Azumanga Daioh: The Despicable Plot of Neko-chan
GLCorps2814
Alert: As if you had not already guessed, pretty much none of the characters in the following story are mine. They belong to various Japanese, American, and British concerns. Thank you, and enjoy. Oh, and, uh, also, the owner of a dark blue 2000 Ford Focus, your lights are on. 2000 Ford Focus, lights on.
'I need a new job,' William Shatner thought, walking down the halls of his Mistress's secret island base.
Now, I'd best explain to you that this man's name is a complete coincidence. He is not, in fact, William Shatner, Canadian acting LEGEND. He is a simple American, whose parents had somehow never heard the actor's name, despite being aware of him and the many characters he'd played. Well, CHARACTER he'd played. No one really remembers TJ Hooker, let's face it.
OUR William Shatner is a tall, young, athletic individual. He is slender, and has a minimum of body hair, in the form of dark eyebrows and long, flowing, silvery hair. There was a slightly feminine touch to his features, though there was ultimately no confusing him for a woman. He wore a small, leather vest with no shirt underneath, which clearly showed he had pecs, not breasts, and his black jeans were also tight enough to…ah…prove his gender. Quite. Ahem. Across his back he wore a rather gigantic sword, which anyone who did not looked at his trousers would be sure was compensating for something, and it also looked as though he should not have been able to lift the blasted thing.
He was, as I said, walking through the rough-hewn walls of an underground complex, rather lamenting his duties. It was not that he disliked being a bishonen bodyguard, nor did he have any distaste for being on the side of evil. He was just creeped out by his coworkers something fierce. Just thinking about them made him shudder, and caused his flesh to crawl. A lot.
Before long, he came to a large, metal door with a pointy, stylized cat head painted on it. He forced himself to regain his composure, and then pressed the large, green button set into the rock wall next to the door. There was a brief pause, before a deadpan voice came from a hidden speaker:
"Yes, William?"
"Mistress Neko-chan-sama, the weapon is complete. We are ready to unleash it at your word."
"I see." The door slid open, but his Mistress did not stand there, as he was expecting. He paused, until he heard: "Come in, William."
He walked through the doorway, into his Mistress's massive bedchamber. The walls here were carved more carefully, smooth and polished. A gargantuan bed sat in the center of the room. It was a four-post bed, and the head of each pole was an elaborately-carved cat's head. The black, cat's-head logo from the door was emblazoned in the center of the quilt, and both pillows. In the many bookshelves lining the red-rock walls were countless tomes on animals, but mostly ones on cats. Off to the side of the room was a gargantuan, wooden desk, with cat paws for feet and a wide, flat cat face carved into the front of it.
Sitting at this – in a wooden chair with carved, cat-paw feet and a cat's face caved into the top of the very high back – was his Mistress. Once, her name had been Fuyu Sakaki (or, William Shatner mused, Sakaki Fuyu, if one wanted to be properly Japanese). Now, she was merely Mistress Neko-chan-sama, one of the most feared environmental terrorists in the world. She had brought whaling fleets to their knees, left the skins of poachers dangling outside police stations all over the world, and busted open any number of zoos. America, England, and private concerns all sought her, out for her blood.
She was clad in a simple dress of, naturally, white cotton. Her favorite pet, a full-grown Iriomote cat named Mayaa, wandered back and forth across her table. He eventually leapt down from it and began to weave between William Shatner's legs, arching his back and purring.
"I have grown…sentimental of late, William," Mistress Neko-chan-sama said, arching her fingers in front of her.
"M'lady?"
"I miss my old friends."
"I believed…"
"I had no friends?" She cocked an eyebrow.
"Well, you have said so yourself countless times."
"Hmm…yes." She rose and began to wander around the room. The slit in her dress started at the waist, and he had to force himself not to admire the long, smooth perfection of her legs. It was bad enough that the neck of the dress was rather low-cut.
"I believed I had successfully cut myself off from the human race," she continued, bending down to pick up Maya when the big cat ran to her. She stroked its back, and looked up at her henchman. "I thought, with you, my army of Nature Loyalists, and the Clones, I could be happy. But this is not enough. You are all too orderly, too calm, too…good at doing EXACTLY what you are supposed to do. There is no noise, no chaos, no…"
"Your old high school companions."
"Yes. Them." She nodded, and blushed a bit. "You won't…I mean…this weakness cannot be revealed to the others."
"Your secret is MORE than safe with me, M'lady."
"Good." She smiled. "Then, William, I need you to deliver some letters for me."
