Fan Fiction ❯ That Sunday Morning ❯ That Sunday Morning ( One-Shot )

This is my first "Versus" fic, but the second on this site. Now I've seen it enough times to make my eyes bleed so there won't be any unnecessary disruptions in the continuity- UNLESS NOTED, but this fic takes place roughly the day before KSC2-303 and POCH-182's escape. Since Kitamura and Yamaguchi filmed it (appropriately) in Kyoto this will take place in the former capital and I will be giving them names. So to spare the confusion here is the cast:

"Dark Hero"- Sakaguchi Tak- Yamino Ken

"Him"- Sakaki Hideo- Ichiro

"The Girl"- Misaka Chieko- Hanako

"Giggles"- Matsuda Kenji- Iizuka

"Glasses"- Ohba Kazuhito- Shiro

"Runt"- Matsumoto Minoru- Betto

"Pony Tail"- Arai Yuichiro- Omote

"Toupee"- Watabe Ryosuke- Fushida

"Lady Kung Fu"- Asai Hoshimi- Umi

"Red"- Katayama Takehiro- Takano

"Six Shooter"- Yoshihara Ayumi- Mieka

"Stumpy (Lieutenant)"- Masumoto Shoichiro- Yakushimaru

"Wannabe (Captain)"- Tanikado Yukihito- Sato

"POCH-182"- Komiya Motonari- Aoi Fujito

That Sunday Morning

By Ishida Miyako

There are 666 portals to the other side. These are concealed from all humans. But there are those who know of their existence. And some dare to open the gateway and try to gain the power of darkness… Somewhere in Japan exists the 444th portal, known as… The Forest of Resurrection… It was long ago when an evil soul uncovered its existence….

~Somewhere in Kyoto….~

"So, are you coming to Yukie-san's wedding, or not?" Steam clouded the coffee pots turned upside-down for cleaning, Hanako blew the same two strands of hair that had been in her way since she rolled out of bed. She wished the trash mags were right and she had ESP so that perhaps flying chunks of glass ramming into Masami's face would end the chatter about the manager's impending nuptials.

"Betsuni." Hanako shrugged. "Besides, it's too late to get a date. I'll never live it down if I turn up alone." She pried the bobby pin apart with her teeth to set a lock behind her ear. Just an hour until her shift was up, and Hanako was bizarrely envious of the greasy utensils floating in the foggy sink. Being up to her elbows in suds had her craving for a soak. All the while as she stacked donuts, poured coffee, prepared plates, the grime of sugar and spit mashed between her fingers and clogged her nails long after the customers exited leaving no tip and spill stains on the seat. Hanako fantasized of massaging mint oil into her joints and lighting incense. She twisted the silk thong round her neck as the flashes of a man's twitching severed torso jolted her mind, like the choppy steel clatter of the bullet train careening over the tracks.

/Kanjieru ka, kono mori ni ticara o? Hito wo mare... iikite... soshite shi ne. Shi ni saki naru yami honto wo sekai asoko hajimaru…./

Childhood had been complicated enough with the frequent mind imagery, life at the shrine had been increasingly difficult. Her grandmother's ailing health and failing eyes prompted Hanako's training to speed up to a tempo that didn't agree with her. The old mystic was becoming more distant and agitated, strangely her mood swings would occur in concert with a vision. During those times the miko would retreat to the farthest corner of Sakagawa Jinja and mutter prayers before the photos of her deceased husband, son, and daughter-in-law, sometimes the whole day through where Hanako would discover her semi-conscious the following morning. Was she trying to fly to heaven before her time? Hanako watched her hands move like clockwork washing the dishes, Masami's voice static as she paced about the cramped kitchen poking and pulling at wall magnets, dried glasses still not stored on their shelves, and the stacks of pressed carnation pink table cloths waiting to be folded.

"…And I told Takeo, that if we're going to get engaged I refuse to move into that closet of his in Shibuya! He's gotten steady clientele since his father hooked him up with that realtor, and just think of the benefits being tight with the boss. We might even be able to get that property in Odaiba I saw when 'Kaa-san-"

"Shizuka shiro!" Hanako cut her off sharply.

"Nani yo, gyu ni?!" Masami whined, but her friend's focus was on the 19-inch above the stove.

'Earlier last year 28-year-old Yamino Ken, and partner Aoi Fujito, 29 the most notorious and violent Yakuza hired guns were convicted of murder in the first degree for the executions of 96 rival gang members and leaders. Yamino and Aoi are synonymous for the 1997 bombing of Kanto cocaine kingpin Sugita "Scorpion" Toshio's base of operations in Singapore.' A black and white file photo of a balding, plump middle-aged man with a scorpion tattoo on his face talking on a Nokia mobile appeared on the screen briefly.

'Their SENTEC messenger delivery not only took Sugita, his lieutenants and detachment of finest bodyguards, but visiting Chinese Triads conducting a business deal. The assassins traced a bloody trail from Naha to Hokkaido, Taiwan, Hong Kong, South Korea, and all over Southeast Asia. Yamino and Aoi were captured here in Kyoto by local police after they were ticketed by Officer Izumiya Shin for parking in a handicap zone, then fled the scene after gunning him down. They are being held in custody at the Metropolitan Police Detention Center awaiting transport to Tokyo where the sentence of death will be passed.' A split screen of their mug shots came into view, both women concentrating on the young man on the left. Hair ruffled over his right eye accentuated his boyish James Dean-esque smirk.

'Yamino and Aoi will die via lethal injection, the first since the reinstitution of capital punishment. And now in the entertainment world, Ring 0: Birthday and Crossfire star Yada Akiko made her Hollywood debut in Francis Ford Coppola's psychological crime thriller, Lotus Flower opposite John Cusack-' Hanako mounted the step stool and switched off the set. Dropping her right then left foot on the parquet tiling carefully she breathed unevenly, her faced flushed burning the young man's face into her brain placing her hand over her heart feeling lost and unsure of what to do next.

"Ne, Hanako-chan…?" Masami brought three fingers down from her lips guilty about snapping at Hanako previously. "What's going on? Do you know him, or something?" Just then the automatic door chime signaled a customer's entrance.

"Suimasen!" The two waitresses yelped, Masami touched Hanako's wrist and went up front. Plastering on her brightest grin, she bounced up behind the counter where she was face to face with an attractive woman, draped around her was a dark brown leather duster.

