"Rurouni Mashiro, Or A Study Of The Monomyth In Regards To A Reluctant Hero"
1. A Goodbye To Halcyon Days, The Laments Of A Wanderer Who's Lost His Way. [Or, In Which Mashiro Screws Up]
It's funny really, the way simple things are made complicated, to where a Gible becomes a Garchomp. The things people say about me, honestly I've never even seen a Kyogre! Seems everyone and their mother has a story or two about me, In a way I'm flattered really. If only any of them where completely true, oh sure there's a grain of truth in some of them, emphasis on grain and also few. Am I a dashing rogue? Some cookie cutter hero straight out of Jump Comics? Well depending on who you ask, or what you read, I've been both, and everything in between. The truth of the matter is far from just about any of the accounts of my escapades. Like a young child who discovers the truth about the presents left by Delibird on Christmas morn, I think you'll find the truth a far cry from all the romanticism spun about me.
I'd like to start by quashing any such rumors about me being the child of any notable anything, you know the ones I'm alluding to. I'm the son of X and Y, hidden because of some convoluted plot involving Z? Pick your poison and plop in the variables, I've heard them all. I can in fact tell you that I was born in the Samurott Isles, as you know, an island chain far off the coast of Unova. I was born to a second rate battler and the daughter of a respectable breeder. Maybe you've heard of my father? Sakata Toshiro, he made waves ever so long ago during his brief stint as an undefeated Unova league challenger, till he was thrashed by Drayden. At which point he just sort of shrugged and returned home to marry his childhood sweetheart, my father is sort of a laid back kind of guy you see.
Which brings me to my mother, ah my mother, a being from which ire or malice could never radiate. Ever so patient with both I and my father's questionable work ethic, never once did I hear her raise her voice as a child, for I gave her no reason to do so. The look of hurt on my mother's disappointed face hurt much more than any harsh words or hands. Never could I, even to this day, understand why my mother loved my father. And as much as it embarrasses me to say so, as I take after him quite a bit, she could have done much better. My slight Oedipus complex aside, here I can drive the final nail into the coffin of the angst riddled childhood trope that you'll here sometimes in regards to me.
The stories of my supposed prodigal skills nurtured by the flames of a horrible past are, as you might have guessed, completely unfounded. My childhood was a mess of blissful ignorance, a lonely one perhaps, but lonely by design. I must admit I've never been much of a social Butterfree, perhaps my mother's coddling is in part to blame for how socially inept I am. I could never get along all too well with the kids my age, they obsessed over trivial things, like Pokemon battling. Ah how your brow must furrow over my blasphemy,
I truly must admit I've never cared much for battling. And because this was the only thing the others cared about, I could not fit in. Oh sure they tried to include me, but I was jealous of my loneliness. In my loneliness I could pursue my favorite pastimes, sleeping mostly, I picked up the guitar in imitation of my father when I grew a bit older. Within my blissful dreams of far of lands and lazy three chord songs, I was happy.
It wasn't all too lonely either, my cousin Yukishiro often penetrated my aloofness, two points of interest are made clear here. Yes that is indeed where the name for my precious Yuuki-tan is derived, also you'll notice a running trend in the names of my father's side of the family. Shiro, white, blanc if you're Kalosian. As you can imagine it gets a bit convoluted, so instead of referring to anyone as Shiro, it's shortened to the other half. Case in point, to my family I'm known as Mashi-kun.
