In a future Tokyo, megaconglomerates engage in a low war against each other using ancient forms of combat carefully hidden from the city's denizens. Each company trains its own unit of clandestine killers. None whispered among executives with more fear than Suzakushin's Holy Eight, each named by their master after an Archangel. Six months ago, one of the Holy Eight went rogue and slipped from the watchful eye of Tokyo with a sex-trafficked girl under his protection. They were pursued by Holy Eight killers in the shadowlands beyond Tokyo's border wall, where lawlessness reigns. Out there, Gabriel and his ward, Hana, managed to build a life together with the aid of Hasegawa, a solitary old man stubbornly living out his twilight in the house his family built long, long ago. Now, Suzakushin comes for them again, putting more than just Gabriel and Hana's lives at risk. Is there a way out of the endless cycle of death? Can Gabriel defend everything he cares about, or must he lean into darkness and become the hunter instead?
In a world where technology has overrun humanity, where memory is modified and reality is owned, Jisedai 2 plants its flag not in future tech or dystopian spectacle but in the code. Not lines of code, but the ancient, disciplined code of the samurai. And in this, Daniel P. Riley’s sequel transforms what could have been a standard cyberpunk thriller into a sacred pilgrimage through post-collapse soulwork.
The story builds with two haunting presences: Detective Adachi, and Gabriel. Both men walk different hells; Adachi in the suffocating backrooms of Tokyo’s justice system, and Gabriel in the green silence of exile, nursing a brutal past and guarding the broken girl he rescued. They are not heroes. They are men broken by the systems they once upheld.
Gabriel’s life in exile with Hana and Hasegawa is painted with reverent calm. It’s not just scenic; it’s spiritually alive. Hana’s every move with her Fire Sword Daisho feels earned. Her growth isn’t about strength but control, elegance, and ownership of her body and fate and that’s what makes her one of the most empowering characters I’ve read. When she executes kata alone in the woods, the novel becomes poetry.
Adachi’s descent into the Tokyo underworld is just as mesmerizing. His ghostly visitor; possibly imagined, possibly something more offers cryptic encouragement and damns him with secrets. Riley turns Adachi into a noir archetype reborn: the broken detective who finally stops asking for permission and wages war against the system. His scenes are soaked in neon and rot.
What truly astonished me was Riley’s deep knowledge of martial form. The descriptions of posture, breathing, blade positions, and martial rituals elevate the novel to a rare status: a literary work that respects both violence and the restraint that true mastery requires.
By the time Adachi reenters the wilderness, tracking the path of a myth, the novel has achieved what few can: it has built a legend inside a modern world. I really enjoyed the book. To anyone reading this, do well to get yours. It’s a brilliant book.
Jisedai 2 thrives in silence. The silence between sword forms. The silence of the woods as Hana draws her blade. The silence of Gabriel meditating, face to the morning sun, his “gears” dormant. Daniel P. Riley doesn’t write action for the sake of thrill; he writes it for meaning. And that is what makes this novel extraordinary.
Gabriel is a man with a machine inside him, but you’d never know it from his discipline. The first, second, third gear augmentations are terrifying, yes; they allow him to heal, to lift, to vanish but he treats them like curses. He doesn’t use them. He relies on the sword, on stillness, on duty.
Hana’s trauma is not simply told, it is felt. In her refusal to look at her own reflection. In her need to clean, to control her world, to earn every nod from Gabriel. But Riley lets her grow. He gives her sword names, not as fantasy flair but as personal theology: The Fire Sword, the Cold Fire Sword. Each blade is not a weapon, but an extension of her self-worth.
Oz’s arrival is like a kink in the blade. Playful, charming, intrusive. But his presence reminds us that Hana is still a teenage girl beneath the formality. Her confusion when he touches her hand, her panic when he pulls her close; these moments breathe life into a character that could easily have become a trope. She is a survivor, yes, but she is also a becoming.
Riley’s prose is clean, sharp, and immersive. Dialogue is spare but heavy with subtext. The pacing is daring; long stretches of meditation, broken suddenly by brutality. It’s not a book for impatient readers. But for those who appreciate deep character work, elegant martial realism, and the poetry of recovery, this novel is a rare gem.
I recently received Jisedai 2 by Daniel P. Riley from a friend, and I have to say, it’s a fantastic read that hooked me from the start! The story follows Detective Inspector Yaasuke Adachi, a tough but troubled police officer who investigates murders linked to these corporations, even though his boss tells him to stop. Adachi’s journey takes him from the bright, chaotic city to the dangerous areas outside, as he searches for truth while dealing with his past addiction to a virtual reality game called Alcadia and strange visions of a mysterious figure. The book creates a dark, detailed world where technology and crime shape everyday life. Adachi is a complex character, both cynical and determined, who mentors younger officers and clashes with coworkers like Han Yao. Another key character, Hana, also known as the Broken Flower Blossom, grows from a victim into a strong sword-fighter trained by Gabriel, a skilled samurai with special abilities. Gabriel’s loyalty to Hana gives the story an emotional center. The action scenes, like Adachi’s fights and Gabriel’s sword techniques, are exciting and well-written. However, the complicated corporate plots can sometimes make the story feel slow. Riley’s focus on the characters’ relationships and his descriptive writing keep the book engaging. Jisedai 2 is an exciting story about fighting for justice in a corrupt world, perfect for readers who enjoy cyberpunk and samurai themes.
