Princess Celestia: The position of Emperor of Japan was once fairly weak, most of his theoretical powers in reality exercised by the militarily-descended shogun (将軍) and himself relegated to leading the state religion Shinto. Then the Meiji Restoration gave real power back to the Emperor, who together with his civil servants set the nation on a catch-up campaign with the Western empires.

It worked too well. The persistent changeling presence in the administration soon demanded that Japan conquer and enslave nearby foreign territories: Taiwan, Korea, then China, then Southeast Asia... all with the Emperor's (tacit or otherwise) approval. The consequences were tragic for the general population: Tokyo was carpet-bombed and burned to ashes, Hiroshima and Nagasaki were devastated by atomic bombs.

Twilight Sparkle: The changelings were reformed there afterwards, alongside the emperor who now serves as a mere figurehead. The Imperial Palace still stands; Parcly and Spindle had heard he was going to have his annual New Year's speech on 2 January, and got piqued immediately. What would they find there?

Parcly Taxel: We set off for Otemachi (大手町) and straight away encountered police crews in full readiness, patrolling large gravel swathes with few visitors as of then. That meant security checks on my belongings and body, which I passed without issue, but I was confronted by a confusing map at a fork in the road once inside.

I asked a policemare which way the reception hall – where the Emperor would appear – was, and got deflated when I was told it wasn't in this part of the Palace. Unsure of how to leave, we turned left and found a straight path to the exit.

Spindle: Yet the interior landscaping more than compensated for our disappointment. Pines with their complete foliage alongside other species tinted or shaped ever-so-slightly differently, representing the many facets of nature. Across lay a moat, some parts retaining water and others drained and grassy, towards the interior non-public part of the Palace.

Parcly: There are two days when the reception hall can be accessed by the public, 2 January and the Emperor's birthday (23 February as of the time of writing). Those long lines of cones had a purpose, right? We decided to go counterclockwise from the "back" (actually a western gate) and see if we could get in.

Twilight: Along their return to the cones lay magical beauty tied to the Palace but open for everypony: cherry blossom trees, sculptures, a playground, the moat so wide as to look like a river and containing ducks. The perimeter is also a popular jogging track regardless of the season, with floor tiles depicting flowers from every prefecture of Japan.

Spindle: In the distance along our way were contrasting skyscrapers, further marking the Palace as a vaunted refuge from Tokyo's secular pulse. Eventually we returned to the cones in gravel – not the gravel found in Zen gardens – from the other side and picked up a paper Japanese flag as expected.

Parcly: I observed visitors holding up their smartphones, and scurried over to another policemare to ask why.

"Oh, you need to book your slot for this," she replied. I facehoofed in exasperation. (We later found out that a lottery determines who can get to see the Emperor.)

Twilight: Overreacting, no?

Parcly: Actually, yes, I didn't facehoof. I just bowed to her, blushing, and moved on, returning the paper flag.

Spindle: By now it was past noon, and even I was hungry from a lack of ponies whose hatred (or friendship) I could feed on. The obvious remedy was Shibuya and its crossing; near 109 lay a Mos Burger where Parcly could chew on something tangible, i.e. a burger.

Parcly: Not the kind of lunch I wanted, but many restaurants were still closed because – as I realised later on – New Year had fallen on a Sunday and today was an in-lieu holiday. Japanese work culture has only recently loosened up, and there are still reports of workers dying from working too much (karoshi; 過労死).

Spindle: Mos Burger was lowbrow, but the next place we had food at was sheer chocolate heaven. Inside Shibuya Scramble Square lies Le Chocolat Alain Ducasse, at which Parcly the chocaholic had chocolate mousse topped by rose-shaped flakes at teatime. It was so much deliciousness that Parcly fainted in her seat...

Parcly: I spent the next several hours window-shopping, having completed my checklist for the day, and wandered into Nihonbashi in the process. Shadows lengthened and dissolved into night's cover, while streets big and small bred silence. Kaneko-Hannosuke (金子半之助) was an exception though, a typical one-room bar restaurant serving tendon set meals I could acquaint myself with, and where I had dinner.