Well, ladies and gents...it is time to make good on my promise, and thus, I am presenting to you the first completed chapter of the story I was showing off with my oneshot "Teaser"! And do you know what the best part is? This is made possible by the combined efforts of myself and RealmOfEmptiness! If you don't know who he is, I suggest you look him up and read at least ONE of his stories! Seriously, man's a genius!

Well, I shouldn't keep you waiting. Ladies and gents...welcome to "Drifting towards Rebellion!"

Drifting towards Rebellion

Act 1: The Battlefield of the Ruined Japan

Shimazu Toyohisa hurt like hell. He wasn't sure if it was just his body aching in general, or the numerous stabs he received when he shot that general in the chest.

The memory was still deep in his heart. Their forces were on the verge of defeat...but the feeling of it was not there. The Shimazu of Satsuma never knew such a thing as 'defeat'. The Battle of Sekigahara resounded deeply into his heart as he charged into the battlefield, taking both lives and heads of the enemies before him. When his uncle called for a retreat, he stayed behind to defend him. It was a shame, though, that he didn't get that damned commander's head. It would have made for a fine trophy.

However, he was confused about the rest: while he wandered through the forest he had somehow found himself in that strange white corridor, with doors lined up. The last thing he could recall was that man who sat there as if holding court, and everything after that was a blank. He was brought back to reality when he felt his wounds lurch with agony. A curse came through his teeth as he sat up, a hand at his ribs. His hands felt something warm seeping through the cloth wrapped around his waist.

"D-dammit!" he hissed in pain. "What the hell...huh?" Suddenly he became more aware of his surroundings. He was sitting atop a raised bed, sheets hiding his lower body from view. Bandages were wrapped around his waist, left bicep, and neck, no doubt to stop the bleeding. His actions must have reopened some of them, as the red blotch in his right side began to grow bigger. However, even stranger still was the fact that he was inside some sort of room. It was unfamiliar to him, with dark gray walls surrounding the available space and a single door made of metal as the only exit. The walls looked dilapidated: several cracks ran along the walls, some even left partially destroyed. They looked ready to fall apart any second. "Where is this?"

Then he heard a couple of familiar, yet at the same time foreign sounds: the sound of gunfire, and that of screams.

The sound of screams was more than familiar to him. Hell, he's heard it for nearly all of his life since he took up arms. However, the gunfire was foreign: it sounded like hundreds of muskets firing off in a disorganized rhythm, a mess of shots firing off in rapid succession. Well not quite, but that was the best way Toyohisa could describe it. That said, both sounds were clear signs that wherever he was...sure as hell wasn't safe. He couldn't tell if this place was being defended or if someone was attacking. He looked around the room, hoping to find his weapon: to his relief he found his trusty katana sitting next to the bed he sat on. Sadly his gun was nowhere to be found.

It would do. Inside a building a sword had the advantage against guns due to the confined space, even one as long as his katana: he trained hard to remove that weakness.

He tore the sheets from his body and hopped off the bed, ignoring the pain of protest his body gave, taking his sword with him. He placed himself against the wall next to the door, slowly drawing the blade from the scabbard. He then pressed his ear to the wall: the sound of gunfire had ceased, as had the screams. Now, however, he heard rushing footfalls, running straight down what he assumed was the entryway.

"Search the facility! Don't leave any of these filthy Elevens alive!"

Toyohisa frowned. 'That's...English, isn't it?' He was no stranger to the English language, able to understand the basics, but he never bothered to actually learn it. He'd met a few Englishmen who came to Japan for whatever reason so understanding it was more or less cakewalk, especially when his father and uncle demanded it. Still, the fact that there were people speaking English and attacking...what did that mean? And who in the hell were those 'Elevens'? Footsteps rushed past the door, causing him to tense. He gritted his teeth and readied his sword, ready to strike.

Two seconds passed. Then, movement: the door was thrown open and someone entered. Immediately Toyohisa struck: he swung his sword down, slashing at their back. The figure let out a cry of pain, a masculine one, as he hit the floor, his musket falling out of his grasp. Before he had a chance to escape Toyohisa stabbed his sword into his stomach, thus pinning him to the floor. The captive let out another cry of pain.

