"Now you face a choice, my students."
They were standing on the slopes of Mount Yamanouchi. While the mountain itself was fairly remote, there some portions of it that were remoter still. One of these areas was utilized by the school as a place to lay to rest those of its students who fell. Of course, it was often that the families of the dead had other plans, so the hidden cemetery was rarely used.
Shuu Rei Fuan had been an orphan. His body had lain in state at GJEUR headquarters in Hameln, until Yori and his friends had completed their mission. Then they bore him back to Yamanouchi, in honor, and laid him to rest amongst the fallen heroes of the school. His practice tetsubo was placed upon the grave.
When he had been laid to rest, and Sensei and the students had returned to the school, Yori had turned to address her remaining students.
"You are graduates of the Yamanouchi school, and I as your teacher could not be prouder. You handled yourselves well in Europe, and have now done your last duty to our friend.
"Shuu-san's path has ended here," she continued. "Now, it is time for you to chose the next step on your own paths. These are for you to do decide, my students; you know by now where the meditation spots are. Go to them, and ponder what you must do.
"No, you do not need to tell me, or ask me, about this," she said, for it appeared that some of them were about to ask her for advice. "As I said, this is something that you must decide for yourself. I only ask that you attempt to discern your heart's wish, and then act upon it."
Hashiba Touma, Mouri Shin, Date Seiji, and Sanada Ryo each traded looks. One by one they departed from the hidden cemetery, taking one last moment to bow in honor towards the grave of Shuu Rei Fuan. In the end, only Yori and Ryo were left.
"Ah, Ryo-san," she said evenly. "Your favorite meditation spot is on the other side of the mountain; you will need to hurry if you wish to reach it before dinner."
"There is no need," he said in the same even tone. "I have made my choice, Yori-sensei."
She looked at him and nodded, discerning his choice and, perhaps, understanding it even better than he did. Her intuition was confirmed when she heard him follow her up the mountain, back to the school.
Ryo was very well-read; even before he had been admitted to Yamanouchi his mother had made it a point to expose him to all forms of literature. One effect of this was that he was quite taken with certain older forms of Western literature, specifically the stories and poems related of knights and the old chilvaric code. Indeed, throughout his time at Yamanouchi, Yori had noticed that the tales which held his greatest attention were those that dealt with the notion of courtly love.
She had no doubt that such concepts had influenced his choice, and that her own position in this was akin to that of a lady from those stories, and that Ryo viewed himself as a knight, of sorts, platonically serving and admiring his lady.
It was, in a way, similar to her own choice; she had decided, in the end, that there was nothing better she could with her life than to remain by Sensei's side and aid him however he required, as his assistant and retainer. It struck her, then, that Ryo held for her the same degree of respect and admiration as she held for Sensei.
She found it somewhat flattering.
The whine of the engines, as the jet traveled down the runway, removed any chance for conversation between Dr. Director and Will Du. They were buckled into their seats, across from each other at a small table. Dr. Director quietly sipped a drink and skimmed the reports from the cleansing of GJEUR. Will simply stared at her, looking slightly miffed.
Dr. Director noticed the look, of course, but decided to let him stew for a bit. She smiled slightly, as she angled her drink to compensate for the g-forces of takeoff. The noise decreased considerably once they reached cruising altitude, but Dr. Director still waited a few moments before speaking.
"You want to ask me something, Will?" she said quietly, shifting the papers in her hands.
"Ma'am, I don't mean to sound disrespectful. but..."
"But you think I should having the Vice-Directorship to you, and not to the Canadian?"
"I am your best field agent, likely the best there is."
"Actually, I would say that a man who could survive deep cover in Concolor's own lair... for a year... without being found out... would qualify as 'the best there is'."
'Ah, the fragile male ego,' Dr. Director thought as she watched Will deflate a bit. 'Still, best to keep it stoked just a bit, otherwise he'll lose his edge...'
"Still, in this case he was the best choice. No one knows the enemy in Europe better than he does; therefore, he can help us clean up this little problem all the quicker."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Besides," she said nonchalantly, "I have another assignment for you."
"I see," he sniffed. "Shall I attempt to thwart a takeover of the office by the copy machines?"
"No... but close," she teased, then handed him one of the sheets from her stack. "You are to be my... "roving inspector", if you will. You are to form and lead a team of eight individuals, including yourself, which will operate outside of the normal command framework, answerable only to me."
"Where do I draw the team from?" he asked, scanning the orders, already sounding excited.
