Mirror and Image
Touma lamented the fact that, by some cruel trick of fate, he did not have his bow and arrows with him. No, no, instead, when he had challenged this arrogant boy Shuten to a duel, he had somehow been talked into a swordfight. Swords were woefully out of his element; as his backup weapon in case of the impossible fact of him being without his bow and arrow had been the bo staff. So what was he doing in the middle of a sword fight?
Touma's irritation was interrupted, however, as Shuten felled his opponent.
"So," the redheaded Shuten asked. "Do you yield? Or do I have to beat you up some more?"
There was something intolerably unfair about all of this. Shuten's main weapon was the kusari gama, a sickle attached to a metallic ball and chain. To Touma's knowledge, Shuten had no more knowledge of swords than Touma did. Yet he was winning.
"Well?"
"Why are we fighting each other, anyway?" Touma demanded, lifting himself out of the dirt.
"You were the one who challenged me," Shuten answered lightly, swinging his sword with sickening ease. "Your reasons were never disclosed to me. Although," he added, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "You were supposed to have a sister, weren't you? If your girly looks are any indication, she must be a beauty."
Touma, irritated beyond measure, finally got his legs under him and thrust his sword. Shuten easily blocked the thrust and parried, sending Touma again into the dirt. Before he could get up, however, Shuten held his katana at Touma's neck. "Victory is mine," he said lightly, that arrogant sneer making him all too smug about himself. Touma wanted to gouge the redhead's eyes out with one of his arrows.
"Tell me, before I take my victory," Shuten asked, toying with the point of his sword, pricking and poking Touma's neck, but never actually drawing blood. "Will you have anyone to avenge you? Or are you all alone like the loser you are?"
Well, of course, right on cue, three horses galloped onto the field were Touma and Shuten had been dueling. The victor's smug look quickly disappeared. Three to one odds were not exactly in his favor, especially since at least one of them knew damn well how to use a sword. Backing away a safe distance, Shuten glanced around quickly, trying to find his horse. Touma quickly got up, the smug face finding a new home as the horses approached.
"Now who's the victor?" The blue haired mock swordsman asked.
"Touma!"
"Touma!"
"Touma! How the hell to do you drive these things?" The three riders, Seiji, Shin, and Shuu rode up to and then well past Touma. Shin was backwards in his saddle, Seiji was struggling to keep hold of the reins, and Shuu looked for the entire world like he was riding a bucking bronco. "Where's the breaks?"
Gawking, Touma let go of his smug look to find it only return to Shuten. The redhead sneered as he mounted his own horse, right were he'd left him, and casually rode over to Touma. "Maybe you should take some riding lessons?" he asked. "This is a hilarious piece of entertainment."
Before he could say more, the three riders somehow managed to turn their mounts around and were headed back toward the duelists. "You know," he said, smirking at Touma, "I think it will be more amusing to have you running around. Then you can tell the world what incompetents you are." Guiding his horse over to Touma's, he used his katana to slit the girth of the saddle.
The three other riders were now upon him, and Shuten calmly charged his horse, riding right into the fray. He disarmed and dismounted all of them and calmly rode off, laughing as the others struggle to dig themselves out of the dirt.
"What the hell was that?"
"How should I know?"
"You were the one who challenged him to a duel!"
"Why can he ride a horse so well?"
"This is all we're going to do?"
Shuten only laughed harder as he trotted his horse away from the spectacle. It was a good way to start a journey.
Gashura grimaced in the large stone hall. The flag of the Mashokateers had just been burned, and now he had to go face the large crowd of angry members that didn't like the idea that they had been disbanded. He wondered briefly if the twins were insane. Why did he end up getting a major role in this fic? He was cursed.
Walking out to the stone balcony, Gashura faced the discontented bunch below, his bald head shining under the sun. Naturally, the Mashokateers found something funny about this and nothing Gashura could threaten would stop their mirth.
Gashura growled. "By joint edict of Cardinal Mukara and King Ryo, you're all fired. Go to the infantry, that's where you're needed!"
"Go to hell!" the crowd roared. "We serve Ryo, not you, you bastard!" Several more dirty words erupted from the perturbed masses that don't really bear repeating.
Gashura offered a few rude gestures to the crowd, hidden from the camera. "Well, in that case, you can all be sent to Arago's dungeons. For insubordination."
More naughty words erupted from the crowd until a lone Mashokateer, Kenbukyo, stepped forward. Glaring angrily at the dishonorable cur up on the balcony, the noble Kenbukyo ripped of his blue haori, tossing it into the bonfire and pulled out his Go Retsu Ken, placing them gently on the ground beside the fire. Bowing only once, the warrior left the courtyard with an air of fury, heading straight for the twins. Or so he thought.
"Tous pour un, un pour tous." Why he was saying things in French was beyond him.
