authors' note:

This is Suzuki's player, Matty, telling you that this story was written by, not one, but two people. It is a free-standing (that means no silly plots from some role-play community out there that will leave you readers in the dark) role-play log, for the Japanese anime "Yuu Yuu Hakusho" about the meeting and relationship development of (Utsukushii Matouka) Suzuki and Shishiwakamaru.

There is a difference in writing styles, you'll notice, which is a good reason for this note; this is, obviously, because two different people are writing! On the plus side, the whole thing is in English! ♥

Another thing to be noted:
There are a lot of traditional Japanese elements found throughout this story, being set in an environment based from distant pasts there. The Heian era (Heianjidai) Japan was from the late eighth to the thirteenth centuries, and was a very romantic and fantastical age. This story might require some basic understanding of Japanese language, customs, and history; some good examples being to know what tengu are (legendary bird demons), what a katana is (a certain type of popular samurai sword), what samurai are (samurai and bushi are types of Japanese warriours, 'bushi' being less specific), what some types of clothing (kimono, suikan, geta, hakama, etc.) are. We try to be as descriptive as we can in mentioning these traditionalities, without going off on a tangent (which is very possible), but, please, if you have questions or do not understand, you can do an online search (we recommend Wikipedia) for the topic, or simply ask about it in your review; we will try to answer speedily.

We really do hope you enjoy this story!

(A cool note? The title was really fun to come up with, regardless how many people I had to run around checking my accuracy with. "Koiji ni" is Japanese, roughly translating to "In Romance" or "In Love's Path." However! When you squish the subject and particle together --- completely changing the kanji, mind you, but the sounds are basically the same --- you come up with "koijini," which would be "dying in love." :3)

Without further ado, this is the first installment of the adventure, "Koiji Ni!"

(By the way. ♥ We like reviews. c;)

The sun was just beginning to beat against the ground, wet with dew from the night. It was just setting into the Hour of the Rat, the sun rising over the plains of Gandara. A soft wind blew through the tree tops, and dark clouds promised an early morning rain from the East.

A dirt path ran along a thick clearing out of the forest towards, or from, the small village of the castletown. In southern Gandara, there was a large part that felt none of the modern advancements, ignoring any ningen or Western influence, staying into the days of Heianjidai. It was the fief of a samurai family, naturally, as was muchly everything within the large southern prefecture. In it, everyone knew their place, their class; carpenters, farmers, merchants, bushi, the women of the willow world... And far, far off were the outcaste, the henin, the eta; entertainers, convicts, people who worked with death, the untouchable, the filthy, sub-people. The morning sun that rose above the mountains and trees was not so beautiful to them as it was to commoners, court goers... Samurai.

Coming up along the path, a tall, thin, but well-built man came his way, a leather sack bulging of various items, wooden poles and parchment scrolls, bows, sword hilts, arrows, and any number of other random things amongst them. He wore a lose cotton kimono and plain hakama, tied to his legs. He held on his sash a small leather bag, which was jostled with each proud step he took towards the castletown of Minamoto fief.

Shishiwakamaru, as usual, was in a foul temper. Another argument with his father, but this time, the young samurai had had enough! Not even his mother running after him stopped Shishi from grabbing his katana and after packing a bag, heading out of the large estate where the head of the Minamoto clan, his father, presided as daimyo. Shishi wanted out, and now. So he was not watching where he was going as he stormed along the road, muttering to himself with anger and annoyance. As he passed, people bowed to him as usual and girls giggled and swooned, but he paid them no heed, not today.

He had grown up an only child to the head of the Minamoto clan and his young wife, and had been spoiled from birth. Nursemaids, the best tutors and sword-masters. But still, Shishiwakamaru was hardly the ideal of the samurai. He was vain, selfish, and despite the fact that his father had named him after a legend, Shishi had little to no incentive to take after his namesake. With a huff, the young tengu kicked a rock on the road hard, heedless of anyone else around him.

The rock skipped along the path, bringing up dirt and dust in the early sun as it went. Eventually, it ceased before two wooden geta-sandal clad feet, which, in turn halted. The carrier of all of the items stared at the rock for a moment through teal-coloured eyes, before looking up to seek the sender of it... And thusly, he found coming his way, a young samurai of feminine build. At least, the man thought it to be a samurai boy; he could be mistaken. It could be a female shirabyoshi, a dancer in male's clothes, or something of that sort, knowing these parts... The man hiked his bag up upon his shoulders tighter, stepping forward briskly once more, not taking his eyes from the on-comer.

