[FFML] [fic][rk][cont] Rurouni Yahiko Chapter 6: Enter the Tiger

[Abdiel]

Yahiko opened his eyes, wincing at the approach of sunlight. "It's
morning already? What happened?"

"It's good that you're awake," Kyoko quietly said as she lugged Yahiko
on her back. "You're starting to get heavy."

Yahiko quickly stood up as soon as he realized the precarious position
he and the older girl were in. He winced in agony as he felt the pain
return. He plopped down the ground in anguish. 'Dammit! This time I
really am beaten up.'

"You shouldn't be moving so much. You're hurt badly. Come on, I'll help
you up," Kyoko said primly as she took Yahiko's arm over hers.

"Thanks," Yahiko said, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks. He could
only guess what Tsubame would have thought if she saw him now.


________________________________________________________________________


Rurouni Yahiko
A Rurouni Kenshin continuation fic
By Chester Castañeda
chester.castaneda at gmail.com
http://www.fanfiction.net/~abdiel
http://abdiel.florestica.com/

Aside from the introduction of several new characters, there are also
overzealous amounts of flashbacks... so I dub thee the 'flashback
episode.' :P Enjoy.

________________________________________________________________________

Chapter 6: Enter the Tiger
________________________________________________________________________



Kenshin Himura and family's jaws metaphorically dropped on the floor as
Tsubame suddenly tore a page of Yahiko's letter apart with her bare
hands, the Akabeko waitress not even completely aware of it.

Tsubame blinked as she saw the two torn halves of paper. "I-I'm so
sorry!"

"Mou... I wanna know what happened to big bwotha!" Kenji said, pouting
as he crossed his arms. "Did he meet with the smiley-faced man again?"

"I-I think it's still okay," Kaoru said as she put the two torn pieces
of paper together. "There we go... No harm done, Kenji! Now, where were
we... Oh yeah, the part where the girl Kyoko and Yahiko went back to the
village together."

The sound of ceramics crashing on the floor was heard, followed by
profuse apologies.

'That is... it's going to be okay as soon as Tsubame gets past that
sentence,' Kaoru thought as she eyed the sixteen year old warily.
"What happened afterwards, Kaoru-dono?" Kenshin asked eagerly.

"Hmmm... So you really want to know what happened to the boy, Seta
Soujiro?"

"I'll admit that I'm intrigued, I say," Kenshin confessed.

"I'm more worried about what happened to Yahiko," Kaoru said, pouting.
"That Soujiro boy gave him a hard time. Was he really that good a
swordsman?"

"He was able to slash me from behind when we fought in Shishio's
stronghold," Kenshin answered straightforwardly. "He also sliced cleanly
through my original sakabatou. His skills and natural ability exceeded
mine. I only defeated him because my soul was not as confused as his."
He then turned towards Kaoru and smiled.

As Kaoru gave Kenshin a cross and worried look, the former rurouni
reassured, "Maa maa... I'm sure Yahiko's fine. After all, he was able to
write and send this letter to us. And though he openly admitted that he
wasn't quite sure how he survived the fight, what's important is that he
did survive."

"I guess." Kaoru relaxed a bit. She smiled contemplatively, pride
apparent in her eyes. She afterwards huffed, stating, "Humph. And here I
thought he was going to brag about his oh-so-great revisal techniques
again. But he's still so full of himself to write such a detailed
account of his experiences."

"It was probably an important event to Yahiko for him to write about it
word for word," Kenshin supposed, bemused.

"Kenshin... you said that this Seta Soujiro is a good swordsman. We're
fairly sure Yahiko survived this attack. Do you really believe that he
was actually able to beat Soujiro, knowing that he's outmatched?"

"I have no doubt that he fought with all his strength," Kenshin said as
he nodded affirmatively, adding, "and that he'll never break his
promises... not one of them."


***


"'I'm going... Chizuru, stay here,' you said... 'Later... I won't be
long,' you said... Even though it took you the entire friggin' night to
come back! A samurai's word is his bond... HA! Bullshit. Now look at
you... You got the crap beaten out of you. This is exactly what happens
to li'l braggarts like yourself! Now that's what I call KARMA! Why I
never--"

'Kami-sama, oh Kami-sama... please make her stop,' Yahiko pleaded
desperately as he silently suffered under Chizuru Raikouji's constant
badgering. Sure, he could retaliate... he did have a way with words...
but now was not the time. After all, the woman was dressing his wounds.
There was no point to bite the hand that gauzes you... or some such
tripe. 'I thought I finally got away from the old hag when I left
Tokyo... only to find a replacement Kaoru here in Shinshu. Oh joy.'

Yahiko suddenly felt a sharp pain on his ear as Chizuru callously
pinched and twisted it. "And listen when somebody is talking to you!"

"...." Yahiko detailed, feeling as if he was replaying some sort of
familiar event.

Chizuru blinked. "Eh, what's wrong? Is there something on my face?"

Yahiko just... stared at Chizuru, a combination of nostalgia, deja vu
and terror brimming inside of him. 'Dammit, they must have been twins
separated at birth! There's no other explanation!'

"Chizuru-san? Once you're done dressing Mr. Swordsman's wounds, would
you come down here for a moment? We need your help here." It was Nonoko
Sakaguchi's voice.

"Coming!" Chizuru called out as she began to pack up the extra bandages.

"Busy day at the soba shop?" Yahiko inquired curiously. The whole setup
kind of reminded him of the ol' hustle and bustle he went through in the
Akabeko. He kind of longed for it, strangely enough. 'Tsk. Barely a
month away from Tokyo and I'm missing the place already.'

"You could say that... There are lots of people from all sorts of places
coming to the shop. Even though Shinshu's now connected with the rest of
civilization, I doubt that it has anything to do with the sudden flood
of people today," the twenty-something woman observed ponderously.

"It's the announced assassination attempt, isn't it?"

Chizuru nodded in affirmation. "Word spreads fast. I heard from some
rumors that the politician whose neck was on the line has offered a
hefty reward to anyone who could protect him from this supposed
doppelganger Battousai."

Yahiko snorted derisively. 'Seems like politicians nowadays think
exactly like Tani,' he thought. To Chizuru, he said, "So that explains
why there are suddenly a lot of people in this out-of-the-way little
village in Shinshu."

"Probably. Don't know for sure," Chizuru replied as she helplessly
shrugged. "All I know is that it's weird for Sakaguchi-san's shop to
still be this busy. I mean, it's already way past lunchtime. Now's
supposed to be the slow hours."

"CHIZURU-SAN! A LITTLE HELP, PLEASE!" Nonoko called out again in a
pleading yet insistent manner.

"Yes, yes... coming, Sakaguchi-san! Coming!" Chizuru avowed. "Oh well.
Duty calls. I'll just have to continue this little chitchat of ours
later, boy."

"Sure, whatever," Yahiko softly said as Chizuru went to her supposed
destination.

The young lad was now alone with his thoughts.


***


The clattering of plates and the buzz of a large crowd drowned out most
of all the other sounds inside the restaurant.

"WHAT?! But that's impossible! He's still here?!" Chizuru exclaimed.

Well... most of the other sounds, anyway.

"Yes, it's possible, Chizuru-san," Nonoko beatifically acknowledged.

There was loud, bellowing laughter in the background followed by the
deafening groan of defeat from the crowd that had gathered.

"Well, has he paid for it all?! All that food he ate... He's eating you
out of house and home!" Chizuru demanded, incensed.

A sheepish whine was heard amidst the ruckus.