Ah I can see your grin now, the mysterious wanderer who's hair is as gray as his morals, Mashi-Kun! Still it could be worse, Yuki has two brothers of varying age, my other cousins. Named Shiroichi,and Nishiro respectively. Poor guys, I can only imagine what it's like to have everyone call you by a number. It's actually kind of funny, since Yuki is younger than Shiroichi, it's always confusing when she calls him; 'Ichi-nii'
As you see my childhood was fine, great even. So where did I pick up my battling skills, you may ask? Not from school, I and school do not go well together. I was constantly made to stay after and clean the dojo because I was always falling asleep. All my napping had an adverse affect on my sleep schedule, from time to time i'm hit with maddening insomnia, and I'm also something of a narcoleptic. Listen to your mothers kids, sleep a lot in the day, and you'll find yourself restless come nightfall. Anyway my teacher Tsujikaze sensei, who's like my fourth cousin removed via my mother, you'll notice just about everyone where I lived is related somehow. I don't like to think too much about that, er maybe the white hair is a product of some icky genetic defect...incest okay? R-right moving on, Tsujikaze sensei finally got tired of it, so he and my parents conspired wickedly.
They sent me to a very particular 'Shiro,' my grandfather, Tamashiro. My father's father is the very embodiment of stern old man. He put much stock into the old ways, around here you're ancestry was derived from one of three professions. Farmers, artisans, or samurai. Which as far as I can tell where like noble warriors back when the world was archaic enough to require such a thing. My family is of the latter variety, and boy did I get the short end of the stick.
My grandfather is a veritable slave driver! The leisurely jogs we'd run at school where turned into mad sprints, he gave me good incentive too. Every time i'd slowdown he'd sic his Furret on me. That thing is viscous, it knows thunderbolt too! Aside from my death sprints, my grandfather's kendo lessons where also a little on the harsh side. For one he refused to use protective gear, and insisted on using boken instead of shinai, those things are basically wooden katana, the welts lasted for days. Then there was my studies, I find it hilariously ironic that he'd rap my knuckles with a boken when I stuttered while reciting the fifth virtue of Bushido, Jin, as in compassion.
Things only intensified when I received my faithful partner, there reaches an age where all the little boys and girls are given an Oshawott, our resident mascot. And that is how I met my ever faithful of friends, Kenshin. The blade of Arceus, the sword sweeper, the M'onslayer. And whatever else people have nicknamed him, seriously why would you call a Pokemon manslayer? I actually did not give my partner his name, my father did. Kenshin and I have a bit in common, you see Kenshin's sire is my father's Samurott. "Heart of sword, he said, a strong name huh?"
We bonded like a chemistry joke I'm too lazy to make, our catalyst being our discipline. When my grandfather had me running kata under a waterfall, because he's cliche like that, Kenshin was right there slashing his scalchop along with me. We grew to be the best of friends, sharing our meals, and napping in the little peace to be found. He was a tad bit different than the other Oshawotts, nothing extraordinary really, his fur was a little scruffier.
There came a day when my grandfather was satisfied with my sword waving, I could sprint without rest for a respectable length of time, and I'd become something of a bibliophile. I returned from my grandfather's secluded island home a changed boy, chief of which, I was no longer a mamma's boy. I was more composed, courtesy and respect came like second nature to me. I even discovered an odd quirk I'd developed, I could now sleep on command. When you're given but half an hours rest every two hours, you adapt or you lose your lethargy, I adapted.
My grandfather taught me little of battling, because I refused to battle. Kenshin was my friend, I reasoned, you don't force your friends into blood sport. The other kids had now had plenty of practice battling, some even catching another Pokemon from around the islands. By all means I should have been second rate compared to the others, but Kenshin was eager to prove himself, and in a mock tournament, I got my first taste of battle. I've always raised an eyebrow over trainers strengthening their bodies and somehow that correlates to Pokemon battling. Yet that is the only explanation I can give for what happened, I'm no prodigy, perhaps it was luck? Maybe I just have the devil's luck, and every single battle I've ever won was a fluke. I couldn't say, to this day I don't like battling.