Shishi noticed someone staring at him, which was not unusual, but it was not a giggling girl which caught his attention. His sharp violet eyes met the man's green eyes though, looking the other over for a moment. He said nothing, and his stare was even, as if challenging the other to speak first or call him on his rude manners.

Approaching the boy, the artisan did establish a gender... and class. His stare was equally challenging, and his air very prideful, as the blonde came nearer. When within the proximity of the bushi, he halted, bowing low, almost subtly mockingly, to the boy. His lips remained sealed, and his face not very expressive.

Shishi frowned; he was not used to anyone but his father and sensei meeting his stare in such a way. And from a lower class person, no less! The frown remained as he watched the stranger bow towards him. "You should show more respect towards those of higher status!"

The blonde man nodded, his hair loose and let down, hovering in the air as he bowed. "Forgive me, Osamurai-sama," he said slowly, with that same proud, quasi mocking air that his stare held.

Shishiwakamaru gave the other a disdainful look, but something about the other sparked his interest. But he was samurai and samurai did not make friends or socialize with others below their caste. "What are you selling? Or are you of the working class?" Shishi asked, raising one eyebrow.

The man did not rise, continuing to stare at the ground, supressing a proud smirk. "I am an artisan, Osamurai-sama, with little to no business to my name thus yet," he replied evenly, in the same tone as before. "I am travelling in search of people interested in items I have made, so that I may establish a reputation for myself."

"Like what kind of items?" Shishi raised one eyebrow, and crossed his arms as he looked down at the man. He did not tell the other to rise; Shishi was rather arrogant and liked to rub in the fact that he was not only samurai, but also the daimyo's son.

Though none but the former was known to the artisan who bowed before the boy; nor could he care, save to rescue his own fate from the blade of the bushi's katana. Such disrespect would be viewed as unlawful, and it was perfectly within justice for the man to be beheaded right here did he make any of the arrogant comments swelling inside him. "I have various weapons not suitable for a samurai of your own status, Osamurai-sama," he began, stressing the honourific, "artifacts of onmyoudou, and other practices, in addition to simple items and charms." It was getting harder and harder to keep his face clean of amusement, and he began to worry for items that shifted within his sack on his back, in fear they escape, revealing his truth. The blonde was tempted to steal a glance at the effeminate boy before him, but thought better of it for the moment, given their... ideal positions.

"I want to see," Shishi ordered. He had always wanted a new sword instead of the one handed down to him. The blade was well made and had been taken care of by the previous owner, but Shishi wanted a truly powerful weapon. After all, since he wanted to be famous, he would need to be powerful to achieve that dream.

The blonde man stiffened. He was not mentally prepared for that to have happened, but nonetheless rose, pulling the heavy sack from his back, setting in onto the ground as he kneeled with it before the samurai. "I have only one katana to offer," he explained, a worried looking spreading his face. He grasped the hilt of the sword that stuck from the opening of the bag, extracting it. He took it in another hand, holding it against his cupped palms so to display it at arms length to the bushi. The sheath was very decorative, with intricate carvings of ume blossoms lacing it, the paint sparkling against the morning sun. The man kept his eyes lowered to his own lap as he sat kneeled there, his haunches against his calves and the heels of his feet.

Shishi looked over the katana with a critical eye; it seemed well made, a masterpiece. But there was something more...strange about it. Without asking he reached out to grasp it, inspecting its balance and weight. "This is finely made...what is the price?"

The blonde tried not to smirk. "Two bu," he replied stonily, keeping his head lowered. Within the area, it retained the money system of olden times, in which roughly six bu could support a household for a month. The price was not suiting for the terrible sword held within the case, and the man knew so. It was a battered sword, and was rather dull. He had not planned to offer it for sale, but had caved into his amusement for this situation. Besides; the man knew for a fact that samurai dealt not with money, and if he could make a high amount from a gullible young boy for a weak sword in beautiful clothing... so be it.

"Two bu, hm? And what makes it worthy of such a price?" Shishi asked with amusement, a glint in his violet eyes. Of course many assumed that he was not too bright, due to his appearance and temperment, but in reality, Shishiwakamaru was a rather clever tengu... when he wanted to be, at least.

The man wanted to lurch, but remained very calm on the outside. Immediately, without thought, the words jumped from his mouth: "I made it." He habitually stressed the noun a bit proudly.

Shishi looked up from the sword to give the man a long look then burst out laughing as he handed the sword back. "And you want to sell it for that much? Do you think I am stupid? HA!" The tengu rolled his eyes as he started to turn away. "I should deal with you for attempting to pass off a well made sword as your own work, since I highly doubt you made it. But, I must be on my way at the moment ,so consider yourself lucky."