"Well, he seems very confident that he could. So far, he has gained a
lot of winnings from his little bets. As long as he keeps on eating, I'm
sure he could pay."

"...."

"Is something the matter, dear?"

"You're too nice for your own good, Sakaguchi-san." 'Like mother, like
daughter, I guess.'

"Kaasan! More soba! He wants more soba!" intoned a girlish, panicked
voice.

"Coming, Kyoko!" The Sakaguchi matriarch then turned to Chizuru,
stating, "Let's just keep on cooking, dear. I'm sure the strange, large
man's little stunts will payoff big time in the long run."

"Eh?! Why don't we just quit while we're still ahead, Sakaguchi-san? My
elbow's killing me from all this damn stirring!"

The only response Chizuru got was a loud and long belch.


***


Yahiko narrowed his eyes in remembrance as he struggled to piece
together the information he had gathered so far.

"What are they saying about Battousai?" the young lad had asked during
his first meeting with Chizuru.

"Oh, horrible things! Unfounded rumors and lies!" Chizuru had answered.
"Like how he had finally turned up after years of anonymity... His plans
to oust the Meiji government of its power because his theories of
isolationism conflicted with their beliefs... That sort of stuff."

'Hmmm... There are parts of the rumors that are true, but the other
parts... Isolationism? What the hell?' Yahiko reflected.

Chizuru continued. "I've heard that Battousai is already here, planning
an announced assassination attempt on one of the premiere members of the
Daijokan."

'One of the premiere members of the Daijokan... What Chizuru had said
backs up psycho-kid's own statements.'

"I was assigned by my employer to monitor the activities of a person
claiming to be the Hitokiri Battousai," Soujiro had declared.

'I think it's pretty safe to assume that psycho-kid's 'employer' is
somehow connected to that politician. It's all starting to make sense
now... but what about that guy, Keisuke, and the stuff that he said?'

"Red-hair... cross-shaped scar... Please, get him away from... m-me...
H-help me..." the near-dead Keisuke had said, visibly shaking in mortal
fright.

'Weird. I'm not sure what to make out of that. Still, I'd hate it if
Kenshin were to be framed up by this new 'Battousai' person. I have to
meet him for myself. It's going to be me and him... face to face.'

A voluminous burp from outside ruined Yahiko's deep contemplation.

'Well, seems like Sakaguchi-san's customers are really enjoying her
soba,' Yahiko thought as he licked his lips absently. 'Damn, I've been
out like a light for so long that I've missed both breakfast and lunch.
Maybe if I ask Chizuru nicely enough, she'll lend me enough money to buy
a bowl or two. I'm starving.'

Soon hunger got the better of him as he began to move out of his futon
and into the restaurant.


***


"I AM THE SOBA KING! GUWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" came the boisterous holler of a
large, robust man wearing green pants and a red vest. His bulging
muscles and pectorals were made much more apparent by the fact that he
wore no shirt underneath said vest. Unfortunately, girth replaced muscle
on his stomach area as he finished off the remnants of his latest
serving.

'Truly, I have mastered the art of soba eating... but even these
sumptuous noodles cannot compare to the delicacy that is the meat bun!'
the robust man thought, nodding sagely. He turned towards the crowd with
flourish, stating, "COME ON! I dare ANYONE to come and out-eat me in the
next round!"

Silent, collective head shaking was the only response the brawny man
got. He sighed in mock defeat. 'Aaahh... Finally, they got it in their
thick skulls that they're no match against me. Good... I was getting
real sick and tired of eating all those soupy noodles. Also, my stomach
is already grumbling funny. Damn, I wish I went to a meat bun place
instead of a soba restaurant. Oh well, time to collect my earnings
and--'

Suddenly, everybody went silent as they all heard the shuffling of
footsteps and the clattering of ceramics.

"H-here you go, Yahiko-san," Kyoko timidly said as she put down Yahiko's
order on his table, a stark contrast to her moodier self yesterday.
"Enjoy."

"Thanks a lot, Kyoko."

Yahiko quietly sat on the table next to the 'Soba King', his bowl of
steaming hot soba ready for his hearty consumption. He parted his
chopsticks and let out a loud, "Itadakimasu!" as he devoured his meal
with the zeal of a monk.

The well-built man felt it again... the 'itch'. The barely controllable
itch he got on his hands whenever the prospect of 'easy money' was at
his grasp.

Yahiko looked up as the sizeable man coughed for his attention. The
larger man dramatically gasped, saying, "What's that you've just
mumbled?! Did I hear you correctly? You wish to challenge the Great
Gan?"

Chizuru could only roll her eyes in disgust as she heard Gan's usual
byline. "Feh. Here he goes again... It looks like he found another
prospective--" She blinked. "Hey, wait a minute. Isn't that...?"

The bandaged boy could only blink in confusion as he looked at the
strange, hoodlum-like man in askance. "Whuwuzzat?" he asked through a
mouthful of noodles.

The man who had identified himself as 'The Great Gan' gasped again as he
pointed at Yahiko and 'whispered' to the crowd in a not-so-subtle
manner, "He said, 'Bring it on, butthead!' What arrogance!"

"HEY! I said no such thing!" Yahiko exclaimed, feeling like he was
getting swindled somehow.

Gan gave Yahiko a livid look before exploding in boisterous laughter.
"You jest, punk. Go home."

Whispers and jeers soon followed.

"Yeah, go home, punk!"

"You should go back to your futon and rest, instead of straining
yourself unnecessarily, young man!"

"GO HOME!"

Yahiko wasn't quite sure of what to make of what was happening. But he
still did look irately at the gathered crowd with half-lidded eyes.

'Great. Figures. Here they go again. The whole Battousai incident just
happened awhile back and already they forgot about it. Bunch of
ingrates.' To Gan, he said, "Look, Mister... Gang or whoever, I don't
know what you're trying to do, but--"

"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY!? What did you mean by saying, 'Afraid you'll
lose because you can't take another serving, lard butt?' WHO ARE YOU
CALLING A LARD BUTT?! This means war! Waitress! Another serving for me
and this upstart!"

The crowd groaned as they began to move away, unwilling to make any more
bets, but the Great Gan had it all covered. "Make your wagers now,
folks! It's going to be all or nothing this afternoon!" The rowdy man
pretended to groan as he rubbed and patted his abdomen. "I don't think I
can eat another bite... What do you think?" Gan's stomach actually did
groan in agony, much to the stout man's surprise, but he chose to ignore
it amidst the wild cheers of his audience. After all, the Great Gan was
about to make himself more money.

Grumbling stomach be damned and sickening soba soup be damned... He had
another prospective sucker, after all. What was there to lose? 'Just one
more meat bun and I'm through, I promise! No. Soba. SO-BA. I meant soba,
not meat bun.'

Yahiko dumbly sat on the table as Kyoko shyly replaced his half-eaten
food with a fresh and significantly larger bowl full of soba. "What the
hell's going on?" was all he managed to say.

"You don't know what you're doing! He wiped out half of those 'patrons'
of ours during the last hour! That guy's a monster!" Chizuru hissed as
she put down Gan's bowl of soba. "Your arrogance knows no bounds. That's
what you get for biting more than you could chew."

"I DIDN'T MAKE ANY BETS WITH HIM! He's lying! He started saying some
crazy stuff and now I'm stuck with a stinking bet that I didn't make in
the first place! And nobody's--"

The cheers of the crowd drowned out most of Yahiko's pleas and cries of
objection. "...Even listening to a word I'm saying." The boy sighed in
resignation. 'Feh. Figures. Damn it all to hell.'

