Disclaimer: I don't own Okami.


Chapter Two


Principal Orange sat in a tall armchair overlooking his polished wooden desk. Apparently someone thought that filling the principal's office with heavy, intimidating furniture would make the old man seem more important. In reality, it just made him look even shorter and more wrinkled than he was. He had been rambling some kind of lecture for several minutes now, but Issun was having a very hard time not being distracted by how much the principal's head actually did resemble an orange, in color, shape, and even texture.

Not that Issun had ever really been trying to pay attention, of course.

". . . all you young folks seem to care about these days. Why, back in my day we didn't even have video games . . ."

Issun stifled a groan. He had been handed a note directing him to go to the principal's office as soon as he walked in the door that morning, and he had no doubt of who was behind it. That stuffy art teacher apparently had not forgotten his little tribute yesterday. He smirked at the memory, and his hand absently reached over to twirl a keychain on his satchel, which now contained a nearly exact replica of the confiscated sketch. Well . . . he might have made a few improvements to the new version. The valley of Sakuya's chest was perhaps a bit more luscious than before . . . Such dizzying curves . . .

"Are you listening to me, boy?"

Issun gave a start as he was jerked back to unwelcome reality. "Sure, Gramps," he muttered vaguely, hoping that he wouldn't be asked to repeat anything. But he needn't have worried.

"Bah," the old man grunted, tapping his wooden cane against the floor, "I don't know why I bother. Troublemakers like you never listen anyways. If you've told 'em once, you've told 'em a thousand times!"

The principal waved his arms dramatically with his last words, and Issun was only saved by his quick reflexes. The cane whistled through the spot in the air where the student's head had been just a second before. Issun peered up cautiously from where he had ducked, in time to see the principal settling back in his chair as if nothing had happened.

"Uh . . . Will that be all, sir?" he gulped, noting that the cane was once again leaning safely against the desk – for the moment.

"Hm?" the old man asked in a vacant tone, barely glancing at the student across from him. "Right, of course. Club meetings don't start until next week, you'll have to check the calendar. Better run along now, wouldn't want to be late to class – not that you kids seem to care much about that these days . . ."

His complaint trailed off into incoherent mumblings, and Issun took the opportunity to slip out the door before the principal could change his mind.

The hallway was empty, classes having started a good half hour ago. The boy sighed and began to slowly make his way toward History class. Now that he thought about it, Sakuya-sensei had really done him a favor by sending him to that old geezer's office. His first class was his most boring by far, and besides that, for some reason he often got a really strange feeling from History lectures . . . It made no sense, but it almost felt like déjà vu. He didn't like it.

He reached his classroom and shuffled lazily to his seat, in no particular hurry to take out his pen and notepad. The teacher was droning something about the story of Nagi and Nami. Two legendary figures who were supposedly connected to local history somehow. Hah. As if anything important to history ever happened in this dinky little town. The lecture was starting to give him that weird feeling again, so he promptly tuned it out.


Art class was much more interesting.

This might have had something to do with his change in perspective. Sakuya-sensei had seen fit to reassign him a seat toward the back of the classroom, evidently hoping not to have to deal with him as much. Issun would probably have been annoyed by this, except that he found himself rather enjoying his new viewpoint.

Silky white hair draped down across the back of the chair in front and to the right of Issun's desk. Ammy had flashed him a smirk when he had been shown to his new seat, which he decided was either supposed to be some kind of challenge or her strange idea of being sympathetic. But then she had spent most of the class studiously facing forward, ignoring him.

So Issun had spent most of the class studying her. He missed most of the lesson as a result, but he was certain the art teacher could have very little, if anything, to say about art that he didn't already know. He had studied art all his life, and learned many things in his travels – in addition to the already considerable talent he had been born with, of course.

His time was much better spent observing Ammy's work. He still didn't know how she did it – how she managed to give her art that incredible lifelike quality, a skill that far surpassed anything Issun had ever seen before. Watching her paint, her slender fingers sweeping the brush across the page with absolute confidence, every stroke perfectly executed, was mesmerizing.

This girl had somehow acquired artistic skills that even Issun had never learned before. He had no intention of letting things stand that way for long, though. He would simply have to steal – er, study her techniques for himself.

Ammy propped her left arm on the table, and suddenly Issun found his view of her painting blocked. He blew out a frustrated sigh before turning back to the painting he was supposed to be finishing. Today they were practicing natural scenery. He was just putting the finishing touches on a bamboo thicket when he noticed Sakuya-sensei making her way down the aisle.

