But who am I to try to change our fate?
We're borne on wings of destiny
The future is waiting, please don't make me late
This says the guy when he wants us to date
I don't own Flame of Recca or Shiro's. That is a real resturant.
"Fuuko-san!"
There she was, on the day we decided to meet. Back in her classroom there was a perfect illusion of her made of chi, a spare uniform, and straw, that appears to be asleep using a book as a pillow. We'll grab and move it later, but right now we have one and a half hours of uninterrupted-
"I'm hungry!"
-training, sigh...
"Don't sigh at me! It's your fault I had to miss lunch to collect stuff for the straw thing!" My mind races around desperately, like a rat in a maze.
"How bout I get you food?" But what if she wants something that'll take forever to get, "as long as I get to choose where." I don't know why it popped into my head now but if Fuuko-san had a sign, it'd say 'no parking, fire lane.'
"Fine, just take me there now, before I'm forced to resort to cannibalism!" Whoa, she's scary when hungry. I nodded and quickly started walking out of the forest, looking for an appropriate food supplier. The first one I see is a restaurant called Shiro's. It looks a bit high-class and the food usually takes forever to get served at that kind of place but...maybe, just maybe that isn't a bad thing. I sneaked a glance at Fuuko-san and smiled. Oh yes, I think I remember Joker mentioning this place. I grabbed my companion's arm and stepped inside.
There was first a little alcove where a tanned and slightly wrinkled man, behind something similar to a wooden podium, asked if we have reservations. We both shook our heads but, just in time, a group of people left and a place was opened. We both went forward and sit down ordering food, drinks, and appetizers while waiting for the next group to come. There was a large square of metal in the center of the wooden table and there were similar tables throughout the room. An ominous sprinkler hung inside a metal trough over the table.
We ordered our drinks (I chose a Sprite and Fuuko-chan, stubbornly, changed hers to a Ginger Ale) and sat waiting. We were given a thin soup and salads with some sort of peanut dressing as appetizers. To our amusement, every member of the family of five who had entered to fill up the other seats at our table was passing their salad to a slightly pudgy middle-aged man, who I assumed to be the father in the group. After one bite, Fuuko-chan made a face and pushed the small bowl towards me, clearly deciding to imitate the others' actions. The salad was actually pretty good, but then again, we have different tastes.
A little bit after we ordered the food, a man with a wrinkled, tan face who wore a plain apron and tall chef's hat wheeled in a cart with food. First, he poured water onto the metal plate, where it started to sizzle and steam. After wiping it off with a folded towel, making light conversation all the water, he poured oil from a bottle on the plate in the shape of a smiley face- and lit it on fire. It sprung to life before us, a rabid beast of red which brought with it oppressive waves of heat for the few seconds the flames remained. At that point, I glanced over at Fuuko-chan to an amusing sight.
Apparently, she had instinctively grabbed for where a knife would be at a normal restaurant, to defend herself against whatever this strange surprise was, and raised the utensil in defense, somehow stretching her arm so that the item swept through the midst of the fire. Unfortunately, "Shiro's" is not any other restaurant, culminating in the fact that she was now holding a pair of softly burning chopsticks. I smiled and chirped, "Make a wish," before quickly blowing out the wooden candles. A new pair of chopsticks was provided, and the incident was quickly laughed off.
The rest of the meal was just as memorable while we watched all the tricks added into the cooking of the meal. The food was certainly delicious, but the presentation... oh... Considering the amount of juggling utensils, shrimps, and eggs on utensils, I started to wonder how much potential that chef had as a ninja.
Finally, the show was over and he wheeled off with a smile, leaving us discussing who'd caught the most shrimp in their (well, her) mouth and why while we munched down the last of our meal. Even after I paid and we left, it was still a good topic of conversation.
"Don't worry about it. There's nothing wrong with having a big mouth." I pinched the sides of her lips, pulling them into a wide, open-mouthed smile until she slurred out, "Are you trying to get bit?" My hands moved to being up with palms facing out in a clear show of compliance that got her to roll her eyes.
"I didn't say there was anything wrong with it; I just said I blamed Recca-kun. If he hadn't made me yell at him and stretch my mouth so much, it'd be much smaller, FYI."
"But then you couldn't have caught the shrimp..."
"Okay, so the shrimp were good. But Raiha-kun, please..." She trailed off as her gaze traveled to the watch on her wrist and her eyes suddenly bugged out. "RAIHA!!! Why didn't you tell me so much time had passed? If I'm not home-now! - Mom'll kill me! Geez! Bye!" With that she raced off as I simply waved after the retreating figure.
While entering my apartment a short while later, I took a look at the numerous cardboard boxes, took a deep breath, and started to unpack. There wasn't really a way to go back to that world of ninjas and ancestors anymore... so I guessed this place, near Fuu-chan, was my new home.
I carefully removed one of the dark blue kimonos that had been my common garb in those far-off days from its container and sadly acknowledged the flakes of dust floating to the ground. As the air settled, I set it down on a chair, only to notice a small scrap of paper fluttering towards the carpet. My hand shook as it reacted down and raised the slip to my face, instinctively knowing what was written there in blood. Three names. Neon. Jisho. Raiha. An oath of loyalty to live and die for Kurei-sama. And now... both him and Jisho-san dead. What failures we were...
Fuuko's smiling face pops into my mind, and with it returns a subtle confidence in myself. I did everything I could, and in the end, his passing was his own choice. Maybe there's more I could've done, but... I don't know what. All I can do now is hope for his forgiveness, and maybe I'll be able to forgive myself soon...
Very sorry for not updating in so long... The next chapter's finished, and the one after that almost is, but I've pretty much been creatively dead for a while. I'll update as soon as I get two reviews... or once I feel like it, whichever comes first. Yeah, this chapter was horrible, and probably had lots of mistakes, but I'm getting reacquainted with the fanfic and I figured this was better than waiting even longer.