A/N: I'm a big, fat liar. D8 I know. I'm guilty. I wasn't supposed to update until next week but…but...
I JUST CAN'T STOP MYSELF FROM WRITING. D: D. Mummy-Man keeps on playing in my mind, I just can't concentrate! Dx
I am so SORRY to all those I offended because I updated earlier and not stuck to my promise of updating next week. D8 Please don't hate me. TT_TT
CHAPTER III – Extortion and Exploration
"I will give you one hundred pounds if you spare this man's life."
Allen and the warden stepped onto a special balcony with padded seats and a first-class view of the gallows platform, where the executions took place. Dozens of prisoners surrounded it, all waiting noisily for the show to begin. But as Allen came into view the whole mob grew silent and stared at him with longing, lusty eyes, like starved jackals stared at fresh meat.
The British man conspicuously shuddered and cleared his throat loudly. He was suddenly feeling very dirty.
"Lady, er, sir, I would pay a hundred pounds just to see him hang," the warden stated pointedly in his thick, Arabian accent.
"Two! Two hundred pounds!"
The warden pretended not to hear him.
"Three hundred pounds!"
The warden merely blinked and yawned. Soon the shouts from the prisoners resurfaced as Kanda was dragged up the platform, his hands bound tightly behind his back. The Cairo scumbags protested loudly, pushing themselves against the guards who then threatened the crowd with their guns.
"Let him go!" a fat African-American man with a thick bandana over his dreadlocks shouted. "The man's done nothing wrong! He's only guilty of not being a horse-ass fag like you!" The whole congregation cried out in agreement.
"But it's easy to mistake him as one though," another prisoner, this time with grisly bandages covering half of his face, commented rowdily. "With long Betty hair like that, it's hard not to mistake him for a woman."
The crowd laughed in response, and even Allen chuckled despite the dire circumstances. Suits you right for calling me a Lady Freak, he mused.
Kanda released a loud, menacing growl that immediately silenced most of his onlookers.
"Hey, *bug-eyed Betty," the executioner sneered as he placed the noose around the Japanese man's neck. "Any last requests?"
"Hell yeah," Kanda snarled. "Loosen the fucking knot and let me go."
The executioner smacked the back of his head roughly in reply. "Nice try, wise guy," he retorted as Kanda gave him one of his nasty glares. "But I don't think so."
The longhaired man snorted. "Never knew you could fucking think in the first place."
A hiss of pain came from Kanda's lips as the barrel of a gun jabbed him harshly in the ribs. Motherfucker, he thought, his eyes taking on a murderous glint as he looked back at his assaulter. If ever that British beansprout succeeds in getting me out, this son-of-a-bitch will be the first body in my personal pile of corpses.
"Five hundred pounds!" Allen panicked, grey eyes looking warily at the lever that operated the whole platform. He was well aware that if someone pulled at that lever, the trapdoor would open beneath Kanda and the Asian man would fall…only to be stopped abruptly by the noose around his neck. Worst-case scenario? His neck wouldn't be to stand the sudden application of opposing forces and would simply snap.
The warden finally turned his attention towards him, and Allen was just about to feel relieved until he saw the lustful look the Arabian man was giving him. "And what else?" the warden purred, a hand moving towards Allen's thigh. "I'm a very lonely man."
Completely revolted, Allen didn't waste any time in slapping the man's hand away.
The prisoners all witnessed this and let out a chorus if insulting laughter, pointing at the warden with jeering faces. "There's no way a pearl like that would sleep with swine like you!"
Even Kanda, despite that fact that a lethal noose was tied around his neck, had to sneer. "Serves you right, fatass."
The warden was obviously insulted, and gestured angrily at the executioner. "Do it!"
"NOOO!"
Allen jumped out of his seat and almost fell off the balcony as he watched Kanda's dangling body in horror.
"Aha! His neck did not break!" the warden mused, a nasty grin on his face as he turned his yellow teeth to Allen. "Ooh! I'm so very sorry! Now we must watch him strangle to death!"
The prisoners were now going berserk and began to press aggressively against the guards, no longer threatened by the guns they wielded. Allen, on the other hand, was too busy watching Kanda's body writhe in mid-air. He could almost see the blood draining from his face, and the way the whites of his eyes were showing was not at all comforting.
"He knows the way to Hamunaptra," Allen blurted out, starting to feel that he had reached a whole new level of desperation if he was trying to save the biggest jerk he had ever met.
