"That'll be twenty dollars."

"TWENTY DOLLARS?! Hmph. Back in my day a bushel only cost two. You're lucky yah got some of the best apples I've ever tasted. Or else yah'd get a serious hagglin'." The elderly man spat.

"Get out of here you old coot. Can't you see you're ruining my presentation", I shook my fist at him. His liver spot covered hand replied with an equally crude gesture and then he hobbled away.

My rough fingers thumbed trough the money while I counted up today's earnings, "Two hundred and thirty dollar? I'm doing well!" Money solely isn't something I necessarily depend on to be happy or at least make me smile, but it's one of the variables that go into the things that make me feel fulfilled.

Aside from growing and selling produce, my life is dedicated to becoming the greatest world warrior and spread the Rindoukan name throughout the world. So far, it's been a rocky road, but luck had to be on my side as of recent. The fruit and vegetable selling business can often be a cruel mistress, yet there are those rare times, much like this, when the money doesn't stop coming in, "At this rate, I'll be able to pay the bills off early this month. Then I'll repair the dojo as good as new! Man, I can't wait to see everyone's face when-"

"Woah. These are some really good looking durians," her finger poked the prickly cover, "I thought they only grew in the tropical parts of Japan."

"Eh?" I snapped to reality, "Uh, yeah. They're ten dollars a piece." My eyes met with the customer's.

Loo and behold. There she is again. That girl who's always hanging around and chatting it up with the guys around at the farmer's market. Lord, what a slut. Just what in the hell is she doing at my booth?

I grabbed the durians to place on the scale; Nine pounds even. Suddenly, the girl's voice perked up as if she discovered gold, "Oh. Wow. I thought only old men sold at this market." She chuckled, "I didn't expect such a cute boy to be here."

"What the-?" a sudden rush of anger forced my fist to the countertop, "Do I look like a boy to you?!"

"Uh," the girl was taken a back. Upon hearing my voice better as well as getting a better look at my angered facial features she realized her error, "Sorry. Erm. My mistake."

Okay, granted I do have a boyish look, bigger muscles than most women, and a sexually ambiguous name-which I haven't told her yet-there is no excuse that could ever cover what she did.

She gives me an innocent smile that surely melts the heart of men. Not mine. I hold strong and look through her eyes.

"So, are you gonna buy somethin' or just stand there?"

"Uh, okay."

While her eyes look around the selection, my eyes look at her.

In general, she's about half a head taller than me with a much more feminine figure. Of course, given her nature, she wore revealing clothing. Jeans on her legs tighter than a gorilla's grip, a clean white shirt that didn't conceal her slim waist, and hugged her perky bust, and her hair fashioned in some kind of extremely long ponytail with three sprouted out on top of her forehead.

Looking at her up close…I guess on could say she's easy on the eyes.

I watch her chew the inside of her cheek while she continues to browse, noting the raccoon tail sticking from her pocket and wallet chain on her hip. One thing that caught me off guard was this chick's body. Her body definitely covered in a surprising amount of muscle tone.

Perhaps she does physical labor in her line of work?

"I'll take these."

"Hrm?"

She holds them out in front of her chest. Two melons. I swear they were identical to the size of her own breasts; full, firm, and plump.

"Two. How much?"

"Sixteen."

Her face fell a little flat. The girl digs around in her pocket and pulls out a cute little wallet with a picture of a kunai on the front.

"Ten." I say.

"What? Really?" Her face lights up. Mine stays as still as stone.

"Yup. Ten."

She hands me a ten spot and thanks me for my service.

I try my best to conceal the smile on my face. Around here, it's known that the sellers at this market fib their prices at first then once the customer either turns to leave or starts to pay, we change the price to something more "reasonable". Those durians could've easily sold for three dollars each. Gets 'em everytime.

"So. What your name?" the girl sticks out an open palm, "I'm Ibuki. It's nice to meet you."

I wasn't the best socially nor am I too crazy about making friends with customers. To make my acquaintance, I snort and spit into my hand. Before she has a chance to react, my wet, calloused hand embraced her hand.

"Makoto."

Yeah. Yeah. It was bad business to do things like that, but I just didn't like her face. I mean she didn't have a bad face. Just…I didn't like this chick. Her eyes and mouth twisted a little bit. Nevertheless, she didn't move.

Without skipping a beat, Ibuki opened her mouth, "So, uh, are you from around here? I don't think I've seen you around before."

"Of course I am! Haven't you heard of THE Rindou-kan karate dojo?"

"Can't say I have. I don't think I've heard anyone else say anything about it either."

Well that stung. Guess I better work on my advertising skills too.

"Oh. Well that's where I give lessons and raise my crops. Here's my card," I presented her with a business card tailored for the dojo. I've been carrying about two hundred of these for the past two years and barely had the opportunity to pass any out.

"You'll come visit, right? You look like you could use a lesson or two."

Ibuki pinched the card between her fingers and slipped it into her shirt, "Well, I guess. I'll see you later."

"Later."

I tilted my sun hat and leaned back in my chair. My eyes follow her as she made her way out of the market. It couldn't shake it, but there was something about her. As if, there was more to her than she let on.

"Whatever."

AH! SHIA! HAYATE! KIA!

The innocent dummy had received more of its fair share of beatings today. Every strike I threw out had pinpoint precision and accuracy. Such as the style of Rindoukan karate.

Despite, my knuckles being properly wrapped in sports tape, my knuckles still throbbed and felt sore. I better give it rest all together before I overextend myself.

Sweat drip drops from the fine points of my shaggy black hair. Even dressed in my baggy gi pants, the yellow hachimaki around my neck, and a red band around my chest, my body still can't resist the heat built into this old dojo. It never will and that's what I liked about this place. That it'll never change.

I walked out from the stuffy, wooden interior of the dojo to gaze upon the crops along the horizon of the plantation. A fresh cool wisp blew across my skin and cooled my senses.

Before me, green fields of corn and trees barren with peaches swayed in the breeze beneath the orange sunset light. Four months of hard work, as per usual, meant for a huge income boost incoming.

There wasn't much time to speculate how much I could make. I needed rest.

Tomorrow is harvest day.