The man rose, shoving the katana back into the bag. He heaved it up to his shoulders again, furrowing his brow and bowing once more low to the samurai. "It is my own work, Osamurai-sama," he proclaimed, a hint of both pride and irritation. The sheath, at least, was his own; the sword he had picked from a rogue. He made no mention of thanks or good luck to the bushi, waiting for the boy to move his feet... It was not easy to have such weight against your lowered back for so long.

Shishi accidently bumped into the bag as he walked away, but he did not notice or pause as he walked away, flipping his blue hair over his shoulder in an arrogant gesture.

The artisan stood once more, and walked away in the direction that the samurai had came from, his geta slapping against his feet in his huffy walk. The pouch at his side fell to the ground with a sharp clink, and was kicked aside by the blonde man unnoticed, to within a nearby bush by the path side. There was nothing more that he hated, aside from a handful of things, of course, than to be insulted and not able to do anything about it.

After a couple long moments, the man felt there was something missing, gazing down to his waist only to find it empty. He spun round, eyes wide with outrage. That was not for silly toys like he had shown the rude boy... He watched for a second as the samurai continued down the path, before it occurred to him what had happened, The man grasped the bag against his back, setting off at a fast trot, careful to run in the heeled sandals gracefully. "Thief!" he shouted loudly, piercing the silence of the early morning. "Thief!" The claim was repeated in outrage a second time.

Shishi paused when he realized the man was shouting at him, and one eyebrow twitched. "I really hope you are not speaking to me," the samurai said in a very cold tone as he looked at him. Granted the other was taller and most likely outweighed him, Shishi was a vicious fighter. That and he was samurai, and thus, the power of high status.

The man came to a halt, staring hard at the boy. He relinquished his grip on one side of the sack, pointing his finger at the samurai from a short distance away. "You! You've stolen my pouch!"

"You realize who I am? Why would I steal anything form the likes of i you /i ?" Shishi raised an eyebrow, insulted. If he had to go back to get his father to sort this out, he would be furious and he would make sure the other would regret this. "Don't blame me for things you are stupid enough to lose!"

The blonde glared at him, unafraid, for the most part. "I don't care who you are, but I assure you that I have never lost anything in my life of mine own creation! Don't dare to insult me without knowing who I am, and furthermore!" he crowed, pointing still as he glowered at the boy, his tone proud, and insulted. "I demand you return my items!"

"How dare you!" Shishi narrowed his eyes that were slowly starting to turn into pinpoints, a warning sign... "I am the son of the lord of this area, and I will behead you, right here and right now, for such an insult!"

The man smirked, lowering his hand and drawing it back to himself. With a flick of his wrist, throwing his hand out from his face in a gesture of arrogance, he replied in an airy, egotistical voice: "I thought I told you that I do not care who you are?"

Shishi's bangs were starting to waver and become more pointed. Such disrespect! "You should care, and for such lack of respect, I will make sure you regret your foolishness!" the samurai stated coldly as he started to draw his katana.

The man stepped back, staring at the angry young boy. Such ferosity... He was not expecting such from the effeminate bushi before him. It was beginning to spark his interest. "Do proceed," he replied smugly, letting go of the bag on his back to rely on his shoulders to hold it. "Osamurai-sama!" The last name was added with a highly mocking tone, a smirk, and a laugh, as the blonde drew his arms apart from each other, assuming a battle stance.

Shishi snarled, revealing sharp pointed fangs now. Long horns had appeared from his forehead; Shishi may have been pretty, but it was clear the samurai had a very nasty side. "I will make your death slow and painful then!" He had a very dark look of cruel amusement on his face now, but he wondered what gave the other so much confidence.

The blonde retained his smirk, staring evenly at the samurai, waiting for him to approach. "I will be awaiting my slow and painful death, Osamurai-sama..."

Shishi hissed, and in a blur of speed, he brought the katana down and around towards the other. But he remained wary, unless this person was stupid, there must be a reason for them to just stand there...

As the samurai charged, the blonde waved his arms slowly in the shape of a circle. A youki charged was emmitted heavily as sparks of it appeared between his hands, which were then engulfed within a transparent, dark orb, constructed of that same ki. It set itself forward towards the samurai, charging slowly the blade of the sword in the boy's hand. The blonde man smirked.

Shishi came to a stop, nearly falling over as he did. He was not stupid enough to charge through something so strange and... creepy. He changed directions, twisting around to get around the orb and attack from a new angle now.

