Content Warning: Psycho Shatter 1988: Black Vice X Weiss Vice contains content that some readers might find disturbing, triggering or uncomfortable. This includes sexually explicit activities, strong language, hateful language and slurs, extreme violence, violence against children, vore, extreme racism, genocide, and a wide spectrum of grotesque or otherwise disturbing content. Reader discretion is advised.
Psycho Shatter 1988: Black Vice X Weiss Vice
Atrocity 11: The Power of Nippon Imagination
Part 1: Revengeance of the Rising Sun
For all the changes and prosperity that came to the world in the wake of the second World War, none were touched with such grace as Japan. A nation that was wholly and utterly destroyed by their internal avarice and the military might of the Americans had blossomed into the second largest economy in the world. It was an absurd notion. A cluster of tiny islands off of the coast of China, bereft of so many of the resources required to maintain a modern nation. How could that ever become a notable economic power, let alone mightier than even the Soviet Union?
The narrative they like to push is their hard work, determination, and economic planning all allowed them to uplift themselves into such prosperity. Yet such a feat would be impossible if they were left war torn and deprived of all. They received aid from Americans, who forged them into an ally, wrote their constitution, and positioned them as a showpiece for the merits of capitalism over communism. And if the growth they enjoyed over the past four decades is anything to go by, those merits were damn strong. In fact, they were so good at capitalism they were making the Americans scared.
This economic miracle made them a glowing pillar across all of Asia, but their reputation among their neighbors was far from positive. Much like the Americans, Japan had spent much of its history attacking nations beneath it. Suppressing their people, raping their women, killing those who were simply in the way, and attempting to conquer all of Asia under their flag. Their brutal assault during the second World War was still in living memory, and after their economic rise, the only thing that put their neighbors at ease was their demilitarization by the Americans.
However, that was not to say the Japanese did not know how to fight. For they did. And when the miniscule White population of the nation became Whiterats, they unleashed their latent power, their generational rage, and ferocious desire to protect their land from any and all foreign interlopers. It was the 43rd anniversary since their devastating defeat by the Americans and they would not fall to the White man again. They would win… and they’d do it not with rape, annexation, bombings, and by sacrificing their own people. Oh no. They would win… with New Japan Style!
Part 2: The Golf Master Vs American Pig-Rats
Date: Monday, August 15, 1988
Time: 4:44 UTC – 14:44 LT
Location: Koganei Country Club, Tokyo, Japan
There were few places in the nation of Japan that embodied the nation’s economic prosperity than Koganei Country Club. An exclusive, members only, golf course located within the Tokyo metropolitan area. The land of the golf course was deemed some of the most valuable in the nation. A day of golf would cost a typical person a month’s worth of spending money, and in a nation of frugal investors, unimpeded by capital gain tax, there were few greater and more valuable investments than a membership. A decade ago they cost around 10,000 American dollars yet, even now, members are unwilling to part with their access to this place for anything less than 3 million.
Anybody with membership to this place was a real somebody, and this status symbol expanded into the grounds themselves. Carefully maintained from tip to top, from the grass to the trees, with barely even a speck of dirt out of place. It was wasteful, without question, but the fact that an island nation could even afford to waste prime real estate on such an activity said quite a lot.
As this sight was left to linger, basking in the cloudy summer skies and heat, something stirred underground. A small yet steady vibration could be perceived. Blades of grass shook with no wind, while the ground itself began to billow upwards, shifting against the deliberate hills and roughing up the sand dunes. This tension within the ground grew before, finally, the ground burst open, revealing the revolting claw of a Whiterat.
Whiterats emerged from the earth, gasping and squealing as they took in fresh air, yanking themselves from the ground while ripping up the grass just by standing on it. They looked at their surroundings, confused, fatigue, and darted their heads around, only to be met with more fields and trees. Planting their pig-like snouts to the ground, they snuffed for prey, only to fail to smell anything but freshly cut grass. They shouted in displeasure before seeing what they desired. A Japanese man, in his 40s, driving in a golf cart by himself, dressed in light business attire, with a golf bag filled with clubs next to him.
As the only prey in sight, the cluster of Whiterats rushed toward him, releasing a high-pitched howl as they ran. The man in a golf cart saw these abominations approach, and rather than panic, he merely smirked, reaching into his golf bag to pull out something… peculiar.
It was a den-den daiko, a small handheld drum with two pellets attached by a string that, when shaken the right way, produces a distinct, consistent, rhythmic sound. The man steered with one hand while shaking the den-den daiko with another, drawing in the Whiterats as he moved forward. He was not moving fast enough to escape, but he was biding time, maintaining distance, and frustrating his hunters as they were led around the court.
They grew closer and closer until one Whiterat, located ahead of the man, spotted the cart. It rushed toward it, aiming for a head-on collision before hopping into the air. This Whiterat was confident, drooling, but the man merely looked up, equally confident, and as the pellets hit his handheld drum once more, something rushed out of the nearby trees, firing at the Whiterat. In a blur, the Whiterat was struck down from the air, the golf cart zoomed forward unimpeded, and the stampede of Whiterats saw just what incapacitated one of their brethren. It was… a monkey with a giant bug net?
It was a nihonzaru, a red-faced gray-furred primate that stood at less than two feet tall, carrying a bug net big enough to fit an adult-sized human. The Whiterat in their net vanished a second after it entered. Despite being outnumbered and outmatched on a sheer physical level, this money just laughed at the dozen or so Whiterats rushing toward them.
Nihonzaru: “Ooo-keee!”
The screech of the Japanese macaque altered other monkeys to rush from the nearby trees, five in total. All looked similar, all wielded their own giant net, and all rushed to snatch the Whiterats, swiftly shoving them into these oversized novelties in a way that defied physics.
The Whiterats had their numbers halved in a matter of seconds and paused as they recognized their new threat. They were designed to hunt humans, not monkeys, and when faced with this obstacle, they chose to fight. Unfortunately for them, the monkeys were smaller and more nimble than most humans. They could back away from the Whiterats’ slower strikes, hop onto their enemies’ backs, and mosey around them with ease and grace before swinging their nets hard. An act that not only incapacitated them, but sent them… elsewhere.
That elsewhere was a dark domain, one filled with Whiterats piled on top of each other in a narrow vertical shaft. All screeched incoherently, desperate for answers or escape as they looked up at the distant speck of sky before them, only for that sky to be blocked by something illuminated in shadow. Something that sank deeper into the bag and reached ever closer to this pit of Whiterats, clenching against them, latching against them with thick appendages before rising up, taking four of these Whiterats with it. Those who were claimed by this structure were brought up and into the light of the outside world, and bore witness to the force that grabbed them. A figure with a face of steel, glowing yellow eyes, and a humanoid body at least twenty times the size of a normal human.
The Whiterats flailed and screamed at the metallic giant who had captured them, biting against their gloved hand to no avail. This figure merely clenched their grip as the Whiterats resisted, crushing their bodies together in a way that caused them not to bleed, but squished them into a ball. Well, it was close to a ball, but the jutting heads, limbs, and tails made it grossly uneven.
