They had once called him Office Superman because of his unparalleled loyalty, professionalism, and efficiency. But Tsutomu was now just a shadow of his former self. He'd fallen into a deep depression after divorcing his wife and losing custody of their son Tetsuya, and he coped with the pain by regularly drinking, whether at home or at the bar near his workplace.

One late evening, he collapsed on his living room couch and turned on the television to keep himself awake a little longer before bedtime. The state of the world, as reported on the news, only put him in the mood for alcohol again, so he went to the kitchen to get a second bottle.

When he returned, the new story that was breaking caught his interest. It seemed like another fool had tried to assassinate the Eternal Shogun and failed. He popped open his bottle and took a swig. The anchorman continued to read monotonously from the teleprompter as grainy footage played behind them. Tsutomu blinked as he focused on the figure aiming their gun at the Shogun. Did his eyes deceive him, or was the assailant also a woman?

No, he thought while setting his bottle down. It must just be the shadows and lighting...

******

Yukari knew it was a miracle that she had managed to escape the morgue in one piece, considering it had taken hours to recover from her temporary suicide, and all manner of horrors could have been conducted on her body during that time.

Her boss Futoshi was furious when she finally returned, and she couldn't blame him. She had put herself and the whole resistance in danger, even if the bullet to her head should have been sufficient to throw the authorities off her trail.

Still, her reckless actions had been an act of desperation resulting from the lack of progress made over the past few years. The resistance had grown idle, with Futoshi being all too content to wait for some savior who would be the key to exploiting one of the Eternal Shogun's purported weaknesses.

Psh, stupid old man, she thought while indulging in a much-needed drink that night. As if someone like her could fall in love with a mortal...

******

Just when Tsutomu had thought he couldn't sink any lower, he had gone to the usual place to drink and become the target of an unexpected but esteemed guest. Her name was Akane, and she was already known all over Tokyo as the Shogun's most recently appointed enforcer, responsible for helping to keep twenty-three million people in check.

Her presence anywhere was a sure sign of bad news, and as she sat near him, Tsutomu tightened his posture in the hope that he would be less conspicuous. It didn't work, and Akane sidled closer before parting her bright red lips to reveal dazzling white teeth.

"Hey, you. What's your name?"

Tsutomu clutched his glass and swallowed, trying not to let her beauty lull him into a false sense of security. "Mr. Higuchi. That's all."

Akane smirked and shot out her hand to grab him by the chin. He choked in horror and discomfort. "Mr. Higuchi, huh? You're a bit old, but I like you." She released his face with a playful shove that almost had him falling off his stool. "I think you'd make a fine slave."

"Wh-What?" Tsutomu stammered, only for one of his worst fears to come true in the form of Akane shapeshifting into a grotesque spider-like monstrosity. He screamed as thick white strands shot out of her mouth and coiled around his body, rendering it impossible for him to fight back while he was dragged out of the bar and towards an uncertain future.

******

And so, Tsutomu was forced to endure a new life of servitude under the command of a supernaturally strong creature who nobody but the Shogun would dare to challenge. He was made to wear a collar to mark his slave status and spent each day performing menial tasks while having to satisfy Akane's strange sexual proclivities at night.

By the end of one month, he was exhausted mentally and physically and willing to end it all if only the means would present themselves. But Akane still had other plans. She wanted to show him off to the Shogun at a private meeting and boast about how obedient he had become.

Tsutomu was subjected to a lengthy bathing and grooming session before being given a new suit for the occasion. Then, he accompanied Akane to the high-rise building where the Shogun resided. They rode the elevator to the top floor, where a meek young woman in a black kimono greeted them with a bow. After they had removed their shoes, she led them through a spacious hall graced on both sides by vibrant ukiyo-e paintings.

If it was any consolation, it seemed like the Shogun had impeccable taste, a notion which was given further credibility when they arrived in a sparse but elegantly furnished living area.

The woman waiting for them on the couch possessed a delicate beauty befitting of a movie ingenue, and Tsutomu blinked. Was this the feared Shogun who ruled the country with an iron fist?

"Greetings, Akane," she said while sparing them only a glance. "Sit down and be my guest."

Tsutomu began to follow his mistress, only for her to halt him with an outstretched palm. "No. You stand."

"Of course..."

He waited like the good slave he was while the two women engaged in a conversation about politics, and the attendant from earlier arrived with two glasses and a bottle on a tray.

"Your beverages, my ladies," the attendant announced with the slightest waver as she set the tray on the table. "Allow me to-"

"No," Akane interrupted, reaching to grab Tsutomu by the wrist. "This man will serve us tonight."

The Shogun, who looked more like a princess than a military leader, smiled in surprise. "Is that so? Very well. Mayumi, you are dismissed."

The attendant retreated as Tsutomu was nudged forward. To the best of his ability, he poured the Shogun's drink first but accidentally brushed his hand against her wrist when she reached out to take the glass.

All of a sudden, her eyes grew wide and his heart raced. He prepared himself to face the legendary wrath many had spoken of, but nothing of the sort came. Instead, her expression became one of fear and doubt as she shrunk against the couch.

"Ichiro..." she murmured, shifting her gaze towards his face. "Is this the form you have taken to torment me?"

******

Note: Ukiyo-e is a genre of Japanese art which had its golden age from the 17th to 19th centuries. It has a distinct style and is probably the most iconic art form to emerge from Japan (apart from manga and anime).