"Irasshai masse!" *Kirei ka!* The woman's hair was stylishly clipped brushing her shoulders, her lips the deepest velvet red and a blend of indigo and mauve frosted her feline eyes. The woman pulled her lips to the side adorably as she studied a beverage menu in a pink plastic frame.

"Eto, I'll have two vanilla scoop iced mochas- large…"

"Hai." Masami jotted the orders on her pad.

"And one strawberry shortcake parfait malted. Large." Masami nodded, tore off the sheet and passed it to Hanako through the window.

"Two minutes." The woman nodded and Masami busied herself ringing up the orders on the register. The hot, pungent aromas of curry and barbecue radiated from the customer's plastic carry-on. Masami smiled. "So, is it take out night and movie?"

"Mmm." The woman mumbled not bothering to look in Masami's direction. Immediately she demurred sensing a dark vibe from her customer, suddenly glad her drinks were to go. Hanako emerged from the kitchen, drinks secured in a foam tray where Masami bagged them and punched the TOTAL key releasing the cash drawer.

"That will be 12,500¥ please." She gave exact change. "Arigato gozaimashite!" She said to the woman's back as she exited. Hanako, planted beside Masami looked on hypnotically as the woman got in her red Mustang and burned rubber. Masami shuddered audibly, although her actions were exaggerated. "I'm glad this night's over- ah! But don't you have to work tomorrow?" Hanako bit her lip nodding.

"Sou, but I need out of the shrine. Obaa-san's been acting strange lately." Masami ruffled her bleached bangs. She whipped out a dishrag and swept it down the spotless counter.

"That's nothing new," she scoffed. Hanako reached round her neck to undo the apron strings, then undid those round her waist.

"Iie," she sighed. "This is strange even for her." Hanako shrugged on her denim jacket and slung her drawstring backpack on. "Oyasumi nasai."

"Bye-bye!" Masami watched as her friend made haste, not concerned with missing her bus, but the white Mercedes that had been making various appearances wherever she was lately.

* * * *

~Kyoto Metropolitan Police Detention Center….~

Officer Nakata Shigeru was making it up the final hurdle at the finish of his patrol. Dismounting his bike, he decided to stretch his legs by walking the last few yards to the gate. The immaculately manicured shrubbery that outlined the station was just in view when barreling round the bend came a red Mustang. Nakata was barely able to dodge the vehicle that was racing at breakneck speed by springing into the bushes.

"KONO!!!" He roared, limbs flailing and uniform snagged by branches and smeared with dirt.

"Omawari-san!" The patrolman in the box darted to aide his fallen comrade. The patrolman pulled Nakata to his feet and assisted him in dusting off whatever filth they could. "Daijoubu ka?"

"Ahh!" Nakata growled, he lifted a hand to his head and patted it a few times. "Where's my hat? The hell did my hat get to?"

"I'll look for it sir." The patrolman volunteered and began his hunt. After about ten minutes of shuffling about in the dirt, the junior officer triumphantly hoisted the hat. "Found it sir!"

"Yokatta."

"Hai!" He saluted standing to his full height and then some.

"Very good. Now get back to your station, and open up the gate."

"Wakarimashite!" He trooped to his box and activated the locking mechanism to disengage the gate. Slowly the moving iron bars slid apart, and just when the entrance was wide enough, Nakata walked his bike into the parking lot and situated it with the others in their racks. Muttering obscenities under his breath, Nakata fiddled with the torn braids on his jacket in an effort to reattach them to the epaulet that indicated his rank. Striding dejectedly into the station, he resigned himself to the fact that the tailors could only do the appropriate mending and send it off to the cleaners. Center seats at the next Tokyo Giants-Osaka Dragons game couldn't have been more out of reach. Wallowing in self pity slouched at his desk, Nakata couldn't have been more oblivious to his fellow officers surrounding him.

"Oy, Nakata," Shin tipped his chin up. "You look like shit. Were you finally run over by that semi you were trying to ticket?" Leaping out of his chair, baton in hand Shin struck a textbook-perfect defensive stance. Nakata eyed the other officer perilously.

"Nani shiteru no, Kamio?!" Kamio sighed the sigh of the long suffering.

"Take it easy, will ya?" Nakata lowered his baton as Kamio fished around his pockets for a cigarette. "The chief's been goin' screwy since this morning."

"Sou sou," piped up Yamamoto from behind a file cabinet. "Those two Yakuza killers down in the dungeons have been visited by reporters all day, and now their lawyer." Polishing his service revolver, Murata propped his feet up on the desk crossing them at the ankle. "And on top of it, those two assholes are in there right now hassling him." Murata breathed on the barrel, swabbed it, and checked his reflection wolfishly grinning at himself.

"HUH?!" The others exclaimed with protuberant eyes.

"And he missed lunch." No one saw the moped on the other side of the doors putter to a halt. "So a piece of free advice, look busy or it'll be the traffic division until the lot of you are pensioners." Murata emphasized the last word with a wave of his gun.

"You're a fine one to talk!" Strutted by was the elegant Officer Itegaki Kyoko. Dressed in a skirt uniform and hair piled atop her head, she threw her white gloves into the helmet she was carrying and put it on her chair. Under her arm was a plastic black folder, the flap tied down to its body. "Because in a few minutes, it's going to look like a Khan invasion round here! Ja." She took short and swift painful steps down the corridor to the chief's office. Yamamoto still cowering behind the cabinet, crouched low to the scuffed avocado floor. "Traffic division? I hear that has the highest police suicide rate…." He moaned. Murata's feet slid off the desk, almost sending him off his seat and Nakata and Kamio looked on feebly as Itegaki disappeared down the hall. Abruptly the squad room broke into confusion as the officers scrambled about.

"I'd better get back on patrol," Nakata pulled his damaged jacket off the chair, throwing it to the floor. "It's pretty fucked up out there, you know!" Putting his hat on, woodchips and clumps of dirt rained down the front and inside the back of his jacket.

"Ch-ch-ch-chotto matte! I'll go with you! We'll take the car!" Kamio rushed after him. Murata who stood there making strangled, guttural noises kicked Yamamoto away from the filing cabinet.

"Out of the way, bakayarou!" Ripping open a drawer, he haphazardly hefted out files and closeted himself in the dispatch room.

* * *

Chief Shinomura ripped open a packet of Alka-Seltzer, and dropped the tablets in the already white murky water glass as he listened to his detectives recount their heroic tribulations at the Imperial Park Aquarium. Though it was the senior of the two, flaunting every graphic detail with his slight, wiry body. His sopping, cheap navy blue suit two sizes too big making a sizable puddle on the floor. The other taller and heavier-set detective, leaning against the wall was contented to nod and puff his cigarette between his teeth.