Nodding their head, the metallic giant placed the Whiterat ball on the ground before them, on the greenery of the same golf course they were captured on. The Whiterat ball tried to escape, flailing its collective limbs in the same general direction, only for the giant to pull out a golf club. They measured their swing, and hit the Whiterat ball with enough force to send it flying higher, higher, and higher still. Until it breached past the bounds of the golf course without beginning its descent. Until it flew so far and so distant, it faded from sight to anyone on the Earth. Until it breached past the clouds and penetrated the stratosphere, where the Whiterat ball caught ablaze. The flames raged on regardless of how high they flew, continuing on and on until their bodies were burnt away into nothingness, ending their ascent and leaving behind nothing but ash.
The Whiterats came to Japan with the goal of conquest… but they underestimated the ferocious tenacity of this land’s people and their boundless creativity. After so long, it was time for the people of Japan to have a victory lap over these White fucks!
Part 3: The Astral Samurai Vs The USS Missouri
Date: Monday, August 15, 1988
Time: 4:44 UTC – 14:44 LT
Location: Tokyo Bay, Japan
Tokyo was reduced to utter ruin by the American bombing raids of World War II. The overwhelming majority of buildings were utterly demolished and over 100,000 Japanese were murdered. It was a vicious process, far more destructive than even the atomic bombings, yet so often brushed aside by history. In part due to the miraculous growth and development the city has undergone in the aftermath. It was rebuilt as a sprawling late 20th century metropolis and blossomed into the largest city in the world. One with excellent public transit, walkable streets, and a truly staggering population of over 30 million people. Truly, it was the gem of Japan… and it was the first target of the Whiterats.
Though the city still stood, it was blemished by their assault. Shibuya Crossing had been torn up into a giant sinkhole, dozens of buildings crumbled into the Earth, and the subway was completely offline. Not to be discouraged, the denizens of the city were still on high alert, anticipating a counter-attack and chasing down the Whiterats who remained, exterminating them on sight.
A period of calm developed during this hunt, but that ended as people looked up into the sky and saw black clouds looming in from the bay. It had yet to reach the city itself, but the lightning striking the sea was bright enough to be seen even from a distance, and the winds it brought were immense. Something bad was something, something related to the Whiterats. The question was… what. But no matter the answer, they knew it had to be destroyed at all costs. Taking a boat out to the increasingly aggressive waters would be suicide, so people merely stayed on land. Some fled, others took battle positions, readying cannons and weaponry, while others… prayed.
The top of a skyscraper near the bay served as the gathering point for 108 people, all dressed in Shinto religious garments, performing a ceremony for good fortune as they looked out at the darkness on the horizon. They were led by a single woman, performing a complicated dance while dressed in traditional garments. She spoke loudly in antiquated Japanese as she called upon something, begging it for strength, for assistance against these threats.
Religious Leader: “[In the wake of the destruction that has plagued our country once before, we ask you, spirits of the dead, lend us your strength. We know you have suffered, we know we must defend for ourselves, but for our uncertain present and for the unwritten future, we ask for your aid. Those who wish for revenge against this foreign evil, please, I implore you, grant us your power, manifest unto this Earth yet again!]”
As the religious leader finished her call, the 107 other followers began their chant, some playing on instruments, some projecting their voices loud enough to travel to the people on the streets below. At first, it seemed like merely a gesture, but as the chanting continued past a minute, small wisps of every color emerged from the ground, floating upward into the sky. Hundreds of these wisps gathered, then thousands, then tens of thousands, all concentrating around a single place in the bay. This rainbow of lights captivated all who could see it, if not for its beauty, for the sense of presence and importance it had. It was the convergence of the souls of the fallen, of innocents whose lives were destroyed by the cruelty of their enemies and the disdain of their rulers.
Once gathered, the fluttering wisps converged, forging a body for themselves that had a height that would surpass any skyscraper in the city, and the form of a samurai. This giant samurai’s body was not made of matter, but an ethereal, purple astral energy that pulsated and emanated like a ferocious flame. Its eyes glowed a demonic red, while its unsheathed sword was a stark white.
This astral samurai walked through the water, casting powerful waves with each step as they fought against the powerful current before it, yet they continued unimpeded. Though their pace was slow relative to their size, the samurai soon reached the foreign target entering this country, casting its red eyes on one of the ships that wrought untold destruction on this country. It was… the USS Missouri. A battleship that launched later in the campaign and served as the stage where it all ended, where Japan signed the terms of its surrender. Except… this warship was different. It was not only a vessel of metal and weaponry, but it was now littered with Whiterats, covering the deck of the ship, poking out from its tower, and undoubtedly filling up its interior.
Rather than firing at the astral samurai as they drew near, the Missouri instead… transformed. The Whiterats spread their bodies across the ship and melted themselves, becoming a fleshy paste that desecrated this vessel, melding with it and with each other as their muscles reshaped and broke apart thousands of tons of steel. The transformation happened swiftly, and the end result was simply horrific.
It was a creature half-monster, half-warship, and while it still breathed, while it lived, it looked to be in a state of constant pain. While its body was adorned with cannons, they were rigid and incapable of aiming at a target. Its metal components only vaguely protected its more sensitive fleshy weak points. And just by looking at the face of this nasty fucking thing, one could vicariously feel the agony that was its existence.
This cyborg abomination could barely even scream as its metal components scraped against its flesh, yet it still tried to fight, rushing toward the astral samurai while unleashing its cannon fire. It was a dizzying array of barely aimed bombs, missiles, and gunfire so scattered it was nigh impossible to completely dodge. So the astral samurai took the other approach, rushing forward with their blade drawn, deflecting whatever they could as they closed the distance.
With their target within range, the astral samurai drew their blade high, and slashed one of the exposed bits of flesh they could reach. The Whiterat bled, it barked with pain as the vibration from the impact rippled through them, but it did not fall, nor did it waste this opportunity to fire a cannon directly into the astral samurai’s face. This knocked back the astral samurai… but they held their ground. There was no weapon in the world that could quell four decades of rage felt by a hundred thousand souls. This was the only thing keeping them bound in this physical world, and no matter what, they were gonna end this revolting rat bastard!
Part 4: The Heart of Japan Vs White Swarm
Date: Monday, August 15, 1988
Time: 4:44 UTC – 14:44 LT
Location: Northern Hitachiota, Ibaraki, Japan
The summer sun hung high overhead and beat down the people of this small farming community. A settlement nestled away with mountains on two sides, and a larger speck of civilization, Hitachiota proper, located just a few kilometers south. Between the trees coating the mountains, the lush fields enjoying steady weather ahead of their eventual harvest, and seldom traveled roads, it was a picturesque sight. A place where one could relax, forget about their troubles, and let the sounds of cicadas lull them to sleep as they basked in the summer heat. Of course, people still had to work, rise early to the occasion, and make sure their crops are cared for, but with days as long as these, there was always time for rest.