The warden's head snapped towards the British man, an incredulous look on his face.
"You lie!" he said accusingly.
Allen frowned, offended. "I would never!"
Kanda's face was starting to turn purple.
"You're telling me that this filthy, godless son of a pig knows where to find the City of the Dead?"
"Yes!"
"Truly?"
"Yes!" Allen repeated, feeling vaguely annoyed at having to repeat himself. "And if you release him we will give you…" He hesitated and glanced back at Kanda who glared back at him in response. The longhaired man obviously couldn't believe this British freak. There he was, dying, and there was the beansprout, hesitating over how much his life was worth.
"Ten percent," Allen decided.
The warden narrowed his eyes. "Fifty."
Allen pursed his lips. "Twenty."
"Forty."
"Thirty."
"Twenty-five!"
"Ah! Deal," Allen exclaimed, smirking in victory as he caught the warden in his trap. That trick worked all the time, especially on idiots like the Arabian man beside him. The fat man paused, eyes widening as he realized that he had been tricked, and groaned in defeat. "Cut him down!"
Soon Kanda found himself on the ground, the noose loose around his neck as he gasped and hacked for the air his body badly needed. Despite almost being half-dead, Kanda was still able to look up in Allen's direction; the British youth looked down at him with a confident and somewhat arrogant expression. A telepathic conversation seemed to run through their heads.
"I saved your life, prick. You owe me big time, and you'd better pay up."
"I know that, twerp. Now shut the fuck up and let me fucking breathe."
"Are you sure that he's going to come?" Allen asked Lavi for the umpteenth time as they carried their luggage through the crowded streets of Giza Port, Egypt.
He'd had half a mind to tie Kanda up and drag him to the desert, but Lavi had stopped him, stating that it wouldn't help the development of their potentially loving, long-lasting friendship if he acted that way.
Personally, Allen didn't give a damn. He didn't want to be friends with that prick anyway. All he cared about was making sure that his missing five hundred pounds – he had still been compelled to pay the warden in the end – hadn't disappeared from his pocket in vain.
"Relax, love," Lavi replied, his voice surprisingly confident. "I did a little background check on our Japanese pal. Apparently, he was the captain of one battalion in the French Foreign Legion three years ago," he explained. "Quite a trustworthy fella he is. They said that even if his commanding officer and about a third of his comrades ditched the field, he still stayed and fought like the soldier he was."
Allen shrugged, still unconvinced.
"I can't say I believe you, Lavi," he said flatly. "I strongly believe in first impressions, and to be frank with you, that man didn't exactly give off a friendly vibe. He didn't even thank me for saving his life!"
"Nah, I didn't think he would," the redhead commented. "He might be a cowboy, but I know his kind. They express their thanks more through actions than words."
Allen rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Personally, I think he's a filthy, rude, complete scoundrel. I don't like him one bit."
"Anyone I know, freak?"
"Why yes, actually it's—" Allen's words died inside his throat as he stared at the strangerin front of him. Or was he a stranger? Allen wasn't completely sure. He just had this inkling feeling that he knew the man. "Oh," he started, still dumbstruck. "Hello."
" 'Hello' my ass," Kanda drawled, giving Allen an unfriendly look. "Will you stop gaping at me like a third-degree retard, beansprout? You're giving me goosebumps, Jesus."
At the word beansprout, recognition finally appeared in Allen's grey eyes. "Kanda?" he half-shouted, backing away in disbelief as he blinked half a dozen times to make sure that he wasn't mistaken. Oh. My. God, he thought, as that unmistakable glare met his startled eyes. It is him! I can't believe it! The man in front of him was nothing like the man he met in the Cairo prison (except for the foul mouth and glare). His hair was still long, but unlike the bird's nest he saw behind the bars, this one was amazingly straight and shiny, elegantly tied in a low ponytail. The British man was tempted to reached out to touch it, just to see if it was as soft and silky as it looked, but he wasn't that suicidal.
"Who the fucking else did you think I was? Your goddamn grandfather?" Kanda sneered as he adjusted the black blazer of his sacque suit. His clothes also caught Allen off-guard. The last time he had seen him – which was a week ago – the Japanese man was wearing rags that reeked of filth and sweat. Now Kanda was dressed in an impeccable suit that didn't look like it was bought from some cheap corner store, and Allen had to admit it. It looked really good on him.