"I knew those punks weren't satisfied just raiding the concession stand for cash and Pocky. So I put my Navy SEAL training to good use, and drop kicked his ass into the penguin tank!" The senior detective folded his hands and stuck out his arms imitating a diving pose. "I am not called the Human Harpoon for nothing, sir-"

"Oh no sir!" Cut in his partner.

"Having little choice I, too, jumped in and utilizing a swordfish impaled the little bitch before he could produce any concealed weapons!" Arms akimbo, puffing out his chest the detective did his best Man of Steel impression. Shinomura massaged his temples, scanning the coroner's report open on his desk. The two criminals in question were infamous pranksters, freshmen at Ryukoku University. They had a thick complaint file that consisted of public disturbances and vandalism. Yakushimaru emptied an entire clip into one of them in the tropical fish gallery as he lay on the floor, hands clasped behind his head in front of two classes of first-graders on a school trip. Sato speared the other who couldn't swim through the throat. The families' attorneys guaranteed to contact him in the morning. The rapping on the smoky-glass door made the three jump.

"Anou… Shachou?" Itegaki sniveled.

"Hai! Itegaki-kun, come in! Come in!" The female officer shuffled in, quietly shutting the door behind her. Holding the folder against her breasts she sidled up to the chief's desk and laid it down as if it were to explode.

"This came for you sir. From Tokyo." She withdrew, back ramrod straight visibly trembling. Shinomura clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides, all eyes on the black folder. Sato and Yakushimaru were clueless. Shinomura fed up, ripped open the folder and read its contents. His brow quirked and the document slid to the floor.

"Shachou?" Yakushimaru whispered.

"The orders…" Itegaki's breath caught in her throat. "…the orders are to send them with an escort." The chief collapsed in his leather chair, Itegaki brought a fist up to her mouth. "Sou ne…." Yakushimaru and Sato looked at one another. In the yellow fluorescent lighting, Shinomura's faint liver spots darkened and his wrinkles became more prominent. Resting his head in his hands he shook his head, he wouldn't sacrifice any of his men! He could do it himself, but he couldn't prepare a will on such short notice. If they wanted them so fucking badly let them send in the reserves, to hell with orders! But facing Internal Affairs could result in loss of rank and pension… Sato plucked the paper off the floor and looked it over.

"Shachou, does this have to do with those Yakuza tykes downstairs?" A flash bulb went off and Shinomura looked up. Sato and Yakushimaru! Smiling beautifully, Shinomura rose and clapped both hands on Sato's wet arms.

"I have the perfect assignment for the two of you!" Itegaki squeaked. "I think since you two have proven to be the most qualified men in my department, this mission will be sure to challenge you." He shoved the folder into Sato's chest.

"Mission?" Yakushimaru's face lit up. The chief danced round his desk and pulled a set of car keys from a peg off the wall.

"And you get the armored van!" He tossed the keys to Sato, whose turn it was to smile.

"Armored van?" The chief pat Sato's shoulder.

"All you have to do is make sure Yamino and Aoi remained manacled down in the truck and deal with them for a couple of days," he punched his shoulder. The two detectives snapped their heels and saluted.

"You can count on us!" Sato put the folder under his arm. "Yakushimaru, ike!"

"HO!" They exited the office. The chief nodded, his hands clasped behind his back. Itegaki still gathering her wits unsure of whether to believe what transpired just then found her voice.

"Shachou!" He rummaged through a file drawer.

"Ah, Itegaki-kun?"

"Permission to speak candidly, sir?"

"Granted."

"I understand that Yakushimaru and Sato are hardly model police officers. I also understand, that the department has been forced to take some serious flak from the media since the assassins were brought in."

"Your point, Itegaki-kun?"

"My point is this: you do know that our detention center is located in some Podunk prefecture at the ass-end of this city? And that the only road that connects to any highway is through a dense wood that is over a 50-mile radius?" Shinomura grinned, raising his brows. "And also that you have trusted a pair of assholes with the most dangerous men in Japan?" Shinomura set down a pair of glasses and a bottle of saké before he spoke.

"I have considered all of those factors. If they screw up, there'll be no witnesses to see a firefight in the mountain paths. With any luck, they'll kill each other and save the state the money and trouble. Therefore, I see no downside." He held up a glass. "Drink?" She put out her thumb and index fingers holding them an inch apart.

"Just a nip."

* * * *

~An Interrogation Room in Solitary….~

"Shinpai suru na. It's all been arranged." A pair of lily hands folded atop the gritty table. The light glinted off the wide silver band on his right index finger. He was dressed impeccably, a charcoal Abercrombie & Fitch two-piece and a French silk tie of the deepest midnight blue in contrast to the dull, sun bleached steel grey jumpsuits his two companions seated across from him were in. He wanted to laugh at the faded stenciling down their left sides: LAWBREAKER. But the moment had long passed. Aoi rubbed his hand under the steel wool of a goatee nervously.

"So who's our escorts?" The suit shook his head.

"Wakanai. That's the only detail I haven't been able to work out. However, the orders from the capital should be arriving tonight. And with a little luck you might find out for yourselves." Yamino rocked on the hind legs of his chair, ever-present smirk spread across his face.

"If we had luck, we wouldn't be here."

"If you weren't so stupid, we wouldn't be here!" Aoi hissed, clearly his limits had been exceeded.

* * *

It was the first time, since the first time he'd regretted being hung over. Their layover at Kansai International was delayed three hours, and after getting paid after a two week job in Bali, Aoi and Yamino desperately needed a change of wardrobe since their next assignment was in Irkutsk. Choosing a seat at the far end of the airport's coffee counter far from sunlight, Aoi waited as Yamino chatted over his mobile with their handler.

"Mmm. Wakatta. Ja." Yamino pocketed the phone and jogged over.

"So what's the word?" Aoi sipped his Nescafé carefully. Yamino gestured to the waiter for a cup.

"His name's Yakutsky." Aoi sneered.

"Figures…." Yamino was served and took a minute to take sip as well.

"His driver will meet us when we land, take us to his private airstrip, then we fly over to Kamchatka and meet him at his place."

"Is it heated?"

"Big place. Like a ski lodge." Aoi dropped a few Yen for the drinks.