"LET THE CONTEST BEGIN!" Gan roared as he parted his chopsticks with
fanfare usually reserved for Kabuki. "And now... LET'S EAT!"

Yahiko could only groan inwardly as he began wolfing down on the large
bowl of noodles, hoping against hope that by some miracle, he could get
out of this predicament without going into too much debt.


***


A petite young man with an overly large eye patch covering most of his
left face hummed a merry tune as he made his way in the unusually busy
streets of Shinshu, tray full of freshly steamed meat buns in hand.
"Hmmm... The smell of fresh meat buns in the morning! This should be
enough to soothe the troubled and terribly irate souls of Raedo-sempai
and his men!"

"What the hell are you talking about, you dumb ass? It's already three
in the afternoon!" a passerby helpfully shouted.

The eye-patched man blinked innocently. "Really?"

A second passed, followed by a minute.

"Dear Kami-sama in heaven! I'm LATE!" the frail-looking man cried in
utter despair as he ran as fast as he could towards his destination,
clumsily trying to balance his tray of goodies. "Feet, don't fail me
now! Oh d-d-dear... I hope sempai and the guys won't beat me up...
much."

And so, the eye-patched man was off.

"Who was that weird guy?"

"Why didn't he just wrap all those meat buns up instead of putting them
on a tray?"


***


'I feel like puking,' Yahiko thought to himself as he struggled to take
another bite out of the wound-up noodles on his chopsticks. He glanced
over the Great Gan's direction. Sure enough, his opponent was nearly
done with his bowl of soba. 'I can't eat another bite. Dammit! Only the
likes of Sano could finish off Sakaguchi-san's extra large special! Come
to think of it, it is kind of strange for Sano to be as thin as he is.'

Yahiko took a look at his own bowl. To his surprise, it was nearly
empty. 'Man, I really was that hungry. Maybe I could win this after
all.' Another wave of nausea subsequently threatened to overwhelm him.
It took nearly all of the Tokyo Samurai descendant's kenjutsu training
on concentration techniques to quell his urge to gag and vomit. 'Or
maybe not. Damn it, and only a few more bites to go!'

'HA! My losing streak has finally ended!' Gan thought gleefully as he
gorged the remaining soba in his bowl. 'After this, I can now collect my
winnings and finally prove myself to be the man! No more begging on the
streets or performing old folk songs for loose change! The Great Gan is
no loser like... What's that I see?!'

A heavenly, eye-patched angel suddenly swooped down the soba shop
entrance, carrying the tray of delights that the Great Gan so longed
for... White, tender and steaming hot meat buns, just begging to be
munched upon....

"SEMPAI! I'msosorryI'mlateIdidn'trealizethetimebut...! Wait, what's with
the large crowd? Where'd Raedo-sempai and the others go? Uh... Hello,
mister...? Hey! Those aren't for you! What are you? AHHHHH!!!"

The eye-patched man numbly held the tray of steaming pork buns at arm's
length as the Great Gan charged. The burly man attacked the plate with
deranged gusto, snatching the savory buns and cramming them into his
mouth in a frenzy of motion and sound. He savored the tasty, flavorsome
treats, at times swallowing some of the meat buns whole before gorging
on their delectability as he munched on them all at the same time.
Their meaty, beefy goodness melted in his mouth, caressing his taste
buds like nothing else.

"W-ahh! I can't believe you ate each and every last meat bun on the
tray! That wasn't very nice at all! Raedo-sempai isn't going to like
this one bit!" the eye-patched man whined and whimpered pathetically.

'Hmmm... Somehow it feels like I'm forgetting something important,' the
meat bun fanatic thought amidst his gluttony.

"Aaaaahhh...." came the contented sigh of one very full Yahiko Myoujin.
"Wow! I never thought I'd actually finish off one of Sakaguchi-san's
extra large specials! I almost threw up on that last bite!"

A thunderous roar of approval and congratulations surrounded the young
swordsman.

The Great Gan could only stare and gape, dumbstruck and face ashen, at
the scene before him.

"What an upset! I won back all the money I lost before!"

"Ha! I won that and a little extra!"

"Dammit, I thought the big guy was going to win."

"Tough luck, Wataru-kun."

"Heh. Hey, kid... you're all right. Here's your share of the winnings."

"Whoah. I won some money too? Gee, thanks! WOHOOO!" Yahiko cheered as he
pocketed the amount given to him. "To think, for a while there I thought
I was going to go into debt!"

"WAIT A MINUTE!" Gan shouted in between mouthfuls. "Best two out of
three! I can still lick this!"

"HA! You don't have any money left on you, you big galoot! You're the
one that betted 'all or nothing.' What will we bet on now? Your pants!?"

"You're on!" Gan said as he began undoing his slacks.

"You will do no such thing in front of my daughter!" Nonoko said,
incensed, as she covered Kyoko's eyes.

The gathered multitude laughed jocularly as they started to make their
leave.

"Hey, wait... you! Wataru, right? Don't you want to earn back all that
money you lost?"

"No way! Uh-uh. I lost enough money as is."

"You're the one who blew it, now face the consequences."

"Aw, come on guys! Wait! Come back!"

But by then most everyone in the crowd was already gone.

"...."

Gan heaved a dejected and miserable sigh. 'Not again. This always
happens. Just when I think I got it, this happens.'

"Well, no use crying over spilt milk," the over-muscled man said to
himself, immediately perking up from his brief moment of melancholy.
"I'll just have to pick myself up and move on. Like I always do." He
grinned carelessly. "Besides, I did get a free meal or two out of the
whole betting thing, so I'm happy. I should get going."

Insistent coughing caught Gan's attention before he made his leave.
"Uh... yes? Miss...?"

"It's 'Miss friend-of-the-restaurant-owner-you-mooched-from' to you,
bud. Now what's that I hear about a 'free meal or two'? Hmmm?"

"Ahehehehehe. Oh yeah." Gan sheepishly rubbed the back of his head
before altogether waving good-bye, stating, "Sayonara!" and making a run
for it.

"HEY! You can't just eat and run! YAHIKO!" Chizuru beckoned.

"Eh? What now, old hag? OW!"

"Don't you go calling me 'old hag', young man! Now shut up and go follow
that big, dumb oaf! It's the least you could do for getting free
lodging, food and treatment in this restaurant! Now GO!" Chizuru stated
as she relinquished her hold of Yahiko's ear and pushed him towards the
direction the Great Gan went.

"EH? You've got to be kidding me!"

Unnoticed by the rest, the eye-patched man piteously whimpered,
"Sempai's meat buns... all gone..." over and over.


***


Kaoru put aside the torn halves of Yahiko's letter and sighed.
Afterwards, the door chime above her sang a tinkling peal of melody
amidst a stray, lukewarm gale as the sun started to set in the distance.
The ambient, nigh-palpable tinge of springtime could still be felt in
the air, its scent light and gingery.

The heat of the day abated with the setting sun and, just as well, Kaoru
Kamiya's unsaid worries. The part that upset her in Yahiko's letter--the
momentous fight against Soujiro Seta--had come and gone, and she was
thankful and proud that one of her premiere students (though she would
never admit it to him, even with the threat of torture) did well against
such a powerful adversary.

Deep inside Kaoru's heart, Yahiko's sudden and hasty departure had
reached intolerable levels of torment. He hadn't cared where he ended
up when he had left; he just had to leave for some reason. As a close,
personal friend--or even as a surrogate big sister of sorts--the fact
worried her a lot and gnawed at her very bones. Was the rambunctious
young man ready for such a daunting endeavor? She certainly hoped so.