"Oh, you'll have access to the cream of the GJ crop, from all six Directorates; also, I'll arrange for you to interview promising candidates from the CIA, NSA, Mossad, that sort."
"I see. Our assignment?"
"You'll begin with a covert investigation of the remaining Directorates," she said. "Panther got to Craven far to easily for my taste, and I need to know how far they, or anyone else, for that matter, has gotten in the other commands. And when I say covert, I mean covert. It would be best if those who are being investigated don't know that they're being investigated."
"Yes, ma'am. After that?"
"Flash-points, rogue agents, things of that nature. You and your team will be who I send when I can't send, or can't trust, anyone else.
"Any more questions, Will?"
"One, actually..."
"Let me guess, 'why you'?"
"No, that's obvious," he said dismissively. "I'm just wondering, since we left him in Germany...
"What about Craven?"
"He'll spend the rest of his life in a little six by nine cell," Dr. Director said, without inflection, "as an unremarkable line-item in the food budget. I was going to shoot him, but figured that he wasn't worth bloodying my hands over. Oh, and Will?"
"Yes?"
"While you and your team will only be answerable to me... you will be answerable to me. If I get word of you trying to start something, then you will wish that I would be as merciful to you as I'm being to Craven."
"You may enter, Yori."
She stepped into Sensei's private chambers at the spoken command. He had asked to meet with her after Shuu's funeral, and she had made her way towards his chambers just as soon as it was done. She did not have to ask how Sensei knew that she was waiting outside his door: he seemed to always know such things.
She was somewhat surprised, though, to find Hirotaka waiting there as well. He was resting on his knees, in front of Sensei, who was sitting crossed-legged before a raised dais. Upon the dais was the pedestal that held the legendary Lotus Blade. Not for the first time did Yori notice the fact that the blade was naked; despite the presence of one on the statue of Toshimiru, the Blade itself had no saya, no sheath.
Not for the first time did she wonder about that, though her attention turned more towards Hirotaka, who rose up to his feet as she entered.
"Ah, Yori-chan," he said, bowing in greeting. "Welcome back from Europe."
"Welcome home, Hirotaka-kun," she said with her own bow. Then they both smiled and hugged each other.
"How is life in America, brother?"
"It is never dull," he replied. "I am still, as they say, 'the pimp daddy'."
"I see you take great pride in that designation," Yori said with a laugh.
"Of course. Though from what I hear the tale of your recent adventure has topped any that I might have."
"As Stoppable-san and Possible-san would say, it was no big," she replied modestly. "How long will you be in Japan?"
"Four more days, sister. Shall we meet for lunch tomorrow?"
"I would like that, Hirotaka-kun. It has been a long time."
"Yes, it has," he agreed. "But I must go; I believe Sensei wishes to speak with you in private."
Sensei nodded.
"Then I shall take my leave," Hirotaka said, bowing towards Sensei again. "It was an honor to see you again, Master Sensei."
"And you, Hirotaka," Sensei replied.
"We will meet again, sister," Hirotaka said, bowing towards Yori.
"Till then, Hirotaka-kun."
He turned and left the dwelling. Yori and Sensei faced each other in silence, till Sensei motioned for her to sit down. She knelt in much the same way Hirotaka had, with her legs and feet tucked up underneath her.
"It is good to see you well, Yori," Sensei said at last. "You have made this old teacher very proud."
"I am honored, Sensei."
"How is Stoppable-san?"
"He handled himself well, Master Sensei," Yori said, with obvious admiration. "You would have been proud."
"Of that, I am certain. Now, please tell me the story."
So she did, beginning with how she'd dropped from a tree in front of Dr. Director, almost causing the older woman to go for her sidearm. Still, Yori's earnestness had kept her from being shot on the spot, and had (along with the credentials from Yamanouchi) convinced Dr. Director to help her. From there she told how she'd traveled to Hannover with her five students, and from there to the fight at the warehouse in Alfeld.
The only time Sensei interrupted the story was at the tale of Shuu's death. His face darkened, and became sad; he knew what it was like to loose a student in such a manner.
The only time that Yori herself stopped was when she reached the confrontation with DeLong.
"I have never felt pride such as I did when he put the gun down," Yori said. "It was as you asserted all those years ago: he has a pure heart. I saw his anger nearly take him, yet he turned back from it. He has become a fine man, Sensei."
"Pride, Yori? Or was it love?"
"Perhaps some of both," she admitted. "But his heart belongs to Possible-san, and I will not intrude on that."
"Then you will be glad to hear that he has asked her hand in marriage," Sensei said evenly.