"What's Yakutsky's problem?" Aoi pushed his arms through his black trench coat.

"Well, he has a longstanding agreement with the French that shipment and distribution of product all over Siberia and Central Asia can be handled through him. Apparently some of his Muscovite partners have been getting a bit greedy and skimmed him."

"Five Rubles here, 10,000 Rubles there…." Yamino lit and took a drag off his unfiltered cigarette as they walked in unison across the parking lot.

"The guy they tortured gave up the name of his boss right before they put a bullet in him."

"And he is?"

"General Sokolov. Not his real name, but I wouldn't doubt if the rank was."

"How much muscle we lookin' at?" Yamino took his time finishing his cig, crushing the butt out on a guard rail.

"Put it this way, the NKVD, MGD, and KGB aren't what they used to be. Half of them are ensconced in Brighton Beach doing business as usual. Shit! The only reason why the soldiers back home get paid at the end of the month is because things always change hands."

"So that's when they call us Japanese in." They both laughed and stopped in front of the car rental. "They got the snow, but we have the trees."

"These white people think that Ninjutsu is genetically imprinted. Or that Kurosawa flicks are for real."

"Lucky for them in our case it's true. Get a car would you?" Aoi glanced at his Rolex, they had been in Kawaramachi longer than expected and were weighed down by that afternoon's shopping spree. Ski jackets, boots, hats, and a entire new winter wardrobe. He waited for Yamino to come out of Foot Locker, when he finally made his appearance Aoi couldn't believe what preoccupied his partner for more than a half an hour. "The fuck is that?" He pointed to the neon green and black plank on his shoulder.

"Snowboard." He jammed it in the backseat with the rest of their packages.

"Mataku! The fuck you waste your money on that for?" Yamino blinked.

"It snows like eight months out of the year over there, man. Take advantage of it."

"We don't have time for that!"

"We'll make time for it." Aoi growled knowing he wasn't going to get anywhere.

"I gotta eat, and that airplane food gave me the runs."

"So let's stock up then." They drove around until they spotted the first combini. "What are you getting?"

"Pork buns, ranch chips, and instant curry ramen."

"Ne Aoi, you know what Russians eat?"

"Borscht, caviar, and sour cream."

"Think I'm allergic to caviar."

"They got potatoes."

"They got yams? I like hot yams." Their plastic totes filled with junk food, Aoi and Yamino waited on the queue as Officer Izumiya bent over to take their plate number and filled out the rest of the ticket. Just as he tore it off, they came running with their bags.

"Oy! You two realize that you were parked in a handicap zone?"

"Omawari-san, I could explain-" Aoi stuttered.

"Now I would have let you off with a warning were it only five minutes, but you were in there for more than 20-" Yamino fired three rounds into Izumiya so quickly that Aoi was certain the officer was still reprimanding him until he actually saw him sprawled on his back, eyes open staring at nothing. At first he attributed his poor recall to the residual affects of the alcohol, but he knew it was really because of his partner's formidable precision.

"I hate waiting. Ikzou." He disarmed his .45 automatic before tucking it into his shoulder holster.

"I can't believe you did that."

"I said hurry up."

"It wasn't necessary-"

"You wanna wait for the roadblocks?"

* * *

Aoi wasn't sure if their capture was a testament to the police's dexterity and initiative, or while Izumiya's partner was exiting a public toilet, he witnessed the events and got on the radio faster than usual. "The pick up's got to be in the middle of the woods?" The suit huffed.

"There's only one road that leads far enough away from this dump to the highway, and that's through a stretch of forest that's over a 50-mile radius."

"So where do we meet you?" Yamino asked.

"About an hour and a half into the drive you'll come upon a crossroads. I trust you'll be able to ditch your ride?"

"Just leave the hard work to us, pretty boy." Yamino drawled.

"You'll have to get off the main road and into the brush-"

"Great," Aoi sighed.

"Keep going down, you'll find yourself on a ridge and another road. Just wait, we'll be there." A series of violent thumps on the door interrupted them. "I'm afraid our time's up, gentlemen." He drew a Gucci glasses case from his attaché and polished the lenses of his titanium spectacles before slipping them on. His chin-length hair didn't move out of place the entire duration of his visit. An officer entered just as he got up from the table.

"Shiro-san, your cab is waiting."

"Domo." Taking up his attaché he paused at the door. "I call this the tractable period. The only thing I could do right now is make an argument to sway the courts to commute the death sentence to life imprisonment." Aoi cleared his throat before shaking his hand.

"Arigato gozaimashite, Shiro-san… for everything." He nudged Yamino.

"Ah." Shiro nodded and made his exit. Coming down the steps as Shiro was going up were Yakushimaru and Sato.

"Okay, let's go!" The officer barked and marched them to their cells. Starting his fifth cigarette, Yakushimaru waited to get a quick look at their cargo before the chaotic journey in the morning.

"Oy." He tapped Sato's shoulder. After getting his attention, they looked at Yamino and Aoi dragging their feet, Sato concentrated on the sounds bouncing off the cinderblock walls heard the rhythm of a name each time their soles scraped against the concrete harmonious with the rattle of their shackles.

/Yomigai no Mori… Yomigai no Mori… Yomigai no Mori…./

"They don't look so tough, Niichou." Sato snapped out of the trance and gripped the lapels of his blazer straightening it, wet material slapping together.

"You'd be an idiot to think they were!" Then went to fill out the necessary paperwork for their release. Once it was lights out for the cell block, Yamino climbed up his bunk feeling an excitement he couldn't remember having in a long time. He related it to running away from his village, deep in the Tokiwa Valley more than a decade since. He could still smell the cooking rice paddies and name each ingredient by scent alone, every chip and mar on the roadside shrines, the type of knife his grandfather used to whittle his flute, but his mother's face he kept turning blanks. Ken convinced himself long ago that his memory was scanty and that he'll always have the attention span of a gnat. But in his profession he had to see, hear, and recollect things on command. Be both seen and unseen. It was easier to endure things switching from one personae to another… but if he were forced to live a singular existence would he completely deteriorate?

Deciding not to stress himself, Ken settled back and tried to sleep. He would need his strength for the trip tomorrow, and he smiled thinking about the bigger cop's meaty hands and hoped that they would buddy up for the road trip.

