Disclaimer: Ronin Warrior ain't mine and never will be.
So, How Many Guys Are you Dating!?
Prologue-That ungrateful brat
In the bullet train station during 6 PM rush hour, people swarmed the decks. Businessmen, children, mothers, even the garbage men, were waiting for the imminent squeeze for the way home. A blue bullet train roared into the station. Few people trickled out the "Exit" side while hundreds crammed their way into the train.
A particularly tall young man with blue-black hair wiggled his way through the crowded station. He wore a large blue sweater and baggy black jeans. Just as a fashion statement, he linked his keys onto a chain that was hooked to his belt. On his shoulder was an old red duffle bag filled with his school books, stationaries and kendo equipment.
This is ridiculous thought Shingo as he struggled to keep his bag out of people's way and make his way to the waiting deck. At this rate, mom and dad will yell at me again
Shingo winced at the memory of the disapproving looks from his parents each time he came home late from kendo practice. It didn't matter that he placed many times, even received first place three times in the national junior tournaments. But to his parents, his grades mattered a thousand times more than him proving his superiority in beating people with a stick.
Oh shit! There's the train! thought Shingo. He was still in the stairs when he saw the train doors slide open.
"Train to station Yama Street, Osaka, now boarding!"
No! no! Don't get in! His heart cried desperately to the hordes of people shoving their way through the door. Shingo felt himself being pushed forward by other people who were also trying to be the first to get into the train. Pain shot up through his legs as people stepped on his feet and stubbed their toes on his heels. He, being a seventeen year-old young man, endured the pain with the hopes of getting on the train. If he did, then perhaps his father wouldn't threaten to burn his kendo equipments again.
Almost there...
The train was almost filled up. Shingo even resorted to some shoving.
"OUCH!" cried a girl in the crowd. "My books!!!"
That got Shingo's attention. He cranked his neck to the side and saw a small hole in the sea of people about twenty yards away. People were being shoved away as the assailant wormed his way toward Shingo.
"You jerk!" screeched the girl. "You took my purse!"
The people all around the girl momentarily turned their necks. Few looked concerned. Some looked disgusted. Most returned to their determination to get on the train.
What assholes! Shingo's mind raced. Should he get on the train and get a smile from his folks or help out the girl and suffer the reprimands?
His mind shut down as soon as the assailant bumped into Shingo. As a last second reflex, Shingo dropped his bag and grabbed hold of the dirty looking man's stained shirt.
The dirty looking man's eyes were wild, his hand clutching a small dark blue purse. He tried to get away from Shingo's unnaturally strong grip only to find himself punched hard in the guts.
"That should teach you," said Shingo.
The dirty man clutched his stomach, feeling the bile burn its way up his esophagus and into his mouth. The punk aimed a little too high, knocking the wind out of him. For what felt like eternity, his grip on the small purse lightened until it slipped from his fingers and onto the ground.
Shingo was not done with him yet. Picking up his duffle bag, he dragged the dirty man toward where the girl was. Shingo would be damned if he did not get a thank you for his efforts with the pickpocket. Especially if he was to suffer his parent's wrath that night.
The girl herself was still in the middle of uttering curses and gathering her books and papers.
"Are you alright miss?" asked Shingo.
The girl looked up at the question, giving the young man a full view of a soft round face and strangely dark blue eyes.
Woah! Pretty cute! thought Shingo as he blinked once to clear his eyes. She looked like a regular Japanese girl, but her features were perfect and movements were graceful like the crane. Oddly, a strange recall nagged him in the back of his mind. Why do I have a feeling that I've seen her before?
The girl blinked twice, as if she never expected a person to be there. Then her eyes widened and her hands went to her open mouth.
"What did you do to him!?" The girl accused. She dropped the books in her hand and rushed over to the dirty man who had curled into a fetal position on the ground. Her hand immediately went to the man's stomach and to his forehead. "My lord! Don't you know you're not supposed to hit a sick man?"
Shingo blinked. That was definitely not the welcoming and thankful response he was expecting. This girl, she looked rather meek with her conservative ankle-length skirt, gray sweater, and blue-rimmed glasses. Her expression, however, convinced Shingo that she was angrier than a swarm of African killer bees.
"Well, that is very ungrateful of you!" said Shingo, his tone was equally harsh. "I guess you don't want this back now, do you?" asked Shingo as he dangled the purse tauntingly in front of the girl.
The girl made a face and tried to grab her purse. Shingo, being half a head taller than the girl, snapped the purse up out of her reach. The action incited an outraged look on the girl's face.
"Give it back!" demanded the girl.
Shingo pretended to think about it then smirked. "Um...no!"
He missed the danger sign of the immediate slanting of the girl's eyes. In less than a second, he felt a killer pain in between his legs.
"Ieeeeeee!" Cried Shingo. He doubled over in pain. That special spot hurt so much, he had to drop the purse and bite his tongue to keep himself from crying out louder.
"Serves you right!" said the girl as she took her purse back. She gave one last glare at Shingo before turning to the dirty man.
"Are you alright, mister?" she asked softly.
The dirty man nodded tentatively as he rubbed his soiled shirt.
The girl gave him a sympathetic look then fished out a pen, a scrap of paper, and a few coins from her purse. On the paper, she quickly scribbled a few numbers down.
"What are you doing?" whispered Shingo hoarsely.
The girl did not reply. Instead, she folded the paper. Her small white hand reached for the dirty man's hand that automatically recoiled from her touch. But the girl's reaction was quick, and grabbed hold of his hand and deposited the paper and coins into large sullied hand then closed them with her other hand.
"Call them," she said calmly. "They miss you."
What the hell? thought Shingo before all of them heard the call.
"Next train to stop at Shiki, Osaka, departing!"
"Ack! That's my train!" exclaimed the girl. "Shin's gonna kill me if I'm late again!"
Faster then the eyes could follow, the girl grabbed her books and ran. All the while the dirty man skittered away like a crab on the run.
Shiki? Isn't that the nicer part of town? Shingo stood up as the pain subsided. But one little thing on the ground caught his eyes. He reached down to grab it.
It was an ID card.
"Hashiba Touma," said Shingo out loud. "What a weird name for a girl..." He glanced at it, reading the dates. It seemed that she was a year younger than him. "I'll just turn it in when I get the time. I better get to the next train before..."
"Yama Street, Osaka has departed."
Shingo gave a look of disbelief and semi-shock. "Crap!"
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Sukorin: I can only hope that I will finish this...