Fortunately, if the Tokyo Samurai descendant's letters were to be
believed, her reservations were for naught; he indeed was bringing pride
and prestige to the Kamiya Kasshin School. Now, if only he could fix
his little attitude problem as well...

She leaned back and rested her head on her husband's shoulder as they
both watched the heartbreaking sunset in peace. Here, on the veranda
overlooking the Kamiya Dojo's gates, the view was nothing short of
wonderful.

The trees all around were vibrantly yellow-green, their leafy brothers
reaching as far as the remote mountains, stretching into the sky as if
they were longing to caress the clouds themselves. Grass danced along
the patio as the wind gently rolled past them. Meanwhile, the sun shone
a blood-red glint, leaving the skies awash with patterns of gold and
blue. Eventually, the claret hues of the yawning heavens gave way to a
more neutral, dispassionate purple as twilight finally set in.

"Well, so far, I see nothing untoward has happened to Yahiko after his
fight with that Soujiro boy, so good for him," Kaoru commented casually,
feeling somewhat relieved by the fact but hiding it fairly well with her
indifferent demeanor. "Still, I don't see the point of including that
whole bit about the eating contest; I mean, what do we care?"

"Now, now, Kaoru-dono," Kenshin cooed to his wife as he rhythmically
moved his hands up and down in front of her as a sort of calming
gesture. "There's no need to be upset over Yahiko's... overzealousness.
I'm pretty sure he has a good reason for including that piece of
information in his letter."

"Jeez, Kenshin! Don't cover for that self-absorbed, arrogant brat!" the
pony-tailed young mother scoffed, then raised an inquisitive eyebrow at
her husband after realizing what he had just called her. "How is it that
you can still call me 'dono' when we're already married, Kenshin?"

"Oro?" Kenshin inquired with a tilt of the head, a finger on the chin,
and an innocent blink of the eyes. "Whatever do you mean?"

"DON'T 'ORO' ME! That may have been cute five years ago, but for Kami-
sama's sake, you're already a thirty-four-year-old man! Grow up!" was
Kaoru's lame attempt at a comeback as she turned away, her pink cheeks
telling an altogether different story. "And don't chance the subject!"

"But you're the one going off on a tangent!" Kenshin reasoned uneasily
as he coaxed his hands unto his wife's tense shoulders and massaged
them a bit. "Besides, we already had this conversation before about
my... speech habits. Please, don't worry yourself so much, Kaoru--" The
former rurouni caught himself and his near slip of the tongue after
seeing the suspicious look that his wife gave him. He swallowed
nervously.

There were ten seconds of silence that the couple felt for eternity; by
the time their staring contest reached its fever pitch, Kenshin was
practically sweating bullets while Kaoru continued to unwaveringly glare
at him in skepticism, almost daring him to slip up.

Kenshin reacted most curiously to the inconsequential showdown, his pale
face shifting to different shades of red; from pink, to scarlet, to
crimson, then to burgundy. Eventually, his willpower gave out--he
exhaled "...dono!" in relief, as if he were suffocating from not saying
the honorific.

"AHA!" Kaoru cried in triumph, after which she backpedaled, protesting,
"Hey!"

"I didn't mean to, Kao... Kao... dear?" Kenshin amended lamely as he
perspired even more profusely.

"There you go again!" Kaoru's nostrils flared as she roughhoused her own
husband, her mind hopelessly torn between strangling him or pinching his
cheeks for his adorable yet bothersome naivete. "You and your silly,
annoying... catchphrases!"

"Oro? Sessha wa rurouni de gozaru!" was the gobbledygook twaddle that
the swirled-eyed swordsman spouted off in dazed bewilderment.

"AARRRGH! What does that even MEAN?" In an eerie example of life
imitating art, or in this case life imitating biased, secondhand
accounts and anecdotes from the everyday adventures of a wannabe
wanderer, Kaoru stretched Kenshin's mouth in impossible proportions and
declared in a Chizuru-like manner, "It's this mouth that's the problem!
This mouth!"

Tsubame observed the quarrelsome twosome wistfully while their son rolled
his eyes at them in tedium--a mannerism he inherited from his mother, no
doubt. 'To be this lively in each other's company while talking about
nothing at all; I'm so envious of Kaoru-san and Kenshin-san! I wish
Yahiko and I could have the same kind of chemistry when we're already...
when we're already...'

"Ah!" She hid her face behind the discarded scraps of Yahiko's letter
and, for lack of a better, less juvenile term, squealed in girlish
delight. "This isn't the time to think about that, Sanjo Tsubame-chan!"

"Don't think about what, big sista?" The Akabeko waitress turned and saw
the questioning, prying look that Kenji gave her and turned pink. She
bowed down and backpedaled in distress as her blush quickly spread from
her cheeks down to her neck.

"Did I just say that aloud? Excuse me!" Flabbergasted, Tsubame put the
tattered sheets of paper down on the tatami mat and covered her burning
face with her trembling hands, smiling apologetically at the young tot.

Kenji petulantly pouted at Tsubame's apparent overreaction; adults could
be so weird sometimes. Then, as his attention shifted to his quibbling
mother and incoherent father, Kenji theatrically leaned over Tsubame's
shoulder and whispered to her ear, "I just lea'ned a new wo'd today, big
sista... and I didn't know what it means till just now."

"Hmmm?" Tsubame gave the wide-eyed young boy a curious look as she
tilted her head to the side in askance. He was staring at her with that
familiar, intense look--the one that seemed to pierce through her and
see right into her soul. It was something that seemed inappropriate for
a six year old boy to sport. "What word is that, Kenji-chan?"

Despite feeling a bit testy because of Tsubame's patronizing appellation
of '-chan' to his name, Kenji disregarded the faux pas and divulged,
"Cuckold," with the gravity and seriousness of an undertaker. "The big
guys at the Akabeko taught me that wo'd. They say that daddy must be a
cuckold since mommy's so hot an' he's so wimpy."

It took quite sometime for Tsubame to recover from that. But at the very
least she learned from firsthand experience that choking on one's spit
was a very unfeminine and uncomfortable experience to go through. Once
she regained her composure, she laughed stiltedly and remarked, "Oh my,
that's a big word for a little guy like you." To herself, she added,
"And it doesn't even mean what you think it means."

"What was that?" Kenji relayed with the speed worthy of a genuine
whippersnapper, his ears perking as the palpable feelings of juvenile
delight and curiosity got the better of him. Doe-eyed, he pressed,
"Hmmm? What'd you just say? Was I w'ong?  Don't 'cuckold' mean 'wimpy
dad' o' something?"

'It _kind_ of means that, but... best not to delve on it any further.'
Tsubame coughed primly, taking special care not to involuntarily breathe
and swallow at the same time. Again. "Oh, nothing. The word doesn't
mean anything at all!" She uneasily giggled and looked down at her
fingernails as if they had suddenly become very interesting. "Forget
that we even had this conversation," she said, hedging.

Kenji merely crossed his arms at his surrogate sibling and fumed in
infantile fury: What kind of bleary-eyed milksop did she take him for?
The gall of her! Well, he wasn't going to take this lying down, that
was for sure.

...Of course, being only six years old, that wasn't _exactly_ what
Kenji was thinking, but it was a good, if rough, estimate of his
opinion. Besides, it wouldn't do for him to think that Tsubame kept
conceding to his whims merely because of the cuteness of his huffy
pout and the adorableness of his childish grunt; that was just too
embarrassing to consider, even if it were true.

Moreover, his 'big sister' was never very good at feigning ignorance
and maintaining calm amidst telling untruths. Case in point, after just
a few more minutes into the stare-down, the teenager eventually exhaled
and relented, "I think the correct word you're look for is... rurouni."

