must know your roots. The past must be inextricably linked to the present, and thus to the future as well. I shall bring about a land unchanging, unswayed by the storms of this world. No more will Japan be adrift in the sea of time. It shall be as the Sakura: ever renewed, blooming anew again and again.”

Kenichi’s pen scribbled furiously, and he looked up at Raiden with a gaze of pure religious ecstasy. He was far from the only one. Already, paper prayers were being hung from the lower branches of the sakura tree, and several young women had put on miko’s robes. Before long, Kenta knew a shrine would be constructed here. He had never given much of a damn about religion, and particularly not shinto. He was half Japanese, but to most people that made him all outsider. So why should he care?

Kaiga appeared from out of the main government hall, running forward to where Raiden sat. She abased herself as before the Emperor, which as far as Kenta was concerned was only right. The Emperor was some stuffy old man with no power. Raiden was the most powerful individual in Japan, if not the entire planet.

“Your Excellency, urgent news!” Kaiga gasped, holding out a sheet of paper. “The Americans, they, they have…”

Raiden took the paper and read it. As she did so, the sky overhead darkened. There were always clouds that formed wherever Raiden went, but now thunder rumbled, and lightning flashed at her ire. “So. They have shown themselves for the snakes they are.”

“The kill order…you will be in danger, your excellency!” Kaiga said, looking up with horror in her eyes. Like most of the surviving sentai, she had decided to devote herself utterly to Raiden to make up for the shame of her inability to save the people on her own.

Raiden snorted, and with a small flash incinerated the paper. “Let them come. This would not be the first plot against me, nor the first foreign power to attack me. Tell me, what do you know of the American god?”

“American god?” Kaiga asked, and looked to Kenichi, obviously baffled.

“America is a godless land of heathens that worship only money and power,” Kenchi said, bowing.

“That’s a load of bullshit,” Kenta snapped. “Even I know that! They’re Christians.”

“Christians. What is the domain of this Christ?” Raiden asked, sounding ominous. “He has declared war on me, and thus shall pay.”

“Uh, pardon, Raiden Shogun, but…there are many Christians the world over. The headquarters of theirs is in Rome, Italy. But…their god is not like you. He is dead,” Keiga explained.

“Ah. Then he is like Orobashi no Mikoto, whom I slew many centuries ago. Then these Americans are of no consequence, for they have no god to protect and guide them,” Raiden said dismissively.

“That’s a mistake. Don’t be an idiot,” Kenta told Raiden. That drew gasps of shock and horror from Kenichi and Keiga, and several other listeners cringed, apparently expecting a smiting to unfold.

“Oh? Explain,” Raiden said, her voice calm. She didn’t appear angry, and Kenta breathed a sigh of relief as he continued.

“The Americans have the most and probably most powerful capes in the world. What you’d call Vision Holders. Alexandria is practically invincible, can move faster than a jet, and slap around an Endbringer almost as well as you. And she’s not even their strongest. Eidolon is probably the strongest cape in the world. As far as I can tell, his powers are ‘yes.’ I don’t know all the details, I don’t think anyone does, but he can have whatever powers he wants at any given time, whether that’s shooting lasers out of his ass, hitting nearly as hard as Alexandria, or reading your damn mind.”

“I see. They sound formidable,” Raiden said, her brow furrowing slightly.

“I’m not even done. Legend actually CAN fire lasers out of his ass, or anywhere else, and those suckers are seekers. You can’t run or hide from him. Then there’s Hero, who’s a tinker and his power is also basically ‘yes.’ He makes everything from jetpacks and rayguns to weird stuff I don’t understand. And those four are just the big names. America’s a big country, and they’ve got hundreds, maybe thousands of capes running around. So don’t go acting like them putting a hit on you isn’t a big deal. You get your ass killed, and we’re all up shit creek.”

“How dare you!” Kenichi snapped, bristling at the crude words. “Watch your tongue when speaking to her Excellency!”

Raiden held up a hand, forestalling Kenichi. “Mushu is my familiar, and has the right to chastise me. After all, even a god is not infallible.”

“Of course, your excellency,” Kenichi said, bowing to both Raiden and Kenta. “Forgive me, honored familiar.”

Kenta bit his tongue, barely avoiding telling Kenichi he’d honor him with a boot up his ass if he called Kenta a familiar one more time.