"As you wish." He pressed a fist to his shoulder and bowed. "M'lady."
POLICEWOMAN Tomo Takino proudly walked her beat with the two officers who always accompanied her, twirling her billy club and whistling a happy tune. Her long hair was tied up into a bun and stuffed under her cap, so she'd compensated by cutting her skirt just a LITTLE shorter than regs called for. There would be NO confusing her for as man. She smiled to children and the elderly, looked sternly at teenagers who might've been up to no good, and nodded politely to adults.
Only the children thought she was even remotely interesting. She was, in fact VOLUNTEER policewoman Tomo Takino, which meant she worked a route on weekends. The luckless officers who got stuck with her, Policewoman Yamada and Policeman Kanzaki, had to almost constantly restrain her before she went too far on someone doing something that was far from horribly illegal, like underage smoking or jaywalking. They almost wished her pipe dream of being accepted by Interpol would (by some miracle or some massive fluke, whatever) actually happen, if only to get rid of her.
"Keep your eyes peeled, comrades!" she shouted for, Kanzaki believed, the thirty-seventh time that day. Yamada had counted forty-one. Tomo suddenly bent between them, squinting and holding her hand above her eyes. "Crime is ALWAYS afoot, but we shall cover it with the SHOE OF JUSTICE!"
"God, the puns," Yamada grumbled.
"I thought she liked "Lupin,"" Kanzaki said. "That sounds more like a "Slayers" line."
Tomo heard none of this. She was too busy scanning the area, making loud "hmm" and "aha!" noises. Then, rather suddenly, she let out a "WHAT'S ALL THIS THEN!" and burst away from her two "partners." They both screamed and bolted after her, even as she went to tackle a high school kid who had thrown a wrapper towards a trash can and missed. He hadn't even SEEN it miss, since he'd been looking in the other direction. But now he was about to be horribly assaulted for his "crime."
"HALT IN THE NAME OF THE LAW, VANDAL!" Tomo screamed. The boy, like everyone else in a thirty-meter radius, looked up. But he quickly realized HE was the so-called vandal, and terror filled his face.
"We've got to do something!" Kanzaki shouted.
"I'm on it!" Yamada yelled, flinging her own club.
It spiraled through the air. Tomo drew closer to her target. The target began to stumble backwards, holding his schoolbag before him like a shield. The club, amazingly, caught Tomo right between the legs. She went down, and landed face-first into the ground, grinding to a halt mere centimeters from her would-be "perp."
"Ow…" she mumbled, her voice muffled by the fact that she was still face-down to the ground.
"You IDIOT!" Kanzaki said, storming next to her and lifting her up by the back of her shirt.
"But…but…"
"No 'buts' this time, Miss Takino," Yamada snapped, picking up her club. "Do you REALIZE who you nearly bowled over right there!"
"A dirty litterer!"
"Try Hideki Shinzawa the Fourth, sole heir to the Shinzawa Industrial Concern fortune!"
"Social status does not protect one from the long arm of the law!" She was fighting in her partner's grip, still trying to lash out at the shaking Shinzawa.
"True enough, but there are PROCEDURES, Takino!" Yamada hissed. "And unlike many of the people you've nearly broken the bones of, his father is rich enough to SUE us over it!"
"Oh…"
Tomo gulped, the boy just looked terrified, Yamada just kept getting more and more red, and Kanzaki kept mumbling "baka, baka, baka, baka" over and over.
"I…ah…love your father's bicycle chains…" Tomo mumbled pathetically. "They…uh…work much better than any others…haha…"
Tomo sat at home, dejected and fired. What would she do with her weekends now! Her police work was what kept her going through the drudgery of her day job as one of countless office flunkies. She sat at a long row of desks, still very close to the back while new guys constantly shot ahead of her. Here she was, two years shy of thirty, no future, single YET AGAIN. And that last boy had seemed so…
Her self-pitying was interrupted by the doorbell ringing. She was sitting in front of her TV, knees pulled up to her chin, watching one of her countless "Lupin" DVDs and alternately envying Fujiko's looks and Zenigata's job (if not his luck). She paused the episode, got to her feet, and slumped over to the door, which she hauled open.
"Yeah?" she mumbled.
Then she looked up, and was struck dumb. She was looking into the deep, blue eyes of the most…GORGEOUS filthy gaijin she had EVER seen. He was clad in a delivery man's uniform that was a good size too small, like in a bad porno. Not that Tomo watched such things! She was a lady! Yeah…
"Tomo Takino?" he asked.