Which was effective, save for the fact that the blade of his sword remained within the orb. It sent out weak waves of youki as the blade hovered further towards the middle of the sphere, wobbling and wavering within it, the sparks of youki outside and within it increasing. And then, within a moment, the blade disappeared, the dark orb disipating to where it had sat. A final zap of the man's youki, and the ball, too, disappeared into thin air.

Shishi had tried to hold onto his sword but to no avail. He could not help but stare for a few moments before turning his fury upon the man. "How dare you! I demand you return my sword at once! Stealing a samurai's sword is punishable by DEATH!"

The man grinned, shrugging. "I have no idea where it went, otherwise, I promise that I would," he replied smugly. A bow was given to the samurai. "I do not want to die more than anyone else."

"But... that... that was MY sword!" Shishi stomped his foot, almost throwing a childish fit at the moment, but he didn't care; it was unspeakable of what the man had done. This landed Shishi in a tough place; he did not want to go home to ask for help, but he could not let this slide...

The artisan offered the man a sympathetic pout. "Well, I am sorry that you have forced yourself to lose your sword," he replied smoothly. "But it does not change that I still demand my items back. Afterwards, I will let you on your way to carry on with you 'important things.'" A smirk.

Shishi decided at that moment he did not like this person. Not at all. Well, Shishi tended not to like many people. But he especially did not like this one. "I did not steal anything of yours, and give me back my sword!" Shishi growled, furious.

The man sighed, becoming a bit irritated with the boy's persistence. "I do not have your sword," he explained. "It has been transported somewhere; perhaps your home, perhaps another dimension. I do not know where, nor do I care."

"You...!" Shishi hissed as he suddenly attacked the other, aiming to scratch the blonde's face with his now extended claws. He just wanted to hurt the other in his rage, not caring that he had lost his temper.

The blonde's eyes widened, the tengu's claws coming into contact with his cheek several times too quickly. At last he grabbed the boy's hands together in his right, and grabbed him by the waist with his left. "There is no need for attacking me," he hummed with a smug smile on his face, holding the boy best he could.

"Let...me...go!" Shishi hissed, and struggled in the man's grasp. "How dare you lay a hand on ME!" he snarled, bringing one knee up towards the blonde's stomach. Shishi was not giving up without a fight.

The artisan's stomach came into contact with the samurai's knee, as he tightened his grip. "Now that we are at an agreement," he began smugly, smirking. "I would require my pouch back."

Shishi frowned, one eyebrow twitching. "I don't have it!" The samurai glared up at the man; this one was different from anyone he had ever met before...

A hard stare was given to the bushi. "Then, tell me," he mused sarcastically. "Where has it gotten to?"

"I have no idea, nor do I care!" the tengu's horns still showed, and he bared his sharp fangs at the other, still livid.

The man narrowed his eyes, frowning a bit. "Care," he demanded, his hold on the boy's wrists becoming stronger.

"No!" Shishi struggled to get away, hissing.

The blonde said nothing, but tugged the boy towards him, staring at him harshly in the eye, a head taller than the samurai.

Shishi glared right back up at the other with pinpointed violet eyes.

He smirked, a small chuckle escaping the man. "What a strange boy," he commented airily, letting the samurai loose, pushing him away. He was attentive for any sense of the very little ki of his own within his creations, contained in the pouch. A slight breeze blew, wavering the bushes, which hit against the pouch lying on the ground. The man glanced in that direction quickly, then back to the angry bushi.

Shishi did not notice where the pouch really was as he kept his eyes on the man before him. He had to admit, the other had nice eyes... but Shishi tried to stay focused on his rage.

The man simpered, staring back at the boy. After a long moment, another, heavier wind setting it, the blonde bowed to him, mocking the boy's class once again. "Enjoy your quest," he requested sarcastically. He glanced up at the boy through narrowed eyes, smirking once more. "Osamurai-sama," he added to tease.

"I demand since you stole my sword that you replace it!" Shishi demanded, crossing his arms and glaring at the other with anger.

The man raised himself, and stared at the boy for a long time. "Perhaps," he mused, grinning. Very perhaps.

"NOW!" Shishi stomped his foot, acting very childish; but he was a rather young demon, and was used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted it.

He gave the boy a cross look. He bowed again, and turned around, attempting to continue back on his way.

"How dare you ignore me!" Shishi followed the other, refusing to give up.

The artisan made no response, heading towards the bushes in quest of his pouch.

Shishi huffed and with leapt forward to tackle the man to force the other to notice him.

