Neon Codex Sword Gospel: I - Destiny Plays Guitar

Tsunami Minatsu stood before her mirror. She adjusted the controls of her makeup until she had the perfect look. Her lips were a vibrant cyan, and her eyeshadow an equally alluring magenta to complement her yellow eyes. All of which glowed, obviously. She looked at her wrist, the glowing face of a clock projecting into the air above it. She still had plenty of time before the show. She wondered how the band was doing. She checked her hair one last time, two epic twintails with odango buns, blue like the sky when tuned to a dead channel.

She checked her files, making sure she had the latest copies of all the songs in their playlist in her memory. She wasn't sure why she was nervous, considering that she was a robot. But something agitated her. She checked and double checked her subsystems. She raised her hand to her head, about to call the band, but stopped. She was being ridiculous.

She looked at the vidscreen playing idly in the background. The Codex of Holy Universal Regulation, Control, and Harmony Syndicate was playing their latest ad. “Protect the Second,” it said. She turned the vidscreen off. That was probably it. The CHURCH Syndicate was getting too much power, and with that power, they were trying to make changes.

It was the 10C initiative that worried her. Not necessarily because it opened the door to all manner of strange, Levitical laws, supported by a Big Brother-level infrastructure, but more imminently, she feared 10C.2, especially how it could be interpreted. “THOU SHALT NOT MAKE UNTO THEE ANY GRAVEN IMAGE.” This was called “The Idol Rule,” or more officially “The Second.”

She looked at her face in the mirror. For a moment, she turned off the makeup and the hair effects. She idly scratched the back of her hand, the synthskin feeling the scratch of the synthnails. She was doubly-damned. Both a pop-idol and a robot. She was a marked woman if she dared perform the show tonight. With a flick of the wrist, she reactivated the makeup and hair effects. She was going to dare.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. “Enter,” she said. The door hissed open. She saw the reflection of the man in the mirror. It was her agent, Todo. “Is the band ready?” she asked. “I'm quite anxious to perform tonight. We'll show the CHURCH Syndicate that they're not in power. With every person signing and dancing along, that's another person who wants to live their own life, and not somebody else's.”

Todo said nothing, but something he held glinted in the light of a passing drone. She turned to face him. She gasped at what he held. In his hand was a gun, ready to fire, aimed directly at her.

“Nothing personal,” Todo said. “But I've been given a promotion.” With his other hand, he pulled a black crucifix with neon piping from within his jacket.

Tsunami narrowed her eyes. “The Syndicate got to you too,” she said. She crossed her arms. “I won't go down without a fight. I'll just restore from my latest backup and continue until the entire world has heard my song.”

Todo laughed. “It's hard to restore from a backup when the server's been wiped.”

She blinked her eyes. In a flash, she confirmed what he had said. At least, she confirmed that the backup server was unreachable. 410 GONE. The response lingered in her view, occluding Todo and his gun, but her face like an open book.

Todo smiled. “Say your prayers,” he said. He pulled the trigger.

Tsunami flinched. She closed her eyes. The sound was loud, an explosion and a large thump, like a body (or two) hitting the floor. She felt something whiz past her, and the window behind her shattered. She did a quick system scan. ALL SYSTEMS GREEN. She opened her eyes.

Todo was lying in a heap on the floor, the gun meters away from his grip. On top of him was another man, very confused. A quick scan of the room indicated that Todo was out cold, but the other man was fine. Tsunami hurried over to him, kicking the gun further away en route. She helped him stand. His hand was warm, and the touch made her cheeks glow.

He wore a black suit with smartwire. His white shirt had a mandarin collar, and below that, a glowcollar. In his hand he held a multi, and someone had carved a half-closed eye on the handle.

Once standing, she placed a hand on his wrist, feeling his pulse, and trying to not think about how handsome he was. “Tell me,” she said. “Are you an assassin?”

“What?” he said. “No.”

He was telling the truth.

“Why are you dressed like one?” she asked.

“I'm,” he said, looking around, taking in the room. “I'm not sure.”

Again, the truth.

“What is your name?” she asked.

“Kenichi,” he said. “Kenichi Chozen.”

“Do you know who I am?” she said. She looked at him in a way that resembled the pose on the cover of her previous single.

“No,” he said. “I'm sorry.”

She frowned, but then realized that it might be a breath of fresh air to not have some simpering sycophant or frenzied fanboy following her around. “I'm Tsunami Minatsu,” she said.

He nodded. “Pleased to meet yo--”

“The greatest idol of all time,” she said.

“Oh,” he said. “Again, pleased to meet you. It's an honor I'm sure.”

She looked from him to Todo on the floor. “Listen,” she said. “This might be a strange request, but could I hire you?”

“For what?” he said.

“I need a bodyguard.”

“What?” he said.

Just then, the door burst open and several men in suits and ties, all wearing black gloves, all carrying light-katanas, entered.

Kenichi looked from the robot pop idol to the roomful of assassins. “What's going on?” he said.

“Executing 10C.2 Protocol,” one of the men said into his wrist. He stepped over the prone form of Todo.

Kenichi stepped in front of the man, standing between him and Tsunami. “Wait,” he said. “There must be some mistake.”

“We have an Apostate, permission to use deadly force?” said the man into his wrist.

“GRANTED” said a voice, playing from some speaker that each one of the assassins had on their persons.

Tsunami grabbed Kenichi's arm. “We had better get out of here,” she said. She looked around the room. The door was blocked by the assassins, and the vents in the ceiling through which Kenichi has almost certainly fallen from were too high to reach. The only way out was the window, the glass missing from the bullet, the black maw gaping into a neon abyss.

Kenichi held up his multi. “I think they want a fight,” he said. He looked back at her. “And you need a bodyguard.” He pressed a switch on his multi, and from one end emerged a light-blade, similar in shape to the light-katanas, but pale blue to their red. He engaged the first of the group. Their swords met with a flash of light. Kenichi waved the attacker's blade away with his own, leaving his opponent's midsection open. With his elbow, he struck him in the solar plexus. The man wheezed, tripped over Todo, and fell back onto the others. Kenichi knew that he couldn't face the entire group. He looked back to the window, then at his multi. “Come on,” he said, grabbing Tsunami's hand and pulling the two of them out through the window. Someone threw a light-katana at them, but it just spun over their heads like a feckless boomerang.

The night air hit the two as they started to fall toward the uncaring ground. Kenichi focused on his multi as they fell, until he found the right setting. From the handle emerged the outline of a hoverbike. He hopped on the saddle and pulled Tsunami on behind him. He gripped the neon handlebars and revved the engine, sending sparks and zeroes and ones into the air behind him. He angled the hoverbike back, and pushed the accelerator, angling it so he could meet the ground at a favorable angle. The hoverbike bobbed, scraped the road for just a second, wobbled, but then sped away. Tsunami looked back at her distant window. Zooming her vision, she saw the assassins looking down at them. She clung to Kenichi, his body warm and strong, and she nestled her head upon his back.

“We need to get somewhere safe,” she said. He nodded. She beamed a location to the HUD on the hoverbike. Kenichi looked at the lightmap. The pinned location was a place called Umami Usagi Nami. He navigated the hoverbike down the streets, feeling the tight grip, almost a hug, from Tsunami as they went.