Chapter 2: Sake For Dinner

"With looks like yours, it's hard to imagine having trouble finding a suitor." I took the seat beside her and make a bit of light conversation. To the untrained ear it might sound as if I was trying to flirt with her, which I assure you wasn't the case at all. Just trying to calm the bride's nerves a little. Yeah, that sounds right.

She beamed a tiny little smile that wasn't like her mother's at all. A thin upper lip and a larger lower one...where had I seen those before? Pair that with a sharp, down-turned nose...makeup couldn't hide those foreign qualities. While her parents were markedly from Genfu, this was a different creature entirely.

While I was busy being mystified by her facial features, she thanked me for joining her side. "Thank you for joining us, samurai-san. My parents have sacrificed much to grant me this opportunity. You being by my—our side, it puts their mind at ease." The words were light and flowed like a breeze, and bared no hint of the homeland she had left behind. Strange...

The collective silence of this odd family was starting to make even me uncomfortable, at least until the dumplings I bargained for arrived. My heart skipped a beat after seeing two plates packed with steaming gyoza placed in front of me like I was an emperor's son. The geisha poured the first cup of saké , with a fake smile as if I was her favorite customer. She was quick to leave afterwards.

秋山

If I hadn't been entirely sure what the kanji—the fancy written characters—for 'Akiyama' were, I was now. Two men wearing green robes had the words littered all over them. They'd even have it written atop their faces if tattoos weren't decidedly yakuza. They may not have belonged to a crime syndicate, but they didn't seem to be nobles either.

Oh, and unless the country of Hyuga had grown radically progressive in recent months, these two guys weren't the parents we were looking for.

"You are the Oyamas, correct? Your daughter is very beautiful." The lankier one remarked, but his eyes were all over me. I'll give you one guess as to why. "You have a retainer as well..."

And here I thought my presence would go completely ignored. I knew that look. He was asking himself a question, a question that confirmed what this was. It looked like I had no choice; the pause here meant it was as good a time as any to introduce myself. Unlike everyone else at this table and perhaps in this city, I had no intention of hiding who I was or putting on false airs.

I go up front and tell them, "I'm an Ex- bodyguard as A ruthless Killer"

I knew what these two were the moment they walked into the Sleeping Duck. They didn't slouch on their approach, and walked with their left hands against their belts as if by habit. That was where their weapons usually were. Of course they weren't there now—no, their jitte were hidden just above their sash in an odd-looking fold.

While the jitte was little more than an iron bar, it sprouted a hook made for catching katana blades. It was also the symbol of law enforcement in Hyuga. For a ronin such as myself, the weapon represented a guaranteed bad time.

I've fought and killed my share of thugs and police officers to know there was hardly a difference between them. Both preferred to outnumber you, and neither cared for a fair fight. The question he was thinking to himself earlier was whether or not him and his buddy could take me if it came down to it. The answer was a resounding "No".

Unlike these police academy dropouts, I came from a far rougher upbringing. The sort of upbringing where you didn't have a family name. A single name was good enough, but what was it?

Akio (昭雄). A name which has gotten me ahead in life. Ahead of all the other orphans in our daily soup lines, that is.

"My name is Akio, and I kill people for a living."

Kin Oyama intervened to calm the tense atmosphere down a few notches. I could understand that he wanted negotiations to go as smoothly as possible, but he was clueless of what the situation was. It must be nice to be that naive and stupid.

"Good sirs, my name is Kin Oyama. My daughter is anxious to meet the young master Akiyama. Where might he be at?" The nobleman (in appearance anyway) was rudely interrupted by a curt explanation. The type that answered a few questions and prompted a few more.

"Takauji-sama is at his mother's bedside. Unfortunately our lady has grown gravely ill in recent weeks. We will escort your daughter to the Akiyama estate for a private meeting. It is regrettable, but we ask you two stay here until we bring around another carriage."

I was so impressed by this tale that I almost felt like clapping. Maybe I was just used to the schemes of bandits and hoodlums—this one was far more crafty and far less violent. And from that understanding expression on the Oyama's faces, it was far more effective too. Whether this was a kidnapping for ransom or a high-class human trafficking plot would all depend on what the family could pay.