One old man clearly recognized this, finishing up his regular patrol of his acres of cabbages and broccoli before returning to his house. A traditional Japanese home from top to bottom, mostly made of wood, yet with the weather being so mild year round, there wasn’t much need for anything more sturdy. He sat down on the back porch of his house, breathing with relief as the shade covered his body, leaning back as a cool gust of wind brushed against his face. He leaned back to relish this moment… only for a glass of barley tea to enter his vision. The old man turned to see a boy at the cusp of puberty holding this glass, presenting it to him.
Boy: “[It’s getting awfully hot out there, I figured you’d want to cool off.]”
From sight alone it was clear this tea was chilled, condensation already building up on the glass. The old man smiled and accepted it, taking a great big gulp before letting out a refreshed sigh.
Old Man: “[Thanks, grandson. But you don’t need to look after me like that, you know.]”
Grandson: “[Grandma told me that you never drink enough during the day. She doesn’t want you to pass out from dehydration or something and get heat stroke.]”
Grandpa: “[Oh, really? …I guess she might have a point. I am getting on in the years, and either the summers are getting hotter or I’m getting weaker. Maybe a bit of both!]”
Grandson: “[It’s probably both. But should you really keep doing this? Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”
Grandpa: “[Ah, I shouldn’t have left you alone with my wife. You’re starting to sound just like her! Heh. I understand. I’m 67 and still working like this day in and day out. I like to view it as doing my part for my country while I still can. Every country in the world needs people to grow food, and I know how hard it is to go without food. After I served in the war, I became a civilian again, and us civilians were starving, desperate to get whatever food they could after everything was bombed and burned. We wondered if we could even still grow things, but Nihon is resilient, and with so much arable land, we were able to recover. I wanted to do my part, so I bought some land, worked it through my twenties, and now, all those decades later, I’m still working the same land. I wouldn’t know what to do if this was taken away from me…]”
Grandson: “[So, how long are you going to keep this up for?]”
Grandpa: “[Eh… that depends. You want to take over the old family farm?”
Grandson: “[Huh? You saw how hard it was for me to just help you out the other day. I don’t think I’m really built for that.”
Grandpa: “[Ah. So many young people are like that these days. I can’t really blame them though. Farming becomes old hat after 40 years. Your body adjusts to it. But if I knew you can make twice as much sitting at a desk all day, calling people, and pushing papers, maybe I would’ve become a cityslicker myself!
The grandfather chuckled at his own joke before polishing off his chilled tea. The grandson graciously took the glass away to rinse it off in the kitchen. This gave the 67-year-old another opportunity to look at the same sight he’s seen every day for 40 years. …Which is why he could immediately tell that something was off. It looked like the trees lining the mountain were… moving. No. They were collapsing, falling down as something rushed through the forest. His eyes were going bad, but he could tell that much, and as he walked forward, the image became clearer.
It was a stampede of something. Something white, consisting of dozens, if not hundreds, of moving parts. He panicked for a moment as he saw this, wondering if some animals had gotten loose and intended on tearing their way through his farmland, through his community. He looked back at his home, at the phone he could just barely see from this angle, but as he took a step forward, his mind was struck by something. Memories he long tried to forget.
Memories of being stationed on some isolated island. Of watching his countrymen perish before him as the Americans ravaged through their base, destroying it in a blaze of fire. He was one of the few to flee and surrender, and one of the few to survive. He ran then… but he always regretted it, even though he knew his efforts would have been in vain. Japan was doomed to lose the day the Americans started sending warships into Japanese waters. Still, his youthful cowardice was something that gnawed at him from time to time.
The old man turned back to the horde, and though he could only see vague shapes and colors, he recognized the color as plain as day. This… was them.
Grandpa: “[Americans… It’s them. I don’t know how, but I know it’s them. They’ve come back and… I will not let them win again. I fought and failed before, but nobody will take what I built over the past four decades, especially not these pig-monkey fucks!]”
With that, he tore off his shirt, exposing a chest with a good amount of muscle, a slight bit of flab, and not a hair to speak of. He grabbed his nearest tool, a hoe, and with his shoes still on, he rushed forward, eager to take the fight to these freaks before they could set a single foot on his property. He ran faster than he had in years, propelled forward by adrenaline or, perhaps, something else. As he drew closer, he could make out his enemy. They were not the soldiers he battled in the past, but monsters who, from a distance, carried the same light pinkish complexion.
The old man clenched his teeth as he saw that his former enemy had devolved into monsters, gripped his hoe, and stayed his course. He knew this was risky, but he wasn’t afraid. Something within him told him what he needed to do. He needed to harness the strength within, let it all out, even if it costs him his life. If these freaks were going to kill him, he was going to die fighting!
He clenched his muscles as the stampede drew near, channeling whatever strength he could into the core of his body. He thought back to the disgrace of failure, the dire times ushered in by the Americans, and the disdain he was taught to feel toward them. His rage grew to the point where he could not refrain from shouting to the heavens, as loudly as he could. THis act… awakened something within him and his body rapidly changed. He grew stronger and more muscular than it ever had been in his life, with his arms buffing up, chest becoming swollen, and even the muscles in his face sharpened from his rage.
He stood there not as an old man, but as a strong man, armed with a hoe and ready to strike down the vermin. He broke their bones with a single wack, severed limbs with a hard slash, and left behind nothing but dead bodies as he engaged in a relentless onslaught. White blood coated his body, drenching him as they kept on coming, kept on rushing him but he resisted, even as their numbers just refused to diminish. He had killed dozens, but the horde was just as thick as when he took first blood. He could keep this up for a while… but he could tell his newfound strength was not infinite.
Then, just as the starting signs of fatigue began to grasp this fighter did he hear the shout of a familiar voice, screaming from behind him. He turned around to see… his grandson. Shirtless, with a shovel in hand, smacking these Whiterats’ faces in with a single hit as he rushed forward to his grandfather’s side. The grandfather felt his heart swell with pride as he saw this, a tear dripping down his face. Emboldened, he shouted with joy and resumed killing the monsters before him.
Grandson: “[Sorry to keep ya waiting, gramps! If you needed help killing some monsters, you should’ve brought me along from the start!]”
Grandpa: “[You really know how to make me proud, kid. Now keep it up! We don’t know how many of these freaks are here, and we can’t count on backup coming anytime soon. My gut says that this isn’t just happening here.]”
Grandson: “[Don’t worry. It’s like you said. A young kid like me’s got stamina for days. And if the work’s this much fun, I can probably do this ’til sundown!]”
Grandpa: “[Ha! I like your moxie. Let’s see if you can keep up with this old timer!]”
With ironclad conviction, the two continued their relentless beatdown of the Whiterats, taking them down one after the other to defend their home, to defend their homeland, and embrace the power within. Though, they were far from the only ones doing this… and far from the only ones having this much fun!
Part 5: The Children of Tomorrow Vs The Dirty Rat Bastards
Date: Monday, August 15, 1988
Time: 4:44 UTC – 14:44 LT
Location: Kitakami, Iwate, Japan
Like with everywhere else across this land, the Whiterats emerged from the earth and sought to destroy all they could see. Crawling from the depths of the riverbed surrounding the small northern city of Kitakami and rushing into the streets, destroying anything that crossed their path. People panicked and fled, for they knew not the strength they had within, and while some adults woke up to their latent might, the speed and veracity of the Whiterats prevented this information from being spread. This left people isolated, clustered away into small groups where fear overtook them. It was a devious strategy… but it seldom ever actually worked.
