Chapter Three
"Master Kiyoi?" said a timid voice. Ano Kiyoi turned his eyes in the direction of the speaker. A young boy stood with his hands clasped behind his back, standing at attention. The boy was seven, maybe eight years old, but a life of hardships had taught him to respect adults and do whatever they told him. And Master Kiyoi had told him to always stand at attention until he was told to stand down. If he obeyed, the boy would receive candy and maybe even a pat on the head from his master. The boy lived for these small joys, and to please Master Kiyoi.
It had been three years since the boy had been rescued from the brink of death by the strange man clad entirely in white, and in that time he had come to respect him immensely. Master Kiyoi had become the father the boy had never had.
"You may stand down," Master Kiyoi said, a smile playing across his lips, and the boy relaxed. "I have a mission for you. It is very important." The boy nodded solemnly. Master Kiyoi had told him that this day would come, and he had looked forward to it. Now, finally, he had the chance to prove that he was worthy of being Master Kiyoi's son! He could finally repay him for all of his kindness. The boy waited patiently for the details of the assignment. "Do you understand that this mission is very important?" Master Kiyoi asked.
"Yes, Master Kiyoi, sir," the boy responded. He clasped his hands behind his back again to hide the fact that he was trembling in excitement.
"Very good. You're such a good boy, I hate to send you out into this harsh world. But, I have plans which must be put into action, and you, my son, you are the beginning of all of my plans." The boy nearly fainted in happiness. Master Kiyoi had called him "son!" And he, Kita, would be important to his plans! He bit his lip to keep from crying out in joy.
"I will be sending one of my men to escort you to a small town," Master Kiyoi continued, and Kita fought to remember each and every word exactly as he said it. "This is what you must do..."
* * *
Two days after meeting with Jessica, Wolfwood walked up the narrow path that the little girl had pointed him towards. He lit a cigarette and flicked the used matchstick to one side, and looked up at the twin setting suns. He shouldn't have delayed as long as he had, but he had needed time to prepare himself for seeing Vash and the girls again. And to explain. Explain why he wasn't dead, why it had taken him a month to find them, and the... other business. He had asked God for his guidance, but the old man had typically not lent him a helping hand. Wolfwood smiled. But then, what could he expect? God had helped him out enough last month, and was probably tired of him always asking for favors.
The path bent around a small cliff with a scraggly growth of brown bushes, and then the house came into view. Wolfwood stopped, the grin fading from his face as he saw who sat on the porch in a wooden chair.
"Nicholas D. Wolfwood, if I remember correctly," Knives said, and raised a hand in greeting. Wolfwood slowly reached for his gun, knowing that it would do him no good but determined to try anyway.
"If you've killed them, by God, I'll hunt you until my last days," Wolfwood snarled, and a surprised expression crossed Knives' face.
"I'm unarmed," he said, and raised his hands slowly to chest level. "If you're looking for my brother, he and the two women went that way." He pointed to another path leading away from the house. "Something about a sick child, I think. That's my dear brother for you, always playing the hero." Wolfwood slowly lowered his gun, but he kept his finger on the trigger.
"You tried to kill me," he said guardedly.
"Well, not exactly. One of my underlings tried to kill you. Went by the name of Legato. Deceased, I'm afraid. You, on the other hand, have done considerable damage to me, you know."
"What are you talking about?" Wolfwood responded, his eyes darting over the clearing. If any of the Gung Ho Guns were lurking around, now would be the perfect time for them to strike.
"That cross-shaped gun of yours. My brother used it to put an awful lot of holes in me, you see."
Wolfwood smirked. "You had it coming, I'm sure."
"Oh, undoubtedly." Knives gave a half-hearted grin. "You may find that I've changed, Nicholas D. Wolfwood." Suddenly, he tilted his head to one side, and Wolfwood raised his gun again, prepared to shoot him in the head if even one lackey jumped out of the surrounding cliff-side. "I believe that my brother and the women are on their way," Knives said, turning back to look at the priest with those calculating blue eyes of his. "Perhaps it would be best if you lowered your weapon."
"Fat chance," Wolfwood muttered, his eyes straying to the path again. Then he heard voices.
"Absolutely not! We're already poor enough without you buying donuts every other day! Those things are expensive, you know."
"What about pudding?"
"I said, no!"
"Aw, but you buy those fancy plates all the time, and I bet if we saved that money we could buy a whole LOT of donuts!"
"For the last time, Vash, NO! Once I see YOU out in the town working to make some money I'll consider buying you donuts, but not before!"
"But I don't know how to work!"
