Love, Sake, and Imperial Quotas

Cherry blossoms formed a soft pink carpet over the newly constructed Shinto shrine in the middle of Copenhagen's Town Hall Square. It was mid-May, and the annual Shogunat Bazaar was in full swing. Ida sighed, adjusting the silk kimono that pinched uncomfortably around her waist. Ever since the Empire of Japan bought out the rest of the globe in 1965—rebranding Europe as "District West-Asia"—life had taken a distinctly disciplined turn. Citizens now bowed to the mailman, drank green tea with their traditional open-faced sandwiches, and worst of all, faced a massive "Singles Tax" if they crossed the age of 25 without a partner. The Empire demanded high birth rates, and the bureaueracy didn't care about romance. At twenty-six, Ida was officially broke. "Excuse me," a deep, panic-stricken voice murmured behind her. "Do you actually speak fluent, upper-class Japanese, or are you just nodding along like the rest of us?" Ida turned around. Standing before her was a tall, disheveled man in a dark suit that looked like it had been bought in a Tokyo train station vending machine. His tie was knotted so poorly it resembled a tragic, crumpled origami bird. "I work in the Tax Ministry for the Imperial Bureaucracy," Ida said, crossing her arms. "So yes, I speak it fluently. Why?" The man’s eyes widened with pure, unfiltered relief. "Perfect. I’m Mads. And I urgently need a fake fiancée for the next twenty minutes." "Not a chance," Ida said, turning her attention back to a stall selling high-tech, glowing bonsai trees. "I’ll pay your Singles Tax for the entire quarter!" Mads blurted out. Ida froze. She slowly turned back to look at him. He was actually quite handsome, if one ignored the fact that he was sweating like a man who had just lost a duel with a samurai clan. "Twenty minutes?" she asked. "Twenty minutes," he promised. "My regional supervisor, Inspector Tanaka, is coming around the corner. He threatened to transfer me to a seaweed-harvesting facility in northern Norway if I didn’t find a 'respectable, traditional life partner' by my 28th birthday. Which happens to be today." "And you decided to wait until the final hour?" "I’ve been busy losing at Go," Mads said defensively. "Look, just smile, bow deeply, and say 'Hai, Tanaka-sama' whenever he looks at you. Can you do that?" Before Ida could answer, the crowd of shopping locals parted like the Red Sea. A short, impeccably dressed Japanese man with sharp eyes and a digital clipboard strode purposefully toward them. Mads frantically grabbed Ida’s hand. His palm was warm and slightly trembling. "Just remember," Mads whispered under his breath as the inspector closed the distance. "We met at a tea ceremony, we both love raw sea urchin, and we are planning an autumn wedding in Kyoto." Ida forced a rigid smile just as Inspector Tanaka stopped dead in front of them, adjusted his glasses, and looked down at their locked hands with absolute skepticism. "Well, Mads-san," Tanaka said, his voice as dry as autumn leaves. "Is this your... mysterious beloved?" "She is... exquisite, Tanaka-sama," Mads stammered, his grip on Ida’s hand tightening so much her knuckles turned white. "Her dedication to traditional values is matched only by her love for... uh, miso soup." Inspector Tanaka did not smile. He tapped his digital clipboard, and a tiny red laser swept over Ida’s face, scanning her biometrics. "Ida-san," Tanaka said coldly. "Mads-san’s performance reviews at the Ministry of Efficiency are abysmal. He lacks discipline. Yet, you choose him. Tell me, what part of his bushido spirit captured your heart?" Ida felt Mads freeze beside her. She knew this was a trap. If she sounded too generic, Tanaka would send Mads to Norway. If she sounded too enthusiastic, it would look fake.