One of these isolated groups was a dozen or so young children, ages 5 to 9, gathered at a playground, minding their own business as they climbed structures, ran about, or invented games with their peers. Then, abruptly, the Whiterats appeared, two for every child. They surrounded the park, preventing their escape and locking them into an increasingly smaller circle as they crept forward.
Screams, tears, and panic were aplomb as the children were faced with a new horror they could scarcely comprehend. Most cowered as these real monsters loomed, though there was one who wished to fight. A young boy with bandages on his legs and scuffs on his face, clearly used to roughhousing. He stood up and grabbed a discarded branch the children were playing with just a moment ago. The boy wielded it with both hands, as if it were a weapon, while staring into the dead eyes of a Whiterat, gritting his teeth as he refined his determination. They had no adults to help them, so they would need to take matters into their own hands.
Young Boy: “[I don’t know where you came from, monster, but you have no place here. Why don’t you just… die?!]”
With vigor in his voice, the young boy rushed forward, swinging his stick with all the strength he could muster. Reasonably, this stick should have merely shattered as it struck a creature as ferocious as a Whiterat. Instead, it sent the freak flying across the park, where it smacked into a light post, its eyes bulging out as it made impact, before limply flopping onto the ground, little stars fluttering above its head.
The children paused as they witnessed this cartoon violence play out in real life, looked at each other, and without fully, or even mostly, understanding what they were witnessing, shared a confident nod. These monsters weren’t as tough as they seemed, and the reality around them… wasn’t as rigid as they were led to believe.
One of the Whiterats rushed forward, hoping to take advantage of the confusion with a quick kill, but a young girl was ready for them. She was cupping her hands together, squatted down, and twisting her body backwards. It was an awkward stance… but to all the children around her, they knew exactly what she was doing, and were awaiting the results with bated breath as she muttered that iconic chant.
Young Girl: “Ka-mi-ha-mo-yo!”
As the girl twisted her hands forward and at the Whiterat, a burst of energy erupted from her palms, shooting off in a beam of blinding light that coated the Whiterat’s body. This beam of light— this blast of concentrated ki— struck the Whiterat with the intensity of a 300 degree Celsius flame, leaving it charred and dead after a single second. The girl was left huffing and puffing from this feat, but both she and the other children were dazzled by this display. For not only did this girl kill one of these monsters, they just saw her make anime real.
The rest of the children looked at this display and decided it was time for them to make their dreams a reality, conjuring their greatest fantasies in their minds before striking a pose and shouting the magical world.
Children: “HENSHIN!”
A rainbow of light followed as the children’s bodies transformed, growing out and growing up as they adopted the forms of their fantasy and became, at least in body, adults. Namely, a woman with elaborate drill-like hair dressed in a WWII-era military uniform, a souped-up walkie talkie in her hand. And a team of six rainbow colored tokusatsu heroes, modeled after the slick costumes of Maskman.
The Whiterats looked at this fantastical display and merely squealed before rushing toward them… only to get obliterated by their opposition. They were zapped, slashed, punched, and had their asses whooped by the colorful heroes, taking them down like the fodder they were. While the military gal merely spoke into her walkie talkie, calling for ‘reinforcements.’ A moment later they arrived… in the form of a tank that fell from the sky, crushing the Whiterats beneath it in a bloody pancake. It was a curious display and application for weaponry like that… but it got even weirder when the tank started talking in a gruff voice and grew a pair of big googly eyes right above its cannon.
Tank: “[Ready for war, Boss-Lady! Hop on and tell me what to shoot!]”
Military Gal: “[Ohohohohoho! This is exactly as I planned. Come froth, tank-kun! Let us retake the city from these uncouth invaders!]”
Tank: “[You got it Boss-Lady!]”
As the military gal and tank drove off into the heart of the city, the six tokusatsu heroes looked at the horde still before them, now looking truly confused, and decided it was time to fight.
Red Hero: “[Alright guys, we’re finally living the dream, let’s rough ’em up!]”
Black Hero: “[H-Hey, why are you the leader of the bunch? I didn’t agree to this!]”
Blue Heroine: “[Does it really matter? We’re all rangers, so let’s work together and beat these freaks.]”
Green Hero: “[How about we just skip to the good part and bring out the big guns?]”
Yellow Hero: “[It doesn’t work that way! There’s a process to the art, goldarn it.]”
Pink Heroine: “[Process Shmocess! Let’s just whip out the Jet Cannon and kablam these fools.]”
With what could loosely be described as a consensus, the six heroes got into position and called for the aforementioned Jet Cannon. Their shouting summoned a weapon into their hands… but it looked less like a cannon and more like a racecar crossed with a rocket ship. It was a weapon so clunky that it required six people to support it. Yet, as they gripped the weapon just right, they were able to unleash a flurry of destructive power, as bombs fired off and landed with enough intensity to vaporize the Whiterats before them within seconds. …All while doing minimal damage to the playground. How convenient!
The result of this attack was a cleared battlefield, with only scraps, blood, and corpses of Whiterats remaining. With a declaration of success, they summoned color-coded motorcycles from nothingness and hopped onto them, ready to dispense lethal justice to whatever Whiterats or other freak they came across. For that was the true fantasy of a real hero!
Thus, the playground was safe yet again… but there was one more child who remained. A little girl, who lurked in a dome-shaped piece of playground equipment. One with numerous holes for a child to crawl into and out of, enough of a roof to provide cover in the rain, and even a ladder to climb to its top. As the commotion came to a close, she slithered on out of it, looking around with fear and confusion, and found that things were… safe. Her tense expression softened as she saw and she wandered out of the dome, dashing out of the playground, only to get blindsided by a trio of Whiterats, scurrying from behind a corner.
The girl panicked as they loomed over her, snarling from their revolving mouths, licking their teeth in anticipation. Her mind raced to find a solution, thinking back to what she just saw. She could become anyone, but in her anxiety-riddled state, she lacked the conviction to become a hero. Instead, her mind flashed back to what she saw when watching late night anime with her brother, when a high school girl was being attacked by a monster. The teenager needed a way to stun them, so… she gave the monster what they wanted to see.
Swallowing, the little girl grabbed the hem of her little skirt, took a deep breath, and lifted it high.
Little Girl: “[G-Get a load of this, ya freaks!]”
The Whiterats stared at what the girl was displaying to them. A pair of white cotton panties with a teddy bear pattern on them, covering this little girl’s groin. It was an innocuous sight, perhaps cute due to the design alone, but for the Whiterats… this broke them. Their pig-like snouts burst with a torrent of white blood, pulsating with such intensity that it sent their bodies rocketing off into the sky, surpassing fifty meters as they ascended in a way that defied physics in countless ways. Then, as they reached their apex, they came crashing down, smacking into the Earth where their bodies exploded into a burst of white blood that sprayed far and wide. So much blood that it not only drenched this portion of the playground, but the little girl herself.