And knowing these Southerners for what they were, they'd be sending their girl right into the slave market. I felt a pair of eyes beside me giving me a glance. The would-be wife's expression was still difficult for me to figure out, and all that makeup wasn't helping my efforts either.

Genuine fear snuck out from that pretty face, as it seemed at least one member of this odd-looking family knew what was about to unfold.

Steeling her determination, the graceful figure arose with a sort of nobility that was difficult to put into words. I wasn't sure if it was the saké or something else, but I was getting an uncomfortable feeling in my chest. The sort of feeling a man gets before he's about to do something stupid.

I stood up and as soon as I was up off the tatami mat, the two Akiyama swindlers were already pleading for me to sit back down. The lanky one even had a hand against his stomach, to make sure his iron club was still there. Never a bad thing to check before a fight.

"You, retainer, needn't worry. We will protect her with our lives. Remain here until the second carriage arrives."

He should not have said that. If there was one thing dirty ronin like me couldn't stand, it was taking orders.

And the I thought to myself ' Finally Some Action'

Using my blade would've turned this fight into a joke, so I decided to make it more fun. With a kick that would've made a donkey jealous I bashed my sandaled foot up against Oyama's table. It skidded into the knees of the unfortunate bastards; the sound of wood and bone colliding echoed across the lounge. It was an unpleasant crunch soon hidden beneath wails of agony.

I moved in for my next attack without hesitation. The stockier thug was hunched over, and didn't have time to react as I reached over the table to grab the collar-folds of his kimono. Usually I'd knee my opponent in the face, but I had a better idea. I yanked his head down onto the hardwood. Blood squished out onto the table after what had to be a broken nose and then some.

The other crooked cop had regained his senses, and held his jitte out horizontally in the traditional style. His other hand hovered about like a drugged-up wasp, which I could only guess was an effort to distract me. What every vagabond needed to know about fighting police was simple—every style in their handbooks was reactionary. This mentality bled into their minds, making them slower and less-effective fighters.

Action is faster than reaction. I proved it by bringing my still-sheathed katana down overhead like a chump. I could even see the anticipation in his eyes as he brought his jitte up to counter the blow. Except I wasn't a chump, and I quickly recoiled my weapon as his arrived to parry thin air. With a twist in my shoulders the scabbard whipped across his face, connecting solidly with his jaw. The jolt of the blow ran up my arms as a painful throb, but that was next to nothing compared to what he was feeling.

Or wasn't feeling, as he laid unconscious several feet away. The bottom half of his face was contorted in a very painful looking position. I guess I won.

*clap* *clap*

The foreign bride-to-be slapped her hands together twice in succession. For a second I thought she was applauding me, but that was before a group of a dozen patrons of the Sleeping Duck jumped to arrest and remove the Akiyama goons. Typical tea-drinkers were nowhere near that coordinated, and I found myself getting real sick of not knowing what was going on.

"You are very...effective at what you do, Akio-san. Allow me to thank you for your aid in this affair."

Affair? Just what had I gotten myself roped into? This all felt like one bad kabuki act, where everyone was in on the joke but me. I made certain to add this experience to the list of reasons why I despised Yamato. It was time to get some answers.

"So I take it you're still single, then?

I gave her a sly smile. Yeah, she fooled me and ruined my lazy afternoon of drinking, but there was a silver lining to all this. I still had a chance at this exotic-looking babe. Wish I knew her name though.

My forwardness is usually something members of the noble class just can't handle, and this fine looking specimen was no exception. Red blushed out on those smooth cheeks, but unfortunately this fish wasn't taking the bait. Didn't expect it to either—catches like this one never came easy.

"I-I don't see how that is relevant. Thank you for helping us during this internal investigation, and for potentially ending a series of high-profile abductions."

Great, a happy ending. The only warm, fuzzy feeling I was getting inside was the last bit of my buzz dying away. If she was expecting me to smile and laugh off being manipulated—and even worse, unpaid—then...whatever, I needed to check up on the kid.

The gang of plainly-clothed ninja had already extracted the two culprits, and the lounge at the Sleeping Duck returned to normal almost immediately. The blood spatters on the table were already wiped clean, evidence of my actions erased as if they never happened.

Unsettling. I was on my way out when I got a name and a healthy dose of foreshadowing.

"My name is Toshie. I look forward to working with you again soon, samurai-san."