"Huh?"
"Are you Tomo Takino?" His Japanese was as close to flawless as she'd ever heard come from a dirty foreigner.
"Y-yeah…"
"Sign here." He said, holding out a clipboard.
"Sure." She scribbled her name, poorly, and then took the envelope he handed her without looking at it or registering its existence.
"Have a nice day, Miss Takino."
"Sure."
He smiled at her awkwardly, a little scared, and he finally began to back away, closing the door for her as he did. Then he turned and ran away.
'I hope the rest of Mistress Neko-chan-sama's friends are more normal!' William Shatner thought as he ran for his life. But, judging by the stories, they wouldn't be.
"Ah, Senior Mifune?" one of the many flunkies under Koyomi's direction said, walking up to her.
"Yes, Mister Aoi?" Misses Mifune (formerly Miss Mizuhara) glanced up and smiled, glad she had switched to contacts; she no longer had the unpleasant feeling of her cheeks shoving her glasses about whenever she tried to grin. It had been becoming more and more of a problem as…well, anyway…
"Ah…please accept this end of year gift, ma'am!" he said, looking awkward as he handed her an envelope.
"Well, thank you Mister…" she paused. She'd been opening the envelope as she'd been speaking, and saw the contents. It was a simple, small, plastic card. It was meant well, there was no doubt about that, but the result was rather poor. Luckily, years of the likes of Tomo and Osaka had taught her to remain calm in such instances. "Aoi. I shall be sure to use it as soon as I can."
"Ooh, I'm SO glad you like it, ma'am!"
"Why, I'm going to put it in my wallet RIGHT NOW, so there's no chance of my losing it!" She couldn't remember the last time forcing a grin had taken so much out of her. She pulled her wallet from her large purse, and stuffed the gym membership Aoi had given her next to three or four she'd gotten on her own. All used once, save one, which she'd actually used TWICE. She smiled. Poor Aoi looked overjoyed.
'This is what I get for complaining about my weight to the staff,' she thought, thinking that there was NO WAY a sweat drop was floating behind her head. That was too absurd, too much like a bad cartoon.
The battle of the bulge was an old one for Yomi, one she'd always been losing. But at least she'd been able to put up SOMETHING of a fight, once. Now, her high school worries seemed foolish. Back then, her waist had still curved in, and a lot of the spare weight had gone to her chest and hips, giving her a somewhat-envious figure.
She'd managed to keep things somewhat under control in college, but then marriage had caused a problem or two. Then she'd really finally developed what one could call a bit of a tummy. Still, nothing too bad, nothing unmanageable, nothing…
Oh, look at that, pregnancy! Goodbye, feet! Goodbye, figure! Goodbye, walking the stairs to her apartment. That had been some of the only real exercise she'd gotten! And it showed. But…but once the baby was gone, everything would be fine! Yes…everything…
She sat at her desk, sighing, wondering idly if her feet missed her as much as she missed them. She began to curse herself for marrying a manga artist. He could work at home, watch little Momiji, do some housework…all the stuff that might have forced Yomi to move around more. Especially now that their little girl was two…though he denied it, Yomi was SURE that Ganjiro had lost a little weight from chasing Momiji all over the place. If only he'd had a normal job, she could have offered to resign her post, stay at home, raise…
No, no. In reality, she knew she would have strong-armed her husband into being the housemaid, even if he'd been a businessman or had some other normal, respectable position. She'd never intended on marrying so young, never mind having a child before thirty! But there was something charming about Jiro. He was so different from all the men at the business school, with their prim hair and starched clothes. He was scruffy, had a perpetual five-o'clock shadow, and blessed with a seemingly bottomless imagination. And, hey, he was a demon in the… Ahem. Quite.
As for little Momiji…well, the Doctor HAD always said there was no TOTALLY reliable form of birth control, but he'd said he'd bet a month's salary on the pill being just fine. When she'd called him to ask if she could actually collect on the bet, he claimed he worked pro bono. She'd replied that she liked U2, as well, but didn't see what that had to do with his paying her. He'd been too flustered to realize she was joking, and she'd hung up, rather insulted that someone would think she didn't know the meaning of such a BASIC phrase.
She thought about her home, and how she had a lovely, 200,000 yen coat rack there. She liked saying that. It impressed the hell outta people. She didn't explain that it was an old treadmill she had never really used. If only Jiro wasn't so damn…blasé about her weight! He REALLY didn't seem to care! Damn artists…
"Misses Mifune?" a voice suddenly chirped at her.