Every inch of her was coated in the white blood of the Whiterats, and as she realized what had just happened… she screamed as loudly as her little lungs would let her.
Little Girl: “KKKYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!”
Part 6: Tomoko Goto Vs One Horny Ratfuck
Date: Monday, August 15, 1988
Time: 5:05 UTC – 15:05 LT
Location: Nagoya, Chubu, Japan
As with all major cities in Japan, Nagoya was a prime target for the Whiterats. They crawled their way from underground to lay siege on this land, only to be met with an aggressive resistance from its denizens, eager to defend their home from these invaders. However, the quantity of Whiterats attacking this city seemed… disproportionate compared to any other city in the nation. As if the Whiterats viewed this as a more important target than even Tokyo or Okinawa. There were over 2 million people in this city, and even now, after over an hour of constant battle, there were still over twice as many Whiterats.
Sinkholes littered the city, unleashing seemingly endless numbers of Whiterats, and when one hole was guarded, another one spawned on the opposite end of the city. They could truly be anywhere. Hiding was a death sentence, and the only option for survival was to fight. Except… not everybody could fight. Some had little choice but to run.
A woman, dressed in a pastel yellow dress, ran through the streets as fast as she could. Cars were left abandoned, claw marks painted the concrete and asphalt, and storefronts have been ravaged. However, for the moment, she was alone, meaning she had the confidence to slither into an alley to stop the running and take a breath.
She was in her early twenties, about 155 centimeters tall, with long black hair tucked into a low bun, leaving two tufts to drop past her shoulders and onto her person. Her physique was thin, if not dainty, yet beneath the slowing nature of her light green summer dress, she had a discernible ‘belly’ protruding from her frame. The exact shape indicated that she was pregnant by approximately six months.
A single glance at her beautiful yet sweat-covered face showed her immense fatigue. No woman in her state should need to run this far, this fast, or for this long, and in heels no less. She collapsed onto a small plastic basket, let the air flush out of her being, and looked up at the sky. It was darkened by all the fires breaking out through the city, making the air harsh and unpleasant to breathe. She knew she should keep going, that it was not safe to stay here, but with every part of her telling her to stop, she struggled to find the motivation.
As the woman regained her stamina, she heard a strange clunking noise. She darted her head about in response, looking for the source, before landing on a metal sewer lid. Staring at this lid intently, she held her breath, hoping that this noise was a mere hallucination. She saw it shake once, then again, before finally seeing something pop the lid open. A claw drenched in raw sewage emerged, gripping against the asphalt of the street as its body rose up. As expected, it was the same dastard who plagued her city, nation, and planet. A Whiterat, its body stained dark by the filth it had been traveling in.
The Japanese woman looked away from the Whiterat, to the other end of the alley… only to see a wall blocking her way. Even in her best condition, she had no chance of traversing over this, and with a Whiterat before her… there was no way to escape.
The Whiterat looked at her and slowly walked over to her, standing up on its hind legs as it outstretched its snout, rapidly sniffing the air. With one final deep inhale, the Whiterat stopped, looked at the woman with its dead eyes and… laughed.
Whiterat: “Grahaha! I’ve finally found you… Tomoko Goto.”
The woman froze as she heard this creature speak. She never expected something so bestial to be capable of speech. The Whiterat spoke in English and, while she could recognize it as such, the only term she understood was her own name.
Tomoko: “[Do… Do you speak Japanese? H-How do you know my name?]”
The Whiterat did not answer her question. It merely crept closer to her, trapping her in this one-way alley with no means of escape. She planted herself against the wall as she was forced to stare into this monster’s dead eyes, to smell the rank odor dripping from their body, and listen to its feet as they spread untreated piss and shit.
Whiterat: “I never thought I’d see this. A pureblood Jap! Just thinking of sinking my teeth in you is getting me hard… wanna feel it?”
Rather than revealing their penis, the Whiterat instead shook the sewer sludge off of its tail, and presented it before Tomoko. The tentacle-like appendage pulsated as it drifted near her face, before touching her skin. She felt branded, dirty, as she made contact with this repulsive creature. Before she could muster up the disgust to vomit, the creature’s tail shifted, opening up to reveal a hole at the very end of the tail. Tomoko briefly looked into this small opening… and was promptly met with a hot, viscous white ooze that pelted her face, nearly striking her in the eye.
Tomoko collapsed as this happened. Tears welled up from her eyes as she cowered into a corner, desperately smacking this monster’s cum off her face. Looking up, she saw that the Whiterat now looming over her, its tail creeping itself around her waist.
Tomoko: “[P-Please. I— I never did anything to you. I don’t know what you are and I—]”
Whiterat: “The Master wants you dead, and he said to have fun with it. So I’m going to pin you down, right here, and fucking rape you!”
The Whiterat slammed its front claws into the wall, asserting itself over Tomoko as she became desperate to disappear herself from this place. To somewhere, to anywhere but here. She slammed her eyes shut as she anticipated the inevitable, feeling this monster’s tail slither between her breasts, and then, as she was about to accept the inevitable fate before her, she heard a concussive slamming sound.
Tomoko opened her eyes as she heard this noise and saw the Whiterat lying on the ground. Dead. Its face reduced to a white bloody pulp, and above it, she saw someone who took her breath away. A tall, strong, young Black man. His face was cleanly shaven, hair tied into a small bun at the back of his head, dressed in the white baseball uniform of the Chunichi Dragons, a red number 14 located beneath the cursive Dragon’s logo. In his hand, he held a wooden baseball bat, stained white with the blood of the Whiterat beneath him.
The man promptly dropped his bat and stepped over the Whiterat, lifting Tomoko off the ground. She stared deeply into the man’s dark eyes before reaching up to him, standing on her toes in order to reach his lips.
Tomoko: “[Yasuke! I… I was so scared. I thought that I was… how, how did you even find me.]”
The man, Yasuke, smiled as Tomoko embraced him, before wrapping his arms around her.
Yasuke: “[No matter where in the world you are, I will find you. You are my wife, Tomoko. And there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.]”
The two shared another kiss as Yasuke filled his wife’s ears with sweet words of affection. Only when their lips departed did they return to the reality at hand. The screeching of the Whiterats could be heard in the distance, and the two were not in a safe spot. Yasuke took one look at Tomoko, literally shaking in her heels as she heard that vile sound, and he knew he couldn’t let her run. He grabbed his discarded bat and handed it to Tomoko. She looked at it, confused, before Yasuke lifted her off the ground, carrying her in both arms.
Tomoko: “[H-Hey, is this the right time for—]”
Yasuke: “[Would you rather walk, my dear? So long as I’m with you, there’s nothing I can’t do. So let’s get going!]”
Yasuke broke off into a jog as he princess carried Tomoko out of the alley and into the deserted streets. He had to build as much distance between himself and the Whiterats as he could, but despite his trained athletic legs, he wasn’t able to outrun these vicious quadrupeds. Still, he ran as fast as he could, block after block, over and around any obstacle, hoping that somebody, anybody, would come and help them in their time of need. Then, as they were mere meters away from being mauled apart by a Whiterat, that help arrived.
