Tokyo Wolves

You moan in frustration as the shower clicks off about a minute before you were ready for it. The damn water rationing was even more stringent in Japan than it was back home. You push your hair - longer and thicker than you were used to - out of your face and step out of the stall. You shiver as the cooler air of the bathroom assaults you and quickly towel yourself dry. Then you wipe the condensation from the mirror and look at the face in the mirror. It is not the face that you grew up with.

Instead the face is of a cute eighteen year-old Japanese girl. She had big eyes, dark enough to drown in, a pert nose, a natural pout and fair, blemish-free skin. Her hair is thick, raven black and shoulder-length. Just now it is is a mess so reach for your comb and start straightening it out. As you do, you eyes move lower. Your breasts are a little small but nicely-shaped and pop out on your slender frame. Your hips a touch narrower than you preferred and your ass a little smaller. Your legs are long and slender though. At some point, the original owner of the body had lasered off pretty much all of her body-hair, leaving you smooth just about everywhere below the eyebrows.

Once your hair is done, you leave the room. Your brain is flexible, which is why you’ve been given this assignment, but it is still a strange feeling to be a about thirty centimeters shorter than you used to be. You try an experimental punch and frown at how weak it feels. The girl had practically no arm strength. Your tits threw off your balance somewhat as well. The girl also had long fingernails, which might make wielding a weapon awkward. You had had the last two nails on each finger replaced with super sharp fakes however. You try a kick and that feels a little better. The girl had surprisingly good core strength at least. With a sigh, you wander out onto the balcony of your hotel room.

Part of you still thought this was crazy. You had volunteered because it would be a huge boost to your career and you didn’t regret it. But you should have been given at least a few days to get used to the unfamiliar body. Instead you were being rushed out thirty-six hours after the operation. You weren’t sure what the big rush was. You had faith the Agency had good reasons and you understood the need for operational security but still...it was frustrating.

You lean against the balcony railing and stare down. The hotel you were staying in was middle of the road price-wise but that still meant that it was well above the bedrock. The only people that still lived and worked down there were the poorest of the Japanese and the people who preyed on them. It was like this in most metropolises now but you thought that Tokyo might be the worst off. During the run up to the Third World War, nationalism and the old way of things had taken taken root in Japanese culture and politics. The zaibatsu had reestablished themselves and the wealth disparity in Japan had grown exponentially. Since Japan had been on the victorious side this time, things had continued in that direction afterward as well.

A hover-car flies past you and you see the driver gape at you and almost hit the side of the hotel before the auto-repulsor pushes him away. You laugh lightly, enjoying the musical nature of your new voice. It really was her best feature, in your opinion. A cold voice interrupts you. “What the hell do you think you are doing?”