"Good . . . No, no, you hold the brush like this . . . Yes, that's right . . . Needs some work," the teacher murmured as she checked over various students' progress, offering helpful comments where needed. But when she drew level with Ammy's table, she came spluttering to a halt.

"Ah!" she exclaimed, leaning over to observe the painting more closely. "Such elegance! Such awe-inspiring detail!" Issun's left eye twitched as her voice rose in pitch. "Divine talent such as yours can only have come from the gods themselves! And to think that they would send you here, to our humble little town! Ah, truly we are blessed by your presence!"

This time, Issun didn't care that his mouth was hanging open. He was getting a really creepy vibe from Sakuya-sensei as she obsessed over Ammy's painting . . . and the weirdest part was that no one else seemed to care. A few kids turned to glance at Ammy's table with mild curiosity, mainly the admirers from yesterday, but most of the students simply carried on working as if there was nothing unusual about the scene. Issun thought he saw some of them roll their eyes.

"Geez, lady," he muttered under his breath. "Even I'm not that crazy."

Sakuya-sensei's head snapped up as soon as he made the comment, and he shrank back slightly in his seat – he really hadn't meant for her to hear that. The teacher's eyes were practically glowing with fervor, or so it seemed to Issun.

She opened her mouth as if to make a retort, then apparently thought better of it. Instead she drifted over to his table, regaining her poise as she went. The almost fanatical gleam disappeared from her eyes so fast that Issun wondered if he had imagined it.

"I see there's been small progress over here," the teacher sighed, with just a hint of emphasis on the word "small."

Annoyed, Issun glanced over his work, which in his opinion was pretty good. Okay, maybe it wasn't his absolute best effort, but it was a freaking bamboo thicket, what did she expect? She should be grateful he was working on this dumb assignment at all–

"And to think, I had such tall hopes for you." There – this time the emphasis was unmistakable. Issun looked sharply up at his teacher. Is she trying to make fun of me? Her expression was carefully blank, but he caught a definite glimmer of smugness in her eyes.

Oh, no. Bring it on, lady.

Sakuya-sensei moved past him and continued down the aisle, clearly thinking the encounter was over. "Hey, you're right!" he announced to the general area around him. "It needs something in the background to spice it up a little. Maybe a nice deep valley right there, between a couple of big, firm mounds . . ."

Sakuya-sensei nearly tripped over a desk. She whirled around with wide eyes, her mouth working soundlessly. Students watched from the corners of their eyes, careful not to face them directly. There was technically nothing wrong with his statement, and anything that she said to indicate otherwise could probably be used against her.

Issun flashed his most sickeningly innocent smile at her before turning back around in his seat. After a long moment he heard the teacher finally move off without a word, and he grinned in victory.

Meanwhile, Ammy, who had seemingly ignored the whole encounter, glanced back at him and smirked.

"What?" he mouthed, but she shook her head slightly and turned back around. A few minutes later she shot him another sidelong glance, still with that maddening smirk on her face, before returning to her work.

Mystified, Issun tried to maneuver in his seat so that he could see what she was doing, but he still couldn't see anything past her arm except a blank corner of her paper. For the first time it occurred to him that she might be hiding it from him on purpose. That got his curiosity burning, but there wasn't much he could do about it for now. Well, other than toss paper clips at her, to which she responded by sticking out her tongue at him.

After what felt like several agonizing years, the bell finally tolled the end of class, and Issun was out of his chair and standing over Ammy's table within nanoseconds. The white-haired girl set aside her paintbrush and leaned back slightly in her chair, which Issun took as permission to snatch the painting right off the table.

He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but this wasn't it.

Standing boldly in the center of the page was a miniature version of what appeared to be himself, but wearing a green cape and purple tunic, and there were some weird antennae things on his hat. Issun was completely baffled for a moment, but then he noticed his surroundings in the picture. An enormous tree stump. Tall grass and leaves. Lots and lots of leaves.

They were bigger than he was.

"Wha– Hey, you dork, I am not a bug! How many times do I have to tell you people!"


The end of the school day found Ammy and Issun walking off the school grounds together. Issun, still a little annoyed over Ammy's painting, was trying to mope silently, but not talking was proving to be harder than he had thought it would be . . . especially when she showed no sign of being bothered by it.

The schoolyard emptied quickly, most students eager to escape its confines and enjoy their few hours of freedom. A few sports teams were running drills in the distance, but otherwise they were on their own.