What I can say is that I, pardon, we steamrolled the other kids. My confidence in my self maybe wasn't all that great, but my faith in Kenshin was absolute. Maybe it was a little unfair, because we knew Razor Shell and most of the others didn't. One after the other, friends, acquaintances,family, they fell to our ruthlessly pin point attacks. If an attack was likely to be blocked or dodged, we'd forgo it in favor of another. This is how I battle, no wasted moves, no unnecessary flailing. "There is victory and there is defeat, my grandfather told me, you should never go into battle expecting one or the other." Something about battling, even I who am so disillusioned with the concept must admit, is the rush and excitement of a new trainer commanding their partner to give it their all. I found myself enjoying it, how my commands were executed by Kenshin to a tee. I didn't want to harm their Pokemon, but even less did I wish for my partner to be hurt. So I went about systematically defeating the others, to my surprise I even found myself having fun.
Until I looked upon the sight of Yuki tearing up over her unconscious partner, Tomoe. I had done this, by my commands, I had caused this. The implications hung heavy on my conscious, to the point where I lost the final battle. I didn't throw, far from it. Byakurai was no slouch even at that age, and my guilt weighed my commands. I do not wish to come off as one who denounces battling, there is absolutely nothing wrong in the practice. However I do not issue challenges, I do not look for fights. In all sense of the term, I'm just a traveler who happens to have Pokemon, I don't pretend to call myself anything but.
I didn't battle too much after that, everyone once in a while Byakurai and I would 'spar.' My remaining year in my home was spent learning about the wider world, this was apparently to lessen the culture shock we'd face should we decide to head of to places devoid of the normality of home. I really had no clue on where I wanted to go, as far as I was concerned beautiful new sights and interesting new people and Pokemon alike were all I sought. Yuki, Byakurai and I had had it in mind for the three of us to head to Hoenn together. The weather was warm, and the culture was one not unlike our own. I often find myself wondering how my travels would have gone had I started in Hoenn with friends. I was set on doing just that, until a series of conveniently timed misfortunes set my plans ablaze.
I set off on my journey at the nice round age of thirteen, lacking the experience but filled to the brim with the fervor of adventure. My plans where vague in design, I'd travel and find the absolute best spots in every region to nap. I would meet many Pokemon, any who happened to want to accompany were welcome to. My goal was to enlighten myself to the world's many mysteries, in this way learning many new things about all kinds of subjects, and perhaps coming to understand myself as a person as well.
Maybe I'd make new friends, and even meet someone who would become more than a friend. Goals a bit more off the beaten path of driving yourself into the wall that is the Pokemon League. I guess in that respect we would have made a good team, Byakurai was set on taking the league challenge, and Yuki wanted to be a breeder. A trainer, a breeder, and a wanderer.
Soon came the day where all of we adolescents were to set off for new horizons. There had been a bit of a tiff between my mother and grandfather, the latter wanted me in traditional hakama and gi. My father was indifferent, so the both of us just sort of sat off to the side. In the end they compromised, the outfit I set off with was supposed to look vaguely mock samurai, I hear they make replicas now a days. It consisted of navy blue pants, the hem of which was wide to imitate hakama, and a vest in a lighter shade of blue.
I made sure I had everything packed well ahead of time, not that I needed all too much really. It amazes me how much stuff fits into one of those tiny bags, half the time I couldn't even feel the thing. Anyways, I made sure I was absolutely prepared. When the day came I was up early, I ate breakfast. Even had time to visit my grandfather, he gave me a bokuto. Wooden sword safely tucked into a loop on my pants, I bid my teary farewells to my parents. Then off I went to wait for my companions. Waiting under the designated meeting tree was boring, so I took a nap. I figured it was fine, they'd wake me up when they arrived, plus the docks where but a short walk down the path.
Here is where disaster began to brew, I woke up hours later, no sign of either my cousin or Byakurai. I sighed in relief when I noticed the time, and in doing so was relieved to find I hadn't missed the ferry. When I went to double check my ticket, I found it between the beak of a Pidove. At first the gravity of the situation hadn't hit me, and I just stared at the little bird Pokemon. Finally it hit me like a ton of bricks, and I yelled out. Promptly startling the Pidove, who flew away post haste.