Toyohisa's head turned, but found no one trying to save their comrade. He also didn't hear their footsteps, meaning they had moved on. Good. Now he could properly get a hand on the situation. He turned his head to his captive, only to frown. He had half-expected them to be dressed in some kind of foreign clothing, since the Englishmen never really had a taste of armor, relying on their muskets as their only defense. His captive however was wearing gray padding and armor over what appeared to be black clothing that fully covered the body. The helmet was the oddest piece. It was dome-shaped with a few edges, and the faceplate was certainly strange: it had what looked to be a mask of some kind with a tube over the mouth, and a strange piece with two round plates of glass where the eyes would be.

What strange armor...did all people from Britain or wherever they came from wear such armor? It hardly looked practical. Hell, it didn't even provide the slightest protection from his sword! Regardless, he pulled his sword from his captive's stomach and then flipped him over, placing the blade right over his neck.

"Okay Gajin." he said slowly with fierce eyes. "Answer my questions. If you don't...you know what happens."

The soldier let out a low growl. "Go to hell, you filthy Eleven!"

Again, there it was: Eleven. What did that even mean? Was that how Englishmen address the people of Japan? Still, Toyohisa had to respect the man to some degree: fearlessness in the face of the one who captured him...admirable, at the very least. The trait of a good warrior. He pressed the blade further against his neck. "Hell is a place I'm familiar with." Toyohisa said, wanting to intimidate him. "As are the men who's heads I've claimed. Now, unless you want to join them answer my goddamn question. Where the hell am I?!"

The man winced at the cold feeling of steel biting his flesh, followed by the warm feeling of his own blood on the skin. If before he wasn't sure about the blade's sharpness, now he was. "...The Osaka ghetto." He finally hissed between clenched teeth.

'Osaka? I'm in Osaka?' Toyohisa thought with some skepticism. Osaka was pretty distant from Sekigahara, more than a full day on foot if one didn't run. Considering he was in a pretty bad shape after the battle, he doubted he was able to walk there alone. Someone, probably the one who bandaged his wounds, took him there. But why not stopping in a closest town, or even Kyoto?

Also...what the hell was a 'ghetto'? Was he talking about the slums? If so, then it would explain the state of the room and the several cracks on its surface. Still, he wanted to know who built this place: the walls seemed to be made of thick earth, like concrete or the like. He was vaguely familiar with concrete, if only for the building of the foundation of some houses. That said, the rest of the housing should normally be wood, paper and mud.

At any rate, it seemed he would get the answers he needed. "Alright then, next questions. Who are you? And why are you attacking the people here?"

"W-what?!" his captive practically gawked. If Toyohisa could see beneath the helm, he would see the soldier's face twist in shock and disbelief. "Are you a fucking idiot?! I'm a Britannian, you filthy Eleven! Your better and master! And why shouldn't we attack this shithole you animals live in?! It's a base for you filthy terrorists!"

'Terrorists?' That term was unfamiliar to him. Someone who caused terror? However, the other terms confused and irritated him even more.

"Britannian?" Toyohisa's eyebrows reached the middle of his forehead. "What? Is that what you Englishmen call yourselves now?" Then his eyes narrowed. "I don't know what's poisoned that mind of yours, but I don't remember ever swearing fealty to some sort of arrogant fool. My loyalty is to the Shimazu! No one else!" He pressed the blade further, causing his captive to growl in pain. "Now answer! Why are you attacking this place! Who are you attacking?!"

The soldier felt the blade dig deeper. Soon it would touch his jugular and he would bleed to teeth. The wound in his stomach hurt like a bitch too, so he could barely move. Maybe if he kept talking and was lucky he could recover to his weapon. "L-Like I said, we're taking out the terrorists here!" he repeated. "Our orders were to kill everyone inside this building!"

So that's what it was...a massacre. Somehow that seemed to infuriate Toyohisa even more, his eyes burning something fierce. He recalled what the so-called Britannian said about his people: calling them filthy animals and the like. He referred to himself and the other Britannians as being superior to them. "...Then all the people inside this building...they're all Japanese, is that correct?"

"Hah!" the soldier barked a laugh. "Even when your nothing but a defeated dog, you still call yourselves that?! Face it, you fucking pig! You're not samurai or heroes or whatever! You're not even people as far as we're concerned! Just numbers in the system! Just Elevens!"

Toyohisa's anger spiked. His heart burned with rage and his soul demanded justice for this treachery. He was more than happy to oblige. Besides, he had what he needed anyway.

"Then you can die with your pride intact, 'Britannian'!" he roared.