Tsubame patted herself on the back for that one. Nodding vigorously at
Kenji, she continued, "Yes. That's a much better word for your dad, even
though his wandering days are now over. He's a master-less vagabond with
a heart of gold."

Kenji resisted the urge to roll his eyes and gag. Still, Tsubame's
declaration did stir something inside the young tot--an odd and
unknown sensation that he couldn't quite place. He heaved a shuddering
sigh, looking as serious as ever, except this time he somehow seemed...
different. "Y'know, the big guys at Akabeko also kept sayin' that they
couldn't believe that daddy and 'Battousai' ah' the same guy." He
snorted. "And..."

Both Kenji, the spirit and image of Kenshin, and Tsubame unconsciously
looked over the quarreling Himuras' direction, particularly at the
swirled-eyed and unintelligible former Ishinshishi swordsman who was
presently being joggled like a rag doll by his rather vivacious bride.

"...And I don't believe it fo' a second," Kenji concluded as he slowly
shook his head at the ridiculous scenario in dismay. Since he was born,
he knew not of any Hitokiri Battousai; the man he knew as his father was
of even temper and rarely fought, even to stay in shape. Those few times
he did though, he was like a whirlwind cutting through his enemies as
though they did not exist.

But therein lay the enigmatic paradox: if Kenshin were so strong deep
down inside, why did he constantly act so weak and pathetic most of the
time? Where did the 'hitokiri' end, and the 'rurouni' begin? Which one
was the true Kenshin?

Mercifully, Kenji's extremely short attention span spared him from
contemplating the convoluted notion further. Instead, he entertained yet
another random idea that suddenly popped up in his head. "Oh yeah. Those
big guys at the Akabeko made me guess this other wo'd..." Tsubame
inwardly groaned, bracing herself for the joke which most certainly had
her as the punch line.

"What kind of games do gals and boys play, big sista?" Kenji asked
innocently, tilting his head to the side while putting his forefinger
on his lower lip. "Do you know? Did spiky-haired big bwotha and you play
games like that?"

"OKAY, that's it! Off to bed right now, young man!" Tsubame insisted,
her voice hitting a nervous high as her cheeks flushed tomato red. 'He
didn't just say that... He didn't just say that... He didn't just say
that...!'

"But it's just five in the afte'noon! An' I'm not sleepy!" Kenji
complained mulishly. Then, picking now of all times to remember the
desultory topics that had just been discussed (in spite of his usually
capricious, forgetful self), the six-year-old further decried, "An' you
haven't told me what 'cuckold' means, o' what games gals and boys play!
I wanna know!"

"OFF TO BED! Nappy time! Get your futon and sleep!" Tsubame melodiously
asserted as she ushered the inquisitive and hyperactive boy to his
bedroom. "And for goodness's sake, please stay away from those
hooligans at the Akabeko! They're bad influences!"

At that very minute, as Kenshin was just about to vomit due to Kaoru's
vigorous shaking, and Tsubame's cheeks were just about to burst into
flame care of Kenji's infantile teasing, distant yet hard knocks on the
Kamiya Dojo's gates were heard by everyone present. For a split second,
it seemed that everything around them froze in time in a flash of sheer,
brilliant clarity; a true Moment of Zen.

A single moment seemed like nothing--they rush by like a river every
day, these seconds and split-seconds that make up our lives. Yet there
were times, important times, when time slowed down for one and released
him from its relentless grasp, and he'd find himself suspended in a
perfect space of revelation.

This was not one of those times. Thusly, everything came crashing back
down to anticlimactic reality as Kenshin unthinkingly exclaimed, "Eh?"
in confusion, unwittingly breaking the metaphorical ice while his wife
looked at him in stupefied incredulity.

Time flowed again as seconds ticked by: the fleeting instant of comfort
was followed by a moment of sheer awkwardness. Seconds insistently
ticked as it woke up the unwilling; she who did not wish to let go, to
stop staring... making apparent the reality to which she did not know
how to accept.

Kaoru was still looking at Kenshin oddly... _intensely_... though she
mercifully hadn't started shaking him again. "What's wrong, dear?" the
former rurouni queried with unease as he attempted to shift and crawl
away from his significant other's rather ardent stare.

Kaoru relinquished her hold on her husband as she mouthed a small 'o'
of astonishment at him. "That was probably one of the few times I've
ever heard you say 'Eh' instead of 'Oro', Kenshin," she confessed in
amazement, as if she were talking about a wonderful solar eclipse she
had just seen recently.

Kenshin considered that. "Oro? I did? Really?"

"It was too good to last, apparently." Kaoru sighed in halfhearted
disappointment--halfhearted because she saw the 'punch line' of
Kenshin's catchphrase from about a mile away; it was as inevitable as
the sunset. She wanted to say more, but stopped herself cold to keep
from going on a whole new, different tangent of thought. ''A whole new,
different tangent'? So what was the first 'tangent' again?'

Kaoru Himura (nee Kamiya) pouted a small moue of pensive consternation,
feeling as though she had forgotten something fairly important...
something faint, but growing louder and more insistent as time passed
by... something that was neither vegetable nor animal... a loud, knock-
like something at the Kamiya Dojo's large, wooden gates... Oh. "Hey,
somebody's at the door!"

"You mean the gates," Kenshin corrected as he absently scratched the
faint, cross-shaped scar on his left cheek.

"Uh, yeah." A moment passed. Kaoru raised an eyebrow at Kenshin as she
crossed her arms expectantly. "...Well?"

"Er, why don't I get that, dear?" Kenshin meekly submitted, rubbing his
hands together in such a subservient fashion that it would have made the
conniving, weasel-like Kihei Hiruma proud. 'Cuckold' might have been way
off from the word Kenji was looking for to describe his father, but
'henpecked' was far too mild in comparison, and 'kowtowed' meant
something else entirely, though it _sounded_ like the right word.

All the same, Tsubame, acting on her natural kindness (and her not so
unreasonable desire to keep herself from being forced to give the overly
inquisitive Kenji an impromptu talk about "the birds and the bees" at
such a young age), helpfully proposed, "Don't bother getting up,
Kenshin-san! I'll get it!"

The deceptively youthful-looking redhead waved the girl off gently, his
fretful eyes darting back and forth at her and his cross-armed wife.
"B-But I insist, Tsubame-dono. You're a guest in this house, and... I'm
not. So... there. I'll go and get the door... gates... now." 

Wanting to get the relatively simple task of opening the gates and
greeting their visitors done and over with, Kaoru quietly beckoned,
"Tsubame-chan? Can I have word with you?"

Distracted, Tsubame turned towards Kaoru's summons just as Kenshin sprung
up from the seat of his hakama and shuffled towards the dojo gates in an
eye blink. "Yes, Kaoru-san? What is it?" the young adolescent queried.

Biting her lip as she contemplated what to say, Kaoru exhaled, shrugged,
and decided to simply come out with it: "Tsubame-chan, who taught you
what 'cuckold' means?" It was a fair enough question; six years ago...
heck, just last year... Tsubame still thought that kissing a boy could
get a girl pregnant.

"Ah..." Thing was, Tsubame still didn't quite know how to respond to that
kind of question, however knowledgeable she might have become. Indeed, as
the saying went, "The pheasant would not have been caught if not for its
cries."

The young girl's eyes flitted anxiously on the wooden floorboards,
wishing for them to somehow open up and swallow her whole in her sheer 
mortification. Just then, an idea surfaced in her mind as an auspicious
wind swept up a page of her beloved's letter over her dainty, socked
feet.


