I would like to inform all of you that while a feasible explanation for the Scottish accents is forthcoming, I promise, it IS contrived. No bones about it, I just thought it would be funny and there is NO reason for it to be so otherwise. I mean, I'll have Ryouga be from Scotland (and Ukyou too, won't that be fun) but really, really, it IS contrived. Don't you just love honesty?

I decided I wasn't done writing for the day, so consider this a half-chapter. Sort of like a stepping stone.

Thanks again. . . .

I hate the woman.

I hate her damn mallet.

Most of all, I hate her damn COUNTRY.

I've never, ever, even in the midst of training, been unconscious more times in one day than I have today. Oh, she beat me fair and square all right. If I were home, Mom would have had me perform the Kiss of Death on her. As it was. . .

I stomped down the stairs, glaring at every single floorboard. How DARE she? How COULD she? When I found that girl, she was going to be in some serious, serious. . .

There was a knocking at the door. As I was about two feet from it, I strode over and opened it, prepared to snarl at whoever was standing there. I expected it to be Akane. . . and I was disappointed.

The blonde boy from the picture stood in the gathering night, looking thoroughly downtrodden. His hair was mussed, his eyes were red and had black smudges underneath. He even smelled.

How terribly sentimental.

I didn't even wait for him to speak. I just grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, yanked him inside, and closed the door before throwing him up against it. His eyes got really, really wide at that.

Good.

"Jordan, aye?" I hissed, leaning in real close. He gulped and nodded. I pulled him away from the door and slammed him back into it again. "You used to be Akane's fiancé, aye?"

"I AM her fiancé. What did she tell you?" the whelp yelped, more than a little defensively. I slammed him again.

"She told me you were a philandering, lying, thieving son of a bitch, that's what she told me. When I rescued her from jumping off a damn bridge, Jordan. Do you understand?"

"No, actually, I don't," he tried to brazen it out. I slammed him again.

"Fine. I'll make it real simple for you. Where I come from, obstacles are for killing. You come back here, and I'm gonna consider you a real big obstacle."

"What are you talking about?" he yelped, trying to kick me. It didn't even hurt. How did Akane fall for this guy? Honestly.

"You hurt her, Jordan. Made her want to end her own life. That means you and I have a problem, got it? You may not know me that well, but trust me, you do NOT want to have a problem with me. I don't want to see your filthy face in this doorway ever again. Get me? Ever," I snarled. I dropped him and opened the door.

If I were being honest, I was going easy on him. Amazon law is very explicit when it comes to weak outsider males—they are useless. If one so much as glances at an Amazon woman in the wrong way, anyone is well within their rights to kill him. Weak outsider males are less valuable than even bunny rabbits, or mice. At least those can teach children to care for others.

I hoped he would defy me. Give me an excuse, if nothing else. I hoped he would prove to me there was something in him that would justify Akane's attachment to him. There wasn't. He ran like the sniveling coward he was, without even looking back.

I decided to take a walk myself, get some air, maybe calm down a bit. Whenever I saw Akane again, it wouldn't do to be so angry—there's a limit to how many raving lunatics can share a conversation, and she more than fulfilled the quota.

I ran over the roofs for a while, just blowing steam. When I returned to the dojo, there was something sprawled in the gateway.

Not something, someone.

Akane.

And there was a trail of blood leading to her.

I rushed to her immeadiately, all thoughts of our problems pushed to the back of my mind in the event of an actual emergency. She was breathing, still, and her heart was only a little weaker than it should be. Still, she was bleeding profusely from a nasty wound on her leg, and she was covered in bruises.

"Akane, what happened to you?" I whispered, picking her up as gently as I could. Obviously, she needed medical attention. I remembered seeing a hospital on the way into town- -that would be the best place.

Without wasting the time to call inside for help, I leapt onto the rooftop and kept leaping. She was lighter than I thought she'd be, but still it was hard to be gentle and not jar her too much. By the time we reached the hospital, she was almost awake again. She was groggy, sure, but her eyes were fluttering and she was mumbling something in Japanese. I don't have much of that language, but it sounded like something unrepeatable in civilized conversation—and one phrase clean and clear throughout.

"Not be chained," she kept saying. Whatever in hell that meant.

I walked into the hospital and into an absolutely horrific amount of noise. Apparently, it's odd to see a boy carry a beaten girl in. I wouldn't think it would be, but it was. She was carted off to have whatever it is doctors do done, and I was made to sit down with a big pile of papers that I had neither the knowledge nor the inclination to fill out.

I handed them back to the nurse blank and asked her when I could see my wife. She handed them back to me and told me than until she saw ID, she had no reason to believe Akane was any such relation to me. I pulled out my student Green Card, and she handed me another sheaf of papers.

Then, she told me to keep my ID handy, since the police would be arriving soon.

You try to help someone. . . .