* * * *

~Behind the Sakagawa Jinja….~

"What's taking him so long?" The white suit behind the wheel of the white Mercedes beat his fingers on the dashboard, distracting himself from whipping out his favorite switchblade and carving a new grin on someone's face. Shifting his eyes up he caught his comrade in the royal blue turtle neck and black snakeskin jacket in the rearview mirror look irked about the angle of his hairline. He proceeded to adjust it to his satisfaction. And although it was past 9 P.M., the one next to Toupee still had his shades on. He lazily twirled a hunting knife by its blade tip and handle butt between his index fingers. The white suit shook his head, and turned up the heater shivering at the early winter chill blowing in from the mountains begin to settle in, and all that stubby pony tailed asshole wore was a pair of jeans, a leather vest, and a mini-arsenal!

"Iizuka, simmer down." Toupee finally happy with the just about realistic way his hair sat on his naked cranium. "We could always count on the Runt to get the little shit right."

"Sou da na," Pony Tail commented. "Even we have to use the pity ploy when its called for. Besides… Betto looks the part." No sooner had they mentioned his name, Betto came literally stumbling down the jinja's granite staircase. The petite, fidgeting ferret-faced man scampered in the direction of his fellow Yakuza. Iizuka shook his head, he couldn't have been more conspicuous wearing a silk zebra print shirt. He opened the passenger door.

"Thanks!" Betto panted. They gave him a minute to catch his breath.

"So what did you find?" The suspense began to eat at Iizuka, not a good sign for anyone less than a mile from him. Betto had to take out his gun to get at his handkerchief and blew his nose, difficult to accomplish for all his violent tremors.

"Baito."

"Huh?" Toupee was perplexed.

"The girl," Betto clarified, tucking his handkerchief back into his pocket as well as his semi-automatic. "Her granddaughter's always at work, so it's just the old woman." Iizuka tipped his head thoughtfully.

"Good job shithead." Betto nodded feeling the tension ebb from his body, the other two in the back began to bicker. Iizuka, pleased that he was clocking out for the night tuned everyone out, but just as he was about to start the car he caught sight of a white sliver hanging from Betto's fist in his peripheral vision. All action in the luxury vehicle stopped when Iizuka jutted his 11" blade at the hollow of Betto's throat. "Nan da te?" He calmly asked tapping Betto's fist with his finger. Toupee and Pony Tail could make out each individual bloodshot vein on the smaller man's eyeballs, flattened against the passenger side door. Betto opened his fist, letting the object dangle from the silk cord round his middle finger.

Pony Tail snickered. "You animal." Iizuka's brow creased and took the thing from Betto. Turning it round in his fingers, the object resembled a pouch, the silk cord at the top held it closed by a fat intricate knot. Gold criss-cross stripes were pressed into the thick cheesecloth material, printed down the center were three characters declaring good fortune. "It's a temple charm." Iizuka was floored and Toupee shook his head.

"You know when you were kids, and they dragged you to the shrine? That was the real reason why everyone went so they could get one after services." Iizuka shoved the charm into Betto's breast pocket and revved the engine.

"Who's hungry?"

"Jou da ja ne," Pony Tail said hunkering in his seat. Toupee reached over and pinched his cheek, wrangling the flesh.

"Does Omote-chan feel like another Honey Dew Cream?" Omote slapped his hand away and drew his Smith & Wesson.

"Fuck off, Fushida." In turn, Fushida jammed his .9 mm under Omote's chin.

"YAMERO!!" Iizuka shouted, eyes never leaving the road. "We have an early start tomorrow, SO SAVE IT!" Betto mopped his brow.

"Where to first?" He quailed, finger on the trigger the gun in his lap.

"We haven't got the orders yet," Omote said. Fushida slowly withdrew his weapon. "He'll contact Shiro first, who'll relay it to us."

"And that reminds me…." Iizuka flipped his phone. As he dialed, Betto yelped and grabbed the wheel just as the red Mustang sideswiped them.

* * * *

~The Takano Dojo….~

Propelled by the balls of his feet, the young man pushed the soaked rag up then down the hardwood surface. Unhindered by the towel draped over his head, he decreased his leverage and maneuvered with speed and ease thoroughly scrubbing the hall. Inspecting the slender grooves between each polished plank ensuring that they were free from grunge, he slopped the rag into the bucket. "Yosh!" He slapped his hands together, picked up the bucket and went outside. He shook it making sure every last drop of filthy water went down the gutter and was about to turn back when he stopped short, and looked in the direction of the mountains.

/Toki ko kita… Kekkai… Ore wa sou no tobira hiyaku no da. Issho ni koi…./

The wind kicked up and snatched the moment, taking it to the mountains.

"OY!!!" A voice wafted from far behind.

"Mmm?!" He ran back to the dojo kicking off his wooden zorii on the porch, tossing the pail somewhere in the yard.

"OY TE!" Skidding across the hall he jumped through the wood beaded curtain into the living room where a lithe woman no higher than his chin, stood in the middle of the carpet, coolly with her arms folded over her chest.

"Nan desu ka?" Within 30 seconds, her little fists made quick work of him. His head throbbed something terrible and considered himself lucky to be on the floor since the room wouldn't stop spinning. "'Nee-chan! Itai!!" He whined.

"Okii nasai!" Also fresh from the shower she was dressed in loose black sweats and an old white T-shirt. "Dou?"

"Nani, Umi-neechan?" He was rubbing his hair with the towel.

"Did you finish cleaning the dojo?"

"Hai, hai." He ripped off the towel, and with fanfare he threw out his arms. "TA-DAA!!" His short hair bunched up because of the water was colored a loud maraschino cherry red.

"Did you get head butted and mistook the Hawaiian Punch for your shampoo?" Umi cackled and her little brother hurled his towel onto the couch.

"'Nee-chan hidoi!" He huffed and dumped himself on the spot his sister vacated. "Mieka, doushite?"

"Getting dinner at that new Korean barbecue," she called out from the kitchen.

"Tonight's your turn to cook, Umi-neechan."

"Oy! We had eight classes today, why don't you fire up the wok?" He glared at the doorway.

"I'm dead on my feet!"

"Then shut your face." Three china plates came flying out, all of which he caught without looking up once. "Make yourself useful and set the table."

"Where's the utensils?"

"Don't tempt me…." The blaring sound of Foo Fighters on her stereo woke the neighbors as she streaked up the street.

"Mieka's back 'Nee-chan."

"Ah." The red Mustang screetched in the drive and the engine cut off.

"Tadaima!" Mieka announced from the outside. She skipped round her car and entered through the back door.