"Hmm?" She looked up. "Yes, Mister Aoi?"
"It's…ah…time to go, ma'am. Everyone else has gone…"
"Oh, right!" She blushed and stood quickly, knocking her chair over in the process. She sighed, turned, and bent over to pick it up…
The ripping sound seemed inordinately loud. She turned deep crimson, and slowly straightened up, righting the chair as she did. She spun and faced Mister Aoi, but he was grinning as though nothing had happened. Either he was a fine actor, or really hadn't noticed, somehow. She grinned at him grabbed her bag, and began to leave.
"Ah, Misses Mifune, did I do something wrong in giving you that gift?" he asked.
"No. What? No!" She laughed. "No, no, no. Why would you say that?"
"You just seemed spacey for the rest of the afternoon once I'd given it to you…"
"Other things on my mind entirely, other things ENTIRELY!" She patted his shoulder. "Now, you go on your way, I'll see you after the new year!"
"Should I wait for you at the ele…"
"No, no, no, I need to…ah…make a bit of a rest stop."
"Ah, of course." He finally blushed a bit. "Well, then, good evening, ma'am!"
"Good evening, Mister Aoi."
The first thing Yomi did when she got home was run into the bathroom and leap on the scale. She screamed when she saw "113 kg" staring up at her in uncaring, neon numbers and letters. She burst into her room, changed into a sweat suit (making her look even more frumpy, which made her feel worse) and then buried her face in her pillow. Between sobs, she explained to Jiro what had happened.
"Hey," he said, stroking her hair, "at least it was just your underwear, and not your skirt."
"But next time it will be!"
"Look, sweetie…" He sighed. "Look, Yomi…ah…"
"What?" She took her face out from the pillow to look up at him.
"You're not going to like what came today." He handed her an ornate envelope with "Koyomi Mifune" written on it in delicate script. "Special delivery, didn't even come in the regular mail. Some…some American delivered it."
"Why won't I like it?"
"I think it might be…ah…some sort of…heh…" He coughed a bit. "High school reunion-type thing. He asked if you were formerly Koyomi Mizuhara, and then made sure you were the Koyomi Mizuhara who had attended your school, your graduating year, your…"
But he was cut off when Yomi smashed her face into the pillow, again, and used another one to cover her head.
"Yeah, ah'm comin', ah'm comin'," Ayumu Kasuga mumbled, walking to her door as her bell continued to frantically buzz at her.
Darn it all, this was her vacation! She didn't take time off a lot, but she'd only just finished a huge project for the company, one that had drained her pretty bad, so she figured she'd earned some time to sleep in. She'd unplugged her home phone, turned off her cell, and left a sign on the door that said 'not here, please delay any deliveries one week or leave with Hisoka-san in 14B.'
She had spent a nice night out, but gotten home and only gotten her slacks off before falling into bed. She didn't think much about her clothes, which meant she was just wearing a sleeveless, turtle-neck sweater that luckily went down far enough to almost look like a short dress. To make her appearance all the more immodest, a rather spectacular yawn managed to pop outta her mouth the very moment she opened the door. She figured that Tomo'd have liked that one, for sure.
"Yeah?" she asked, kinda dreamy-soundin'. She ran a hand through her hair, which she had cut fairly short some time before, giving her a rather boyish look, especially when one considered her slight figure.
"Erm…" The tall Caucasian said, grinning oddly. "Are you Ayumu Kasuga?"
"Last ah checked." She glanced at the nameplate on her door. "Yep, that's me."
"How about…Osaka?"
Well, now, that one got her attention. She hadn't been called THAT since Freshman year of college, when she'd accidentally introduced herself with her nickname to people. But she'd convinced them to go to her proper name before long. It only seemed right, after all. Osaka just seemed too…well, it just didn't FIT her, anymore. Not after the first semester, anyway.
"Been a while," she admitted. "But once, yeah."
"And if I
told you that I was brining your grains of truth, and then said rice
was the most popular grain in the world…
"Why, silly, ah'd
say that ain't no grain of truth, but the truth about grains!"
They both shared a long laugh, though Osaka's kept going WELL after William Shatner's had stopped. He grinned, at first, but then his eyes began to glance left and right, slowly and awkwardly. He still smiled, though his grin became pained, and a bit confused. He began to scratch at the back of his head, and tried forcing himself to laugh along with her again, but to no avail. A few beads of sweat built up on his temple, and he began to whistle.