Vash, Meryl and Millie rounded the corner as Vash was whining about finding a job. They were all carrying brown paper shopping bags, and Millie had a necklace made from string and plastic beads hung around her neck. Millie was the first to see him. Her mouth dropped open, and the bag slipped from nerveless hands to crash onto the ground.
"Millie! How many times have I told you-" Meryl began, but she followed Millie's line of sight and stopped mid-sentence on sight of Wolfwood. The priest lowered his gun, not seeing Knives' "I told you so" shrug as he did so, and cleared his throat nervously.
"I-" he began, but Millie shrieked and hid behind Meryl before he could get out more than that one word.
"It's a GHOST!" she cried, ducking behind Meryl, who looked almost as frightened as her friend. Vash carefully set down his bag of groceries and walked up to Wolfwood. He studied his face for a minute, then punched him in the stomach.
"Ow! You needle-noggined jerk, what was THAT for?!" Wolfwood exclaimed, holding a hand to his throbbing stomach. Vash bit his lip, then ran forward and embraced the priest in a huge bear-hug.
"No ghost would call me a needle-noggin!" he said happily, tears running down his face.
"Oh for Gods' sakes, put me down already," Wolfwood said, but he felt a smile come unbidden to his lips.
"He's really not a ghost, Mr. Vash?" Millie asked hesitantly, and Vash dropped Wolfwood on the ground as he turned to face her.
"Nope! How many ghosts do you think carry THESE?" He held Wolfwood's pack of cigarettes aloft triumphantly.
"Why you - GIVE ME THOSE!" Wolfwood cried, tackling Vash and wrestling the cigarettes away from him. When he finally succeeded, he wiped the dust off of his black suit and stood to find himself face to face with Millie.
"You..." she said, her lower lip trembling. "You... YOU BIG JERK!" Wolfwood blinked, and she began pounding on his chest with her fists. "You died! You made me so unhappy! You told me that you would come back, and you didn't! You lied to me!"
"But I'm back now, aren't I?" he said softly, catching her fists and pulling her to him. She threw her arms around him and began to sob uncontrollably. After a minute, Wolfwood gently pushed her away and looked at Vash, who was lying in a crumpled heap on the ground.
"Get up, needle-noggin. I think it's about time we all went inside. I've got a lot of explaining to do."
"Master Kiyoi?" said a timid voice. Ano Kiyoi turned his eyes in the direction of the speaker. A young boy stood with his hands clasped behind his back, standing at attention. The boy was seven, maybe eight years old, but a life of hardships had taught him to respect adults and do whatever they told him. And Master Kiyoi had told him to always stand at attention until he was told to stand down. If he obeyed, the boy would receive candy and maybe even a pat on the head from his master. The boy lived for these small joys, and to please Master Kiyoi.
It had been three years since the boy had been rescued from the brink of death by the strange man clad entirely in white, and in that time he had come to respect him immensely. Master Kiyoi had become the father the boy had never had.
"You may stand down," Master Kiyoi said, a smile playing across his lips, and the boy relaxed. "I have a mission for you. It is very important." The boy nodded solemnly. Master Kiyoi had told him that this day would come, and he had looked forward to it. Now, finally, he had the chance to prove that he was worthy of being Master Kiyoi's son! He could finally repay him for all of his kindness. The boy waited patiently for the details of the assignment. "Do you understand that this mission is very important?" Master Kiyoi asked.
"Yes, Master Kiyoi, sir," the boy responded. He clasped his hands behind his back again to hide the fact that he was trembling in excitement.
"Very good. You're such a good boy, I hate to send you out into this harsh world. But, I have plans which must be put into action, and you, my son, you are the beginning of all of my plans." The boy nearly fainted in happiness. Master Kiyoi had called him "son!" And he, Kita, would be important to his plans! He bit his lip to keep from crying out in joy.
"I will be sending one of my men to escort you to a small town," Master Kiyoi continued, and Kita fought to remember each and every word exactly as he said it. "This is what you must do..."
* * *
Two days after meeting with Jessica, Wolfwood walked up the narrow path that the little girl had pointed him towards. He lit a cigarette and flicked the used matchstick to one side, and looked up at the twin setting suns. He shouldn't have delayed as long as he had, but he had needed time to prepare himself for seeing Vash and the girls again. And to explain. Explain why he wasn't dead, why it had taken him a month to find them, and the... other business. He had asked God for his guidance, but the old man had typically not lent him a helping hand. Wolfwood smiled. But then, what could he expect? God had helped him out enough last month, and was probably tired of him always asking for favors.
