Ugh. Okay, please bear with me guys.

A million thank yous to my reviewers. As always, without your input,I think my motivation to continue this story would wane painfully. It's starting to get abstracted and difficult to write now that work and other things are picking up. I'll be leaving the land of the rising sun in August, and preperations are sort of starting now. So all in all the business is leaving this story in the lurch. I'm terribly sorry if the quality, context, and style seem to be warping. If you notice anything that needs tobe dealt with, please let me know. (Or if you just start losing the story...(looks horrified)

Erm...no other notes. :) I think we're all set for those for a little while. Enjoy!

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"The cat's mistress

Walks over a crumbled cooking stove

To a rendezvous"

Matsuo Basho

Edo Chapter 7

It was never to be said that Kudo Yohji did not work hard. Nor that he was poor at what he did. In fact, it was quite the opposite, despite all appearences. However, when the opportunity to have a bit of rest and recreation presented itself, Yohji was not of a mind to refuse it. After his brief visit with Takatori and a further one to a certain ronin that happened to be guarding a certain ninja, Yohji had found himself with a bit of spare time. Takatori was keeping him 'on call'. This basically meant that Yohji was able to enjoy himself while he had his fingers in Takatori's rather fat purse. He simply had to make sure he was easily accessible should Reiji have need of him. Not hard. Yohji left a trail of satisfied women and angry men in his wake. Something that Takatori found endlessly amusing. And something that Omi and Manx found endlessly annoying. Yohji wondered how Persia felt about it but decided that since his behavior hadn't been prohibited, it was probably of little consequence to him.

Recalling the youth who was at this moment working quite hard to put himself into Ran and Ken's confidences, Yohji frowned a bit. Gratefulness at the rest aside, he really wanted to be over with Ken and Ran and Omi, trying to get a handle on things. Somehow, although Ken had been deemed his 'project' (Yohji cringed at that thought), the responsibility had been lifted from him. He knew, of course, that if anything were to happen with Ken that put Kritiker in danger, his head would be next. That knowledge did not make him feel any happier at the fact that he was away from Ken rather than watching the young man. And as capable and as tender that Ran had been, Yohji wondered if the man's stoic and angry personality was the best thing for Ken to be exposed to right now.

Wandering in his thoughts about Ken's emotional welfare, Yohji came to himself long enough to corner his opponent on the small wooden board before him. The white of his piece reflected the lamplight as if it were a tiny light in and of itself. Across from him, the man who had been lured into playing against him snorted and leaned forward to consider a possible means of escape.

A pair of patrons entered the izakaya rowdily, and settled down at the table behind his own. They were rough around the edges, appearances apparently not top priority on their minds. He recognized them the instant they began speaking as a couple of Takatori's lower thugs and idly tuned an ear into their conversation. His opponent moved then, a careful, timid move that hoped to pull him away from the danger of losing round three to Yohji this evening. Yohji contemplated a good way to make the game last longer without seeming to toy with his opponent while he tuned both ears and a bit more of his concentration onto the pair behind him. Once he picked up on things, he immediately wished he hadn't.

"So he's at Fujiyama?"

"Yeah. Seen him there myself, bloody bastard. Going right down to the baths as carefree as ya please. Although he's pretty bad lookin'. Dun know what them foreign pansies did to him but damned if he couldn't even walk without some red-haired fella helpin' him."

"Figures them foreign bastards couldn't even do a simple stupid job right. Takatori ain't gonna be happy 'bout this."

"Nah, but I was thinkin'. That guy sick n' all, why don't we just take care 'a it ourselves? 'D be real easy right now, and I bet we'd get a promotion."

"Y'think? It'd be fun anyway. Real good sport I bet."

There was a pause as both men seemed to consider this. Yohji scowled at the chess board before him darkly. His opponent had somehow turned the tables and was grinning at him smugly. Yohji had allowed himself to be distracted. He sincerely hoped those idiots weren't going to try and attack Ken. It would cause more than a little trouble for all people involved. Including himself and Omi. Not to mention Takatori. Arrogant though the daimyo was, he wasn't entirely stupid. He would not be pleased about an attack orchestrated on the fly without his knowledge; especially one thought out by the likes of the two idiots behind Yohji.

This didn't leave Yohji a whole hell of a lot of choices. He would either have time to warn Ken or inform Takatori. Revealing himself to the men would be moot, as Takatori didn't want anyone to know he was his personal spy.