He raised his sword above his head and swung. Before the soldier realized it his head was cut clean off, creating a spurt of blood that splashed against his pants. Crimson liquid stained the silver polish of his blade, a common event when it came to blood. Toyohisa let out a humph, swiping his sword through the air to flick off the blood before he held a hand to his chest, his eyes closed. With the head severed from the corpse any and all sins were cleansed from his enemy. Filth remained in the body, but the head was now pure. He would have liked to give it a proper burial, but now he had to get out of here.

He exited the room and found himself in a long hallway. It was like the room he was in, and just as ruined. The walls were made of stone, cracks running through them. Some large pieces of debris even layered the floor, leaving behind gaping holes. "This sure as hell doesn't look like any slum I've ever seen." Toyohisa commented. He took a quick look around and then found the corpses of what he assumed were his countrymen. They were dressed oddly: rather than armor, they wore what he assumed to be some kind of western designed clothes. Similar to the bodysuits to wear under the armor, only separated and in different colors and segments. However, he also took notice of the muskets in their grasp and frowned. He walked over to one of the bodies and picked up its weapon. "What kind of musket IS this?"

The weapon in his hands was most definitely anything but a musket. It was all metal but no wood. The barrel was also much longer, but not long enough to be considered a rifle. It had two muzzles rather than a single one, though it still looked part of the same tubing. It also had no flintlock, much less a chamber to load the gunpowder in. "How the hell is this thing even supposed to work?" he questioned, looking it over. "Is this what foreigners use? Seriously...Gajins are so strange."

Well, he needed a weapon with range either way. But he had no holster. An idea came to him shortly however: he moved back to the room he woke up in and ripped the sheets from the bed, fastening them into a makeshift belt and holster. "That should do for now." he nodded to himself before leaving the room. "Now...back to Sekigahara! I need to get back to uncle!"

Unknown to Toyohisa, a figure watched him from afar, hidden by the shadows.

"So he's awake?"

"Seems like it. Going by his reaction thus far...your gut feeling might not be off the mark."

"Heh...I'll be damned. In that case, make sure he gets here in one piece."

"I'll do my best. Still...the Britannians got lucky. They discovered this base purely by accident. My guess is that they spotted one of the soldiers when we were bringing him back here."

"Figures...did you at least get the supplies?"

"You should be getting them in a few minutes. If not, well, there goes another shipment for you."

"So long as the guys bringing 'em are okay, all's fair I guess~"

"This place is a damned maze!" Toyohisa cursed as he ran around the complex, trying to find his way out of here. "I must have been running for at least an hour! Who in hell built this place, and using stone no less?!"

Either the place was ridiculously large, or somehow he kept missing the exit. All he found were the bodies of his fellow countrymen, some bodies of those 'britannians' and rooms with bizarre stuff he couldn't be arsed to identify. At least the beds told him people lived there, whatever their reasons and occupations could be.

But most of all, there was not a single window! He didn't even know if he was underground or not!

He was about to turn another corner when he heard footsteps coming from the other direction.

'Finally! Someone I can threaten into guiding me outside this trap!' Unless it was a fellow Japanese, in that case he was sure they could come to a common understanding. Quickly he ran into a room and pressed himself against the wall next to the door, ready to grab and push inside the last one to pass...and kill the others if necessary.

As the footsteps grew closer he held his breath to give nothing away. Soon he could discern the differences between each set. 'Two, no three people.'

When the first person appeared in his field of vision he felt relieved. It was a Japanese, wearing the same strange outfit and armed with another of those not-muskets. The second one was a woman: unusual on the battlefield, but if the enemy targets civilians it was necessary even for them to take up arms. While there was no honor in killing a woman Toyohisa admitted willingness to fight and skills weren't exclusive to one gender.

The third person was a man with a bandana around the head. 'Now!' Toyohisa step halfway through the door, his left hand latching over the man's mouth before pulling him inside the room. Before he could use his not-musket Toyohisa put his blade in front of his neck, close enough the man could see it but without cutting the skin. "Sorry for the manhandling fellow countryman." He said in Japanese when he felt the man tensing. "But I'm injured, with no idea where I am and also rather confused about pretty much everything. If you're willing to talk without shooting me raise a hand."

Slowly the man took off one hand from his weapon and raised it, palm open. Nodding Toyohisa released him.

"Never thought I would risk having my head chopped off..." Turning around the man revealed brown hair and eyes, one hand massaging his neck. "Next time use another-Dude, you're bleeding!"