Others soon followed Kenbukyo's example. Gashura offered his arrogant grin, stolen from the previous seen and strode back into the hall. There, standing silently was Mukara, looking highly uncomfortable in all the robes he was being forced to wear. The dark-skinned warrior was irritably tugging at his robes, strongly disliking the length, thickness, and layers. Finally with a grunt of frustration, the highly exquisite robes of a cardinal were torn to shreds, leaving something much closer to Mukara's liking. Gashura ignored the ripping of fabric.
"You're Eminence."
Mukara turned, seeming to notice the bald warrior for the first time. Gashura grunted, realizing that he may have to pull off the entire scene himself. Of all the. . .
"I liked the last touché of the French, whatever it was."
Silence.
"It'd be nice to arrest the whole lot of we didn't need them for the coming war with England."
Silence.
"Unfortunately, there are only three remaining that are refusing to forfeit their precious katana."
Dark glare.
"They won't escape."
Really dark glare. Mukara turned, his torn clothes still managing to flutter dramatically, and left the set.
Gashura swore long and loud about having to do the entire scene by himself. With a swift swipe of his own katana, the force of his swing easily slicing open the wall to where the Mashokateers were still disbanding.
One pillar fell. "Rajura." Another toppled. "Naaza." And a third pillar down. "Anubisu."
Shuten skillfully rode his horse into the city. The roads were packed with people going about their business, the narrow alleyways and paths littered with garbage and mud. A gallows stood empty at one of the town squares, beckoning any who dared to come and try it out. The redhead took it all in with a sort of wide eyed wonder. Being a country boy, it was his first time in the city, and he was determined to remember everything, to keep this first impression with him forever.
A drunk fell into his path, a prostitute tried to win him over, a busy man walked right into his horse, a child tried to steal his purse. Shuten wondered offhand why his late father loved the city so much.
Then, there was a shift in the sky, the heavy clouds parting and spilling sunshine onto the streets, and suddenly Shuten understood. There it was; the stone edifice that he had been journeying towards since that hilarious duel with the inept Touma. High walls, elegant archways, and the French fleur de li. He was at headquarters.
Spurring his mount slightly, Shuten rode into the courtyard. A large fountain, unused, commanded the space, elegant statues of angels and cupids adorning it. Off to the side there were the ashes of a bonfire. Shuten looked at it curiously, wondering why a bonfire would be held in the front courtyard of all places. There was something in the ashes, hints of blue. Unable to figure out what it was, and too excited to finally be here, Shuten decided instead to file it away for later thought. He dismounted and tied his horse, skipping the stairs two at a time before reaching the huge, ancient wooden doors of the main building.
Shuten paused a moment, making sure everything was in its place, tightening the sash of is hakama and pulling back stray hairs into his ponytail. Taking a deep breath, Shuten opened the doors and stepped into the headquarters of the Mashokateers.
The inside was nothing like he'd imagined, nothing like his father had told him. It front hall was deserted, bits of things lying everywhere. One would almost think that a raid had taken place, but surely there would be no reason to raid such an honorable and adventurous organization like the Mashokateers. Walking through the hall, Shuten kept his hand on his hilt, not sure what to expect. Stepping over the debris, he saw a man kneeling by a fireplace, the last wisps of smoke leaving the dead fire.
"Is this Mashokateer headquarters?" Shuten asked. It was the first man he had seen since entering the complex, and apparently the only one to answer his questions. The man stood, immediately drawing his katana with expert speed. Shuten, not expecting the reaction, prepared to draw his own.
The white haired man lowered his sword almost immediately; relieved to see it was only a boy. "No," he said in a low voice, "this WAS Mashokateer headquarters."
"Oh," Shuten said slowly, not sure how to gauge this man. "You mean it's been moved."
"No, I mean the Mashokateers no longer exist, they've been disbanded by our glorious idiot of a king."
Somewhere, off in the palace, Ryo sneezed twice.
Shuten meanwhile was not taking the news well. He stepped forward, protesting. "They can't be disbanded. I just got here in order to join them. My father was a Mashokateer; I want to follow his footsteps, I want to walk the path of glory and honor."
The white haired man, Shuten noticed he had only one eye, smiled, and shook his head sadly. "Well, boy, then your timing really, really, sucks."
Well, not liking being called boy, Shuten did the only natural thing that boys do: he took offense. "I'm not a boy! Who decided to disband the Mahokateers? How do I even know what you say is true? This could be some elaborate ruse to test my character, I won't fall for it! Why are you laughing at me? If you're going to insult me, then at least try to go about it properly and raise your sword!"
Drawing his katana, a magnificent piece of workmanship, he fell into a fighting stance.
