War.

War never changes.

During the months leading up to what would be known as
World War III, the island nation of Japan took great
pains to ensure their survival. Diplomats and bribes
were dispatched to every world power, espionage agents
attempted to neutralize the first-strike capabilities
of neighboring nations, and massive amounts of weapons
were imported to defend the nation from the unlikely
event of a land invasion.

When the bombs fell, Japan was left unscathed. As the
flakes of fallout enveloped the world, the Japanese
congratulated themselves. After the world had been
cleansed, it seemed that Ameratsu's children were
protected from the burning storm. They relaxed and
prepared for a new life, one free of interference from
foreign devils.

The peace did not last.

Japan had become too developed to return to the old
ideals of isolationism. Their cars and trains sat
inert, unfueled and unusable. Rice rotted in the
country while men died of starvation in the cities.
Electricity was first rationed, then restricted to
government use only, then nonexistent. With no
manufacturing or importing of medicine, the simplest
of dieases became deadly. Wild animals, irradiated by
the fallout, walked the streets without fear,
spreading disease and killing the old and unfit.

And through it all, the men quivered, helpless, unable
to survive without the technology that they were so
famous for. Many wished that they, too, had been wiped
out in the war. Still more prayed to wake up from the
nightmare that life had become.

Eventually, something snapped. Thousands of years of
cultural conditioning had been worn down by eighteen
months of hardship. In an orgy of violence and
destruction, they turned on one another. Like wild
animals they slaughtered each other, neighbors killing
neighbors, brothers killing brothers, husbands killing
wives. They tore apart buildings, streets, and
infrastructure, as if to spite the civilization that
had so damned them. The city of Tokyo burned for five
days. The streets ran red with blood.

Some, however, were able to escape the riots. Many
were able to flee the city into the surrounding
wasteland. Some banded together into loose groups,
sharing food and space. They bred. They adapted. They
trained. They survived.

Sixty years later, the battered survivors emerged from
their hovels and camps to repopulate the destroyed
city of Tokyo. No-one knew just what drew them to the
city they had sworn off decades ago-- perhaps one band
began the pilgramage, and all they met had followed
them. Whatever the case may be, they came back to the
city.

When the survivors arrived, hearty and toughened by
the Wasteland, they found a ghost town. The toppled
buildings were exactly the same as when the survivors
had left. Nothing had been erected, nothing had been
repaired. Nobody was left. The only sounds that
greeted them upon finding the city were the chittering
of corpse rats and the sound of wind blowing over
bone. They squared their jaws and resolved to stay,
and to someday return the city to its former glory.
With the help of a strong leader, they would
accomplish this goal within a generation.

But the survivors of Tokyo found themselves unable to
unite under a single ruling group. Bickering,
suspicious, and greedy for the meager resources the
blasted metropolis held, the survivors toppled and
replaced every single man, woman or group that claimed
to rule. During the short span of five years, the city
of Tokyo knew over 80 "rulers".

A compromise was eventually reached, after much
bloodshed, thinning the already small population. The
city of Tokyo would be divided into wards, as it had
been before the Great War. Each ward would be a
self-ruled city-state, untied to any of the other
wards. Soon, boundary lines were drawn, defenses were
erected, and weapons were once again pointed at
neighbors, ready to destroy at a moment's notice.

War never changes.

One such ward was the ward of Nerima. Lacking in
firearms or armor, the inhabitants of Nerima chose to
train extensively in the marital arts in preparation
for invasion by another ward. Far more powerful and
agile than inhabitants of rival wards, they hope their
superior technique and discipline can overcome
overwhelming firepower.

In the eighteen years Tokyo has existed in its current
state, Nerima has only known three conflicts with
other Wards. The last six years have been relatively
peaceful.

Life in Nerima Ward is about to change.

***

R A N M A   1 / 2 : D E C A Y

By Paul "Unseen" Durant

***

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