"Okairi nasai," Umi greeted her. Mieka fiddled with her ankle boots and left them by the door. She made a bee line for the dining room where Umi's younger brother was folding napkins and had his eyes glued to the TV.

"Ossu." He nodded, acknowledging her. "Takano-kun?"

"Ah?" He said airily. Mieka pointed to his damp hair.

"Did one of your students play a joke on you?" He took a swipe at her which she dodged successfully. Takano helped lay out the Styrofoam cartons of steaming food and took a sip of his strawberry parfait malted.

"It was still open when you got there?" Mieka nodded taking a bite of her yakitori.

"Got there before it closed. Umi! Come and get it while it's here!"

"Hai!" She put down the watering can and put her small aloe plant back on the sill. Takano was putting a disc into the DVD player and Mieka was doling out portions. "So what's playing?"

"Korean BBQ, Korean flick: Nowhere To Hide." Takano said clicking to the main menu.

"Just put up the subtitles, let's hear it in Korean." Mieka suggested. Umi sampled the rice when her mobile rang from the kitchen. Everyone jeered, Takano cursed telling his sister to ignore it but Umi already upped and answered it.

"Takano Dojo desu!" Mieka lowered the volume and Takano begrudgingly fed himself the curry, but Umi had returned a few minutes later and switched off the set.

"Nan da yo, 'Nee-chan?!" Takano bellyached. "The guy was just about to get cut in half."

"And in the rain!" Mieka complained. "You know how cool bloodshed looks when-"

"We got a job tomorrow."

"NANI!!!" Umi was apathetic to her partners and sat down to her meal.

"Sunday's our day off!" Her brother shrieked.

"Tell them to go fuck themselves." Mieka gave the finger.

"Warui. We could use the cash, the roof needs to be repaired before winter comes. And Mieka, I don't think that outfit paid for itself!" Mieka blushed and fingered her platinum and turquoise waist length chain. It was true, her leather mini, crushed purple velvet boat necked blouse, and silk boots were on plastic. She was much too nerve wracked about opening the statement.

"So where is it?" She grumbled.

"The forest at the bottom of the mountains." Neither of them saw Takano freeze. "It's not that long of a drive, we'll take my car."

"Forty-five fuckin' minutes from here!" Mieka pointed out with her hashi. "Who is it, Iizuka?"

"We're going to meet him there." Mieka threw down her napkin.

"Kono! Him and his weirdness!" Umi shrugged.

"Saa. Nothing new with him, his jobs as weird as himself." The dinner table was silent for about ten minutes.

"Ne," Takano whispered, "did he say what for?"

* * * *

~In Shiro's Cab….~

The blinding neon world filed past him, its upside down reflection in his lenses, Shiro mused how proper it was. The mobile on his knee, Shiro waited patiently as the cab crawled through traffic. The car stopped at a red light and his mobile went off. He answered it on the third ring, as always. "Hai."

'Well?'

"Everything's been taken care of. Now what are our orders?" His employer laughed.

'Ever assiduous, aren't you? You haven't changed a bit.'

"Sir?"

'Forget it. Tomorrow I want you to make a donation at the shrine, then get me some coffee. Make sure you're the first in line. As for the other matter, take no action. I want the both of them alive when I meet you. That's all.'

"Wakarimasu. Ano…."

'Nani?'

"Forgive me for asking, but as far as Yamino is concerned why did you wait this long? His imprisonment did come with a few obstacles."

'You're complaining? This isn't like you, Shiro-san.'

"N- no sir! It's just curious. Was this timing your original intent?" Shiro waited for his response. When he heard nothing he began to worry if their connection was faulty. "Ichiro-dono?"

'I like to… observe things in their natural environment. Something that you Shiro-san are not being paid to do or question.'

"Of course not sir." The line was cut and Shiro caught his breath. "I wonder…." During the conversation, traffic came to a standstill. The driver slammed his fist down on the horn half a dozen times then stuck his upper body out the window to curse and shake his fist. Shiro tugged at his collar, and loosed the tie. He remembered why he detested suits and made it a point not to wear them often, but there was a time when he conceded that there was no room for personal discomfort in protocol. Having come from a family that not only followed but wrote some letters of the law, he conceded that there were too many things that had no room in protocol. He began to scratch energetically at his neck, red welts rose and mottled the tender flesh. "Next time I order no starch!" He wrenched the tie off and threw it out the window. "You look absurd." He said to his reflection.

"Maa, maa. Don't even try to lie, Shiro-kun." He looked up and saw her sitting beside him. "You know you look good." Her reflection nodding, still dressed in her Kyuudou uniform. Her moniker that Shirley Temple curl pigtail pulled way up. "You know you look good…." He saw the stumps under her elbows, fresh blood flowing staining her white gi. He spun round.

"HOSHIKO-"

"Hey mac!" The driver's voice pitched Shiro back to reality. "Your stop." Clutching the leather backrest with spasming fingers to discover he was alone… but didn't know if he shouldn't feel guilty or not. Pushing his glasses up, he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and first two fingers. "Shirakawa, right?" Shiro opened the door to see the split-level safe house he shared with the others.

"Yeah… Shirakawa." He paid the driver and went through the gate, walking up to the front door on the 27th step, as always.

* * * *

~The Sakagawa Jinja, 7:21 A.M. Sunday….~

The miko turned the heat down on the rice cooker and scooped hearty amounts into the lacquer bowls. The toast sprung, a perfect golden then stacked on a plate. Miso- a clear broth with tofu cubes, daikon radishes, and savory spices- piping hot, a fried egg each, fish, butter and apricot marmalade, and the coffee was poured. She trundled to the bottom of the stairs. "Hanako! The miso will get cold!"

"HAI!" She was still folding her futon. Hanako shelved it and slid the closet door closed. Rooting through her wardrobe, she chose her outfit more decisively than usual: pressed black slacks, her new boots, and the white cashmere top that had a baby's breath of rose and matching belt. Her hair fell to her shoulder blades, and Hanako felt it needless to pull it back or pin it up. She clasped on a silver and rainbow pearl bracelet and the silk thong round her neck arranging the blue jay feathers to fall neatly in the center.

There was a comfortable silence between the two women, until after the miko had dried the dishes. "Obaa-san?"

"Hai?"

"I should be home a little earlier tonight. I'll bring some of that flan you like so much back." The miko was prepared to give her granddaughter the most reproachful look when Hanako continued. "Yukie-san's been in an extra good mood lately, what with her wedding coming up, so we've been getting away with murder at the shop."