A motorcycle was zooming down the streets at breakneck speed, effortlessly driving around the abandoned cars as it made its way to the Whiterat swarm building behind Yasuke and Tomoko. The driver was dressed in black and wearing a helmet, but just from the way they swerved around the two, they could tell he was here to help.
The biker slid their motorcycle into the Whiterat horde, slamming the metal frame into their bodies before leaping off. The motorcycle exploded mere seconds later, erupting not only the Whiterats caught against it but causing the cars cramming the street to burst into flames, incinerating several of these bastards in one go. This attack was enough for the Whiterats to forget about their previous prey and focus solely on the new opponent before them… but that quickly proved to be a mistake.
With a snap of their fingers, the biker in black summoned a weapon into their hands. A two-sided axe-mace hybrid that they twirled around like it was a mere toy, before bashing it into the skull of one of the Whiterats, splattering its brains apart in just one blow. The other Whiterats retaliated, only to be met with the same fate. The biker was as nimble as could be, effortlessly crushing skulls and slicing throats in style, even as dozens rushed all around them. Yasuke and Tomoko looked on at this lavish display in awe. They had seen people awaken powers like this before… but seldom with this level of grace. This person was fighting like they’ve been doing things like this for years.
The biker kept going, racking up over fifty kills in maybe two minutes… before pausing, looking back at Yasuke and Tomoko, and snapping their fingers. Every Whiterat in sight immediately burst open as if they had swallowed a bomb. Guts, blood, and viscera scattered around the biker like it was confetti, and mere seconds after it finished falling, they walked toward Yasuke and Tomoko, taking off their helmet.
They revealed themself to be a young Southeast Asian man with a brown complexion, jet black hair that went down to his neck, a handsome mug, and amber, almost gold, eyes that could brighten one’s soul. He gave Tomoko a wink as she looked over his person, before finally speaking to them in fluent Japanese.
Biker: “[Tomoko, Yasuke, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you both in person. The name’s Quintin Abija Quinata, but just call me Quintin. I never really liked that honorifics shit. I’ve got some business with the two of you. Let’s see… how about we chat it up in that restaurant over there? It’s a little beaten up, but beggars can’t be choosers.]”
Quintin gestured at a nearby restaurant, one of the less damaged establishments in their vicinity. He clearly expected the two to follow behind him, but neither Yasuke nor Tomoko really trusted this stranger. Sure, he saved them, but his casual disposition seemed… wrong for such a dire setting.
Quintin: “[What, you shellshocked or something? You too good to hit up some random hole in the wall? Because I will drag your asses in there if I gotta. What do you think this weapon’s for? You think a baseball bat’s jack shit next to this? ‘Cos it ain’t! Now quit standing there with your thumbs up your asses and get in here!]”
Quintin’s crude words were not reassuring to either Tomoko or Yasuke… yet with a sigh, Yasuke chose the path of least resistance.
Yasuke: “[When forced to ally with a man or a monster, I’ll take the man every time. Come on Tomoko, let’s see what this ‘business’ is.]”
Tomoko shot Yasuke a concerned look as he agreed to this… before stepping forward.
Tomoko: “[H-How do you know us, Quintin?]”
Quintin: “[Now there’s a story. Tell me, does the name ‘Vice’ ring any bells?]”
Part 7: Quintin Abija Quinata Vs The Dragon of Exposition
Date: Monday, August 15, 1988
Time: 5:20 UTC – 15:20 LT
Location: Nagoya, Chubu, Japan
Quintin: “[…And that’s my whole life story! Vice killed me, brought me back, made them their bro, and I’ve been loving it ever since. Well, except for today. Today’s been a piece of fucking shit! I thought it was bad with just a billion Whiterats, but these fuckers are multiplying like crazy and build nonsense tunnels that break the laws of physics. Do you know how long it should take for a bunch of animals to get from Russia, America, and shit and make it to Japan? Way too fucking long for any of this to be plausible!]”
Since arriving at the restaurant, Quintin had changed out of his bulky armor into a more typical T-shirt and jeans. It was a glaringly casual outfit for someone who spoke of such insane antics, and his actions were just as mundane. He vaulted over the counter into the deserted kitchen and started brewing some coffee, serving it as he concluded his story. He stood behind the counter while Tomoko and Yasuke both sat on stools. It was a small place, but at least it had enough room for a few tables. Quintin drank his coffee in a single gulp, like a caffeine addict, or cartoon character. Tomoko hesitantly sipped her cup. While Yasuke left his coffee sit on the counter, scowling as he looked at Quintin.
Yasuke: “[You’ve got to be shitting me with all of this.]”
Quintin: “[I assure you that I am a man of my word. And do you two really have any reason to doubt me? I already showed you a bit of my magic. If you look outside, you can see my clones styling on some Whiterats. And I know neither of you are ‘supposed’ to be here either.]”
Tomoko: “[I shouldn’t be surprised that Vice has grown so powerful. I thought they were just a magical woman, but knowing they’re basically a god, it… it makes slightly more sense.]”
Quintin: “[Now, I’d be happy to give you the down-low on what we’ve gotta do now, but I’m a curious fella, and I gotta know how you two came here and came to be together. And just for yucks, I want the full story. ‘Sides, I’m gonna be in the kitchen for a while, whipping up what we need.]”
Quintin then slithered away from the counter and into the heart of the kitchen, scoping out its layout while pilfering through its cabinets to find whatever it was he needed.
Yasuke: “[‘What we need?’ Food should be the last thing on our minds at the moment.]”
Tomoko: “[Yasuke, it would be best to entertain Quintin. He… he does not seem the most stable, and who knows what he will do to us if we displease him.]”
Quintin: “[Even when you whisper, I can still hear you! But that is a smart way to look at things!]”
Tomoko: “[O-Oh. …So, you want to know what happened to us the past few years?]”
Quintin: “[Damn straight! Now get on with the storytelling, starting with how you went from a Yankee bro to a Nippon babe!]”
Tomoko blushed at Quintin’s harsher words. Not because she looked in any way androgynous. She was six months pregnant, wearing a light green dress, with long hair, looking about as feminine as a woman really without being garish about it. Still, the phrasing clearly rubbed her the wrong way.
Tomoko: “[W-Well, I lived the first 20 years of my life as a White man named Tom Grain. I wasn’t anybody special. I was born in Murinova, Missouri, a small rural town where the only thing special about it was the way it was destroyed on August 17, 1985. On that day, Vice decided to destroy the town. She—]”
Quintin: “[They!]”
Tomoko: “[P-Pardon? Isn’t Vice a woman? I was with her and—]”
Quintin: “[What the fuck does a god need gender for? Vice is beyond man and woman. They’re their own kind of sexy.]”
Tomoko: “[So… do they still look like a woman or—]”
Quintin: “[Yeah, but that’s irrelevant, keep the story going!]”
Tomoko: “[A-Anyway… Vice had people in Murinova, people I had seen before, abduct me, strip me, and after being imprisoned, I was chosen by Vice, brought into the mayor’s office, where she— they— r-raped me. As a virgin, as a… guy who had never so much as seen a girl naked, it was thrilling. It was like a fantasy come true, but as things continued, they… stole things from me. They stole my penis, they stole my male form, they stole my race, and they even stole my ability to speak and understand English. They took away Tom Grain and remade me as Tomoko Goto.]”
