Then there was a parade.
After the Bureau officials, the black-uniformed Imperial Guard regiments, and the legions of dancers and musicians came the shrines. Gleaming brilliant in the spotlights, they were carried each by a dozen shrine-barriers, with two, four, or six shrine maidens standing on their corners or beside the main vestibule of each. The two largest were each set upon wheeled platforms and pulled on ropes by teams of more than fifty bodies each. The priests beat out the carrying rhythm tirelessly on the massive shrine drums.
These were followed by two auto-chariots side-by-side, carrying the four commanders of the Reizei Rear Units with gazes set stoically straight ahead. Two more came after them, the commanders of the Reizei Forward Units in postures similarly austere. Behind these walked several lower officers of the newly-created units, bearing war flags emblazoned with the names of these eight units, and then soldiers themselves in parade uniforms with their swords at their hips. They marched four-deep through the street amidst frantic cries of patriotism and war slogans, from, “Long live the Empire!” down to, “Death to Kolsiv!” The crowds were tremendous; it seemed like the entire city of Shijima was gathered there watching the spectacle of Reizei ascent.
Then came the Great Units, soldiers first, each black-and-red or -navy blue uniform adorned with long brilliantly-colored feathers in matching colors, each soldier fitted with a war banner on a pole attached to their back. After the rank-and-file of the Great Units were two more auto-chariots, massive things that took up two lanes of the road each. The auto-chariots had gleaming fresh paintjobs in their respective unit colors and were trimmed with gold ornamentation, each flying a massive black banner embroidered with the names of the units in old-Meihonese gold calligraphy: “NOZOMI” and “MIRAI.” In these two chariots Eiji and Erimi Aoyama stood each alone, nodding at intervals to the teeming crowd massed in screaming bunches along the sidewalks. If the war was one world and leave another, for Eiji Daitokai, this was certainly a third.
Just behind Eiji and Erimi were two lesser auto-chariots carrying the seconds-in-command of the two units. Standing tall and stripped of his bandages in the chariot emblazoned with the Mirai colors, but unrecognizable to any who had known him for all his face was warped by scars of blade and burn, was Yuuhei Kurotou.