"Smashing day for the start of an adventure, eh, Yuu?" Lavi chirped, giving the man a friendly pat on the chest. Kanda automatically reached into his inner breast pocket, just to see if his wallet was still there.
"Ah, no, no, I wouldn't steal from a partner, partner," the redhead said, giving the Japanese man a wide grin. Kanda grunted in relief as he found his money intact, and was about to make his way towards their boat before suddenly realizing something.
He turned back to Lavi, and incredulous look on his face. "What did you just call me?"
"Uh, partner?" the one-eyed man answered uncertainly, wondering what this was all about.
"No, no, before that," Kanda pressed on, the look on his face shifting from incredulous to furious.
A drop of sweat fell from Lavi's forehead. "Uh, er, Yuu? Isn't that your first name?" The man yelped as he dodged an incoming punch from the Japanese man. "What the—"
"Hey, what the bloody hell is your problem?" Allen hissed, grabbing Kanda's arm before it collided with Lavi's face. He didn't really care if the guy decked his best friend again, but he would have liked it if he did it in a less public place. The white-haired man could already feel stares coming from the passersby.
Kanda slapped his hand away. "Don't fucking touch me," he growled, and turned his attention back at the uneasy redhead. "Try using my first name again, and I'll make sure that you'll be sleeping in a fucking sarcophagus for the rest of your damned dead life."
Lavi gulped and nodded, hiding behind his British friend, much to Allen's annoyance. The man made himself a mental note: Buy Lavi a backbone. And some guts because he sure needs them.
"Che," Kanda huffed before turning his back on the two and started making his way to the boat. Allen took a deep breath, and despite fearing for his life, made another grab at Kanda's arm.
The Japanese man stopped and stared at the hand as if it was something he would just love to shoot, making Allen immediately let go before the man could pull out his revolver. Mustering up all his courage, he gave Kanda a determined look. "Mister Kanda, can you look me in the eye and guarantee me that this isn't some sort of flimflam? Because if it is, I'm warning you—"
"Wait a minute. You're warning me?" Kanda asked, the disbelief obvious on his face. "Listen, freak, my whole damn garrison believed in this fucking place so much that without orders we marched half way across Libya and into Egypt just to find that city. And when we got there all I saw was sand and death."
The man turned around and marched up the gangplank and onto a slightly crowded passenger barge. For a moment Allen just stared at his departing figure, unable to think of anything else to say. There was a slightly wistful look in his grey eyes, an expression that Lavi noticed.
"Al, heart of my heart, please don't tell me you've fallen for that man because I'll commit suicide if you do," he dramatically whimpered, an action that resulted in Allen mercilessly elbowing the redhead's stomach.
"I'm not gay, Lavi, so stop insinuating that I am."
"But Al, babe, even if you deny it, I would totally understand if you fall for Yuu," Lavi muttered, grimacing as he cradled his sore abs. "He's handsome – don't give me that look. I know you think so too – strong, manly, and all that shit. Now if you can only do something about his dirty mouth—"
"I'm going ahead Lavi," Allen interrupted bluntly, taking his suitcase and walking up the gangplank. "If you'd rather stand there and indulge in your perverted fantasies, I don't really mind, as long as you make sure that if you end up dead in a ditch somewhere, the police won't be knocking at my door."
"Aww, Allen! Don't be such a killjoy! I was just kidding, for heaven's sake!" the redhead whined, picking up his own baggage and following him. "Forgiveness? Please?
Allen sighed and gave his friend a light smile. "Fine, fine, now hurry up and get your arse on the boat before I change my mind and push you over the railing."
"Harsh, Al. Harsh."
"A bright good morning to you all," said a thick, Arabian voice from behind the pair.
Allen turned around and almost groaned as he saw the smelly warden standing behind him, a suitcase in each hand. "Oh dear, what the bloody hell are you doing here?" he complained.
The man flashed him his yellow teeth. "I have come to protect my investment, thank you very much," he replied, and roughly pushed the two out of his way. Allen would have fallen into the water if Lavi hadn't grabbed his collar.
"Lavi," the British man suddenly stated, his voice thick with malice. "I take back what I said earlier. There's another person who I would just love to push over the railing right now."
"Royal flush, gentlemen," Allen smirked, laying the cards on the table.
It had been an hour since their barge had departed from port, and thirty minutes after he had boarded, that Allen found himself playing poker with a group of odd, dark-skinned, golden-eyed Americans. The group consisted of four men and a teenage girl, who had been eyeballing him shamelessly the entire time he was playing.