Issun managed to brood for almost another minute before admitting defeat (if only to himself). By now the two teens had strolled to the front gate of the schoolyard, pausing where it met the streets of the surrounding neighborhood.

"So, Snowy," he began, hoping the pet name would annoy her, "what do you people do for fun in this town? Got any good arcades?" Gods, he hoped so. After experiencing the fast-paced life of the bigger cities, this backwater place seemed almost painfully dull by comparison.

Then again, "interesting" wasn't always a good thing, either.

"Ma chérie!"

A loud and (to Issun's ears) obnoxious voice floated across the almost empty schoolyard before Ammy had a chance to reply. Issun slowly turned to glare in the speaker's direction, already knowing who would be there. "Can't I go a day without running into this guy?" he grumbled.

When his reluctant gaze finally drifted over the guy in question, Issun nearly did a double take. The tall, blond-haired youth was dressed from head to toe in a white-and-grey outfit made of a thick, yet form-fitting material, like some kind of futuristic space suit.

"What are you, an astronaut?" he yelled across the yard. Actually, if the guy turned out to be some space freak, that would probably explain a lot.

"I see you brought your new loud-mouthed companion again," Waka continued, still addressing Ammy. He was now walking toward them with a confident swagger, which Issun thought just looked bizarre in that ridiculous space suit. But the taller teen's expression was smug. He flashed a superior smile at Issun.

"This, my little friend, is the proud uniform of the classical European art of fencing . . . not that you would know anything about that, of course. In fact, it was I who introduced the sport to this quaint little village, shortly after my return from Paris . . ."

They were spared an explanation on the introduction of high culture to Kamiki when another teen called after them from across the yard.

"Hey! Captain!" A group of boys all dressed in the same white-and-grey uniform came running out into the schoolyard from wherever Waka had come from.

Waka glanced over his shoulder at them, looking vaguely irritated. "What do you want?"

"Uh, sir, we were just wondering why you left in the middle of practice, sir!" yelled the same boy who had spoken before. Issun was both disgusted and amused by the fact that the kid actually looked pretty nervous to be addressing his leader, despite his military tone.

Waka sighed dramatically. "Can't you fools see that I'm busy? Are your skills so lacking that you can't just this once finish practice without me?"

The boy looked dreadfully chastised. "N-no sir, of course not! I mean, of course we can! I mean – we won't let you down, Captain!" With that, the group of boys all rushed off to wherever they had been practicing earlier.

Waka turned back around, still looking annoyed for a moment before it faded into a lighter expression. "Heh heh . . . Where were we?" Neither teen answered him, but he was unfazed by this. "Ah yes, magnifique! We were just talking about the highly refined martial art of fencing, which I took it upon myself to introduce to the local high school . . ."

"Yo, Wacko!" Issun suddenly interrupted.

The other boy lifted an eyebrow. "It's 'Waka.'"

"Whatever." Issun rolled his eyes. He was already tired of listening to this guy. "If ya don't mind, we were kinda on our way outta here . . . ya know, away from school . . ." And from extra-terrestrial sword-fighting freaks like you, he added mentally. Turning away, he grabbed Ammy's hand and started to lead their escape route through the school's front gate.

But of course he wouldn't be rid of the creep that easily.

"Of course!" Waka smirked as he quickly caught up to Issun and Ammy with his longer stride. "A day as nice as this one should not be wasted, eh, ma chérie?" Ammy shrugged playfully, and Issun scowled.

A pensive look came over the blond teen. "Hmm . . . But our new friend here probably doesn't know this town very well . . . What do you say we show him around a bit?"

Issun shot him a skeptical glare. "Who says I needed your help? Me an' Snowy here were doin' just fine on our own, thank you very much!"

"Is that so?" Waka smiled evilly. "I'm glad to hear that. As class representative, it's my job to see that new students are not, as they say, 'left out in the streets' . . . By the way, where did you say that you live again? As class representative, I'll be the one to bring you any homework assignments if you miss class."

Issun winced. What was with this guy? The last thing he needed right now was for the freak to figure out he was living in a bus stop. "Eheh . . . Ya know, it's kinda hard to describe since, uh, I don't really know any street names yet . . . Hey, how about I just pick up my homework at school if I miss? Or better yet, let's just pretend I never miss class! Yeah, I like that one."

"Au contraire, my friend! I'm afraid I cannot do that, for if you miss an assignment, it is Waka, chosen by unanimous vote to be the great leader and most outstanding member of our class, who will suffer the black mark of scorn for not fulfilling his duty."

Huh . . . Issun made a mental note to be sure and miss a lot of homework assignments while he was in Kamiki.