"So, anyway, whatchya want?" Osaka asked, catching him TOTALLY off-guard with the sudden halting of her laughter.
"Oh, yes, just had to deliver this." he said, handing her an envelope.
"But the sign…" she glanced sadly at it, takin' the letter as she did. "Didn't ya'll see the sign?"
"Well, yes, but my employer assured me this one was RATHER urgent, and should only be delivered to you in person, and when I asked Miss Hisoka where I could find you and told her how urgent it was, well, she explained you were actually here."
"Ah guess if it's URGENT." She smiled at him. "So do ah tip you or anythin' like that?"
"No, no, just sign here!" he held a clipboard out to her.
"Right…" she scribbled something, and then blanched. "Aw, darn it all! Ah signed it Osaka!"
"That'll be fine."
"Really?"
"Yes, I'm sure. Good day!" He turned and left, POSITIVE that his tight ass was being admired by her as he walked off. After Tomo, he'd begun to enjoy the attention he got in his uniform.
But when he glanced back he found Osaka was just running her fingers back and forth over the envelope, giggling and commenting on how nice the expensive paper felt. Feeling dejected, he quickened his pace and left.
Kimura was, somehow, alone in the faculty office. He took this rare chance to relax, slumping a little in his chair and removing his glasses. He closed his mouth, which tended to get rather dry from his keeping open all the time. He took a quick swig of water, swished it around, and swallowed. He glanced around, just to be sure no one was coming, and removed his glasses. He rubbed the spot where the nosepieces were constantly pinching, and scratched his ears where the earpieces always were.
But he didn't relax long, knowing someone would certainly show up any minute. He slapped his glasses back on, let his jaw slack, and resumed that awkward, heavy breathing that kept everyone away from him. It was easier that way, better. He shouldn't have even allowed himself a wife and a child. That had been so foolish. At least he'd survived long enough to see his little girl become a young woman…
"Excuse me?" a voice suddenly said.
"Eh?" he replied, looking up in the creepiest way he could.
"Ah…" The large, silver-haired man coughed awkwardly. "I'm…ah…looking for a PE teacher named Kagura…"
"Ah, Kagura-sensei, yes!" He let out a creepy little giggle. "You know, she was a student here, once. I taught here then, too. She…she was on the swim team. She wore this…bathing suit…oh, just thinking about it again…"
He began to gasp and make the most upsetting giggling noises he knew how to make. He began mumbling something about a refreshing glass of pool water until the big man finally left. The moment the door shut, Kimura's face went normal. He took in a breath, and let it out. Dammit, if only he were younger…
He grabbed the phone and rang up his house. His wife answered.
"Kimura residence."
"Dearest…" he paused.
"Oh, no. No, no, no…" Her voice broke. "Whenever you use that tone…but it's been so long, Hikaru! How could trouble possibly…"
"It walked through the door." He pulled open his lowest drawer, and pulled out some folders and boxes. Under it all was a strongbox, with a combination lock on it. He hauled this out with one hand, and began to manipulate the lock. "It's…well, I don't know what my chances are, honestly."
"Then why…"
"I have to. I have to at least try. That's my oath, you know that."
"I know, I know." He heard her sigh. "Be careful, my love."
"I will. I have to go. I need to call Yuki. I love you."
"Goodbye, dearest."
She hung up. Kimura popped open the box. On top, there was a picture of his other daughter. His illegitimate daughter. The one he didn't know existed until only a few days before she walked through the school's door. Her mother had shown up to tell him. She hadn't realized he worked there, she said. They had drinks, relived their memories from that week undercover in China…
"Kaorin," he whispered, studying the photo. It wasn't even a proper one, just a blow-up from pictures of a graduation. His wife knew about her. He'd had little trouble confessing, since they'd not met until well afterwards. But he'd never managed to tell Kaorin herself. He'd thought about it, but knew it was an awful idea. No more loved ones, no more close friends. Bad enough that he already had two. Better to terrify her more than everyone else.
He moved the photo aside, revealing a large, nickel-plated magnum revolver and a small cache of bullets. He cracked open the gun and began to slide the bullets into place, one by one. When it was loaded he slipped it into an inner pocket, and then dialed Yuki's phone number.
"Alright, good job, everyone!" Kagura called as her students headed for the locker rooms. She kept a sharp eye out for Kimura, who tended to choose such moments to show up.
For a moment, he thought he was behind her, because many of her girls had stopped running, and watched something over her shoulder. They were pretty transfixed, too. God, what could he be doing THIS time? But then she noticed the pure adoration in their faces.