He scowled at the black pieces surrounding his suddenly few white ones thoughtfully. The answer came suddenly and was so simple Yohji wanted to hit himself. He won the round with one quick move, effectually ending the game. His partner was not exactly eager to lose another round, and thereby lighten his purse any further. Yohji smiled cheerily as he stalked off and poured himself a liberal shot of sake before reaching into one sleeve and pulling out his pipe, tobacco and flint. Oh yes, the answer was quite easy. He'd been too focused on trying to be strategic rather than simply doing what needed to be done. With all the twists and turns his life had taken lately, it was no wonder he seemed to feel that all problems would be difficult to solve.

Yohji stuffed a small amount of tobacco leaves into the pipe and puffed on it as he lit the end. He inhaled deeply, savoring the rich, deep flavor of high-quality tobacco before putting the tobacco pouch and his flint back into his sleeve. He continued to listen to the conversation, idly marveling at how these men seemed to have no qualms with talking about this sort of thing, even going so far as to use Takatori's actual name, in public. With himself directly behind them. Where did Takatori find these people? He took another deep puff on his pipe as his brain grabbed onto the details of their plan with an iron grip. He sorted through the information and held on to only what he needed. Best not to fill his head with too much stupidity lest it start to affect his own ability to think clearly. He only needed to know where they were going and when. Because they would simply never get there. He was just going to have to be careful about which point in their plans would be his striking point. He wasn't sure just yet if he wanted Takatori to know that he would be the one responsible for their demise. While he was a spy for Takatori, Yohji was still an assassin for Kritiker. And while Takatori would probably not raise an eyebrow at the knowledge of Yohji so freely eliminating his employees, Yohji felt it was best to remain a spy and not a spy-turned-assasin. Part of his initial block in how to solve the problem. All in all, Yohji decided that while the intruigue of being a double spy had its moments, it wasn't all it was cracked up to be either. It got to be rather confusing at times.

The men rose and departed just as Yohji was finishing off his pipe. He sat in the quiet of the nearly empty izakaya, and savored the last of the tobacco. Finally, he cleaned his pipe carefully and put it back inside his sleeve. Swallowing the last of his sake, he rose gracefully and paid his bill with his rather heavy purse (full of the night's winnings…), winking and flirting with the cute waitress behind the counter. She blushed a lovely shade of rose and favored him with a shy, sweet smile that warmed his chest. He felt his fondness for women pull him towards that smile, but the duties set before him that evening held him back.

He padded gracefully to the entrance, aware of her eyes on him the entire time, and slid like a cat onto the step in the doorway, reaching for his shoes. He slid them on, fastened his haori, re-fastened his katana above his wakezashi, and strode from the door as easily as a man in search of an evening of entertainment. Which to Yohji, it would be. There were few things in life that pleased him as much as having an excuse to off anyone associated with Takatori. He smiled grimly, turning down a dark street that was more an alley than anything else and reached inside his sleeve in a small, secret pocket for his razor wire. It felt cool and reassuringly deadly in his finger tips. He palmed it into his hand as two silhouettes came into view in the distance. He prowled through the shadows like a panther; lethal, restrained, grace, ready to pounce in the most deadly of playful manners.

'Oh yes', he thought as he crept upon them silently 'there are definitely fewer things that I enjoy as much as I enjoy this'

There was a quiet whisper of metal in the stillness, but it didn't matter. The men didn't even have the time to comprehend they were being attacked.

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Manx frowned impatiently at the smooth black-lacquered table top before her. Neither her tea nor the elegantly painted Kyoto harbor decorating the table top gave her any answers to the thoughts running circles in her brain. She studied the delicately painted cheery blossom petals as they blew across merchants and geisha, ships and bridges; frozen in time forever. She wondered idly what that same scene would look like to someone a hundred years from now. Provided the table was still in tact. Already, the brilliant gold lacquer was beginning to fade. All things, eventually, faded from view. Some simply sooner than others. Manx turned her attention back to the cloudy green tea in her cup, obscuring the small brown koi painted at the bottom of it. The murky green stood in contrast to the delicate violet of her kimono. She hadn't been able to drink a drop of it yet.

She'd been waiting here for a good half hour since she'd received the urgent message by carrier pigeon in her bedroom window. Yohji had wanted to meet with her 'at her earliest convenience'. That meant something was up. Yohji did not call for emergency meetings unless he had very good reason to. Manx wondered wryly if he'd been discovered. Or perhaps had discovered another survivor. In any case, this meeting was several days too early.

She had canceled apprentice lessons with Sakura-chan to come here and wait, and she was getting agitated the longer she sat in the silence. Specifically because the longer Yohji remained absent the more creative her brain became in coming up with reasons as to why he might be absent. Most of the things her mind had come up with were not pretty. Manx refused to admit that she was worrying over Balinese's safety and instead assured herself she was only worried about what this could mean for Kritiker's plans. It never paid to become emotionally involved with one's employees. It was a hard battle Manx fought constantly. Particularly when it came to Omi. There were times when she didn't want to send the youth out for fear of the danger he faced. And things were becoming so dangerous lately.