"Voilà! A brilliant idea has come to me! How about I accompany you two on your walk? That way you can just show me where you live." The deceptively pleasant expression on Waka's face dared Issun to refuse. Issun would have been more than happy to turn him down flat out, but somehow he sensed that that would be a bad idea. The jerkface was smarter than he looked, and it would be suspicious if Issun acted too secretive about where he lived in a town as small as Kamiki. He would have to find a way to throw the creep off-track somehow.

"Er, well, actually we weren't going straight home . . . Ya know, wanted to see the town and stuff first, maybe . . ." he trailed off lamely.

"Magnifique!" Waka exclaimed with typical flair, immediately moving to the front of the group. "Ammy and I can give you the grand tour! Right, ma chérie?"

Ammy's devilish grin spread until it rivaled Waka's, and she actually skipped ahead to join him, rather like a mischievous puppy. Issun was sure he could feel the evil vibes coming off the two of them. He slapped a hand to his forehead. This day just kept getting better. . . .


". . . And over there is Mrs. Orange's garden – be nice to her, she makes the best cherry cakes in the world . . ."

Issun suppressed another groan. He had to have seen every garden, convenience store, and rice paddy in town by now. And they had spent almost twenty minutes just looking at some gods-forsaken statue of a wolf! Apparently there was some crazy local myth about it. In all fairness, Issun probably would have found it a lot more interesting if he hadn't been forced to listen to its life history being narrated by the gods' gift to mankind.

And he was pretty sure that Ammy was fully aware of and enjoying every moment of his torture. Traitor.

Bored, he ignored the still-rambling Waka and glanced around the rest of the street. Off to one side was a large building surrounded by a high, sprawling fence and a lot of ornamental shrubs. An onsen, by the looks of it. Issun would have ignored it and moved on, but just as he was turning away, he caught sight of something unexpected.

A short stepladder was propped against one section of the fence . . . and on the stepladder was a large man in a police uniform standing on his tiptoes, apparently struggling (without much success) to see over the top of the fence – he was just barely too short, and now he was in the process of trying to jump high enough to peek over it. He seemed completely oblivious to the trio of teens in the street behind him.

Issun grinned.

Moving over until he was just a couple yards away from the man, Issun suddenly yelled, "Hey, mister!"

Midway through his next jump, the man screamed and fell backwards off the stepladder. Issun backed away quickly, but didn't quite manage to erase the smirk.

"What the – Hey, what's going on here?" The man stood up, dusting himself off indignantly. "I'm Susano, officer of the law. What do you no-good hooligans think you're up to?"

"Really? You're a police officer?" Issun said brightly, ignoring the question. "So what exactly were ya doin' on that stepladder?"

The man's face colored deep red. "Uh . . . That is, I, um . . ."

"Trying to spy on Kushi, no doubt," Waka called over, finally deciding to notice the situation.

Susano's face got even redder, if that was possible. "What? No, of course not! I was, uh, just making sure the area was safe from troublemakers. Yeah, that's right! Fulfilling my duty to Ku – uh, to protect this town. Besides," he continued to himself in a mumble, "it's not like I could see anything past that stupid screen . . ."

"Sure, pops, whatever you say," Issun muttered, walking back over to where Ammy was standing. The comment snapped Susano's focus back onto the teens.

"And where do you think you're going? No one walks away from Susano the Enforcer and gets away with it! What business do you hoodlums have in my town, anyways? Looking to cause trouble, no doubt! Well, I won't stand for it. I will smite any foe foolish enough to go up against the great warrior Susano!"

Waka smiled disarmingly. "Don't worry, monsieur, we don't want any trouble here. Although now that you mention it, I did hear about some suspicious-looking street toughs down in the Nakazora neighborhood that you might want to check out . . ."

Susano seemed to deflate instantly. "Did you say street t-toughs? Er, I mean, yeah, haha, I'll get right on that . . . Better head back to base for some warm-ups first though . . . Ahahaha . . ." Still chuckling nervously and mumbling to himself, the strange man started off down the road in the direction the teens had just come from, the stepladder apparently forgotten.

"Huh. That was easy," said Issun, too distracted to realize that he had just indirectly complimented Waka. "He doesn't exactly look like he could handle a group of street toughs if they handcuffed themselves and turned themselves in, does he?" Ammy laughed next to him.

The teens started walking again. The sun was setting by now, and Issun found himself discreetly admiring the way its soft orange glow gave Ammy's hair a fiery sheen that for some reason looked vaguely familiar to him, although he couldn't figure out why.