"What the fuck— you're cheating, you damn freak!" one of the Americans complained, throwing his Three of a Kind hand on the table. "You won all twenty matches without breaking a sweat! Hell yeah, you're cheating!"
Allen looked at him, a sincerely offended expression on his face. "Excuse me sir," he replied, a hurt tone in his voice. "But I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about. You have no objective proof that I have indeed been cheating these past twenty matches, and I must say that your accusation is very offensive."
The teenage girl with spiky hair scowled and roughly kicked the back of her colleagues' seat. "Look what you've done, David! Apologize right now or I'll vandalize your damn face with my oil-paint set."
"But he really is cheating! We can feel it!" another man, this time with long blonde hair, interjected. "Right, David?"
"Hell yeah, Jasdero!" his twin brother replied. "We aren't twins for nothin', ya know. When our instinct acts up, it's ab-so-lute-ly fuckin' right!"
Lavi, who was playing with Allen (and also losing to him), looked up and gave the two a dubious stare. " That's just hokum. I can't believe both of you are twins! Aside from the skin color and the eyes, you look nothing alike!"
The two brothers look deeply offended, and before the redhead knew it, two pistols were pressing against his temples. "Say that again an' we'll fuckin' kill ya," David glowered, while Jasdero nodded in malicious affirmation. "Understand?"
"David, Jasdero, please refrain from threatening the other passengers," a voice drawled, and the twins both turned to see a tall man enter the lounge, most probably part of the odd American group because he too had the same dark skin and golden eyes. "It's not nice, and I wouldn't want to attract any unwanted attention."
The man glanced at Allen, who couldn't help but shudder silently. There was something about the man that weirded him out, and Allen knew that staying in the same place with the newcomer would not help his mental well-being. "Well, gentlemen, it was fun playing with you," the British man stated, standing up from his seat as he collected his earnings.
"Now you've done it, dad!" the teenager loudly groaned. "Allen's going away because you're creepy!"
"That's not a very nice thing to say to your father, Rhode," the tall man scowled.
"Sheryl always creeps people out," Jasdero commented, earning a snicker from his twin. "I bet ya even his mother was uncomfortable whenever he was with her. Damn eerie vibes he gives off."
"I can hear you, you know," Sheryl replied, narrowing his eyes at the blond man. "Don't think I'm going to let this pass, Jasdero."
"Yeah, yeah. Whateva'."
"Hey, Al, how 'bout a bet?" David proposed, determined to get back his money somehow. Allen stared at him for a moment, then released a charming smile.
"Why, I wouldn't mind taking you on, Mister David."
"Call me David. Adding 'mister' makes me sound like a fag," the dark-haired man said, wrinkling his nose. "Anyway, I bet you five hundred dollars that we'll get to Hamunaptra before you."
The smile slipped of Allen's face instantly. "You're looking for Hamunaptra?"
"Damn straight we are," Jasdero smirked, shuffling the deck of cards.
Allen raised a questioning brow. "And who says we are?"
"He does," the twins pointed simultaneously at a certain redhead who was just about to hide under the table. Lavi looked up at Allen's cold glare and chuckled nervously.
"Well…how about it?" he asked, a sheepish smile on his face.
Allen stared at Lavi for a moment, the turned back to the smug faces of David and Jasdero. "Alright, you're on," he stated finally after a few seconds of silence.
"What makes you so confident?" Sheryl inquired.
"Well, what makes you?" Allen retorted, acting cocky despite the fact that the stare the other man was giving him gave him visible goosebumps.
"We've got ourselves a man who's actually been there," Rhode chirped, still sucking on a lollipop as she continued staring at Allen. His confident look visibly dropped as he turned to look at Lavi with a perplexed expression. The redhead returned his gaze and shrugged.
"Oh, what a coincidence because—Agh!" Lavi gasped as a heel came and crush his foot. He grimaced and cleared his throat. "Who's playing in the next match by the way?" he quickly covered up, looking intently at his set of cards.
Allen placed his left hand on Lavi's shoulder heavily. "You've got yourselves a wager, gentlemen," he stated, all the while crushing his friend's shoulder with a stone-hard grip. "I'll deal with you later, Lavi," he whispered, before walking away with his "hard earned" money.
"Why the fuck are you sitting in front of me?"
