(03 May 3049)

The perfection of womanhood sweeps into the halls of my vision. Small-boned and delicate, the Flower of the Realm moves with an effortless grace few even among the geisha master. The silk of her kimono shimmers under the lighting, bringing to life the hand-painted jasmines down its length, as though sunlight were kissing dew-covered flowers fluttering in a morning breeze.

My eyes, as with all those present, are held captive by this diminutive force of beauty, despite her advancing years, that has swept into the large oratory, seating herself in one sweep of motion like a wave captured at the peak of breaking.

“Begin.” The single word slips past red lips and the room’s occupants settle silently onto wooden risers that ring the stage. A troupe of nohkabu, resplendent in the finest costumes of their craft, sweeps onto the stage, nerves well-disguised behind heavy make-up and the state of muga—of nothing separating the doer from the doing—they have spent their lives perfecting.

Despite my sources, who have never been wrong, I pull in a long, silent breath to steady my nerves. Regardless of all of the reforms enacted by Gunji-no-Kanrei Theodore Kurita, my eyes refuse to accept the scene before me. For centuries the troupes of the nohkabu have blended ancient and modern theatrical techniques, creating an ardent following across the Combine. Yet their favorite discourse of portraying the events and lives of the dynastic line have left them scrupulously ignored by any government sponsorship. A necessary…disobedience.

While the Flower of the Realm is an ardent supporter of all the National Treasure School activities, the nohkabu has been untouched by her endless forays and dowries bestowed across a host of disciplines.

Have we truly reached such heights of change that the consort of the Coordinator of the Draconis Combine, the Dragon, would directly acknowledge the nohkabu? Unless my eyes are deceiving me, we have.

I can only wonder at what this portends…

—Shintaro Maku, Combine Press