The white haired, one eyed man only smiled, chuckling. "Boy, if you really want to be a Mashokateer, then you'll have to do better than that. This isn't the appropriate place for a duel. Blood doesn't spill here. There's a Christian monastery on the outskirts of the city. Meet me there at noon and we'll settle this little - note that I said little - dispute with your death."
Shuten glared, not at all happy that the smug look had chosen to stay on this Cyclops's face. "Fine," he gritted out. Trying in vain to reclaim the arrogant grin, he added, "But it will be your death that settles this 'little dispute.'"
That smug grin only broadened. "Then I'll see you in two hours." Tossing his white bangs away from his face, the wavy tresses falling immediately back, he sheathed his sword and idly pushed Shuten aside, as the redhead was blocking his way, and left the littered building. Shuten sputtered and glared, planning in intricate detail how he would slay that arrogant and too-sure-of-himself piece of--
Wait. Shuten didn't know his way around the city yet. How was he going to find the monastery? Stamping his foot, he exited the building and the grounds before he let loose a string of curses, leading his horse by the reins has he began navigating the city.
"Shuten!"
Not now, he was busy fuming.
"Shuten Doji!"
"I'm busy dammit," he muttered under his breath, continuing to ignore whoever was shouting his name.
"Shuten Doji, get your iron oxidized head over here to I can levitate you up into the stratosphere and watch your eyes dilate while I suffocate you!"
Now THAT sounded interesting. Shuten only knew one person who had that large a vocabulary. Turning, he was mildly surprised to see Touma and his one entity called three brothers, Seiji-Shin-and-Shuu, had miraculously gotten their horses to take them to the city. Touma, dismounted and looking royally pissed, was advancing with not a sword but a bow and arrow.
Knowing that Touma was more than a little deadly with arrows, Shuten did the most logical thing, considering he had a duel of honor at a monastery that he still had to find in two hours: he ran. A brown haired and blue eyed boy with his hands on the leash of a tiger suddenly found himself watching Shuten's horse as the young man nimbly made his way through the crowded streets.
Arrows were soon clipping at his heels, and Shuten pondered in a detached moment of thought just what he'd done to deserve this. Ducking into an alleyway, Shuten saw the iron work of a window encasing. Leaping up, he grabbed it and hoisted himself up, scrambling onto the roof and rolling away. He waited, flat on his back, and listened. There was the loud crunching of sandaled feet, growing first loud then soft as Touma and his brothers ran down the alleyway. There were no arrows raining down from the sky, and Shuten waited for several minutes before he afforded himself a sigh of relief. He rolled over onto his stomach and cautiously peered over the edge. Not a Trooper in sight. The smug look decided to like him and spread itself over his face as he hopped down. Those Troopers were complete idiots.
The grin quickly disappeared, however, as he realized he still didn't know where the monastery was.
Growling, Shuten jogged through the streets, plowing his way through the crowd and taking a shortcut through an open café. A waiter had the audacity to come up in front of him and the pair crashed magnificently. The food went flying, spreading across a table and growing as the foodstuffs already there were swept up. It all landed on the lap of the man at the head of the table.
"Hey!" Standing up, the green haired man examined himself, picking off the larger portions of food. He looked to the sash of his hakama, and then glared at the redhead. "This sash was a gift to me, from the queen of America."
Shuten blinked. "There's no queen of America." Was there?
"I beg to differ, unless you have some proof to the contrary."
Shuten, irritated that he had been called a boy and forced to put off his duel, miffed that Touma had the idiocy to follow him to the city, and frustrated that he wasn't being given the opportunity to look for that damn monastery, drew his immaculate katana. "Here's my proof."
The snake eyed man only grinned. "Ha! The little twip thinks he can challenge the mighty Naaza; thinks he has some modicum of skill with a sword."
". . . The mighty who?"
The self named Naaza looked offended. "Don't tell me you've never heard of me."
Shuten shrugged. "The world's biggest windbag?"
Naaza's already small eyes shrank. "Little pimple, meet me outside that catholic church at one o'clock, and bring a long wooden box."
Shuten managed a bravado. "Bring your own."
Well, things were going well. Two duels outside that damnable monastery. Stalking back into the crowds, Shuten wondered what the hell could happen next.
The cue was given, and a shadow fell over Shuten's form, followed quickly by a dead weight. Crashing into the mud, Shuten was covered in brown and spitting up the filthy earth. Whatever landed on him shifted around and disentangled itself from him, standing and then hoisting the red - now brown - headed Shuten up.
"Thank you. You broke my fall perfectly."
Clearing the mud from his eyes, Shuten looked to see a blue haired, scarred, and infuriatingly clean, man. He grinned good-naturedly and bowed politely. "I apologize for any inconvenience."
"Inconvenience? Inconvenience! I've been trounced into the mud, covered in dirt, and why? Because you just felt like it!"