I gave chase, releasing Kenshin to help in my pursuit. We chased it all the way to the beach, where it dropped my ticket unceremoniously. Sighing in relief, my relief was short lived. As the tide came in, washing my ticket out to sea. Kenshin swam after it, but by the time he got back, it was all but destroyed. Much much later, I would find out that the tree I napped under was the wrong one. Had I gone to the right one, I guarantee you wouldn't be reading this.
Sometime later found me lamenting my misfortune over a bowl of fried noodles at a small seaside stand. My ever faithful partner sat on the stool beside me enjoying a grilled fish, but even he looked a bit forlorn. I'd seen Yuki and Byakurai searching for me a while back, but my shame kept me from calling out to them. I guess it hadn't run through my head that maybe they could help me. After we had finished our meal, Kenshin and aimlessly strolled down the beach amidst the other rookies. Eventually my downtrodden steps lead me farther and farther down the beach, until I was stopped by to what I was certain was a solid brick wall. "You alright there lad? You look like someone kicked your Lilipup." The brick wall said as he helped me up.
Figuring there was no harm, I lamented my misfortune to the brick wall. He got quite a laugh out of it, but it seemed my luck was changing. The brick wall was in fact one Siegfried M. Wolfe, captain of the Nouvel Horizon. Seems his cabin boy got into a spot of trouble with a Tentacruel, and he was in need of a temporary fill in. I could pay for my passage with a bit of work! I eagerly agreed, and captain Wolfe lead me off to his ship. By evening I would take my last gaze at my home, it would be many a year before I saw it again.
My time aboard the Horizon was a bit lackluster, I'd tried to contact my family to inform them I'd be a little late, but various technical difficulties impeded this. Still It wasn't all that bad really, Wolfe's crew was an interesting lot, apparently they where explorers, fulfilling the captain's childhood dream. Philippe, the first mate, was apparently from Kalos. He taught me a bit of fencing, which felt weird when performed with a bokuto. The captain himself was easily the most interesting of the bunch, though he appeared to be a grizzled old man, he was an avid collector of literature. His study was full of books, and amazingly a Relicanth in an aquarium. Dinomyte he called it, one of his greatest discoveries. Interestingly enough, this is where I saw my first dirty magazine. It was all kinds of embarrassing cleaning up blood from the deck while the captain roared with laughter behind me.
Soon enough came the day when we docked, the whole of the crew saw me off. Giving me a couple parting gifts, manly gifts they called them. Philippe gave me a thunderstone, and from the captain himself, I got a book. Seven Samurrot, he said I'd like it. So with my heart set on adventure, spurred on by their many stories. I asked Captain Wolfe a simple question. "Captain, where in Hoenn are we?"
The man raised an eyebrow, and the rest of the crew gave me a deadpan look. "Son you're in Kalos..."
Captain Wolfe had offered to let me join his crew, and I almost did too. In my infinite wisdom, I figured my goals where easier to accomplish on land than at sea. So the captain gave me a final gift, a Town Map. Seems I was at a river port near Aquacorde Town, so with a final farewell, Kenshin and I set our sites on making the most of the shambles of my plans. Sometimes I wonder what my life would have become had I stayed aboard the Nouvel Horizon, It wouldn't be the last time I'd cross paths with the old captain. It makes me a little sad really, Captain Wolfe died a few months ago. The old sea dog was felled by a bad case of pneumonia, Philippe is captain now. It's a shame my children will never get to meet the man who gave me the keys to the world. Dinomyte swims about in my study now, I've tried to release him, but the ancient fish refuses.
B-boy that got morbid quick, er lets move on shall we? I'm sure you're dying to know how I met Junko, the true story. Course you are, everybody loves Junko. She's top of the list of people they love to ship me with, followed by Yuki (gross), followed by er Gen, followed by Roxie of all people. I can count the number of conversations I've had with Virbank City's Gym Leader on one hand. Far as I can tell, OMG she has white hair, he has white hair, OTP!
