By the time Taiga Haruki stuffed his convenience store apron into his backpack, squeezed his way off the white rush-hour train that could only be called a "living hell," and jogged to Center Street in Shibuya, the street was already packed with people.
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More than one event organizer was standing atop the roadside railings, continuously handing out flyers and placards. Others beside them were distributing matching haori draped over the shoulders, and Taiga hurried over to grab one as well.
Unexpectedly, the long outer robe, printed with a "white orb" design over the chest, was remarkably well-made. It even kept out the cold.
They really spared no expense...
Looking around at the crowd, many already wearing those black-and-white haori, they looked rather like ranks of ashigaru marching out to battle in a Sengoku drama, all dressed in identical outerwear...
Taiga could not help sighing to himself.
This was the "new part-time job" found by this young man, who lived in an internet café and usually worked night shifts at a convenience store.
He squeezed the placard in his hand. It was still made of the usual cheap cardboard, with "Main God Platform! Ten thousand slots every day! Demand fairness!" hastily scrawled across it in black marker.
But when he touched it, he found that the corners were still smeared with wet glue. He had no choice but to take out some tissues and place them underneath.
Once the sun became more pronounced overhead, the marchers, already "poised to go," finally began moving, winding magnificently down the streets like a long dragon.
Following instructions, Taiga raised his sign over his head like everyone else around him. His arms soon began to ache.
Someone ahead began shouting slogans, and he opened his mouth to join in, but his voice