How did that make her feel, she wondered. Had it been seven years ago, a piece of her would have felt crushed, or even torn apart. Now... there was, perhaps, a portion of her that wondered 'what if...', but that portion was small, and mostly silent. She had made peace with their past.
He was a friend, and an ally... nothing more, and nothing less.
"That... that is how it should be," she said finally. "I am simply surprised that it took him so long."
"Indeed," Sensei said. "It is well that you say that, Yori. Please, continue."
She continued, telling him how Ron had fought and beaten DeLong; how DeLong had tossed to Ron the ruined battle suit, and taunted him with Kim's death; how Kim herself had suddenly arrived, revealed as the Phoenix and Karen Pellman both, and was restored to her right mind by Ron's call. She finished with how they had both fought DeLong, until he was overcome and at their mercy, and yet chose not to accept the mercy of Ron Stoppable and was thusly felled.
When she finished, Sensei sat in thought for a quiet moment.
"You are troubled, Yori," he said after a time, having observed her face during and after the telling.
"There is one thing, Sensei," she admitted. "When we faced him, DeLong called me by name, and knew the name of this School, and of my connection to it. I have pondered it often, but I do not know how he could have known of the Yamanouchi School."
"The fish cannot know of the mountain peak, unless he is told by a swimming mountain goat," Sensei replied sagely.
Yori understood.
"Do you think... he... told them?"
"It is possible... he has not been seen for some time," Sensei replied sadly. "But we must not dwell upon past failures, Yori; I merely wished to hear you recount your adventure. Today, I wish to speak with you about the future."
"But if he is working with-"
"Enough," Sensei replied sharply. "Even if he is, it does not matter now; that organization is in retreat and disarray, and will be so for a long time. All the more reason for us to ensure that this school remains strong in the years to come, for even a starfish can be restored from a single limb.
"I am old, Yori; though the art of Tai Shing Pek Kwar has extended my life, I will not live forever."
He rose from the floor and walked to a small cabinet. He opened the door and withdrew a small, seemingly nondescript bundle.
Yori watched him move, her heart made sad to hear him speak of his own mortality.
He turned to face her.
"Rise, Yori."
She rose to her feet, and he walked towards her, covering the distance very quickly, until he was less than a foot from her.
"From Toshimiru on, the leadership and legacy of the Yamanouchi School has passed from each Master to a chosen successor."
He revealed the bundle he carried as a sleeveless black robe, decorated with the images of golden monkeys and trees. It was trimmed in gold, with a belt of red silk. He motioned for her to hold her arms out to her sides; she complied, and he walked around behind her, and placed the robe upon her shoulders.
"I appoint you, Yori, as my successor," he said as he tied the belt around her waist. "When my time has come you will assume the responsibilities of Master of the Yamanouchi School."
Beneath the waters of Long Island Sound lies the body of a woman. It has been there for nearly two months, and will remain there for a very long time; the murderer had been careful to lay the body where it would not be found by an errant fishing vessel.
She had drowned, of course, yet her dead face contains no look of horror, no fear of the inescapable death. Her eyes, in fact, are closed in peaceful sleep; she had been drugged well before the concrete was poured around her feet and she was dumped off the boat.
She had, even though they are now gone, green eyes. Her hair, what remains of it, is clearly red; it came from her father's side. Many of her friends at Yale had told her that she bore an uncanny resemblance to the famous hero Kim Possible. One Halloween, in fact, she had even dressed as Kim for a costume party; along the way she was mistaken for the hero by a young man named Cameron Bryce. He had run his car into a ditch, and she helped him get it back out again.
He had said that he could now brag to his friends that he owed the famous Kim Possible a favor; she had let him continue to believe that.
Her last memories, were they still accessible, are of her uncle, eying her expectantly over a glass of wine. They were drinking in memory of her departed parents, Jack and Mia Pellman. She had been unsure of the propriety of this, but Uncle Richard had assured her that was how they wished to be remembered. Then all had turned to black, and she saw this world no more.
Immersion in water can accelerate the decomposition process by a factor of four, and already her body has begun to deteriorate. Most of her hair is gone, and her face is unrecognizable. Who she was, everything she wanted to be, has been destroyed by another's quest for power.
Her soul has passed beyond the realm of the body; Richard DeLong can harm her no more. She had made certain professions in her life; given those, it can be confidently said that she and her uncle will never meet again.
Even so, the body of Karen Pellman lay upon the cold floor of the Sound, waiting for its hour of vengeance.
It waits no more.