"Naruhodo… So are you going to Yukie-san's wedding?" Hanako shook her head. "Doushite no? You couldn't find a dress?"

"Couldn't find a date."

"Hanako…."

"Well!" Fists biting into her hips. "Things are pretty hectic Y'know. I'm working the weekend shift now, and you don't give me a break either!" The miko cast her eyes down. "But after meditating by the sacred flame, it was made clear that good fortune would be on my side, if you'd be my date and do a blessing on the bride before the ceremony (HINT HINT)." They laughed and the miko hustled Hanako off. "Ne, Obaa-san?" Hanako asked sitting on the step zipping her boots.

"Nani?"

"When I get back," she stamped each foot for a good fit. "Can we talk? Something's been troubling me."

"Of course we can." She looked at the granfather clock. "Ah! You're going to miss your bus!"

"Itadakimasu!"

"Bye-bye! Have a good day!"

* * * *

~Kyoto Metropolitan Police Detention Center, 7:58 A.M….~

Shinomura, Itegaki, Nakata, and the other officers filed out in front of the black armored van. More than a dozen S.W.A.T. team members in full gear armed with gas, shotguns or AK 47s manned a perimeter around the parking lot. They cocked their weapons as Sato lead out Aoi and Yakushimaru shoved Yamino ahead of him. "Shachou!" Sato saluted the chief, the brown suit he sported didn't fit him any better than his other one. "The prisoner transport orders to Tokyo. All they need now is your signature." The chief scrawled out his initials and handed them back to Sato.

"Be sure to hand those over to personnel upon arrival."

"You can count on us. Yakushimaru, ike!" Sato cuffed Aoi's left wrist to his right, and Yakushimaru did the same to Yamino.

"I think," Yakushimaru bared him a toothy grin, "we'll be partners for the time being. Ne?" Yamino saw Sato drag Aoi up front with him, so he had a piece of luck with the ape in the spacious rear.

"Yakushimaru, haul ass!"

"Let's go punk!" Yamino glared over his shoulder before climbing in. Aoi, already seated looked at his partner pointedly before turning around. With eyes, Yamino searched the van for any apertures, cigarette lighters, a stone would have been appreciated. There was that mounted rifle cannon, but it was harnessed to the wall. Too clumsy and would slow them down. He did take note of Sato's revolver earlier and Yakushimaru's semi-automatic, but it was holstered to the opposite side of the man he was adhered to. Yamino began to softly thump the back of his head against the wall when the van locked up and jumped about a foot in the air. Yakushimaru banged his head on the overhead bin causing his cigarette to land on his khakis.

"HOT! HOT! HOT!" He beat on the crotch until the embers scattered to the floor.

"GODDAMN POTHOLES!" Sato yowled regaining control of the vehicle. Yamino sat stunned, but not at the insanity he was in the middle of but what landed on the floor. In a plastic Ziploc evidence bag was a bowie knife caked with old blood. As Yakushimaru whined about loosing his cigarette pack, Yamino casually extended his leg and put his foot over the knife.

* * * *

~Cherry Time Coffee, 8:32 A.M….~

17-year-old Shihonda Gakuen senior, Kawakami Yuuto tussled between getting his apron on and unlocking the front doors. The bus was late, but by the grace of the gods he was early so neither did the pastry chef Shiido or Hanako-san arrived yet. He hung his Jansport knapsack on the coatrack but refrained from turning on any lights since they formally opened at ten, the sunlight flooding in provided adequate illumination just to wipe down and set the tables. He took a minute to give himself a once-over in his mirror, tidily arranging his teal and white streaks. The oven light and fan in the kitchen came to life just then. Sticking his mirror back in his pocket, Yuuto cautiously approached the counter.

"Hanako-san? Shiido? Are you in there? If I'm late, there's a perfectly good reason! The Sagano Line had a break down and we sat between stations for about 15 minutes…."

* * * *

~The Armored Van Somewhere in the Forest of Resurrection, 9:17 A.M….~

Itegaki made it clear to him that they would be forced to go through a deep wood at the foot of the mountains if they wanted to get on any thoroughfare that would take them to the capital. How difficult could it be? Sato's mowed through city parks in pursuit of suspects. And aside from that one incident where he and Yakushimaru pulverized that marble fountain to venerate the emperor during the dedication ceremony with that stolen bus, he could see fine through the foliage. He swiveled the wheel 180° degrees in both directions viciously, not sure if the shadow scaling the asphalt was a squirrel or a new target cursing the thickening trees. Yamino stared straight ahead, grinding his toe into the plastic attempting to wear it down. He could see out the window from the corner of his eye that they were far enough into the woods, although they confiscated all his personal effects- including his watch- the position of the sun had changed and the curtain would be going up.

They coursed through a tunnel, but before they could pass the threshold Sato strained to get a better view to see if he was correct. He decelerated, but didn't put the brakes on. Yakushimaru sensed something amiss and stopped from lighting his cigarette. "Niichou, doushite no?"

"I see a crossroads up ahead." Aoi bristled and gripped the steel door handle.

"They didn't say anything about a crossroads. What are we gonna do?" Yakushimaru took a pensive pull off his cigarette.

"One of them will lead to the off-ramp, so let's try the right one." Yakushimaru nodded, feeling frisky he turned to Yamino who was in silent contemplation.

"So," Yakushimaru leered, "what does it feel like to be a dead man walking?"

"I don't know." Yamino leaned forward until the tip of his nose touched the cop's. "I was hoping you'd tell me." He kicked the blade high, the light reflecting off the steel as it spun in the air and caught it with his free hand. He brought it down expertly slicing into Yakushimaru's thick right wrist above the metal band. The cop bellowed watching blood gush everywhere.

"YAKUSHIMARU! NANI SHITERU-" Aoi yanked the door handle free and delivered blow after blow to Sato's head with the mangled, blunt end. Yakushimaru rolled on the floor bawling like a wounded animal cradling his stump. Yamino walked over him, reached over the front seat where his partner besieged with Sato and spun the wheel of the speeding vehicle. Sato could only scream as he saw the world fold in on itself.

