Context
Welcome to In One Piece. This RP will seek to tell you about the political environment from 2016 - 2021 Shimajiro, as well as earlier and later years, and the unseeming “Government of Consolidarity” led by young upstart Shinsuke Mizuno and former chancellor Saburō Yamagishi. This RP is intended to be large-scale. If you have any ideas, would like to contribute to the story as a foreign state or profile, or have any feedback, do let me know!
ALSO! The below prologue was swiftly written. I promise the later entries in this RP are going to be a lot more detailed and consistent, but I was very very excited to get this out as soon as I could. Please enjoy!
Prologue: Without Ceremony
Part One
The Sei Kantei
Seikan, Seikan Prefecture
Gurētāseikan, Shimajiro
28 November 2016
11 a.m.
When the days of the Government of Consolidarity were young, their very existence was debated and countered.
With a rising force in Shimajiro, the rising force of the right-wing, the revolutionaries and the radicals of the liberal leagues and the socialist consortiums had no choice but to band together. This is no different from Shinsuke Mizuno’s plans of the late 2010s.
There he sat, slumped and slightly miserable, as if just that morning he hadn’t won a national election with momentous results. Instead, he was as grumpy as he ever was. In fact, it didn’t feel like a victory to the man at all. At thirty-two years of age, the boulders on his shoulders were now as heavy as they could ever be, and his uphill struggle would only just be beginning. He sat there, slouched, staring at the sun-soaked mahogany of the Sei Kantei’s governing office. How is it that a man, younger than the state which he was now poised to govern, could find himself in such a predicament? A working-class lad from the filth-ridden dirt streets of Nishinagi, in the fallout of a civil war, with academic and otherwise accomplished parents, did not belong in such a place like this. He was born to run a store, or to simply work in one, or perhaps clean the filth from the streets on which he was raised. Or perhaps he was the filth. He felt so out of place, and it made him miserable. The old Shimanese artifacts which adorned the high walls of the office in which he sat reminded him of his unbelonging there. Mizuno did not feel proud of a nation that appeared to be falling back towards its inevitable dark ages. This was not the Shimajiro Mizuno envisioned he would be governing.
A knock at the door abruptly disturbed his contemplating. It was a loud, fierce, echoey knock. Mizuno flinched ever so slightly, fixing his striped dark suit and sitting himself upright. He leant forwards on his desk, thought, and then decided to sit stoutly, with his arms by his side and his hands held together on his lap.
“Come in,” he demanded. His voice, moderate and soft, felt commanding, and it felt illegal to him.
The doorknob turned, and in stepped a much older, frigid old man, in a brown waistcoat and wearing a smart red tie adorned with white dots. The man, about forty years older than Mizuno himself, had been his predecessor for five years. Mizuno had fought this man in the hallowed halls of the Imperial Diet. Now, the man looked frail and defeated, but Mizuno still felt fear whenever he laid his eyes upon him.
The man was Saburō Yamagishi, a social democrat. For five years prior, he himself had served as the Imperial Chancellor. Now, after years of battling Mizuno for the greatest honour in the country, he was set to deputise for the young upstart. Mizuno saw it as an apprentice-teacher relationship. And Yamagishi saw Mizuno as his student. The tension between the two, once so tender and fierce, had fizzled out long ago. But in their eyes, memories of hard-fought political campaigns and battles trembled and struggled within the air between them.
Mizuno stood, and he held out his hand. Yamagishi took it sternly, and the pair shook. A mutual understanding. And, perhaps, a brand-new bond had been cemented upon the completion of the handshake.
“Mr. Mizuno,” Yamagishi said, delicately. “Your Excellency”, he heavily emphasized.
Mizuno smiled, and he returned the greeting. Even former holders of the Chancellery were still excellent even past their prime, and this was more than appropriate for Yamagishi.
“Thank you for coming,” Mizuno said, “this is where the real work begins, sir.”
Yamagishi took a seat in front of Mizuno. “Yes,” he said, his voice straining as he sat, “I hadn’t imagined your party would overtake mine in the election. Now we find ourselves in an impossible situation.”
Mizuno sighed, and he looked down, before looking away from Yamagishi.
“Yes, we do.” Five long, arduous years struggled in Mizuno’s throat. He stuttered, sighed, and his leg shook with anxiety.
“Do not worry, Shinsuke,” Yamagishi insisted, looking at Mizuno directly. “You have achieved a feat not many in your shoes will ever be able to utter.”
Mizuno looked down at his hands, and then up again at Yamagishi.
“It was supposed to be you. That was the whole point of this operation. For you to be in charge for longer.”
Yamagishi shook his head, “I’ve had five long years, Shinsuke. While I am here, by your side, as your Vice Chancellor, you now must understand the responsibility lies in your hands. It is the democratic mandate of the people that you now must govern.”
Mizuno strained. He had met with the Emperor, just that same morning. He had been sworn in as Imperial Chancellor. Months of election campaigning and days of anticipation for the polls to close had led him to this scenario. Mizuno’s rallying, his strong persona, his charisma, are all which led him to this exact spot.
Mizuno wasn’t sure if this was his downfall, or if perhaps, just perhaps, it was the beginning of something spectacular.