Teresa Rubel met the group at the shop, and they all gathered inside. Rosalee bustled around without a word, pulling out ingredients to make Hank's ears stop ringing. DeEtta and Gloria trailed behind, trying not to tread on the train of her wedding dress. Once all of the ingredients were gathered, Gloria started mixing the concoction as Rosalee continued to walk around the shop, pulling things out from seemingly everywhere: weapons, powders, and notebooks, endless notebooks, handing them to DeEtta. After a few passes around the shop, Juliette finally stepped into the bride's path and stopped her.
"Okay, Rosalee, I know you're upset, but why don't you change out of that dress before you ruin it?" Rosalee looked at her friend uncomprehendingly for a moment before looking down. Sure enough, the ivory lace and beading mocked her. She wasn't supposed to take it off; her husband was, with gentle kisses and roaming hands as they sealed their promise to each other.
"Oh," she whispered, tears peeking out of the corners of her eyes. She turned abruptly and went into the bathroom. She and Monroe both kept spare changes of clothes there just in case. Rosalee unzipped the dress and let it fall. She closed her eyes, and for a moment, imagined his large, strong hands running along her skin; she imagined his prickly beard on her neck as he kissed her ear... The tears were fighting to be allowed to fall. She needed him back. She couldn't lose him, not like this. Vision blurred, she hung up the dress and opened the drawer with their spare clothes. She quickly pulled on her spare jeans, but instead of her own sweater, she grabbed his flannel shirt, shoving her nose into it to smell him. His scent calmed her. It was entirely too big for her, but she didn't care; she needed something, anything, of his close to her. She wiped her eyes on his sleeve and went back out to the others.
Gloria was finishing up with Hank when Rosalee came back out of the bathroom. She, Juliette, and DeEtta wore matching looks of pity; even if Juliette couldn't smell like a Fuchsbau, she could still tell by the sheer amount of fabric hanging off Rosalee that it was her fiancé's shirt. Juliette took a step toward her friend.
"Here, let me get that for you," she said sadly as she unpinned Rosalee's veil. Rosalee's hair fell in tight curls as her shoulders shook. The last vestige of her bridal outfit removed, she blinked hard. Gloria mimed to Hank to hold some cotton balls in his ears before she embraced her daughter around the waist.
"It's okay, Rosie-chan. You can be weak; we'll protect you." Rosalee looked around at her friends, who all nodded in agreement before she buried her face in her mother's poofy hair and wept. Bart, Hank, Nick, and Trubel looked on awkwardly as DeEtta, Juliette, and Alice wrapped themselves around Rosalee in a big group hug. Nick and Trubel shared an impatient glance before turning to Rosalee's notebooks. Trubel flipped open a notebook and found a solid block of kanji Japanese with some drawings of weapons and plants. Not helpful. She showed it to Nick, who rolled his eyes. He was getting better with reading German, but Japanese is a totally different animal... They'll just have to wait for Rosalee to pull herself together. Nick was about to turn to Monroe to ask if he knew any Japanese, but remembered (thankfully before he opened his mouth) that Monroe wasn't there. Oh, right. But a realization washed over Nick in that moment like a kick in the face: Rosalee felt like this was all her fault, but it was partially his, too. He was the Best Man; it was his job to take care of the groom. He left Monroe and Hank; if he had been there, he could have stopped them... But he was checking on Rosalee to ease Monroe's doubts... ugh, this was so complicated. Nick looked up and noticed Rosalee looking at him; even through her own intense sorrow, she seemed to sense what he was feeling as she disentangled herself from the big group hug. Gloria took the opportunity to check on Hank, pulling the cotton balls from his ears and testing them by snapping her fingers. Hank broke into a relieved smile for a moment before standing. Apparently whatever Gloria had put in his ears worked. Meanwhile, Nick and Rosalee met in the center of the shop; the Grimm took the Fuchsbau into a tight embrace, and Nick felt himself begin to tear up a little as well.
"Rosalee, I'm so sorry! If I had been there..." He buried his face in her curls with a slight sniffle.
"Nick, I don't know if you could have stopped them. You don't know who we're dealing with..." Bart finally reached the end of his patience and exploded.
"Then can you please tell us what the hell we are dealing with? I'm tired of this cryptic... weird... shit! You're a ninja? What is this?" Gloria stepped away from Hank and toward the Blutbad patriarch.
"Yes, Bart. Rosalee was a ninja. And so was I." Bart's anger gave way to confusion.
"But..."
"Yes, I know we don't look it, but I'm half Japanese and Rosalee and DeEtta are a quarter. My father was a guard at an internment camp here on the West Coast during World War Two. One of the women there was a beautiful Japanese maiden, my mother. The realized they were both... well, in Europe we say Fuchsbau, but in Japan we are called Kitsune, as we inspired the legends of shape-shifting fox women. Anyway, they realized that they were the same sort of Wesen, and that turned my father's heart. They fell in love, and he protected her and her family from abuse. After the War was over, they married and had me and my siblings... we're considered what is called Jomon Japanese, from the south of Japan. Rosalee actually looks just like my mother, but with lighter hair, with the big eyes and the more European-looking features... " she waved her hand as if to shoo away an unnecessary train of thought. "Anyway, my mother came from a long line of onna-bugeisha... that is, female samurai, and shinobi, ninja. She was trained in the ways of our ancestors, as was I. As was Rosalee." Bart's mouth was hanging open, and he shook himself.