Anyways, we reached Aquacorde sometime around midday. Our stomachs growling, Kenshin and I found ourselves in a nice outdoor cafe. There was a bit of confusion when the waitress asked for my order in french, but that was cleared up rather quickly. Here is where I learned my first french phrase, vous etes etrangere? Are you foreign huh, well I guess you could say that. Sometime later found us heading for Santalune Forest, a single delicious pastry held within our respective hands and paws. I was deep in thought over how much my family and friends must be worried about me, and also a suitable place to nap.
So focused was I in my thoughts, as well as vainly trying to make my pastry last, that I noticed not the person running towards me. I certainly noticed when said person rammed into me, though I was merely pushed back a bit, the girl who did the pushing was knocked to the ground, but that wasn't the tragedy here. Time seemed to slow down as I snatched at my airborne snack. A lonely guitar riff rung out within the recesses of my mind as I watched my pastry unceremoniously hit the unforgiving earth, the harbinger of all the pain and humiliation to come.
It's then that I noticed the figure of the person who had so rudely ruined my lunch, it is all so here where I discovered the true meaning of wolf in sheep's clothing. I gazed upon the sight of a girl about me age wincing and running a hand through her silky brown hair. I wish I could tell you that I said something smooth, that I made her cheeks burn crimson, and cemented my apparent (but totally false) reputation as something of a womanizing houndoom. The reality of the matter...
"O-ore, uh, are you okay ma-MISS, are you okay miss?" At these brilliantly and eloquently crafted words, the girl opened her clenched eyes to reveal slightly teary lilac orbs.
Those eyes, I can't count the number of times those blasted eyes have roped me into battling five people at once, or assassinating her father, or at one point, blowing up a mountain. The owner of the eyes in question briefly scowled up at me, before quickly changing her look into one of feigned innocence. This should have tipped me off from the start, but of course a pretty face was worth a thousand alibis for me at that age.
She held out her hand for me to help her up, but in all of my eloquence, I sort of awkwardly shook it before realizing what it was she wanted. It was once I had helped her up that I realized how much shorter she was than me. In even more display of my endless charm, I continued to hold onto her hand as I creepily stared into her eyes, so mesmerized was I. It's times like those that I curse the fact that I look like a carbon copy of my father. White hair is cool and all, but gray eyes look creepy.
"Um, thank you. You can let go now," she said. Promptly causing me to jump back, and begin to rub the back of my head awkwardly, as I'm prone to doing when embarrassed. Thankfully I was saved from explanation by the timely arrival of my, self proclaimed, rival.
Down the now familiar path ran a boy comically dressed as a ninja, seriously the guy looked like he was cosplaying Ryu Hayubusa or something. Tall and noticeably athletic , he looked like a tween heartthrob. Except wearing a generic black ninja outfit. Ninja boy stopped infront of us, and I kid you not, removes a kunai from his belt.
"Miss, please return with me. Your father is worried sick, what could have compelled you to run off during your yearly outing." Ninja boy said coolly, his polished black hair somehow managing to wave about in a nonexistent breeze.
The girl with the odd purple eyes stepped behind me, pushing me forward a tad bit. "I'm not going back, I'm running away with him." She said, folding her arms across her lack of chest for good measure.
"Wh-what?" I stuttered out, with all the grace of a football player. I quickly looked back and forth between the steely eyed girl and bishounen ninja, quickly finding that the latter was growing annoyed.
"You, he yelled. Who do you think you are running such ideas through the young miss's head?" I was about as privy to what was going on as Kenshin is to metaphysics.
Put on the spot, I was left to the defense tactics my father had taught me for weaseling out of a woman's ire. I figured he looked feminine enough. Step one, feigned and or legitimate ignorance. "I-I have no idea what's going on here, I don't even know her!"
