May 18 & 19 - Tokyo Journal Entry
The last two days in Tokyo have been intense, both on stage and behind the scenes.
May 18, the Renraku-sponsored concert, set the stage for what would turn out to be two very different experiences. Halo played to Japan's past, its traditions, and how it’s adapted to the future. I can’t say I was moved by the concert—too clean, too perfect for my taste. It was a love letter to Renraku’s ideal version of Japan. Sure, it was beautiful, but it felt like playing it safe, especially for Halo. Still, there’s something to be said for perfection. The crowd seemed to love it, though. Halo knows how to work them, even when she’s holding back.
The real action wasn’t on the stage but just off to the side. Halfway through the performance, security spots a young Japanese girl—no more than 16—slipping through the crowd like a ghost. You’ve got to respect the tenacity. She nearly made it to the stage before Slag and Vanya intercepted her. Tense moment there; they thought she was a threat, but it was clear she was just a fan with too much heart and not enough sense.
Halo saw what was happening and, in true Halo fashion, decided to invite her backstage after the show. Her name’s Ren, and she showed up to the after-party with her aunt in tow. She was ecstatic, obviously, but she seemed nervous, too—like she couldn’t believe where she was. Can’t blame her. Halo’s world must seem like another universe to a girl like her. I kept an eye on things. It’s easy for situations like that to spiral, but Ren was harmless, if starstruck. The girl’s going to remember this night for the rest of her life.
But May 19... the Shiawase concert was something else entirely.
Shiawase had pushed for a different theme, and Halo delivered, diving headfirst into Japan's dark side. The mood was heavier, more raw. Halo took the audience through a painful history—wartime devastation, societal pressures, even the existential crisis of modern Japan trying to reconcile tradition with an increasingly globalized identity. It wasn’t a concert so much as an emotional excavation. I could feel the discomfort rippling through the crowd. Some of the faces I saw—there was a lot of shock, and a few walked out. But for every one of them, someone else was captivated, unable to look away.
This wasn’t about entertaining; this was about forcing people to confront things they’d rather not think about. And that’s what makes Halo who she is—she doesn’t just perform, she forces you to feel. I could see it in the air around her—raw emotions bleeding out, changing the very atmosphere of the place.
While the crowd was wrestling with their feelings, I found myself in conversation with Akimitsu Shiawase, of all people. The son of Sadato Shiawase, he was here overseeing the concert’s security. Akimitsu is an interesting guy—quiet, sharp, and an adept. That last part caught me off guard. The Shiawase family doesn’t exactly advertise their association with magic, and here he is, a walking contradiction. We talked about magic, family, and duty. It was a strange conversation, given the circumstances. For a guy from one of the most powerful families in Japan, he’s remarkably grounded, though I doubt he gets much room to show it.
When Halo came off stage, the room was heavy. You could see it in the way she moved—like she’d poured everything into the performance and left nothing behind. We escorted her back to the hotel, and everyone kept to themselves. There wasn’t much to say after a night like that.
May 20 – Tokyo Journal Entry
I thought May 20 would be a quiet day. I should have known better.
What was supposed to be a "small, private affair" at Yuuki’s mountain estate outside Tokyo turned into anything but. It was framed as a casual gathering, but let’s be real—when every guest arrives in private vehicles flanked by armed guards, there’s nothing low-key about it. This was the Shiawase version of the Renraku event at Tokyo Tower a few days ago. Two megacorps, two worlds, and clearly zero trust between them.
We were there to provide security for Halo, as usual. But this event had more than the typical layer of tension. Every corporate dignitary in attendance carried their weight in power, status, and paranoia. The team kept things tight, especially with Halo in such proximity to Japan’s elite.
Then Sayuri Ishikawa showed up.
Sayuri, oyabun of the Kiyomasa-gumi, a particularly influential branch of the Yakuza, decided to crash the party. And when I say crash, I mean he arrived with a small army of goons, all of them looking like they were ready for war. Sayuri wanted to "experience" Halo. Let’s just say the situation was tense enough to make even the coldest corp execs break into a sweat. No one wanted a confrontation—not here, not with all these power players.
I’d like to say I wasn’t rattled, but even I wasn’t sure how this was going to end. Sayuri wasn’t leaving without his experience, and we weren’t letting him near Halo with his entourage of thugs. But as he stepped forward, there was something in his eyes. A fan, maybe? Hell, it’s hard to read people like him.
So, I made the call. Reluctantly, I allowed Sayuri to enter. But only him. None of his goons. I wasn’t stupid enough to leave him entirely unchecked, though—I had a few quiet words with Blink, making sure she and Slag kept an eye on him the entire time. No sudden moves, no trouble.
Halo, professional that she is, handled it all in stride. Sayuri may have been the embodiment of everything rotten with the Yakuza, but he was mesmerized by Halo like everyone else. When the time came for him to leave, he did so without issue—no blood spilled, no drama, just the quiet shuffle of a man who got what he wanted.
After Sayuri was gone, I figured the night was finally winding down. Then, the unexpected happened.
Sadato Shiawase himself pulled me aside. The old man was impressed—not just with how the Sayuri situation was handled but with the whole tour’s security, apparently. He’s seen a lot in his years, so it’s no small thing for him to comment on anything.
Then came the offer—well, more like an agreement made between men who understand each other. He wanted me to take his son, Akimitsu, under my wing for the rest of the tour. The young heir presumptive of the Shiawase dynasty needs to see the world beyond the walls of his family’s corporation. A world where people don’t treat him like the son of a living god.
Shiawase corporate royalty shadowing our security? It’s a risk, no question about it, but it might just pay off. Plus, I get the feeling the kid needs a taste of reality—and I’m all about delivering that kind of lesson.
The night wrapped up with more polite conversation, but the wheels were already turning. This tour just got a whole lot more interesting.
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