'What in the hell?' she thought, turning. She came face-to-face with the most beautiful collar bones she had ever seen, which were trying to explode out of a dark brown shirt. Her eyes slowly moved up, to a delicate neck adorned by a slender Adam's apple, a smooth, strong chin, lips so soft she wanted to kiss them right then…
"Yes?" she managed to squeak.
"Are you Kagura-sensei?"
"Mhmm."
'That's better,' William Shatner thought, relishing in the attention. Not just the teacher, either. The high school girls were ogling him something FIERCE. And they were seniors, he figured, which meant he was only 2 years older than them, meaning he could legally…ANYway.
"Got a letter for you, ma'am," he said, flashing his best, 'oh, you KNOW I'm handsome' grin as he held it out to her.
"Anything else?" she asked, dreamy.
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing, nothing." She shook her head. "Where do I sign?"
"Oh, here…" He held out his clipboard and waited while she scribbled her name. "Thanks very much, Miss Kagura. Ah…have a good day."
She watched him go, and finally looked down at the letter. No return address, no clear postage…she shrugged and began to open it.
"Right." William Shatner said, rounding a corner and looking at his clipboard. "That just leaves…"
He stopped when he heard the all-too-familiar sound of a hammer clicking into place in a gun. He dove just as the shot rang out, and he felt the bullet whiz past his face, just BARELY missing his skin. He went into a roll, pulled a fairly large knife from within his boot, and came up ready to draw blood.
"William Shatner," Kimura said, his stance steady and tendrils of smoke still swirling slowly from the gun barrel. "You're rather infamous in my community."
"Oh-ho." Shatner grinned and nodded. "Japanese Intelligence, I take it?"
"Who else?"
"I'd heard rumors of the part-time agents, taking up lives and fake personalities. I should have REALIZED there was a reason the school would keep on such an obvious pervert. They knew there was no ACTUAL threat to the girls." He chuckled. "Mistress Neko-chan-sama will be fascinated to hear about this."
"You need to get back to her, first."
"You really think you can beat me, old man?" He began tossing his knife from one hand to the other, almost daring Kimura to dash forward and take it. "You're, what, FIFTY now?"
"Forty-eight, but close enough."
Kimura suddenly fired again, but Shatner managed to dodge his bullet. He flung his knife rather expertly, and he saw Kimura's head snap to the side. He let out a victory whoop, which turned to a gasp of shock when the older man turned his face back around, revealing he'd CAUGHT the bloody thing in his teeth.
"Oh, you're KIDDING!" Shatner shouted, grabbing his other knife from his other boot. But he dropped it when his own blade was hurled back at him by Kimura, piercing his lower arm.
"You BASTARD!" Shatner hissed, grimacing as the blood spread through his sleeve. "Now I won't get my security deposit back on this stupid costume!"
"No need to worry about THAT," Kimura replied, aiming his gun again. "In fact, all your troubles will soon…"
"Holy Hell, Kimura's flipped!" an all-too-familiar voice screamed.
"No!" he spun, to see a rather horrified Kurosawa and Yukari standing nearby. "Run, before…"
Stupid. He'd gotten sentimental, let himself get close to the two of them, even if they'd been TERRIFIED of him. He felt the sharp pain of the blade in the small of his back, causing his limbs to all go numb. He dropped his gun and crumpled to his knees. A second knife pierced higher, and he could feel a lung collapsing.
"Baka…" he said through gritted teeth, falling onto his side.
He could hear Shatner approaching, cackling wickedly as he did. He heard the two women shuddering and trying to scream, but only producing horrified squeals. He managed to move his head a bit, and saw Shatner walking up to them.
"Maggot!" he hissed. "Don't you…don't you DARE!"
"Don't worry, Agent Kimura, they won't die." He held up his palms, and some sort of thick, white gas shot from his sleeves. The two women's faces suddenly twisted into even worse paroxysms of terror and they went to scream, but Shatner put his hands over their mouths. "The Mistress would be very, VERY sad if I killed her two favorite sensei."
"What did you…"
"Just a little trick from an old employer of mine." He let the women go when their attempts to scream just became spasms of horror. Shatner turned back to him, and Kimura saw him bend down and pick up the magnum. "I did some grunt work in Gotham, before hopping to this side of the Pacific. They'll be fine…they're just going to be a LITTLE scared, for a while. But you don't need to worry about that, old man. In fact, you don't need to worry about anything at all…"
"Yuki." Kimura whispered, right before the shot went off.
To be continued…