Seems either he wasn't bishie enough, or step one is really weak sauce cause he wasn't buying it. Though I might add it was not but true. "You coward, can you not even hold to your own misdeeds. My family has protected the Kurosawa family for generations, in the name of my ancestors...I WILL PUNISH YOU! Seems he had a bit of magical girl mixed in with all that ninja, what a terrifying combination.
"W-wait, really! I just accidentally bumped into her not too long ago. I have absolutely no clue what she's talking about! Please have mercy mr. shinobi!"
"Enough, I, Murasaki Gen, will thrash you and fulfill my obligation to my lord and his daughter!" He shouted, as he withdrew a pokeball. Wincing, I glanced at Kenshin who had been munching away at his pastry without a care in the world the whole time. Seemed things couldn't be solved diplomatically.
Sensing the incoming debauchery, Kenshin abandoned his lunch and bravely stepped forward to defend me from shinobi pretty boy. Who narrowed his blue eyes, before tossing his aforementioned pokeball. From the red beam of light emerged a small blue frog, it's neck covered with what looked to be bubbles. "Front and center Froakie." Ninja boy declared, as his amphibious Pokemon leapt forward brimming with froggy determination.
Not to be outdone, my ever faithful partner calmly stepped forward a wily smile spread across his whiskered face. "Uh g-go Kenshin." This would be the first of many battles I'd fight under protest, but let's get back to the cliches.
"Now Froakie, quick attack !" Was ninja boy's first command. As expected the little blue frog began to move increasingly faster as it advanced on Kenshin.
Between me and Kenshin lies a great amount of trust, such so that meticulous commands are not always required. Hence by his own command did my faithful freind leap out of the path of the speeding amphibian. "What, he can fly?"
"No, jump good." I laughed back, as his Foakie was left confused at the sudden disappearance of it's target. Kenshin daintily landed behind the frog Pokemon, one hand on his scalchop.
Gritting his teeth , ninja boy commanded his Froakie to tackle Kenshin. But once more did my faithful otter dodge the airborne frog missile. This seemed to further tick him off, as he upped the ante. "Not bad, but my Froakie is the creme de la crop of the breeding world. Let me show you the difference between him and your mangy otter. Now water shuriken!"
My eyes visibly widened as stars made of solidified water began to form in Froakie's webbed hands. I was unfamiliar with the move, but it seemed self explanatory. "Kenshin look out!" I yelled, as the stars were let loose. The angle they flew allowed for little chance of evasion, and my poor freind was grazed by the liquid shurikens.
Though the attack hadn't inflicted as much damage as it could have disregarding the mirrored types, it certainly wasn't a scratch. Realizing that we would dodge any telegraphed attacks, ninja boy removed any chance of telegraphing. "Double Team Froakie, was his next command. And what a command it was, as predictably copies of the frog Pokemon spread out in a circle surrounding Kenshin. Dodge this," he smirked, as dozens of water shurikens were sent flying.
Because of the blizzard of projectiles neither I nor Kenshin could predict which shurikens we're corporal. And so, Kenshin was buffeted by more projectiles. The Froakie doubles disappeared, and the smug faced boy called one more attack. My now severely battered partner was hit with a direct quick attack. Seems my philosophy had taken quite the ironic twist, by purposely not taking the battle seriously, I had caused Kenshin much unneeded harm.
"You're quite the one trick Ponyta, can you even attack? Or is 'jumping good' your only skill? Said shinobi bishie extraordinaire, to which my partner and I shared a look. I take back that half compliment I gave you earlier, you're no more battler than I am a woman." To which I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, he was a little too feminine...
"Well Mr. shinobi, I'd have to agree with you there. I'm not much of a battler, I really didn't want to battle. Matter of fact, I still have absolutely no clue what's going on." I said, through my apparently trademarked shit eating grin. He didn't seem to like that all too much though...