***


Meanwhile, a month before, back in Shinshu...

Yahiko woke up. There was a fish in his mouth. 

He spat it out, gagged a bit, and then opened his eyes. Ten thousand
bats looked curiously back at him.

To say there was an awkward pause would have been a grand
understatement.

Yahiko closed his eyes, counted to ten, and then took stock of the
situation. He seemed to be alive. From the motion he could feel, he 
was either floating down on some sort of boat, or he was feeling very,
very nauseated with lightheadedness, probably caused by the cramped,
tight space his head was currently stuck in; he guessed it was the
latter rather than the former.

What else? Oh, his mouth was saturated with the taste of raw fish
that _wasn't_ sushi or sashimi. There were hordes of fanged, leathery
bats hanging above his head, a veritable cache of creepy Swords of
Damocles staring back at him.

Of course, knowing his oriental circumstances, Yahiko wouldn't know what
a Sword of Damocles was even if it happened to cleave right through his
scalp; but with one look at his reaction to the bat horde, it was a safe
bet that he had a pretty good idea.

There was a lesson to be learned here. Next time Chizuru Raikouji
bullied Yahiko into doing something he didn't want to get involved with
in the first place, he would damn well tell her to stick her nose right
up her--

He blinked as something else occurred to him. It just so happened that
Chizuru's fool errand involved chasing after a certain man--a big,
bulky, hairy, gluttonous, and thuggish type of man, to be exact. "Gan?"
he cautiously whispered. "Minoe? Anyone?" He paused, rolled his eyes,
then tried again. "The 'Great' Gan? Soba King? The Round Mound of..."

"Right here, Mister Myoujin," a voice whispered back.

"Gan?"

"Uh, no."

A pause. "The 'Great' Gan?" He struggled to move his head towards the
sound of the other person's voice. 

"I'm afraid not. It's Minoe, sir. Minoe Munenori. Remember me?" Ah, yes:
It was the eye-patched, pirate-like, effeminate young man with the
purplish getup and long front and side bangs. Minoe was stuck at another
junction of the crevice or crag or whatever, just right beside Yahiko.

"Uh yeah. Very good." Yahiko looked up, and gulped. "There are a lot of
bats over us, huh?"

"Please don't remind me, sir," the eye-patched man implored as he
involuntarily shivered his timbers.

Yahiko gulped. "They're _looking_ at us, Minoe..."

"They sure are. Still... in the right light, I'd bet they'd look so
cute!" Minoe enthused effeminately... no, scratch that... femininely.
Gaily, even, for Yahiko had never seen a happier man. "I mean, look at
the expression on the third one to the left... from this distance,
doesn't he look like a cuddly little vixen?"

Yahiko looked at Minoe oddly, almost worriedly, then quietly edged away,
or at least did the best he could to do so given the situation. "Do you
mind, Minoe?" he hissed once the bats started to stir, even the third,
'cuddly little vixen' one to the left; _especially_ the third, 'cuddly
little vixen' one to the left, ironically enough.

Minoe flushed. "Real sorry, sir. But they just are."

"Yeah. They're regular 'lost, upside-down little puppies', they are,"
Yahiko mumbled.

"Well, well, well; look at what we have here," another voice boomed from
behind the Tokyo Samurai Descendant and his buccaneer companion. "It's
Yoshi-boy and Jubei-chan, out to hunt me down. Well, I guess the tables
have turned, eh?" The arrogant, boisterous voice couldn't possibly be
mistaken for anyone else's.

The sudden appearance of the 'Great' Gan was a start, at least, if there 
actually were a mystery here. And if not, this was a good point to make
sense of it all, at the even lesser least. But at the least of the
lesser least, it was more interesting at the moment than anything else.

How did everything come to this? How did events conspire against Yahiko
in such a way that he'd be left in a rather compromising position? Who
was this Minoe fellow and how did he meet him? Why was he acting so
'chummy' with him in the first place, like he already knew him from the
get-go? And what was with that ridiculous, oversized eye patch? Come to
think of it, what about the 'Great' Gan? Wasn't there supposed to be a
chase going on, where Yahiko was the pursuer and Gan was the pursued?
And for goodness sakes, what the hell was a fish doing in his mouth?


***


Meanwhile, a month later, back in Tokyo...

"Oops," Tsubame said as she put down the scraps of papers on her hand.
"Wrong page."

Kaoru shook her head clear of the bizarre mental image of the Kamiya
Kasshin School's Acting Master with a mouthful of fish and an army of
bats hanging over his head; it was easier said than done. "Um, why did
you suddenly pick up Yahiko's letter and read it aloud while I was
talking to you? More importantly: I was asking you a question! I mean,
another question! A question before the other question I was just
asking--Ah heck, where did you learn what 'cuckold'...?"

"Oh look, Kaoru-san! You have guests," Tsubame, in an artificially
offhanded tone that went a pitch higher at the near end, pointed out,
instantly cutting off the older woman's train wreck of a thought.

"Well, I'll be... It's Misao and Aoshi! Long time, no see!" Kaoru
happily called out as she unfolded her akimbo legs, slipped into her
wooden clogs, and skipped over to the dojo gates to greet her old
acquaintances.

With a sigh of relief, Tsubame collected all the pages of Yahiko's
letter, put them in the correct, chronological order, picked up from
where she left off, and started reading them again, this time just to
herself. 

Kenji's snoopy, six-year-old head popped from behind Tsubame's shoulder
like a freshly-bloomed pansy, quickly catching the older girl's
attention. Both of them eyed each other circumspectly for a few seconds.

"I won't bother you wit anymo' questions if you'll w'ead to me the
w'est of big bwotha's lettahs," Kenji proposed.

"Deal," Tsubame beamed as she shook on the casual verbal agreement using
hers and Kenji's pinky fingers.


***


Again, a month before, back in Shinshu...

It had started. The players took their places. The chess pieces were 
arranged on the board of black and white; of good and evil. The actors 
knew their lines, the horses were at the gate, the meat buns had been
steamed to perfection, the udon was ready for serving, the first nail
had been driven into the coffin, and the bear had urinated in the woods.
But the fat lady was still busy warming up backstage and putting on a 
brassiere that resembled a pair of trash can lids, so it was far from
over. 

The wind blew lightly through the woods, causing the leaves on the
ground to scatter in an array of reds, yellows, and oranges. There was
also a slight chill to the air; cold enough for a person to notice, but
not so cold that he couldn't bear it. It was a bit early this year for
the weather to be this cold, in fact, but it just was.

As the gust continued, it blew leaves onto a path that went through the
forest. Though this trail was usually well-used, today it only held two
people; a young man and a slightly older man. The unlikely pair wore
divergent outfits that told them apart even from a great distance: the
younger, bandaged one was wearing a blue hakama and a striped gi, with a
wrapped-up bundle at the side of his cloth belt and a flat straw hat on
his head; the other sported a white bandanna that covered his entire
scalp, an orange top that boasted of his upper-body musculature but hid
nothing of his abdomen's slight stoutness, and well-worn white pants.
Both their sandals looked worn as well, and with good reason, for they
were currently chasing each other across the countryside in a rather
frantic pace. 

Yet another gust of wind caused the two men to thoughtlessly quiver. By
chance or pure coincidence, they stopped simultaneously and looked at
each other and the ten-foot gap between them for a minute, seemingly
checking their current progress. Afterwards, they wordlessly started
running again, this time quicker than ever before. 

