Chapter 18: Silver Soul (Era of Expulsion)

Dom Perignon truly lived up to its reputation as a top-tier champagne, its flavor exquisite—so thought Take Okakura as she downed a glass of it in one go, as if she were drinking sweet water. They were seated at a large table, laden with a chaotic assortment of food and drinks, the aftermath a picture of utter disarray. The drunkards had their arms around each other's shoulders, dancing and singing in a riotous, disorderly fashion.

Watching Ando gleefully twist his waist in dance alongside Katakuriko Matsudaira, Take Okakura gave him a thumbs up. Ando, you sly fox—she thought. Then, feigning a trip to the restroom, she slipped away. Inside, she regrouped with the other Joi rebels who had not dressed in drag.

“When do we make our move?” she asked, fanning herself. The kimono was wrapped too tightly, and the indoor air conditioning was set high; she was sweltering.

“No idea. The governor hasn’t given the word yet. Okakura, get back out there and keep drinking with Katakuriko Matsudaira. Get him as drunk as possible,” an older man said, clapping her on the shoulder. “I envy you youngsters, getting to drink Dom Perignon. If I ever have money, I’ll order a few bottles myself.”

“Uncle Anamoto, if you want some, just put on a dress and some makeup. You can go out there and have your fill,” Okakura joked.

“Haha! With this mug of mine, if I dressed as a woman, the only place I could go would be a drag club,” Uncle Anamoto replied. Little did he know, his offhand jest would come true a few years later—he would indeed don women’s clothing and work at Saigo the Demon’s drag bar, finding a vibrant new life and embarking on a journey across gender lines.

In the end, there are only men and women in this world; drag queens are both and neither, making them the strongest of all. This classic line from Bon Clay in One Piece would, years later, become the most beloved saying among drag queens.

But for now, they were still men, through and through—physically and mentally. They preferred displaying their masculine charm, hoping to catch the eyes of beautiful women. Their hearts beat with passion; sometimes they were arrogant, sometimes lewd, sometimes vulnerable, but at this moment, they were just drops in the vast tide of history.

“Alright, Uncle, I’m heading back,” Okakura said with a wave and a laugh.

“Go on, and hey—guard your virtue, Okakura,” Anamoto called out with a lascivious grin.

“Don’t worry, Uncle,” Okakura replied, waving as she left.

Back at the table, the revelry continued unabated. Matsudaira had tied his necktie around his forehead and was barefoot on the table, belting out Masayuki Sakai’s “Farewell, My Lover.” Ando and the other drag-dressed rebels mingled with the real hostesses, joining in the chorus, the atmosphere harmonious and wild.

“From the swaying train window, I saw that tiny house and couldn’t help but shout in my heart—I’ll definitely come back…” As they sang, the lights flickered a few times and abruptly went out, plunging the room into darkness. The hostesses screamed in fright.

It was time to act! Take Okakura wasn’t on the assault team, so she hid behind a sofa to observe. Her role was to pose as a woman and, when the operation began, monitor the surroundings and stall any Shogunate police who might arrive.

After several tense seconds, the lights snapped back on. Peeking from behind the sofa, she saw her comrades brandishing knives, surrounding Katakuriko Matsudaira.

“Gentlemen, I only came for a little drink and to admire the ladies. Is it really necessary to point knives at me?” Matsudaira lounged on the sofa, his voice lazy, but his eyes behind the sunglasses were sharp and somber.

“Katakuriko Matsudaira, Destroyer! You’ve colluded with the aliens, sold out our land, and massacred the loyal. Tonight, you face divine retribution!” Uncle Anamoto declared sternly, knife raised.

“That’s a heavy crown you’re putting on me, Uncle,” Matsudaira said, removing the tie from his forehead and standing. Glancing around, he added, “Seems you were prepared for this.” No sooner had he spoken than he drew two pistols from his coat and fired at the ceiling, shattering the central light.

Darkness fell once more. The clash of blades and gunfire echoed all around. Take Okakura hurriedly dragged the sofa in front of her as a shield and edged toward the door. As she moved, Ando and two other drag-disguised soldiers rushed over and took cover behind her sofa.

“Damn it, where the hell did that old man hide those guns? I frisked him for ages and found nothing,” Ando complained.

“Me neither. That perv just grabbed my ass the whole time—disgusting,” another soldier chimed in.

“Does he have Doraemon’s fourth-dimensional pocket or something?” the last soldier exclaimed.

“Enough chatter! Let’s get out of here. The Shogunate police will be here any minute—we need to block them,” Okakura ordered. The sofa was small, so she and Ando dragged it together while the other two crouched behind, the four of them inching toward the exit.

Finally reaching the door, they heard the wail of police sirens outside. Peeking through a crack, they saw the hotel was surrounded by police cars and armored vehicles. Helicopters buzzed overhead, and at the front, officers brandished loudspeakers and shouted, “Joi rebels inside! You are surrounded! Lay down your arms, release the hostages, and surrender!”

“Okakura, did you hear that? They want us to surrender,” Ando quipped.

“Over my dead body!” Okakura snapped.

“Same here!”

“Me too!” the other two boys echoed.

“Same for me,” Ando agreed.

“In that case, let’s make a break for it.” The light streaming through the door crack fell directly on Okakura’s face, her wide, bright eyes shining, causing the other three to pause in awe.

“Alright, darling, I trust you the most. You have to protect me,” Ando said with a mischievous grin, wrapping himself cloyingly around Okakura’s arm.

Okakura shuddered and wrenched her arm free, giving Ando a pointed look. “Ando, remember what you’ve got between your legs. If you start having weird ideas, it’ll never stand at attention again.”

“Relax, I like sexy older women. Come morning, my little brother will be up and greeting me as usual,” Ando muttered, releasing her arm.

“Enough nonsense. Let’s move. We’re going out,” Okakura said, retrieving a long sword from behind the entryway cabinet—a weapon they’d hidden beforehand.

The others fell silent and armed themselves as well. As they prepared, the rest of the team charged with stalling the police emerged, grabbing weapons from the cabinets. Outside, the police thr