A sudden soft knock at the door startled her from her thoughts so severely she jumped slightly.

"Who is it?" she barked impatiently. Yohji slid the door aside without further preamble and stepped inside, shutting it behind him. She waited in silence while he glided across the tatami and adjusted himself before her at the table, the pale grey of his kimono looking slightly rumpled. It bore only three crests. But the slight dishevelment probably meant that Yohji had not slept the previous evening. A bad sign. He was usually quite vain in his appearance, and took pride in looking his best. Manx couldn't argue that he was certainly something to look on; especially when he was well dressed.

"What, no refreshments?" he quipped, giving her a half grin. "A man can't have a secret rendez-vous with a pretty lady unless there're plenty of delicious refreshments involved to ease his tired mind."

Whatever rebuke Manx had to that remark remained in her throat when she noticed the smirk was forced and did not reach even the rest of his face, let alone his eyes. Yohji was in a grave mood indeed.

"Well? What have you called me here so abruptly for? I am a busy woman, Balinese." she ground out in a clipped voice, ignoring his remark altogether instead.

The smile fell instantly from Yohji's face. Not a good sign, Manx decided.

" No sake then? Alright. I'll give it to you straight: the shit is now in the process of hitting the fan." he began, favoring her with another dead smirk. Manx raised her eyebrows.

"How so?" she demanded. Yohji took a deep breath and let it out slowly before pressing on.

"Last night I had to take out a couple of Reiji's lower-class lackeys before they could, in turn, take out Ken. I don't know how many of Takatori's people know, or who else is planning to try anything, but the cat is out of the bag. I'm going to have to tell Reiji now myself that Ken is alive. He won't too happy to hear it, but it'll be worse if he hears it from one of his groundlings, and not me." Manx nodded.

"I see. This is a problem. Bombay has only just made contact with the two other…kittens…, and I don't know if he has enough sway with them yet to convince them of anything other than the fact that he means no harm. But they will have to be moved somewhere more secure immediately." she replied, lapsing into silence as she thought. Yohji frowned across from her, searching his thoughts as well. Finally, Manx looked up.

"You will tell Reiji that Kritker has saved the ninja and is keeping watch over him. You will also tell him that Kritiker is responsible for the death of those two idiots. Any instructions that Reiji gives you from that point come straight to me, and you will follow all of them to the letter. I do not, I repeat do not want you to do anything on your own. No heroics of any kind. Leave Ken's safety to Bombay and I, at all costs." She spoke firmly, looking directly into his eyes. She could see in his face his dislike of the order. Something inside of her softened slightly.

"Balinese…. We'll take care of him…At this stage, assuring you don't get caught is the bigger priority. Reiji cannot find out that you are the reason Ken is alive. If you do anything to go against his wishes in this matter, he will be that much closer to finding the truth. And anything done behind his back will be your death warrant if it is discovered. As it is, rescuing that man in the first place with Schwartz around was risky enough." she murmured quietly. Yohji could not get caught. She knew he would never betray Kritiker, but she would not wish the tortures of an enraged Reiji pushed onto anyone; let alone Yohji.

"And if he sends Schwartz to deal with Ken?" he replied quietly. Manx's head snapped back up to look at him.

" You will do nothing against Schwartz, do you understand me?" she growled out, glaring full force into jade-green eyes. Yohji nodded, although he was scowling. "Good. Now hurry up and get to Reiji before things get even more out of hand than they have already. I will be awaiting your response to me, and I will expect reports of the developments as often as you can send them." The tone in her voice was a dismissal and brooked no argument. Yohji gave her none. He simply bowed, dark expression easing painfully into a carefree, mischievous one that she knew he did not want to wear at the moment.

"See you around." he said lightly as he left. Once he slid the door shut and his lithe footsteps receded, Manx allowed her expression to soften briefly once again. No matter what he was, Yohji was nothing if not a kind, chivalrous soul at heart. She knew he felt personally responsible for Ken, and not being able to take care of the man himself had bothered Yohji. Like most who worked for Kritiker, the idea of yet another decent soul claimed by the dark corruption surrounding them was enough to move anyone to action. She was only too relieved that Yohji had a patience and restraint that delved far beyond the capacities of most normal men. She knew she could trust him to do as instructed. At this moment, his life meant far more to her than the life of a ninja she'd never met.

With a sigh, she rose and left the room as well, hurrying down the hall to see to more pressing matters outside of her own mental run-around.

Her tea sat ignored on the table, slowly growing cold.

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Well, sorry so short, but it was a good place to end this chapter. Stay tuned!