"This will end it, Froakie double team once more! He called out, his Pokemon obeying without hesitation. Once again, dozens of Froakies surrounded Kenshin. My smile was quickly wiped blank clean. Replaced by a look of seriousness comparable to shiny Pokemon in rarity. The images and the hidden true Pokemon once more prepared to unleash a volley of water shuriken. Behind me, the girl that had been the catalyst for this unwanted battle tensed, as if preparing to make a mad run for it. Now Froakie, finish it with water shurike-"
"Razor Shell..."
In an instant Kenshin drew his scalchop, appearing to disappear from sight so quick was he. The Froakie doubles suddenly poofed out of existence, as the original now lay fainted upon the ground. My faithful partner stood above him, his scalchop gleaming in the mid afternoon sun. A single critical hit, for a while silence reigned, as it had yet to hit the other two. Finally Gen recalled his fainted pokemon, and unreadable expression etched on his face.
"I see...I underestimated you, he began. What is your name?" He went on to ask, to which I had no choice but to reply.
"Well I'm just a wanderer, some call me Mashiro." I replied, relaxing a bit as it seemed everything would work out alright. Bar the fact that I was lost in a region very very far from home and the comforts of normality.
"Mashiro then, I am Murasaki Gen, that was quite the battle, you won fair and square. I smiled at this, seems I was already meeting new people. However you'll have to excuse me for this, but playing fair is a luxury." He said, as he slammed a black ball into the ground. Immediately an inky black smoke began to surround the three of us and Kenshin. Soon everything was obscured in black smoke, and I felt someone grab me from behind. Acting on impulse, I withdraw the wooden sword my grandfather had gifted me so long ago. Thrusting forward into the mist I was surprised to find I'd hit something solid.
When the smoke cleared, it revealed one Murasaki Gen, pleasantly unconscious. "Uwa is-is that blood? I didn't mean to knock him out, I still have absolutely no idea what's going on!" I lamented, as I tried to tend to the unconscious ninja. However I was quickly dragged away by the aforementioned bane of my earthly existence.
"I'll explain later, those guys travel in packs. I don't think we can count on another miracle..."
Sometime later found us awkwardly sitting in the quaint outdoor cafe I had frequented upon my arrival, I take it back, those eyes are just like mine. Unique I guess, but boy do they get creepy when their staring at you for prolonged periods of time. Which unfortunately makes me recall some rather unpleasant memories about a man who really thought Junko's eyes and my hair looked good, he was really into breeding. I don't have any regrets, ten out of ten would blow up again. However that's a story for another time. Anyways;
"I really should apologize for dragging you into this, though I must admit you are stronger than all that dorkishness would suggest." So she said, as I warily scanned the rooftops for ninjas. Wait was that a compliment or an Insult?
"Ah w-well not too much harm I suppose, I do feel bad for that Gen guy though. But would you mind explaining exactly what I was briefly entangled in, miss ah..."
"Junko Kurosawa," she answered, to which I raised an eyebrow.
"Forgive me If this sounds rude miss, but what an odd name you have. I've never heard of the surname, Junko. Come to think of it that other guy was named Gen, I thought this was Kalos, what's with the names?"
The girl now known as Junko frowned, her distinctly thin eyebrows forming quite the, somewhat cute, look of disdain. "You've got that mixed up, My name is Junko, and my surname is Kurosawa. Why would you think it was the other way around?"
"Gomena-sorry miss, it's just I'm used to names being given like that. Are you not Kalosian?" I asked, a bit of culture shock hitting me.
"Well on the subject of names, how about your's? What kind of a name is Mashiro, and of course I'm Kalosian aren't you?" She exclaimed, this going down as the first ear lashing I'd ever receive from the person in question.
"No actually, I'm a foreigner. I just got to Kalos in fact. Miss Junko, how is your named spelled?" I asked, hopefully trying to understand what had been lost in translation. However this only seemed to irritate her further.