"I survived worse." Toyohisa shrugged, saying the honest truth.

"Shuichi!" A voice called. "Where are you?!"

The man, who probably was 'Shuichi', looked first at the door and then back at Toyohisa. "Can I...?" At Toyohisa's nod Shuichi replied back at the call. "I'm fine! It's not the Britannians: I think I found him!"

"Found me?" The samurai frowned. "Were you searching for me?"

"Yeah." Shuichi nodded. "Our boss told us to find the injured man him and the others brought here. He told me to say..." His eyebrows furrowed in concentration before he addressed his comrades that were entering the room at the moment. "Hisae, what was the message again?"

The woman, Hisae, relaxed when he saw Toyohisa. "Here you are, good. Our boss told you to tell you those words: I guess you have no idea where you are and what happened to you, but the last thing you probably remember before waking up was a long white corridor, with many doors and an odd man with large glasses."

His eyes widened. "Yeah!"

"If your response is yes, then know I'm the same as you. Follow my men, they will bring you to safety and to me. I'll answer all of your questions. Well, those I can at least." The woman finished.

"That's the gist of it." The first man, who had large sideburns, said with a smirk. "Name's Ippei. So, are you ready to leave for a nicer place that isn't crawling with Brits?"

Toyohisa nodded. From the sound of it, their boss had the answers he needed, especially if he mentioned that man in the white corridor. He then moved out, trailing behind the three. "So where are we anyway?" he asked as they ran. "The last thing I remember was being at Sekigahara, not Osaka!"

"We found you injured not too far from here." Shuichi answered without looking at him, keeping his gaze set straight ahead of him and his gun at the ready. He was tense, but Toyohisa couldn't blame him. Given his first meeting with one of these Britannians they obviously did not like Japanese people at all. "Though how you managed to get here from Sekigahara is beyond me. As for where we are, it's our base...or at least it was, until these guys found it!"

Toyohisa didn't ask anything further. He pretty much had the information he needed, though he was still confused. How could he have reached this place? He recalled trudging through the forest, and then meeting that man in the corridor. After that, nothing. Well, at least he was saved by his countrymen and not anyone else. However, he wondered what the state of the war was. He couldn't quite relax yet, both because of the gajins here, and because of the fact that he was in another region. He couldn't remember who Osaka had sided with, but he still couldn't afford to let himself be open. Perhaps it was a ruse...no, that couldn't be. The fact that these gajins were invading and attacking was pretty much proof that things were tense. 'But when had they come? How?' his mind questioned. They whirled around a corner, and began running up a stairwell. 'Surely news of Englishmen invading Japan would have spread quickly around!'

"Ippei, where's the extraction point?" Shuhei questioned.

"Up on the roof. The boss is coming to pick him up in a helicopter." Ippei replied grimly. "I just hope we get out of here in one piece."

"The fuck is a helicopter?" Toyohisa demanded.

Shuhei looked over his shoulder, staring at the man in shock. "...Are you serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"How do you not know what a helicopter is?!"

"Run now, talk later!" Hisae snapped at the boys. "Ippei, how much further?"

"Not much!" He replied. They could worry about helicopters and strange guys armed with swords later, now they needed to get out of there.

They finally reached a door. Ippei slammed it open by literally ramming it with his shoulder, unwilling to slow down even a little. As he passed through the frame Toyohisa was momentarily blinded by the light after so long inside, but his eyes adjusted quickly. When they did, he behold a sight that stole his breath.

A literal sea of grey. The building he was standing on was taller than most buildings he ever saw, only comparable to some stories soldiers tell each other around the bonfire about gigantic castles nobles with too much money on hand were always commissioning somewhere really far away. Around it were scattered other buildings of similar height, ugly and blocky things made of the same grey stuff of the inside, and just as dilapidated. In the distance he could see the sea.

Somehow he felt like he was standing in the middle of a giant graveyard. Maybe he was really dead and this was King Enma's waiting room. Nah, his body hurt too much. Also, those guys that came to get him didn't look like Gozu and Mezu. No animal faces, and they were three instead of two.

"What..." Toyohisa realized that he hadn't been breathing properly, so his voice came out a slight gasp. "W-What the hell is this? It looks like a damned graveyard...all of those gray towers. Lined up like tombstones."