Allen looked up from the book he was reading and gazed at Kanda with a quizzical brow. "What's the matter? Am I bothering you?"
"Good, at least you're smart enough to figure that one out," the Japanese man snapped. "Now, why don't you prove yourself as a fucking genius and GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME?"
"I don't need to prove that I'm a genius because I know I am," Allen coolly replied, smirking at the scowling man as he showed no signs of going away. "And I think that for the greater success of this escapade, it would be wise to foster a good relationship between ourselves. Don't you think so, Mister Kanda?" he added, putting down his book as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table and his chin nested on his interlaced fingers.
"Fuck no," Kanda growled. "And shit, stop adding 'mister' to my name. It sounds so gay when it comes from your damn mouth."
Allen's eye twitched in annoyance but he ignored the man's remark for the sake of keeping up with his civil façade. He really wanted to punch Kanda to Kingdom come, but Allen knew that doing such a thing would be stupid— not only because Kanda was their guide to the City of the Dead, but also because he would be no match for someone who was once in the military.
"That's too bad because you'll be stuck with us for only god knows how long," Allen added smoothly, still looking at Kanda with a civil smile on his lips. The Japanese man glanced at his face and grimaced shamelessly.
"Ugh, can you try to not be so fucking revolting? Jesus, your smile creeps me out!"
"How rude," Allen chirped, keeping the said creepy smile on his face. "But I don't really mind. I rather believe that hopeless simpletons like you should be pitied and not hated."
Kanda flipped out his middle finger as a reply, and began unrolling his military-issued, khaki duffel bag. Allen blinked, his jaw almost dropping as he stared at the revolvers, pistols, hunting knives, a massive elephant gun, and half a dozen carefully wrapped sticks of dynamite piling up on the table. The last thing to come out of the bag was a long katana, which was encased in a pitch-black sheath.
"Um," Allen started, as he stared at the weapons in front of him warily. "Did I miss something? Are we…are we going to battle?"
Kanda rolled his eyes and grunted. "As if. No, twerp, there's no new war out there, so quit hoping." He took the Japanese sword and absently ran his fingers over the smooth black sheath. Allen watched him, a bit startled by this sudden melancholy. "The last time I was in that place, everyone I was with ended up dead."
If anyone had been looking closely, they might have noticed Allen's face lose a bit of color. His grey eyes took in a slightly bewildered look as he watch Kanda pull the sword out of its sheath and check the blade for any signs of rust. "That old man did a good job in keeping this in good shape," he muttered to himself, seemingly oblivious of Allen's presence.
The British man snapped out of his own trance and cleared his throat loudly, slowly reaching out to touch the blade of one hunting knife. "Um, where did you get these?" he asked, hoping to start a conversation.
"None of your fucking business," Kanda stated flatly, as if that was his default reply. Allen frowned.
"Well, never mind then!" he huffed, scowling as he leaned back against his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "You're overreacting. What could possibly be in that place that would make you so keen in bringing things like those," he asked, gesturing at the sticks of dynamite.
"One word: Evil," Kanda replied, placing the sword back into its sheath. He then took one of the revolvers and started cleaning them, making sure that the barrel was not clogged. "Those goddamn Tuaregs believed that the fucking place was cursed. Called it 'doorway to hell' or some shit like that."
Allen snorted. "I don't believe in fairy tales and hokum, Kanda." He paused, and suddenly leaned forward, his eyes shining with enthusiasm. "But I do believe that one of the most famous books in history is buried out there. The book of Amun-Ra," he added, an excited smile appearing on his face. "It contains all the secret incantations of the Old Kingdom. It's what first interested me in Egypt when I was a child. It's why I came here actually; this trip is sort of like the culmination of a life's pursuit."
"And the fact that it's rumored to be made out of pure gold doesn't in the least bit interest you?" Kanda remarked, giving the younger man a doubtful look.
Allen looked at him with a surprised expression, not really expecting him to know that much. "Wow. So you do know your history," he grinned.
Kanda shrugged as he loaded one of his revolvers. "I know my treasure."
For a moment both of them were silent, Kanda cleaning his guns while Allen returned to his book. And then the younger man, suddenly remembering something, glanced up at the nonchalant Japanese soldier, a blush reddening his cheeks. "Er, Kanda?"
"Sheesh, can't you shut your damn mouth for more than forty-two seconds?" Kanda hissed, annoyed. "What the fuck do you want?"
Allen frowned and hesitated, wondering whether or not it was the proper time to mention it.