“As for assassins, let them come. Many have braved the Lightning’s Glow before, and few have survived. Mushu is one of the few,” Raiden said, picking up her bowl of rice and nibbling at it.

“To be fair, I had an Endbringer to hide behind,” Kenta said with a chuckle. He glanced down at his own empty bowl and made a face. He definitely needed to eat more later.

Seeing his expression, Raiden picked out a bit of rice from her own bowl and held it out to Kenta. “Even the demon beast was poor shelter against the Musou no Hitotachi. Here, my pet. For you.”

Kenta blushed, taking the gesture as more of one a lover would make. He couldn’t deny Raiden was an extremely attractive woman, and he was more than a little infatuated with her. Of course, she really did see him as more of a pet than a peer, but he was too prideful to realize that just yet.

He took the rice, blushing and muttering, and causing Kenichi to scribble on his paper furiously. Was the man writing a religious text or a fanfic?

They hadn’t been eating long before Raiden looked up, then stood, holding a hand out to Kenta. “The Kusanagi no Inabikari.”

Mushu handed her the sheathed blade, and a moment later, three figures landed in the square in perfect formation. The leader was a tall, somewhat thin man in a white sentai uniform, a golden sash about his waste. He was Yoshi, also called the Morning Star. His powers allowed him to create ropes of pure light that were practically unbreakable. At his right dressed in green was Jugan, a powerful Brute and Master, who could enhance his allies’ strength and durability to nearly his own level. And the third was called Ryusei, a powerful pyrokinetic dressed in red. All three wore some tinkertech hoverboots, standard issue for them as Sentai Elite.

“Raiden!” Yoshi called. “Word has come: a warrant for your arrest has been issued by Prime Minister Nakamura, in response to the American Kill order.”

“What crime am I accused of?” Raiden demanded, speaking loudly. She gestured to the feast around her. “You interrupt the people at this meal, in celebration of the liberation of this city.”

Jugan stepped forward, looking at where the heads of the gang that had oppressed the city were. “Is that the scum who killed the mayor and attempted to take over?”

“It is. I have rendered my judgment. They were traitors, murderers, and thieves. Tell me: where was the arrest warrant for them?” Raiden asked, her voice calm, her scabbarded sword held at her side.

“Raiden Shogun, your crimes are as such,” Ryusei said, their voices distorted and muffled by an electronic scrambler. Even before Ryusei could speak, the crowd erupted in outrage, many of them stepping forward in protest.

“She has saved our city!”

“She defeated Leviathan!”

“Gave us food!”

“Turned the power back on!”

The sentai elite didn’t flinch back, but the crowd was growing restless and angry. Polite and rule abiding these people might generally be, but they were also frightened and Raiden had been the only source of stability for them. The shouts grew angrier, and the crowd pressed closer.

“Enough.”

Though Raiden did not raise her voice, it cut through the angry shouts, instantly granting silence, if not calm. People were still restless, and the crowd shifted, eyeing the three sentai with disdain.

“Your crimes are as such,” Ryusei repeated, reaching up to pull off their mask. To Kenta’s surprise, the face that was revealed was that of a young woman, with short hair dyed red, and angry burn scars marring much of her face. Her voice was hoarse, as if it had been damaged by flame as well. “These people speak true: your crimes are that you have defeated the greatest threat Japan has ever faced, protected her people, fed them, clothed them, and restored power.”

Yoshi removed his own helmet, revealing a much more familiar and photogenic face. He gave Raiden a grim smile. “There can be only one punishment for such behavior.”

As one, the three Sentai reached up and ripped off their own symbols from their uniforms, tossing aside their helmets. Then they knelt, one fist on the ground. “We swear our allegiance to you, Raiden!”

A small grin played across Raiden’s lips, and she nodded. “Very well. Kenichi! Come. I have a missive for this Prime Minister. It seems there is yet more to do. Mushu, see to the new members of the Shogunate.”

Kenta blinked, turning to Raiden. “Shogunate?”

“Did I not tell you? Raiden is but the first part of my title: I am the Raiden Shogun. God of Thunder.”

Kenta grinned, and raised both fists in salute. “Banzai! 10,000 years for the Raiden Shogun!”

“Banzai!” the crowd echoed.

In Tokyo, Prime Minister Nakamura felt his flesh prickle. It was as though someone had just trod on his grave.