"J-U-N-K-O, do they not have schools wherever you're from?" She asked harshly, my confusion growing ten fold. Of course I meant what kanji made up her name, evidently either my impression of Kalos was wrong on a fundamental level, or there was something else at hand.
Deciding to move away from the name issue, I pursued my quest for answers. "W-well that aside, I'm Sakata Mashiro, it's a pleasure to meet you. But I really would like some answers."
A devious smirk spread across that otherwise kawaii face, and I felt a chill crawl up my spine. "In a nutshell; I ran away from home but have no Pokemon of my own, so i'm gonna travel with you for a bit."
"S-sorry miss, I'm going to have to decline. I like the quite life, that I do." I replied, my slacker mentality overriding my teenage hormones at the prospect of such a cute girl wanting to travel with me.
Junko's smirk widened ten fold, "my dear Mashiro...what made you think you had a say in the matter?" Before I could even begin to question what the hell she meant by that. She abruptly laced her hand in between mine as we were interrupted by a waitress, the same one as before too.
"If it isn't the foreigner boy, it didn't take you long to sink your teeth into something of Kalos that isn't the cuisine eh? So what'll it be you two?" Apparently Junko can blush on command, cause that's exactly what she did as she ordered quite the cart of pricey foodstuffs.
I-I don't know about all tha-"
"But Mashiro, you prooooomised!" Came Junko's, I must admit, incredibly cute whine. The waitress simply laughed as she took down the order disregarding my protests. My savings where fairly substantial I guess, but man did it sting seeing a third of it dissappear on food.
When the waitress had gone, Junko turned and lightly kissed me on the cheek, lingering near my ear. "You screwe'd up big time giving me your name Sakata Mashiro. MY father is a very powerful man, if I were to run back and spin him some lie about you forcing me to run away or some Stockholm syndrome crap...He could make your life a living hell, or even send you straight there."
Gulping, I tried to reply but was silenced with a finger. "Shh, no talking, just listening. She whispered ominously. It'd be in your best interests to do what I say, but don't look so worried. As long as you're useful, I'll keep you around..."
Bolting up out of my chair, I made a mad dash as far away from there as possible. My father's words ringing in my ears. "Remember Mashi, there's a time and place for everything, but not now." Wait that's not the one. "Never get involved with a yandere Mashi, why are the crazy one's always the best looking!?" Incidently my mother's knife collection took on a whole new meaning after this.
"Boy Kenshin we sure dodged a bullet seed there didn't we-" It's then that it hit me, my partner had been dozing in a chair at the table we had been sitting at! I'd left him behind! I returned to find Junko enjoying the various baked goods she had bought, along with Kenshin.
"Forget something? She smugly asked, holding up one crumb covered Oshawott by the scruff of his neck. It was at that moment, that my life lost any sense of normality. Have you come to your senses, anything you'd like to add?"
"I fucking hate pidoves, that I do..."
It's so sickening how the world's view of you can change from one day to the other, one day you're a hero, and the next you're public enemy number one. Rumors spread like wildfire corrupting the precious truth we create. I never wanted this, I wanted a simple existence. Even when I'd end up doing idiotic heroic stuff, I never wanted any one to praise my deeds or name.
Lot's of times the credit was stolen from me, but I didn't care. I lost and gained many things along my reluctant journey from no one to urban legend. But the most valuable thing I lost was my anonymity. No longer was I Sakata Mashiro, or Mashi-kun. But Rurouni Mashiro, the wandering samurai...Please stop calling me that!
Works Alluded To:
Rurouni Kenshin
Jack London's The Sea Wolf
Samurai Jack
Sophocles's Oedipus Rex
Murasaki Shibari's Tale Of Genji
Seven Samurai
Gintama
Next Time, The Law Of Club And Fang. In Which Junko Schemes And Mashiro Is Repeatedly Beaten.
Till Then
Publias Vergilius Maro II