"Spit it out, freak."
"Fine!" Allen indignantly snapped. "Why did you do that?"
"Do what?" Kanda inquired, the expression on his face obviously declaring that he was wondering what the hell was going on with his British companion.
Allen's face took in a brighter shade of red before he looked away. "Why did you kiss me?" he muttered, and one could almost see steam coming out of his ears.
And again there was silence.
After a full minute with no reply, Allen glanced back at Kanda, and was appalled to see him carrying on with his gun cleaning duties as if Allen had never spoken in the first place.
"Hey!" he cried, slapping a gloved hand on the table.
"What?" The other looked back at him impassively.
"You didn't answer my question!"
Kanda merely shrugged. "I was about to be hanged, so I thought it wouldn't be too bad of an idea if I ended up kissing a fag freak during my last moments alive," he replied dryly. "At least I'd have something original and hilarious to brag about in hell. I bet Satan never kissed a fucktard like you before."
"…"
Allen gaped at him, a purely wounded expression on his British features.
Kanda stared at him, uncaring. "What?"
"I hate you," Allen snarled before standing up and storming out of there. The Japanese man just stared at the empty seat for a few seconds before resuming his gun cleaning.
"Che. What the hell is his problem?"
The sound of someone snickering caught his attention, and Kanda frowned he saw a man's shadow lurking behind some stacks of luggage. But what really caught his attention was the silhouette of a familiar jester-like cowl.
In a flash, Kanda was out of his seat and had grabbed the mysterious person around the neck, pulling him from his hiding place.
"Ah! Kanda! You're alive! I was so very worried!" Daisya cried out as he struggled against the other man's suffocating grip on his collar.
"Well, well, if it ain't my fucking buddy, Daisya," Kanda growled, glaring at his ex-subordinate. "I think I'll kill you," he added, cocking on of his pistols and pressing it against Daisya's chest.
"Ah, don't! Think of my children!"
"You don't have any children."
Daisya paused, a dreamy look on his face. "Someday I might—"
"Shut up," Kanda snarled, pressing the gun harder against the man's skin. "So you're the one leading those creepy Americans. I should've known. So what's the scam, huh? You get them out into the desert, and then you leave them to rot?"
The clown-like man sighed. "Unfortunately no," he replied. "These Americans are smart. They only pay me half the amount to get them to Hamunaptra, and the other half when I get them back to Cairo, so I have to stick with them all the way."
"Huh," Kanda grunted, before taking the gun away. Daisya visibly relaxed, and gave the other man a confused expression.
"You never believed in Hamunaptra, Kanda," he started. "Why are you coming back?"
Kanda shrugged. "This British fag saved my neck," he explained in a bored voice. "This is the only way to repay him."
"You mean that white-haired beauty in the pants?" Daisya asked him, flabbergasted.
"Remove the 'beauty' part, replace it with 'fag', and you've got that right," Kanda answered him, putting the pistol in one of the gun-holders that were strapped to his shoulders. Daisya, seeing that the guns were secured, decided to finally act cocky.
"You always did have more balls than brains, Cap'n Kanda."
"Ha, ha," the longhaired man said sarcastically, a deadpan expression on his Asian features. "Well then, let's make it even, shall we?"
"Even?"
Kanda suddenly grabbed Daisya, and with adrenaline-powered strength, he threw the man over the barge's railing. The sound of someone splashing against the river water resounded throughout the boat, followed by Daisya's cursing and shouting.
"You'll pay for this, Kanda!"
"Sounds familiar," Kanda drawled as he walked back to the table where his weapons were. As he began stuffing his guns back into the duffel bag, his eyes caught sight of three pairs of wet footprints on the wooden floor. Instinct told him that there was something wrong, and he looked back at the river and found a small boat attached to the side of the barge. As his dark eyes followed the footprints, he soon realized where they were leading to.
"Oh shit," he cursed, immediately grabbing his duffel bag and sword in alarm. "They're going after that idiot beansprout!"
A/N: This is for real this time. I'm really going to be gone for 5 days so don't expect updates until I return. I'm not lying so believe me. I will update once I get back.
*bug-eyed Betty - means "ugly woman"
And OH! Check out the Anck-su-namun/The Fourteenth drawing created by none other than my epic WIN Beta! Her name's Lui by the way. 8D The link to the drawing is found in my account profile! Be sure to praise her about it in your reviews! XD