Tomoko: “[In this state, it would be impossible for me to live my old life and, per Vice’s orders, I left Murinova. I ran into the woods and arrived here, in Japan, in the forests near Mt. Sanage. I had no idea what to do or where to go. It was another nation and… I had never even left Missouri before this. I was wandering the woods, at night alone, when a police officer found me and picked me up, driving me back to the city. There, he helped learn of the life that Vice had laid out for me. I had an apartment, a bank account, and my own possessions. I even had a job at a konbini. It was all so surreal, and for the first few weeks of this, my life was a blur. People acted like I belonged, like they knew me beforehand, when I didn’t even know myself. I thought about going back but, even in Japan, I heard about the destruction of Murinova.]”
Tomoko: “[My old life was gone. I was just… Tomoko Goto now. It was depressing, but also freeing in a way. I had opportunity, resources, and could forge a new life in a big city. I thought about calling Vice, asking them for help, but… I was too afraid to try, even after they told me not to hesitate, I did. As such, I carried on with the life they gave me. I made friends with my coworkers, learned the names of my regular customers and what they liked, and despite my reluctance, accepted that I was now a woman.]”
Tomoko: “[Seeing my face, feeling my body, and hearing my voice, it became impossible for me to not accept it. The man I was is gone and this… this is me. And as Tomoko, my life has been… better. People have been kinder to me. This city is unlike anything I had ever seen, and the more I learned about the nation, the more… comfortable I became. I don’t know how much of that was part of the transformation, but… I am happy with the new me. With every day passed, it has become easier to forget what I had lost. With every day, it felt more and more like my old life was just a vivid dream.]”
Yasuke: “[Despite that, you still harbored some hope, or perhaps concern, that you would go back to your old life someday.]”
Tomoko: “[I— well, that’s not quite it. On August 17, 1986, I returned to the forest where I arrived in Japan. Not due to any sentimental reasons, but because of a dream I had the night prior. I was in that forest, looking for something, and when I found it, I woke up. It was unlike other dreams I had, far more vivid, so… I felt I had to. I knew it was dangerous. That a girl like me should not go out at night, alone, like that. But I did it anyway, and as I went out, I found… you, Yasuke.]”
Quintin: “[How? Did ya get isekai’d or some shit?]”
Tomoko: “[W-What?]”
Quintin: “[Fuck, that was an anachronism! Yasuke, how’d you get to the past, or present, or future, or—]”
Yasuke: “[Do you want my entire life story, or—]”
Quintin: “[Bitch, I’ve got a Master’s in Japanese history! I know your shit. How you went from Mozambique to lovely Nihon, got scooped up by Oda Nobunaga, and became THE Black Samurai! Pick things up after big ‘man’ Nobunaga got murked in the Honno-ji incident.]”
Yasuke paused as Quintin put that strange emphasis on the word ‘man’, staring at him with disapproval before beginning his story.
Yasuke: “[When Nobunaga-sama was killed, I fled to inform his son of his passing. Unfortunately, I failed. I did all I could to defend him from the men who killed his father, but I was outnumbered and outmatched. With no hope of victory, I surrendered, and Nobunaga’s son committed seppuku. I expected to be executed after that, hoping I could retain some honor in death, but as new rulers sought to take over this land, they spared my life, sending me back to the Jesuit missionary. After arriving, they treated me, cared for my wounds, and I aided them however I could. I was merely fortunate to escape with my life, and willing to lead a simple life. I spent several weeks at this cathedral before I was approached by… Vice.”
Yasuke: “[It had been years since I had seen an African woman, and suddenly Vice appeared, working at and living in church, presenting as a nun. I asked others about her presence, yet they acted as if Vice had always been there, calling them Sister Daniella. She— They— were fascinated in me, and I was fascinated by them. We talked casually, I helped them with some work around the church, and they even offered to prepare me a meal as a thank you for my hard work. During that meal, they promised me that I would live to see a greater life, urged me to come with them, to someplace new and dazzling. Then… they seduced me. They must have slipped alcohol into my food, for my inhibitions wavered and as she lured me to her chamber, my resolve vanished.”
Quintin: “[OH SHIT! Not only did you— a fucking samurai— get date raped by some skirt in a black dress, but you confessed that in front of your wife!]”
Tomoko: “[Y-Yasuke told me that shortly after we met. And it’s not like he had a choice in the matter. Vice can do… anything.]”
Yasuke: “[Yes… After I laid with Vice, they muttered something into my ear, telling me that if I stay in this era, my death shall be soon and unceremonious. Then, when I woke from my slumber, I found myself alone in a forest, wearing only a simple shirt and pants, with a satchel of papers around my waist. It was dark, the air smelled different, and I worried that I had been kidnapped. I attempted to make my way through the woods, hoping to find my captor. Instead… I found a woman, holding a tube of light in her hands.]”
Tomoko: “[When I found Yasuke, I was almost as confused as him. He panicked, grabbing a fallen tree branch and brandishing it as a weapon. But as he saw I was a woman, he lowered his guard. I said I didn’t want to hurt him and asked if he was lost. From there, I don’t quite remember what happened. We talked. I tried to break the news to him as gently as I could and he… took it pretty well, all things considered.]”
Yasuke: “[I had already lost so much that I was merely fortunate to be alive. Being in an era without war, of peace and prosperity, was wonderful news. However, I could scarcely fathom how much the world could change in 404 years. Seeing streets paved in tar, horses replaced by oil-powered carriages, lights powered by a factory several kilometers away, their energy transplanted over wires. Buildings of stone, rather than wood, that towered twice as high as the tallest castle I had ever seen. Even after two years, I still find these things to be truly amazing.]”
Tomoko: “[R-Right, and I tried my best to help you. I know I wasn’t always the best teacher—]”
Yasuke: “[You were an excellent teacher. You were calm, patient, answered every question, and took time out of your day, every day, to help me. Truly, you had no obligation to help me after you found me. You could have made me somebody else’s problem. But you still chose to help me. You showed me how this society worked, you let me live with you, and you even helped me get a job. Without you, I would truly be lost as a stranger in a strange land.]”
Tomoko: “[Well, I didn’t do everything. You seemed to pick up on modern Japanese in no time at all—]”
Quintin: “[That was Vice! They updated your Japanese to modern standards, because the language went through a fuckload of changes!]”
Tomoko: “[O-Oh. Well, I should not take all the credit. You were trying to get a job after being here for just a week, always wanted to do more, to do better, and even when we were just friends, you always treated me like a princess—]”
Yasuke: “[Because you are my princess.]”
Tomoko: “[Y-Yasuke! Not in front of others…]”
Yasuke: “[Hahaha. Now, where was I? Oh, right. You probably want to know what this is about.]”
As Yasuke said this, he pointed at the Chunichi Dragons baseball uniform he was wearing.