And so the chase ensued. Gan and Yoshi traveled many miles inside a
mostly barren area while passing by the occasional rustic stall or two,
kicking off a cloud of billowing dust that trailed after them like a
filthy war banner. 

When the Descendant of Tokyo Samurai last visited the rural province...
the hometown of one of his two star pupils, Outa Higadishadisomething-
something, Sanosuke's little brother and their hard-to-pronounce family
name... Shinshu was still the very definition of a rural province: there
were lots of trees, and shrubs, and dust, and rocks, and dirt roads,
and shanties ad infinitum. He wished he could say more, but that was
about it.

Now, a lot of things could happen in six years, despite appearances to
the contrary; why, Outa himself was once upon a time a shy, silent young
brat who constantly hid underneath his sister's skirt for protection
whenever trouble was afoot, and nowadays he was... still as shy, still
as talkative, and still as influenced by an overprotective sister as
ever before, but at least he now had a nifty 'Aku' sign at the back of
his shirt like his older brother, and (more importantly) could kick the
'Aku' out of anyone below a First-Degree Dan in Kendo. Certainly
impressive for a thirteen-year-old tot who was as noisy as Kenji Himura
was quiet. 

In regards to Outa's sister Uki, there was no way in hell Yahiko was
going to meet up with that obsessive-compulsive, overprotective, and
mountain-peak-haired (think widow's peak, except it's in the shape of
Mount Fuji) crazy girl even if she lived just a few kilometers away from
Chizuru and Kyoko's quaint little village. He'd rather have a lecturing
care of Kaoru's long-lost twin sister or awkward moments of stillness
with the sword-cane-toting girl than spend even just _one_ minute with
the manic Hi... Hida... Higashidani (HA!) woman. Even Yahiko's patience
had its limits. Speaking of stretching the limits of one's patience... 

The spiky-haired teenager groaned, tipping his recently acquired woven
straw hat up and staring at his sandaled feet after realizing that he
had just stepped on a pile of dog feces. Once again, as he wiped the
intestinal catastrophe on the dirt-filled ground, he secretly longed for
his relatively uncomplicated life back in Tokyo.

However, he was getting unnecessarily sidetracked with his thoughts. The
bottom line was that Shinshu as a territory had developed quite a lot
from being the infamous Zanza's one-horse hometown to a bustling, if
still a bit remote, community center for trade and commerce. They
rebuilt this province on rock and roll. And mortar, and bricks, and
cobblestones. Wood too.

The proof in the tofu? The recently established wet market in between
the 'Outa' village and the 'Chizuru' village that currently sold an
assortment of goods and foodstuffs--from vegetables, to fish, to
poultry and meat products--from different parts of Japan. It was a
wonderful turn of events for a formerly impoverished region whose main
livelihood was silk-breeding.

"Come back here, Gan!" Yahiko shouted at the overly-bulky man as they
pursued one another in the maze-like junctions of rice paddies, sparrows
flying away in their wake. "If you're not going to pay for your food
tab, then at the very least _work_ your debt off, you overgrown bum!"
To himself, he fumed, 'This is the sort of advice that I'd give to 
rooster head, but this big, fat idiot needs it more.'

"Sure thing, Yoshi-boy. I'll stop just as soon as I lose all of my
common sense and do whatever it is strangers tell me to do!" Gan
hollered back in kind, his hefty mass undulating as he ran a good ten
feet away; he was surprisingly fast for a portly person, Yoshi reckoned.
They were nearing the aforementioned wet market now, and even from this
distance they were quite a sight to the nearest vendors. 

"HEY, wait a minute! Yahiko! My name is Yahiko! YA-HI-KO!" Yoshi
admonished both the unseen narrative prose and the Great Gan in sheer
exasperation. But before he broke the fourth wall any further, he
screamed at his immediate target, "Who the heck are you calling 'Yoshi'?
And what the heck's a 'Yoshi' anyway? I don't look like a 'Yoshi'!"

"But you do look like a 'Yoshi' to me, Yoshi-boy!" Gan conversationally
yelled out as he barreled into the fresh meat section of the wet market,
to Yo--shiko's chagrin. And while _Yahiko_ glared... at nothing in
particular, Gan tilted his head just to the left of the spiky-haired
teenager and queried, "Doesn't he look like a 'Yoshi' to you, mister
pirate?"

To Yahiko's surprise, an eye-patched, boyish-looking young man suddenly
appeared jogging beside him from out nowhere and gave the him a quick
once-over. "Y'know what, Gan-tan? Yeah, he does look like a 'Yoshi' to
me," the man appraised with a sage nod.

"WHO ASKED YOU? And while we're on the topic... Who the HELL are YOU?"
Yahiko demanded, bewildered that the one-eyed man could still keep up
with the frantic pace of his sprint without even breaking a sweat. 

"My surname is Minoe and my personal name is Munenori, and there is a
slight flaw in my character," the man introduced himself readily, his
long bangs and loose clothes bouncing in cadence with his inexplicably
relaxed 'gallop'. 

"Uh..." Yahiko wittily rejoined.

"Oh, that didn't come out right. Let me try again. Hello, I'm Minoe
Munenori! In this wonderful nineteenth century, how is everybody
feeling today? What's your name? How old are you? What's your favorite
color? What's your favorite animal? Do you like drawing?"

Startled by the rapid-fire questionnaire, Yahiko meant to say, 'What
is this, twenty questions? Go away!' but it somehow came out as, "Um,
Myojin Yahiko, age sixteen, elephant, and I'm terrible at drawing."

Minoe blinked. "Your favorite color is elephant? Well, you like what you
like. Anyway, so sorry that I startled you, Yoshi-tan, but I'm also glad
that I did; it means that my Kakuremi no Jutsu is actually working! I'm
so happoof! MMMPH!" the eye-patched man enthusiastically blabbered
before giving the marketplace's sticky cobblestone floor an inadvertent
kiss as he slipped face-first onto it.

Yahiko groaned as he stopped and helped Minoe get up on his feet. 'And
he was doing so good with his impressive jogging too! Too bad he's a
complete and total klutz who's incapable of doing two things at the same
time,' the teenaged swordsman evaluated in his head, adding, 'And what's
with that 'Kakuremi no Jutsu' crap? So does this guy think he's some
sort of stealth ninja trapped in a sea pirate's body or what?' 

At the back of Yahiko's mind, he also noted to himself that Minoe seemed
like a mediocre combination of Takae and Soujiro as he unconsciously
fingered his still-fresh sword wounds and flat straw hat. He bristled in
seething anger. 'No need to remind myself of good ol' psycho-kid. I have
the scars to remind me of him for a lifetime.'

"Ugh. That was gross. But anyway, time to go! Ninpou: Kakuremi no
Jutsu!" announced the aghast and befuddled Minoe once he regained his
vertical base: He straightened himself up as he put his hands together
in a bizarre gesture and concentrated hard in making his entire body
disappear into unseen obscurity using only his purposeful willpower; the
repetitive redundancies, of course, were beside the point.

Through effective use of the colors of his garments, in shades that
would reflect as little light as possible whilst complementing the
stealthy movements he made, Minoe should be able to execute a nearly
perfect invisibility trick that didn't merely rely on shadows and shade:
His clothes and actions themselves would act as his blanket of shadow.

Well, that was the idea, anyway; besides, it wasn't as if Minoe were
executing a perfect replica of Takae's Minamo Gakure Trick. With half-
lidded eyes and a raised eyebrow, Yahiko caught the completely visible
Minoe by the scruff of his camouflaged hakama and tugged the pirate-
ninja hybrid backwards. "And just where do you think you're going?
Honestly, moving like an epileptic flea while covering your head with
your top as if it were about to rain..." 

