I really enjoyed watching the entire Samurai Champloo series. This would be my first fanfiction for this show. Please read and review, please be brutal with your comments. Flames are welcomed as they will teach me how to be a better writer. Thank you.

A Five year old granddaughter burst into her grandmother's room. Her grandmother was sitting in her chair gazing out the window. The warm sunshine was warming the old woman's face. The child bounced onto her grandmother's bed and turned to the old woman and smiled.

"Grandmother, is it time to go?"

"Yes," the old woman replied. "Have you got your fishing pole?"

"No," the child uttered. "I forgot it. I will be right back." She raced back out of her grandmother's room and into her own. She grabbed her pole and then quickly returned to her grandmother's room. Showing it to her grandmother she said, "Will you put the worms on the hook for me?"

"Of course I will. I will do it once we get to the lake."

"Are we going to stop by the shrine first, Grandmother?"

"Of course we will. I must pay my respects to my two dearest friends."

The child pouted. "That will take up to much time, Grandmother." The child silently wondered why her grandmother had to stop by the shrine everyday. It was not as if anyone was going to thank her for doing this task. The child crossed her arms over her chest and set her feet angrily.

"Then we won't go to the lake today, "her grandmother simply replied.

She peered over at her grandmother. Her face was firmly set. She knew when her grandmother looked like that there was no changing her mind. She sighed heavily and left her grandmother's room. She returned shortly with incense and matches for the shrine. "Can we go now, Grandmother?"

The grandmother nodded to the child and raised herself up. She went to get her pole from the corner of her room. Leaving the house the grandmother called to her son, "We are going fishing. First we will stop by the shrine. We will be back for lunch."

Her son nodded. "Do be careful, Mother. Looking down at his daughter he said, "Don't tire out your grandmother."

The child nodded her head. She and her grandmother left the house. They walked along a path; on both sides were sunflowers swaying gently in the wind. The perfume scent they gave off reminded the old woman of a journey she once took with her friends. She stopped to smell the flowers and got carried away in her memories. The child impatiently grasped her hand and dragged her along. As the neared the end of the path the road dropped downward. The child and her grandmother walked passed an old building that might have once been a church. The wood and bricks had worn away to nearly nothing and it was impossible to tell what the building had been. The child tapped her foot impatiently. Her grandmother began to walk again. They walked on in silence; the child swinging their hands and humming some tune. The wind blew a gust of her raven hair around her face. The grandmother gently pushed it out of the child's face. The child looked up and her grandmother and smiled. They walked on until they reached the shrine.

The shrine was of two figures standing side by side. One doll had dyed black straw hair hanging askew on his head. He had a red jacket, black pants, and blue circles around his little stick figured wrists and ankles. On his feet were sandals made of wood. On his back was a very reasonable replica of a sword. Next to him stood another figure, this one a lot taller with a blue kimono and black pants. His dyed black hair pulled back in a ponytail. He had traditional Japanese sandals and what seemed odd to some, a pair of glasses on his face. Protruding from his waist were two swords. His hand on the helm of one as if ready to strike.

The grandmother took the incense from the child and placed them in the bowls that were in front of the figures. She lit them, than with difficulty knelt before the figures and said a little prayer. As the puffs of smoke rose up to the sky a few tears escaped her wrinkled face. The child even at five had enough respect to allow her grandmother her moment of sadness. When the grandmother was finished she stood with much difficulty and spoke to the figures. "Thank you for always being my best friends." She bowed to each figure three times and picked up her fishing pole. The child also bowed then picked up her fishing pole.

The grandmother and the child walked a small distance away until the reached the edge of the lake. It was a fishing spot that was shared by all of the villagers. The grandmother turned to the child. "Don't wander to close to the waters edge. Also stay where I can see you."
The child nodded as the grandmother walked off a small distance to dig for worms. As she pulled the squirming worms out of the ground she remembered the day that the three of them had gone fishing. She giggled to herself as she remembered how one of her friends and she caught fish easily. She put her hands over her mouth as she remembered how her other friend had great difficulty catching fish and how her friend mocked him. That is when she heard the splash and than the scream. She turned around.

A woman shrieked at her and said, "Your granddaughter has fallen into the lake!"

Quickly, the old woman jumped into the water. She scoured the lake for her missing granddaughter. Having not seen sight of her, the old woman inhaled the air and held her breath. She went down under the water and looked for the child. Not spying her she came up for fresh air and gulped greedily. Inhaling a lungful once more she went back under the water and searched. Seeing nothing under the water save for fish and plants, she emerged once more. Gasping for air she swallowed as much as her old lungs would allow. Than she filled her lungs again and dove under the water for an anew search. Again she saw nothing. She emerged once again. Again she went under and again she rose. She did this for a few more times until her lungs ached and her arms screamed from the pain. Ignoring the pain, she prepared to dive again. When she felt strong arms pull her out of the water.

She fought against the arms. Gently, a young man held her to his body. He spoke very softly to her. "Grandmother, you must stop this. The child is gone. "

"No," she wailed. "I must find her. She is down there. I know she is."

"Grandmother, she must have drowned."

"Then where is her body? I must find her. I can't leave this lake without her."

"She is gone," the young man said softly.

"No," the old woman whispered. She looked over the lake and to her horror the lake was still. No movement was in it or on it. The old woman sank to the ground and cried. Her old body shook with her wailing. After a fashion the young man tried to help her up, but she wouldn't allow it. She arose on her own and started stumbling back up the hill. Pass the shrine she walked, along the road; pass the sunflowers back to her home.

She passed her son who asked, "Where is daughter?"

The old woman didn't answer. She locked herself into her room and cried until her tears wouldn't come any longer. Some time later she heard voices, than another voice took up the wailing. She supposed someone had come to tell her son and wife about their child. The old woman lay upon her bed and fell asleep.

In the morning, she half expected her grandchild to rush into her room as was her custom. When no such thing happened the old woman arose reluctantly to start the day anew. She bathed herself and then went to fetch the incense. She quietly slipped out of the house and walked along the path. The sunflowers were swaying gently in the morning breeze. She passed the church and then she walked up to the shrine. Placing the incense into the bowls she prepared to light them when she noticed she had forgotten the matches.

She turned to go back home and retrieve them when her granddaughter spoke softly. "You forgot the matches didn't you?"

The grandmother's eyes widen at the sight of the little girl. She dropped to her knees and pulled the child to her. "How?" she asked while kissing the child all over her face. "How? I thought you were lost under the water."

The little girl shook her head. "I don't know how, Grandmother. Maybe you should ask them," she turned to point.

"Ask who? "The grandmother said.

The child looked about her. "They were right behind me."

"Who?" the grandmother asked.

The child pointed to the shrine. "Them."

The grandmother looked at the little dolls as the wind picked up. Soft voices blew with the gently breeze. So faint were the words she could never say she really heard it or not, "Thank you for honoring our shrine and never forgetting us."

As tears flew anew the grandmother tightly grasped the little girls hand and slowly climbed up the path for home.