The path bent around a small cliff with a scraggly growth of brown bushes, and then the house came into view. Wolfwood stopped, the grin fading from his face as he saw who sat on the porch in a wooden chair.
"Nicholas D. Wolfwood, if I remember correctly," Knives said, and raised a hand in greeting. Wolfwood slowly reached for his gun, knowing that it would do him no good but determined to try anyway.
"If you've killed them, by God, I'll hunt you until my last days," Wolfwood snarled, and a surprised expression crossed Knives' face.
"I'm unarmed," he said, and raised his hands slowly to chest level. "If you're looking for my brother, he and the two women went that way." He pointed to another path leading away from the house. "Something about a sick child, I think. That's my dear brother for you, always playing the hero." Wolfwood slowly lowered his gun, but he kept his finger on the trigger.
"You tried to kill me," he said guardedly.
"Well, not exactly. One of my underlings tried to kill you. Went by the name of Legato. Deceased, I'm afraid. You, on the other hand, have done considerable damage to me, you know."
"What are you talking about?" Wolfwood responded, his eyes darting over the clearing. If any of the Gung Ho Guns were lurking around, now would be the perfect time for them to strike.
"That cross-shaped gun of yours. My brother used it to put an awful lot of holes in me, you see."
Wolfwood smirked. "You had it coming, I'm sure."
"Oh, undoubtedly." Knives gave a half-hearted grin. "You may find that I've changed, Nicholas D. Wolfwood." Suddenly, he tilted his head to one side, and Wolfwood raised his gun again, prepared to shoot him in the head if even one lackey jumped out of the surrounding cliff-side. "I believe that my brother and the women are on their way," Knives said, turning back to look at the priest with those calculating blue eyes of his. "Perhaps it would be best if you lowered your weapon."
"Fat chance," Wolfwood muttered, his eyes straying to the path again. Then he heard voices.
"Absolutely not! We're already poor enough without you buying donuts every other day! Those things are expensive, you know."
"What about pudding?"
"I said, no!"
"Aw, but you buy those fancy plates all the time, and I bet if we saved that money we could buy a whole LOT of donuts!"
"For the last time, Vash, NO! Once I see YOU out in the town working to make some money I'll consider buying you donuts, but not before!"
"But I don't know how to work!"
Vash, Meryl and Millie rounded the corner as Vash was whining about finding a job. They were all carrying brown paper shopping bags, and Millie had a necklace made from string and plastic beads hung around her neck. Millie was the first to see him. Her mouth dropped open, and the bag slipped from nerveless hands to crash onto the ground.
"Millie! How many times have I told you-" Meryl began, but she followed Millie's line of sight and stopped mid-sentence on sight of Wolfwood. The priest lowered his gun, not seeing Knives' "I told you so" shrug as he did so, and cleared his throat nervously.
"I-" he began, but Millie shrieked and hid behind Meryl before he could get out more than that one word.
"It's a GHOST!" she cried, ducking behind Meryl, who looked almost as frightened as her friend. Vash carefully set down his bag of groceries and walked up to Wolfwood. He studied his face for a minute, then punched him in the stomach.
"Ow! You needle-noggined jerk, what was THAT for?!" Wolfwood exclaimed, holding a hand to his throbbing stomach. Vash bit his lip, then ran forward and embraced the priest in a huge bear-hug.
"No ghost would call me a needle-noggin!" he said happily, tears running down his face.
"Oh for Gods' sakes, put me down already," Wolfwood said, but he felt a smile come unbidden to his lips.
"He's really not a ghost, Mr. Vash?" Millie asked hesitantly, and Vash dropped Wolfwood on the ground as he turned to face her.
"Nope! How many ghosts do you think carry THESE?" He held Wolfwood's pack of cigarettes aloft triumphantly.
"Why you - GIVE ME THOSE!" Wolfwood cried, tackling Vash and wrestling the cigarettes away from him. When he finally succeeded, he wiped the dust off of his black suit and stood to find himself face to face with Millie.
"You..." she said, her lower lip trembling. "You... YOU BIG JERK!" Wolfwood blinked, and she began pounding on his chest with her fists. "You died! You made me so unhappy! You told me that you would come back, and you didn't! You lied to me!"
"But I'm back now, aren't I?" he said softly, catching her fists and pulling her to him. She threw her arms around him and began to sob uncontrollably. After a minute, Wolfwood gently pushed her away and looked at Vash, who was lying in a crumpled heap on the ground.
"Get up, needle-noggin. I think it's about time we all went inside. I've got a lot of explaining to do."