The man came into contact with the other. He nearly fell, tripping a bit, a wrapped up scroll leaping from his bag upon his back. He entwined his fingers into the boy's hair from the back, yanking his head gently to stare him in the face. "Please," he said simply, knitting his brow. He did not continue.

"I told you not to ignore me," Shishi said coldly, glaring at him. He never bluffed.

"I did not ignore you," he countered, smirking, still holding the boy. "I told you that I might return to you a sword." His tone was smooth, proud with himself. "I do not take orders, on the other hand, from brats."

"Brat! I am not a brat!" Shishi huffed, not pulling away, though he did calm down slightly.

The man smirked. "Yes, you are," he corrected, happy with himself.

"Am not!" was the bratty response from Shishi.

The man laughed richly, letting the boy loose for the second time as he kneeled to retrieve the scroll that had been dropped.

Shishi didn't attack again as he watched the other with narrowed violet eyes. He said nothing as he crossed his arms, waiting.

The man ascended slowly, turning back to the boy as he stuck the scroll into his sleeve. After a moment, he sighed. "Can I help you?" he asked narrowly, staring at the boy.

"I am waiting for my sword," Shishi said evenly.

The man looked at him. "I have only one sword on me, and you scoffed at it beforehand. Why should I be willing to give you my craftmanship after you have been so rude to me?" he asked equally evenly, nearly glaring at the samurai.

"Well, if you don't, I will have you beheaded, or killed in a very painful manner." Shishi suddenly had a creepy look on his face now, violet eyes glinting in an odd way...

The man cocked a brow. "Is that so, hmm?" he asked, bemused. "I suppose there is nothing I can do but die, as you are not willing to pay two bu for my sword, and you are not willing to wait," he said airily, not meaning what he spoke. He walked slowly towards a bush, kneeling down and sticking his hand beneath it, looking away from the samurai.

"You stole MY sword in the first place!" Shishi snapped, getting angry again.

"You attacked me," he countered blandly, extracting his hand from the bush with a small leather pouch wrapped in it. It clanged as it moved, the man tying it about his sash as he stood up. "It was self defense." He turned at gave the boy an even stare.

"...You started it!" Shishi huffed with anger.

He smirked. "Through misunderstanding, though; how can you hold that against me?" he inquired smugly. "It is an easy mistake."

"Easily. I am samurai, you are not, and I order you to hand over my sword," Shishi demanded, one eyebrow twitching.

He sighed again, becoming irritated. "I have told you once and now again, I do not have that sword!" he retorted, glaring. "I have no idea where it has gone to, and I have no method of retrieving it. Perhaps this is your karma, and were you not such a twit, things would not happen to you in this way!" His tone was very arrogant, scolding the boy. He hiked the bag over his shoulders again, and began walking.

Shishi ran up ahead to stand in the man's way, glaring. "Hand over that sword. Now."

He grinned at him. "I refuse," he stated. "Go home and get a different one. I am sure there are many."

Shishi huffed, looking to the side. He did not want to go home, or even admit that he couldn't go home and swallow his pride at the moment. But he looked back at the artisan again, glaring. "Don't question my orders."

The man glared at him in return, speaking in a flat tone. "Go home, boy."

"No," Shishi said firmly.

The blonde's facade never shifted. "Go home, or let me alone. You are not getting this sword without payment, and I doubt with what name you have to you that you warrant it without."

"I refuse." Shishi stood his ground, narrowing his eyes.

The artisan's eyes narrowed just as much. "Then I will force the latter option," he threatened darkly.

Shishi just glared at the other in a silent challenge for him to do his worst.

He stared at the boy evenly for a long moment, before he sighed, exasperated, reaching back and extracting the sword from his sack.

Shishi smirked, assuming he had won and that the other had finally gave in.

The man bowed low, lowering his lashes as he stared at the sword within his hands, wanting for the samurai to come and retrieve it as he stood, stepping forward.

Shishi stepped forward, his eyes on the sword as he reached out to take it...

He smirked. The blonde quickly stepped forward and to the side, sword in hand, sheathed, and struck out, hitting the boy hard on the back of the neck, though not hard enough to kill him.

Shishi did not have any time to react before he collapsed on the ground, knocked out cold. He would have a headache when he woke... and a nasty temper.

The man replaced the sword to his bag, staring at the figure prone on the ground. He smiled, lingering for a moment before he hiked up his sack, and set off again, his geta sandals smacking softly against the backs of his feet. Another breeze rushed through, shifting grey clouds in the sky. He chuckled to himself, the breeze brushing blonde hair from seagreen eyes, whistling through the trees around them.