"Ahem . . . Well, it's getting a bit late, don't you think, my friends?" Waka finally interrupted after they had been walking quietly for some time. Issun realized with alarm that they were getting very close to the old bus stop that currently served as his shelter. Just down the road he could already see the tree-lined mountainside where he had slept the night before. "Perhaps now would be a good time to go by your house, and then I'll be on my way . . . ?"

"No!" Issun shouted before he could stop himself. "Uh . . . I mean, we should drop Ammy off first, at least!" And then I can find a way to ditch you before this goes on any longer, he thought hopefully.

Waka shot him a sidelong glance, waiting a moment before he spoke. "You know, little friend, if I didn't know any better, I'd almost have to think you were trying to hide something."

"W-what?" The word nearly came out as a yelp. Issun silently cursed his verbal stumble. "Where did ya get that idea?"

Waka laughed. "Heh heh. Well, for one thing, correct me if I am wrong, but that last sentence of yours came out a bit unnaturally high-pitched, yes?"

"Guess what, Sherlock, it's called puberty!" Issun snapped. He felt oddly triumphant at the look of disdain that flashed across Waka's features. Then he flushed a bit when he remembered Ammy was still right beside him. Oh well . . . He can't argue with that, anyways.

Waka opened his mouth to retort, but Issun was spared having to hear it when a call interrupted them.

"Oi! Ammy, is that you?" the new voice called. Turning toward its source, Issun spotted a robed figure coming toward them from further down the road. Ammy waved in greeting, and the figure waved back.

Waka, on the other hand, suddenly tensed. "You know, ma chérie, it really is getting late. I'm afraid I must be going now." With that, he took off back down the street in the direction they had come from, his parting shout of "Au revoir, baby!" left hanging in the air behind him.

Issun was left blinking in confusion.

"Uh, Snowy, what just happened?" But to his further surprise, he saw that Ammy was no longer beside him. Instead, she was half-jogging toward the brown-robed figure, who Issun now saw appeared to be a monk.

"Okay . . . So what am I supposed to do now?" he wondered aloud, even though no one was in hearing range anymore. Despite this, Ammy turned around and started motioning for him to come over, so with a shrug, he did just that.

"Ah, hello there!" the monk said amiably when he was close enough. "You must be new around here! Nice to meet you." He gave a slight bow.

"Yeah, uh, sure, nice to meet you too, mister . . ." Issun trailed off, glancing at Ammy. The monk laughed.

"Ah ha ha! I suppose I should introduce myself. I am Komuso, caretaker of the temple you'll see across the street there."

Issun peered toward the side of the street opposite where his bus stop shelter would be, and sure enough he saw the curving, tiled roof of a small Buddhist temple nestled among the trees. When he turned back to Komuso and Ammy, he found the monk giving him a curious look.

"You know, lad," Komuso began slowly, "this is a pretty small village, but it's a peaceful place to live thanks to the spirits that watch over it. But you . . . I sense that a great darkness follows you, outside but also within. Are you . . . are you running from something, by any chance?"

Whoa. Issun took a half-step back before he could stop himself. This was definitely cutting too close for comfort. And yet . . . Issun realized that he did not feel the same sort of mistrust for this man as he did for Waka, somehow. At least the monk seemed genuinely concerned, whereas that half-baked prophet just seemed to enjoy making his life more miserable. "Haha, er . . . What makes ya say that?" he asked innocently.

The monk shrugged with a knowing smile. "Hm . . . Just intuition, I suppose. The path of Buddha is a path of understanding, after all." He cleared his throat. "Anyways, it's getting chilly standing about out here. How about a cup of tea? You kids look hungry. Unless you have somewhere you need to get back to . . .?"

The last comment was directed at Issun, who suddenly realized that he had hardly had anything to eat all day. So he quickly accepted, even as Ammy began running off toward the temple.

"Great! In that case, Ammy, could you show Issun to the visitors' room while I get us some tea?"

Issun was just stepping through the front entrance to the temple when it hit him. He froze in mid-step. How does he know my name . . . ?


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A/N: I'm very sorry for the epically long wait for this chapter. I'm a slow writer and this chapter was particularly hard for some reason. Anyway, hope you enjoy it! It's not my favorite chappie, but it's FINISHED and that makes me very happy. :D

Thanks everybody who reviewed the first chapter! Especially Jynxed Keyboard - I totally had not thought of making Waka a sports captain until your review. Well, this may not have been quite what you had in mind, either... ;)