"Aptly put." someone said in agreement from the other side. Alarmed by the unfamiliarity of the voice Toyohisa turned to draw his blade. "Then again, this is what has become of almost all of Japan. In the old days Osaka used to be proud and vibrant...but now look at it. A city of rot and decay, just like everywhere else outside the Tokyo Settlement." The samurai stared at the figure with slight apprehension. It was a woman with long dark hair tied back into a large ponytail, bearing a youthful face with a slight grin. No wait, it wasn't a woman: presuming she was the one who speak, her voice was masculine. Must have been one of those pretty boys one of his comrades used to rave about when he was drunk. His attire was similar to the Britannians, though the armor was more padded and actually gave some form of protection, covering most of the body. "Must be quite the shock for you, waking up to see Japan reduced to this."

"Y-Yoichi-sama!" Hisae cried, her tone suggesting the utmost respect. "H-how are you-?!"

The man, Yoichi, gave a shrug. "Oda insisted I keep an eye out, in case things got rough." he said before smirking. "Oh, and don't worry about the Britannians...their bodies will be buried among the rubble soon enough." Then his smile dropped. "More importantly...Ippei, how many of you were able to escape?"

"I think ten or fifteen. Twenty, if we want to be optimistic." Ippei hung his head in shame. "I am sorry Yoichi-sama, it's my-"

"It's NOBODY fault." The ponytailed man interrupted him harshly, but with a touch of concern. "The Britannians just got lucky. It happens. Nobody can predict everything."

"Did you just said that everywhere but Tokyo is like this?!" Toyohisa demanded. Any other day he would respect comforting a soldier that blamed himself for a mistake not his own, but this was not any other day. "Don't joke with me! I was out like a light for only one, maybe two days! There is no way Japan changed so much!"

"True. Sadly, it's a bit more complicated that just missing a few days. I once felt the same as you." He walked closer to them before looking in the distance. "Ah, here's our ride. Don't freak out new guy, no matter what it seems."

Before Toyohisa could ask for clarifications he heard a strange sound coming closer and stronger with each passing second: it reminded him of a sword being swung around in the air at great speed, faster than humanely possible.

The wind also felt stronger, like something was pushing up against him. The sound then began to emerge from up above. He looked up, and his eyes promptly turned the size of dinner plates. Being the eloquent man he was, he spoke three words that perfectly described what he saw and felt.

"WHAT THE HELL?!"

Some sort of metal clump was flying down, oddly shaped like a demented carriage. The only part of it that remotely resembled a carriage was what he assumed was the head, while the rest of it stuck out like a tail from behind. Above it were rotating blades, spinning at a speed that not even the fastest of Iado-users could be capable of. He wasn't sure if he was looking at a demon or whatever, but the sight was scary enough for him as it is. Soon the carriage descended, landing on what looked like metal rods. One of the doors slid open, revealing a man inside: his clothes were odd, just like the others, but of a different style. He recalled that western merchants wore similar clothes. However the man was also Japanese and looked to have aged well, being probably somewhere in his fifties. He had stubble growing on his face, both on the upper lip and on his chin. His black hair fell down past his shoulders, and a black eyepatch sat over his right eye. All the while he was smiling. If Toyohisa were to compare it to something, he'd say the man was smiling like the Devil himself.

Then he noticed it. A small pin on the pocket on his left breast. Though it was seemingly made of gold, it was hard to not recognize that crest.

The Oda Mokkou. The banner and symbol of the Oda clan.

"Hey boys and girl." the man, who Toyohisa assumed to be the 'boss' Ippei and his comrades spoke of, greeted them jovially. "Miss me?"

"Boss!" "It's the Boss!" "Sir!" The three soldiers greeted the new arrival in their own way, while Yoichi just smirked. He seemed to really like smirking.

"I see everyone is in a good shape." Then he glanced at Toyohisa. "Well, almost everyone."

He stepped down from the carriage and advanced towards Toyohisa who, however, reacted by pointing his sword at him. But the instant Toyohisa started moving the man flicked his wrist, grabbed a gun that came out of his sleeve and pointed it at the samurai's head.

Ippei, Hisae and Shuichi moved, probably to protect their Boss, but Yoichi stopped them with a raised hand. "Let them." he said with a casual tone. "They aren't going to kill each other anyway."

"Who are you? That Mokko family crest...are you a man from the house of Oda?" Toyohisa barked.

"A man from the house of Oda?" The eyepatched man smiled like he just heard something incredibly funny. "Are you an oaf? I am Oda, and Oda is ME."