"AH! You can see me? Oh my goodness, I'm so embarrassed! You weren't
supposed to see me, you see. Or maybe you don't see, but then again,
you did anyway. It's all so confusing..." Minoe blubbered pitifully as
he worked himself up to a storm, scratching his head and checking his
quite opaque and dense self from top to bottom for any signs of
transparency.  

"This is so surprising; Raedo-sempai and the others assured me that I
went completely invisible whenever I used this technique... _although_
they did keep asking each other what the difference was otherwise...
Anyway, please, you've got to believe me! I was invisible, right?
Right?"

Not knowing how to respond to Minoe's rhetorical questions and run-on
sentences, Yahiko opted to stick with the most relevant subject and
reply, "Um, just because you press your hands together and call out
'Kakuremi no Jutsu' doesn't necessarily mean that you'll--"

Somehow, even with what Yahiko deemed as a logical, sensible answer,
Minoe somehow maintained his specious, spurious, and non-sequitur edge
on the conversation. "Hey, I know! How about I strip my clothes off,
then we'll see if my Ninpou Powers will work!" he suggested to Yahiko,
but by the way his eyes glazed over, he might as well have been talking
to no one in particular. Still, he made good with his threat, fiddling
with his hakama's tightly-knotted belt and--

Exhaling irritably, Yahiko straightforwardly interjected, "Ano ne,
Minoe... have you ever been punched in the face?" before the eye-patched
man got any further with his dubious plans.

"Not since this last minute, why'd you--OH GOB, MY NOWSE! NOB AGEYN!
WRY, GOB, WRY?!" 

'Maybe that's why he has the eye patch; to cover up the black eye he got
for not shutting up,' Yahiko fumed as he shook his bloodied fist in rage
at the howling Minoe. "Stop following me and the 'Gross' Gan, you, you,
costumed clown! You're distracting me! I still have to catch that
ballooned-up food bandit and--oh, shiitake mushrooms, I almost forgot...
Gan!"

As if on cue, a nearby vendor irately screamed "HEY! Give that back,
you ballooned-up food bandit!" just as Yahiko roused himself from his
extensive musings. The young samurai looked up, only to see that Gan 
had already dashed a good distance way from him, heading towards another
heavily-wooded area.

"Catch me if you can, Yoshi-boy!" Gan gibed, wiggling and slapping his
posterior in a mocking manner. Yahiko bristled at both the taunt and
his newest moniker (which he swore was just inches away from overtaking
'Yahiko-chan' on the top of his list of annoying nicknames) but stopped
himself cold: Gan was counting on him to do that, he reckoned.   

In fact, Yahiko had Gan's simple plan all figured out: even though he
let the wildcard Minoe distract him for quite a bit, his legs did get
the unintentional benefit of rest. Besides, the overgrown lout was still
in sight... in the corner of his eyes, at least. Furthermore, Gan, being
Gan, acted on his natural instincts and usual modus operandi when he
stole yet another food item from one of the stalls in the wet market:
With him acting so predictable, it was only a matter of time before
Yahiko caught the troublesome hoodlum. 

Nevertheless, though he might not look much, Gan was quite the street-
smart thug in his own right: if he had succeeded in angering Yahiko, the
Tokyo Samurai would have called him out and made himself look like an
accomplice of his to the nearby vendors, thus delaying the chase
further; the big, fat, hairy oaf almost got away scot-free. It was an
admittedly devious but ultimately futile plan.

Cautiously, Yahiko opted to distance himself from the crying Minoe and
the gathering crowd as he ran around the back of the wet market to head
Gan up at a nearby pass and herd him in a rock-walled dead end. Although
he barely visited Shishu anymore, he still knew this particular area
like the back of his hand. He was the man with the plan, the guy who was
always one step ahead of his opponents.

Because of the myriad of adventures he had with the infamous Kenshin
'Battousai' Himura, Sanosuke 'Zanza' Sagara, Kaoru 'Tanuki Girl' Kamiya,
and Megumi 'Kitsune Lady' Hayashibara... no, Oogata... no, Takani...
yeah, definitely Takani... he already had a lifetime of fight experience
under his belt at such a relatively young age. Heck, he _was_, more or
less, give or take, able to defeat the dreaded 'Tenken' of the Juppon
Gatana. This 'Great' Gan should be a cakewalk in comparison.

Soon enough, as Yahiko predicted, Gan had already arrived at the
aforesaid junction; by his estimations, with just a few sword swings and
his notorious forbidden technique, the 'Wrath of the End of the Era',
Gan was as good as caught.

Still, no amount of preparation could have prepared Yahiko from being
bitch-slapped by Gan care of a very, very large fish.

Honestly, the mere idea of it was so absurd that he'd bet that even the
usually unflappable Hajime Saito would have been mildly surprised by
its... sheer creativity. The force of the blow was powerful enough to
take the taste out of his mouth and make him reel back, his flattop hat
tumbling near his backpedaling feet.

The hooligan didn't even give Yahiko a chance to breathe, much less
recover. "You will NOT GET MY BABY!" the Great Gan enigmatically
screamed as he stuffed the big fish into Yahiko's mouth, grabbed his
head and slammed it against the nearby wall hard enough to cause him to
see stars and put a ragged hole in the rocky crag.

Apparently, Gan's maternal... paternal... _parental_ instincts kicked in
and he was now defending the supposed life which he, er, carried; no one
could fight for their child like a parent. The last two sentences made
absolutely no sense whatsoever even when considering the context, just
like Gan's motivations.

Anticlimactically, Yahiko heard somebody suddenly scream, "Don't worry,
Yoshi-tan! I'll save you! Ninpou: Bunshin no Jyuurk!" followed by a
crashing sound on the wall he was stuck in. Before long, the dusty,
rubble-strewn, and eye-patched head of Munenori Minoe accosted the
sixteen-year-old with a lucid yet paradoxically incoherent, "Things are
looking bleak, but we can still burn the river once we cross that bridge
over the rainbow-colored bush with the two birds in glass houses," rant
before fainting altogether.

What with the fish in his mouth, the rock wall around his neck, the
insane food thief behind him, and the ninja/pirate/idiot-savant just
beside him, Yahiko couldn't help but follow suit and lose consciousness
as well--it was only natural.


***


Next: The Okashira's visit.

Happy holidays, everyone!

I blame the lateness of this chapter (five years... sorry about
that) on SeventhOne and his/her great teaser for Youtou Shinnoken.
It was simply... marvelous, and it kept this fic from getting
written any further to boot until now. Sorry. ^^; 

Note to self: Please include Outa Higashidani and/or Shinichi
Kusaburou in future chapters. Not that I forgot to include them in
the earlier chapters, it's just that the Kamiya Dojo was closed at
the time. For cleaning. So they couldn't attend classes and stuff.
Yeah.

Cuckold: (Noun) A married man whose wife has sex with other men.
The term has acquired additional meanings within certain
subcultures, referring to couples wherein the female is dominant
and she takes on additional partners, while the male takes on a
submissive role where he is monogamous to her, or only becoming
involved sexually when it is felt to be emotionally supportive of
her and her lover, or remaining altogether chaste. Men who
fetishize this situation are often referred to in the subculture
as "cucks."

A note of dedication goes to MadamHydra for inspiring me to make 
this fic. Her own "That Which Lingers" is somewhat an influence in
this endeavor of mine. 

Disclaimer: All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) 
are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki and Sony. Don't sue
me please, I'm very poor.

Salamat sa pagbabasa!
Abdiel

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