Yasuke: “[I was used to being seen as an outsider among the Japanese, and after 400 years, they still do, but they look at me differently. As if they have seen Black men before, just never in-person. I have seen every expression when people first meet me. Shock, fear, awe, excitement, attraction, revulsion. Yet when taking the train one day, I encountered a man who was enraptured by me, begging me to come with him. He was the manager of the Chunichi Dragons, and he wanted me to play baseball. I had seen the game before on the television, yet I never played it for myself. Fortunately, the rules were simple, and the actions were even simpler. Swing a bat, throw a ball, catch a ball, and run. All actions that I was proficient in. So proficient that the manager was determined to have me join the team. And I did the very next season.]”
Tomoko: “[There was a lot of controversy about that in the local news. Many people did not want to see a non-Japanese play with Japanese people. But after they saw how well he performed, he became the star player. The team wasn’t able to win the Japanese Series… but they got awfully close.]”
Yasuke: “[It was hard work getting to that state. A lot of training, day in and day out, and learning to befriend my teammates. Men of this era are far more… open than the ones I met during my era. More willing to engage in vices, talk openly of sex, and utter vulgarities. However, I adapted. I understood I was no longer serving under a great leader. I was merely… an entertainer. Some might view that as a downgrade, but this is not an era of soldiers or warriors, and if I can bring joy to others as they witness my strength and dexterity, is that not something to take pride in?]”
Tomoko: “[Say, Quintin. Did Vice have a hand in making this happen or—]”
Quintin: “[Pfft! Nah! But Vice did forge those identity papers, showing that Yasuke was Japanese, born in the country, and the son of people who have lived here for decades. Without good papers, there’s no way you’d have a career anywhere outside of some scummy processing plant, the sex industry, or as ‘the Black guy’ in some film.]”
Yasuke: “[Ah, yes. Tomoko has explained that to me. And for that, I am thankful for Vice’s generosity. They have helped me make a life for myself, and I could not have achieved what I have without them. However, I also take pride in the fact that I achieved my own success. I am the one who trained and honed my body to succeed as an athlete. I had to prove myself capable of such a feat, not only for myself, but to prove myself to someone else.]”
Yasuke stared at Tomoko as he finished that sentence, looking deep into her eyes as her face grew red.
Tomoko: “[I-I’ll take it from here. After he finished his first season with the Dragons, Yasuke approached me and… asked to marry me. He made good money, had earned the respect of people in Nagoya, and after we spent so much time together, he… we felt close. I told him my secrets, he told me his, and when he presented an engagement ring to me… I could not say no. I had never dated a man before then, but after seeing how bold, virtuous, and kind he truly could be… I could not deny that I loved Yasuke. I accepted. We had a wedding on Christmas Day of 1987, and after a few months of trying… I became pregnant with his child.]”
Tomoko looked longingly at her belly, gently rubbing it as she felt for the baby growing within her. A gentle smile grew on her face, as if all her worries, all her concerns, were gone, if only for a moment. As she shared this tender moment with her unborn child, Quintin slipped his arm past the counter and onto her stomach, giving it a solid pat.
Quintin: “[And that’s why you’re here, because I don’t actually need you. I need your child.]”
If looks could kill, the death glare on Tomoko’s face would not only eviscerate Quintin from the face of the earth, but unexist him.
Tomoko: “[Absolutely not! You will not take my Kaede away from me! I might not have had a girlhood to call my own, but I know for a fact that I am a woman. I am a mother! And there is no greater evil in this world than to steal a mother’s child from her hands— from her very body!]”
Yasuke then pried Quintin’s hand from Tomoko’s body, putting a little more than half his strength into his grip. Not enough to hurt him, but enough to make a point.
Yasuke: “[If you want to put your hands on Tomoko, you will need to go through me. Even if you are a god, I will make you beg for death!]”
In response to this fiery reaction, Quintin chuckled.
Quintin: “[Guys, guys, I’m not going to abort little Kaede here. Rather… I need her to save the world. To save all of humanity from destruction. Black Vice, me, and our buddies Zach and Jessie, we all tried to stop the mastermind behind this, some dipshit called Weiss. …But we couldn’t beat him. He was too powerful for us to do jack against him, because he could unlock something within us and abuse it. Combined with how strapped our powers have been after empowering nearly every remaining human on Earth, we just can’t win.]’
Yasuke: “[How could an unborn baby do something that gods cannot? If you lack the strength, I shall lend my power and do all I can to—]”
Quintin: “[Nope! You can’t do it because you’re a man of the Christian God. You may be one of only Black men on this Earth without a drop of White blood in you, but you carry their religion. That’s even worse! Weiss could feed on that, abuse you, and instill the fear of God within you while taking on the form of Christ himself.]’
Quintin: “[And Tomoko, you might be 100% Japanese— a feat that very few Japanese can really say because of all the cross-fucking from China, Korea, and the Whites. But you still have a part of you, however small, that thinks you’re still White. If we tried to—]’
Tomoko: “[I’ve never won a single fight in my life, and I hope to never get into one again. I… I would never dream of fighting to save the world, for I would—]”
Quintin: “[Cool, great, you made your point. And my point is that your daughter… is a blank slate. She has not seen the evils of this world, does not know racism, and lacks a single bit of White blood inside her. She’s fucking pure! Plus, well, let’s just say Vice gave her a special blessing.]’
Those words were enough for Tomoko to bring back her death stare as she looked at Quintin, ready to end him despite her previous claim of pacifism.
Tomoko: “[…What has Vice done to my child?]”
Quintin: “[Ensured she will be a happy and healthy child. Nothing bad, not a single thing.]’
While openly knowing this was a lie, Quintin had long-since mastered the art of making a naturalistic face while misleading people.
Yasuke: “[But how could a fetus fight? Kaede’s body is not yet done developing and—]”
Quintin: “[Are you seriously asking how can a god accelerate the birth of a child? Come on now, use your imagination, dude! What do you think I’ve been doing in the kitchen all this time? Making just the thing to get little Kaede out. And it’ll be done… in about twenty minutes.]’
As Quintin checked the oven, Tomoko and Yasuke shared a concerned look with each other. They both knew how bizarre this situation was, but if their past experiences were any indication, they also knew there was no sense in resisting a member of The Black Shitenno.
Psycho Shatter 1988: Black Vice X Weiss Vice Main Page
Table of Contents:
Atrocity 01: The Nujiboe Society for Caucasoid Prosperity
Atrocity 02: The White Awakening
Atrocity 03: The Black Awakening
Atrocity 04: The Apartheid Absolution
Atrocity 05: The Victims of the White Empire
Atrocity 06: The Fascistin’ Limmerickin’ Chicken
Atrocity 07: The Imperative Intermission
Atrocity 08: The White Devil
Atrocity 09: The Plan to Eradicate Weiss Vice
Atrocity 10: The Milky of Hope
Atrocity 11: The Power of Nippon Imagination
Atrocity 12: The Assault on Washington
Atrocity 13: The Evils of Richard Rooadoot Ratters
Atrocity 14: The Battle of Black X White
Atrocity 15: The World Where Evil Won
Atrocity 16: The New Future
Atrocity 17: The World of Boundless Color