* * * *

~Cherry Time Coffee, 9:19 A.M….~

Hanako flounced up the street, her jacket off since alighting her bus. She checked the time on the jewelry store's window clock across the street and relaxed, but when she saw that the lights were still off in the shop she stopped dead in the middle of the pavement. Hanako's fingers reached for the door but snapped back when she saw a grinning man in black, holding a suitcase in the glass. She looked back and only saw the parking meter. "This is crazy," she whispered and walked in. "YUUTO-KUN!" His pack hung on the coatrack as usual, but the tables were bare. She heard the kitchen fan whir and the light was on. "Yuuto-kun," she began doing her best grandmother imitation. "If I find you sick on the floor because you pigged out on the coconut scones, I'm gonna-" Hanako pushed open the kitchen door and found it couldn't swing all the way because of something blocking it. Hanako hesitated but shut her eyes, lay her hands flat on the wood and pushed with her full weight behind it. As a result something dropped to the floor with a meaty thud. "Yuuto!!" One of the tall stools was behind the door, and the teen lay in a fetal position, the bullet hole between his eyes oozing.

"Ohayo gozaimasu, odjyou-chan!" Iizuka cheered waving the nickel-plated pistol that killed Yuuto. He tugged the lapels of his black blazer. "You people boast fast service, but here I find your man sleepin' on the job." He wagged a finger in Hanako's face. "That's false advertising odjyou-chan. I was about to call your manager- what's her name?" He turned to Shiro sitting placidly on the counter, more comfortable in his black sweater and trousers. "Oh yeah… Yukie-chan!" Hanako's eyes were as wide as saucers. "But she's out wedding dress shopping. So then I thought about complaining to Masami-chan, but she's with her auntie and uncle in Kitayama. And all those little kids-"

"DAME!" Hanako slumped to her knees, hands over her ears. "Mou ii…." Omote shoved his silver Smith & Wesson in her face. He gestured to the open back door with a flick of his head.

"Get up and get in the car!"

"Hai." He hauled her up by the crook of her arm and the four scurried out to the back alley. Betto ran up and down between the dumpster and back onto the street, brandishing his gun.

"Moto haiyaku!" Everyone ignored him. Fushida stood in the open driver's side door wiping his hands, Omote mounted his Harley.

"Took you long enough." He threw down the cloth he was using.

"It's best not to cause a scene." Shiro stated, restraining Hanako. Iizuka let loose a hyena giggle.

"Besides," he curled a finger around her chin, "I was hoping to have a little fun." She wrung her face away making him laugh harder.

"Can we just hurry it up! God after what we just did…." Betto griped.

"Urusei!" Omote said. "You were in the car so I don't want to hear…." Omote and the others faded when Hanako saw the bloody rag on the wet concrete. The bamboo pattern on lavender was unmistakable.

* * *

~The Sakagawa Jinja, 8:12 A.M….~

The miko emerged from the bathroom, her Japanese publication of Glamour having been read cover to cover was tossed into the bin and took the housecoat off her yukata. She double checked the grocery list and wrote on the white message board to phone Ito-san about repairing the refrigerator motor. Now to tidy up her room and get dressed, but as she cut through the main entrance there were three patrons waiting for her. "Ohaiyo gozaimasu." She bowed low. "But the shrine doesn't open until 9:30." Iizuka, Shiro, and Omote cocked their guns.

"Warui na obaa-san," Iizuka said. "But we aren't here for a blessing." The miko squinted and crooked her brow in recognition.

"Ah sou, you again. Is this his doing?"

"Ah," Omote confirmed spinning his weapon round his finger.

"Please forgive us ma'am." Shiro said. They aimed. She held up a hand, gnarled from rheumatism.

"Tell me one thing… what are his plans for her?" They set off a lightning storm. "Haruko…." The miko croaked before plummeting into the pool of her own blood. Fushida walked in hearing a crash come from the family's private shrine. On a shelf on the wall adjacent from the butsudan fell two photos. Face down in shattered glass, Fushida picked one up careful not to stick himself. It was an older color photo of a woman holding a 5-year-old little girl, the other a recent photo of Hanako.

"Yabai!" He dropped one of them when he felt the glass cut into his palm, it was of the young mother and child. He saw the old woman's scarf on an end table and wrapped it crudely round his knuckles. Omote and Shiro were out the door, Iizuka waited for their field chief.

"Daijoubu?" He pointed to Fushida's injured hand.

"Nothing. Mite yo," he showed him the photos. Iizuka was speechless. "Uncanny, ne?" Hanako was the spitting image of Haruko, Iizuka shrugged.

"Genetics. Now let's get the fuck outta here."

* * *

Crushed between a pair of gangsters in a humid car didn't bother her. The winding dirt roads into a forest that she knew she'd never leave didn't bother her. Not even Iizuka who had taken to sliding his knife in her hair to kill the tedium didn't bother her. What bothered her was that her grandmother made her unearth the truth on her own. But as the two figures in bloody jumpsuits grew closer standing on the roadside, Hanako had hope.

OWARI

Author's Notes: For anyone who cared to read this, I'd like to say thank you. And now onto the technical crap: I ripped off the lines straight from the film and wanted to keep them in the original Japanese because I felt it more effective. All of the lines in italics between // are Sakaki Hideo's, but one of the lines I ripped apart for the purposes of this fic. If you know the film as well as I do, you'll know which one I'm talking about. So here they are in the order they are presented in:

1)"Do you feel that? The Power of the forest? People are born… live… and die. The darkness after death is what's real…."

2)"The Forest of Resurrection…." (repeated 3X)

3)"Now is the time… The Gate… And I'm going to open it. Come with me…."

As for the names, being a fan of (almost) all things Japanese, I looked up these names with due dilligence quite some time ago and kept them in the back of my grey matter. Yamino Ken roughly translates to "the sword of darkness", Hanako means "little flower" since flowers are delicate things that are frequently involved in ritual sacrifice, Ichiro, or "the first" is Ken's older brother so he would be "the first son of darkness". Shiro means "white" and I always saw Ohba-san's silent-but-deadly character as a tragic figure, so "white" suits him since he is marked. Iizuka was the field chief that worked for Katsura Kogoro, and betrayed the Choshuu Clan as well as Himura Kenshin in Samurai X OAV. Betto, Yakushimaru, Omote, and Fushida were all characters from Takahashi Rumiko's non-Ranma ½ works. Umi means "sea" and Asai-san is a martial arts master whose limbs move like water, Sato from Karate Kid II because Tanikado-san shares the same dojo as Asai-san. Takano was named for the river, Mieka a cute name that suits a pretty girl, and Aoi Fujito because blue is one of my favorite colors and I was thinking of Mount Fuji.