That phrase...there was once a certain great man that loved to said that phrase, but it couldn't be him! "Who the hell are you?!"

"I am Nobunaga." The man replied, a cloud over the sun casting shadows on his face. Only his eye was visible: it was the eye of a true demon. "Oda Ufu Nobunaga."

Toyohisa stared.

Then he swung his sword.

Like before the man that called himself Nobunaga moved as the same moment as Toyohisa. He stepped back, letting the breeze produced by the moving sword rustle his hair. "That was dangerous. You really are an oaf."

"You are the oaf!" Toyohisa shouted, cold sweat starting to form on his skin: he was really pushing his body too hard. "Lord Nobunaga has been dead for many years now! Henceforth, this must indeed be the Netherworld and you a demon trying to dece-"

"Not to ruin the moment." Yoichi's voice cut through Toyohisa's tirade. Everyone looked at the ponytailed man, who has a silly grin on his face. "But the explosive charges I left behind are about to explode. When they do, the entire building will collapse."

They stared.

Then everyone but Yoichi and Toyohisa ran inside the carriage.

The samurai stared at the effeminate man, who grinned back at him. "You expect me to follow you?" he growled. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't cut you down here."

"Well, I was the one who stitched you up, however little good that did since you re-opened your wounds," Yoichi pointed out. As he said, red blotches had formed along the other bandaged areas of Toyohisa's body, with the one at his chest growing larger. "That, and we're currently trying to save you. If this is how you repay gratitude, I'd hate to see how you handle betrayal."

"Don't test me, jester!"

The man looked offended. "Jester? I am an archer, first and foremost! Now then, unless you want to die and be crushed to death, do get inside the helicopter. That thing." He pointed at the carriage. "We don't have much time." Toyohisa still regarded him with hostility, but he knew he had a point. Besides, he couldn't quite kill him yet. There were still answers he needed. Reluctantly he hopped into the carriage while Yoichi took to one of the legs. Then the 'helicopter' began to move up, taking them into the air.

Toyohisa had to admit to himself he was scared. Facing death on the battlefield was one thing, but flying was a completely different thing: it was unnatural, if the Gods wanted man to fly they would have given them wings.

Even if in the past, when he was a kid, he sometime wondered what flying would be like. All children have stupid thoughts. But like that, inside a metal carriage nosier than an inn full of drunken soldiers, it was far from the dream he once had. And the view wasn't even good. "I think I hate flying."

"Have to agree with you here." The man who called himself Nobunaga said from the opposite seat. He didn't recognize the material those seats were made of, but they were comfortable. "Useful if one is in a hurry, but it's better to keep one's feet on the earth. So young man." He grinned. "I told you my name. Who are you?"

"Told me my name?" Toyohisa scowled. "All you did was giving me the name of a man who died 18 years ago."

"18 years after my supposed death? I see." The man nodded. "I'll ask again: who are you?"

"...Shimazu. Shimazu Toyohisa!" He finally answered. Entertaining the madman in front of him was the last thing he wanted, but he wouldn't shame the name of his family by withholding it. "Son of Shimazu Iehisa."

"Shimazu Toyohisa..." The man closed his eye, as if in remembrance. Then he opened it again. "The battle of Sekigahara, uh?"

"That's right!" Toyohisa's eyes widened. "The battle! How did it ended? Was my uncle, Shimazu Yoshihiro, able to retreat?" He wasn't sure if the battle had even come to an end, but the fact that this man who called himself the one infamously feared as the Demon King of the Sixth Heaven knew of it meant he had to know something about the outcome.

"...Hate to tell you this, young man-"

Outside the carriage the building was torn apart by multiple explosions going off in different places at the same time. By the time it happened only Britannian soldiers were left inside: those that weren't killed by the explosions died crushed by the falling debris.

But no amount of racket could prevent Toyohisa from hearing Nobunaga's next words.

"Yes, your uncle survived. Lived well afterwards too. But since the Battle of Sekigahara...more than 400 years have passed."

Suddenly, as if ice cold water was dumped over him, Toyohisa found himself reeling back. "W-what?"

"The Battle of Sekigahara happened in 1600," the man told him. "We're in 2017. By the way," he grinned again. "Welcome to Area 11, formally the land of the rising sun, now the penal colony of a nation who rules over a third of the world."

Future.

Resistance.

Area 11.

Act 2: New World