At its core, Jisedai 2 is more than fiction; it is a manifesto for a new archetype: the Future Samurai.
Where most cyberpunk celebrates rebellion through hacking, chaos, or escapism, Daniel P. Riley chooses discipline as rebellion. Stillness as warfare. Honor as resistance.
Gabriel doesn’t fight to win. He fights to protect peace. His sword is not an extension of vengeance, but a sacred reminder of what must never be lost: form, humility, and the art of choosing when not to strike.
Hana is his successor, but not his echo. She’s her own force. She brings the possibility that the next generation; the Jisedai can carry that code forward, not out of obligation, but through understanding. Her training is rigorous, her pain is evident, but her commitment is revolutionary. She’s a girl who has every right to hate the world but instead, she chooses to rebuild herself within it.
Even Oz, for all his wildness, is part of this evolution. He represents the chaos of post-collapse youth, the ones raised in ruins. If he can be redirected not crushed, not ignored; he too can carry a blade and a purpose.
Riley isn’t just telling a story here. He’s outlining a philosophy. One that says you can live with ghosts and still choose light. That silence can be louder than fire. That a sword held with discipline can cut through any age.
One character I loved most in this book is Detective Yaasuke Adachi; Detective Yaasuke Adachi isn’t just a noir archetype; he is a slow-burning avalanche of justice waiting to break. And break he does.
Haunted by a mysterious man in white gloves, Adachi wanders the decaying corridors of Tokyo like a samurai lost in time. He is poetic without knowing it. He’s broken, but he walks forward. What makes him so compelling isn’t his rage; it’s his relentless restraint until he finally snaps.
One of the most brutal scenes in Jisedai 2 is Adachi’s raid on the data crime compound. He enters with nothing but forged weapons, war memories, and a grudge. Riley crafts this moment with terrifying control. Shotgun blasts echo through steel tunnels, and the silence after each kill feels like a prayer.
But the real war isn’t external; it’s in Adachi’s soul.
His hallucinations. His doubts. His guilt over the boys in the icebox. All of it becomes heavier than the armor he dons. He’s not looking for redemption. He’s doing penance. When he sets off to find Gabriel in the wilderness, we understand: this isn’t just a detective’s journey. It’s a pilgrimage to find the man who still holds the flame. Great book!
So often in fiction, we mistake closeness for romance. Riley never does.
Gabriel and Hana share one of the most intense, vulnerable relationships in fiction but it is not romantic. It is something purer. Something older. A bond of discipline, devotion, and reflection.
When Hana bows to Gabriel and calls him Shujin-sama, it’s not submission; it’s reverence. When Gabriel calls her Uchideshi, it is not possession, it is trust. There is an equality in their imbalance.
They are mirror scars. Gabriel hides behind formality to shield his pain. Hana wields it like armor. And in training, they meet in a space where language fails, but understanding blooms.
Oz threatens this bond, but not by trying to take it away by making Hana question what she wants beyond training. And that’s the brilliance of Riley’s writing. He lets her feel confused. He lets her panic, long, tremble. Because healing isn’t about finding love; it’s about learning to want without fear.
This is not a story about love found. It’s about love rebuilt through structure, mutual respect, and the quiet bravery of showing up every day.
So many authors fill their pages with noise; explosions, monologues, world-explaining paragraphs. Daniel P. Riley does the opposite. In Jisedai 2, silence becomes a character.
The forest itself is silent. When Gabriel walks, it is wordless. When Hana trains, the loudest sound is her breath. Even the house; humble, wooden, minimalist echoes with stillness. And yet, within this quiet, there is profound communication.
Hasegawa doesn’t need to explain his wisdom. He chops wood. He places a plate down. He sits beside Hana and watches her without asking questions. And it is in these small moments that Riley’s writing achieves maximum intimacy.
Even in the city, silence is a weapon. When Adachi storms the data crime complex, there are no dramatic speeches. Just methodical movement. Violence punctuated by moments of dread stillness. It’s terrifying and beautiful.
This book proves you don’t need noise to be powerful. You need presence. And Jisedai 2 has it in every scene.
In the second installment of the Angel War, we find young Hana recovering from her recent trauma and following closely in the footsteps of her rescuer and hero, the nano-enhanced super assassin, Gabriel. Together with the wise and grandfatherly Hasegawa, they are forming a close-knit family unit surviving in the remnants of society, on the outskirts of the sprawling mega-city of the future Tokyo.
But even as Gabriel struggles to adapt to this new arrangement, he is still hunted by his creators, as well as heavily burdened by his own memories and guilt for his past actions. He is also driven by his mission to protect Hana and exact revenge against the powerful corporation that created him and his brothers.
With the introduction of Detective Adachi and the roguish Oz, Gabriel gains more allies in this struggle, and when the corporate hunters directly threaten the family, all heck breaks loose and the battles heat up.
Riley maintains a steady balance of exciting action and domestic human interest, largely though briefly-drawn but excellent characterizations, as well as strong dialogue. Interactions between the figures, both in the heat of combat and during the down-time between action scenes, are especially engaging.
I was particularly struck with how the character of Gabriel stands at the center of both the intrigue and the personal relationships, and although, as the cast increases, he isn't 'onscreen' as much as one would expect, he is nonetheless handled in such a way that heightens the mystery and pathos of his tragic story.
With vivid, eloquent fight scenes, solid prose and a fast pace, Jisedai 2 is an overall engrossing blend of manga-style action and touching human interest. Recommended.