"And you said my son knew about this?" Rosalee nodded.
"Yes, but as I said, apparently I left something unsettled. I thought I had tied up all my loose ends..."
Rosalee should have realized he would notice. He was, after all, one of the most detail-oriented people she knew. About a month after Rosalee moved in, a section of unpainted plywood wall in the basement started getting small gashes in it. Soon, a small portion of the wall about as large as Monroe's hand was splintered. It couldn't be bugs, but what was it?
Whenever Monroe would come home from working a case with Nick, he would go straight downstairs to change his clothes, especially if it was one that required getting his hands dirty. One night, after a particularly nasty case involving a Skalengeck, Monroe went downstairs, pulling off his flannel shirt that now stank of blood and less-than-hygienic Lizard Man. As he passed the wall, a glint of light caught his eye. His blood ran cold to see a cross-shaped blade sticking out of the wood. Oh, God. He hadn't seen or heard Rosalee when he came in... Before he could stop himself, his voice raised in panic.
"ROSALEE! ROSALEE WHERE ARE YOU?" He ran up the stairs blindly and nearly bowled her over at the top.
"Honey, honey, what?" she asked as he grasped her tight, running his fingers through her hair.
"You aren't hurt, are you?" he asked, looking her over. She cocked her head.
"No? What...?" He grabbed her wrist and dragged her downstairs. He pointed at the blade. Rosalee paled.
"Oh, that." She walked over to the wall and easily removed it. She turned to Monroe and bit her lip. "Monroe, umm, I have some things I need to tell you..." The couple stared at each other for a moment before Monroe finally spoke.
"So... you're the one leaving the holes in the wall." It was not an accusation, nor was there any trace of fear in his voice; if nothing else, he sounded relieved that a puzzle had been solved.
"Oh, you noticed..." He raised his eyebrows. Duh. She held it flat in her hand, offering it to him. "It's a shuriken. Be careful, it's very sharp." He gingerly picked it up and examined it.
"So you're a ninja?" he asked quietly, his face for once unreadable. She nodded, avoiding his gaze.
"My family... we started as onna-bugeisha... female samurai, but yeah, we kind of did evolve into shinobi..."
"Throw it! I wanna see!" Monroe's serious façade cracked, and the excitable puppy came to the surface. She carefully took the weapon back from him and, with a flick of her wrist, embedded it in the wall. She turned back to him, and he swept her into his arms, kissing her deeply.
"That was so hot!" he whispered when they parted. "My girlfriend is a ninja!"
"Was," she corrected, putting her ear to his chest, seeking out his heartbeat. "I retired. I just like to keep my skills in tune in case they're needed."
"Wow..." he certainly seemed taking this well, at any rate.
"You aren't upset I didn't tell you? Or mad or anything?" His grip got tighter around her waist.
"No, this is... This is really cool. It also explains a lot... And it's actually really sexy..." He captured her lips in a desperate kiss, and she felt his lust growing, throbbing against her waist.
"Actually..." she breathed, walking her fingers up his bicep, "I have a few moves I could show you..."
"Is the end result us in bed naked? Because if it is, I am a hundred percent here for that!" Rosalee disentangled herself from his embrace in one swift movement and was already at the foot of the stairs. She turned, and gently shook her head; her fox features came to the surface, and she winked one glowing gold eye before darting up the stairs. He growled slightly before he followed her.
"And you said my son knew about this?" Rosalee nodded.
"Yes, but as I said, apparently I left something unsettled. I thought I had tied up all my loose ends..."
"Did you ever kill anybody?" Bart asked, crossing his arms. Rosalee raised her eyebrows and gestured toward her notebooks.
"I kept a record of all my targets. Some of them were in a sort of mercenary capacity, but most were not for profit. Most were on behalf of others, not for my own advancement or protection. Most. Many of them were not outright kills, more like... very strong threats." Bart turned to Gloria.
"And you did this, too?" Gloria nodded.
"But I retired a long time ago... and times were different back then. However, I may or may not have used my skills to protect some of my friends when they were dodging the draft." Bart nodded his approval.
"I think I can respect that... so what do we need to do to sort through these notebooks? It looks like a lot." Rosalee made a face and clucked her tongue.
"Unfortunately, there isn't a lot you guys can do..."
"Why not?" Alice asked. Her agitation was still apparent, but she seemed to be getting tired. Trubel grabbed a notebook from the pile and held it open for Alice.
"Unless you can read Japanese?" the younger Grimm supplied. Alice put a hand to her forehead.
"Oh my God, my son... they're going to kill him..." Gloria put a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"They won't. There is a certain degree of honor still, and they will likely not kill him without giving Rosie the chance to find him and fight for him. He is a prize... and I mean that in the best way possible... Juliette, dear, could you perhaps make Alice a cup of tea to calm her nerves?" Juliette appeared at her other elbow, leading her toward the small Bunsen burner Rosalee kept in the shop for boiling water. Bart sighed and followed his wife, asking for a cup as well. Gloria, Rosalee, and DeEtta divided the pile of notebooks and began to look through them as the others milled around.