The scarred man only grinned wolfishly, an evil glint in his eye. That was the only answer he ever gave. "I have apologized."
"It's not accepted!"
That smug look hinted itself onto the man's face. "Is your sword as quick as your mouth?"
"Quicker."
Nodding, the smug look grew more prominent. "There is a Christian tower on the outskirts of town. Meet me there at two o'clock and see how far you can contest the apology."
Shuten, still shaking mud out of his hair and clothes, nodded. "I'll do more than just contest."
"Very well. Good luck." The scarred man walked away, his ponytail swishing with his confident stride.
Shuten paused to contemplate his current situation.
"Three duels in one day." Raising an eyebrow, he walked away, trying to figure out where the monastery could be.
King Ryo entered the large marble-covered throne room of a French monarch, decked out in full samurai armor. He ignored the fact that if he was the Shogun, he'd technically be dressed in fine silks and clothing more befitting a man of such a high stature. No, he wasn't dressed in finery, but like he was preparing for an oncoming battle in delicately linked armor and pristine helmet - thankfully for Ryo's fans, without the mask. However, Ryo felt a certain degree of comfort in the fact that he had armor on. He was dropped in France and told to be king. He'd wear armor until he understood what the blazes was going on.
That did not help his current predicament, however. Ryo was still in the marble throne room of French monarchy, and he had to do a scene by himself. No, he wouldn't be alone for the scene, but he may as well be, since his opposite was Mukara. The dark-skinned African had only one word in his vocabulary, and Ryo was desperately wondering how he was going to do this scene by alone.
"Naria."
Now hold on a minute. Why was Mukara utilizing his one-world language?
"Mukara."
Oh, Ryo's queen Naria was in the scene. Great. Not only would Mukara remain silent through the whole scene, he wouldn't even be paying attention. That and the fact that Ryo wasn't entirely certain if Mukara understood the fact that Ryo and Naria were just pretending to be husband and wife. As far as Ryo was concerned, Naria was a good girl who was quite taken and he'd never do anything to her. Mukara didn't seem to understand that during the casting.
"Naria. . ."
"Mukara. . ."
"Naria. . ."
"Mukara. . ."
Just how the hell did those two speak with only one-word vocabularies anyway?
"Ahem, Mukara?" Ryo interrupted.
"Naria. . ."
"Mukara. . ."
"Mukara!" The couple finally seemed to notice that Ryo was in the room and whirled around. Mukara's cardinal robes were torn as before, looking rather intimidating. Naria, by contrast was dressed out in French silks, looking very much like a French queen with dazzling jewelry accenting her tanned skin and pins holding up her pale blue hair. Ryo couldn't help it. He noticed her. Any guy would.
Mukara gave an if-you-even-think-of-touching-her-you're-a-dead-man glare.
Ryo ignored him, and pushed ahead into his scene. "Mukara, I'm a little perturbed that you disbanded the Mashokateers so quickly."
Don't-look-her-way glare.
"I did not approve of the timing or the method. The Masho are my friends. I wanted to be able to explain the situation to them. I would never have approved of the cruel method your Gashura used to take my friends and degrade them to common soldiers. These people protect my life every day and I owe them a great debt of gratitude. I will not treat them so harshly."
If-you-even-try-I'll-break-you-in-half glare.
Ryo let out a very long sigh. "Mukara, I am king for this fic. I asked you to be kind to my friends. You didn't. I'll trust that you will be in the future or face the consequences." Ryo glanced at the eye-catching Naria.
Mukara growled, his hair standing on end, and his aura flaring into existence.
"Good. Now that we understand each other, I have an order for you and Naria. Do whatever you want with each other."
Mukara's aura dissipated quickly and his jaw dropped, leaving him stuttering. Naria bowed her head, her cheeks brighter than Mukara's red robes.
Ryo offered a wink to the two of them. "I think you two can take it from here. Have fun." Calmly, he turned and left the marble throne room, leaving the couple blushing madly.
Meanwhile, across town, in a rather seedy and all-around unwelcoming-looking pub, a group of Mukara's guards were astonished to find that the comrades they were expecting to find at said bar, were apparently manhandled. Somebody had evidently hogtied anyone in the bar wearing red, dipped them in tar, and then threw a bag of feathers over the sticky remains. To say that Mukara's red-clad guards were nervous at finding this was an understatement. Their katana were out and eyeing the shadows that the candles couldn't reach with trepidation.
The guards advanced slowly to a lonely table by a dying fire that had two occupants who were spared from the humiliation of the others. The two were quietly drinking from their mugs, one's hair pale white; the other's features obscured by shadows save for the scar framing a chilly eye.
"What happened here?" the head of the new arrival of guards asked rather stupidly.
The one with white hair glared, an arrogant smirk resting on his face. "We're having a private party celebrating the demise of the Mashokateers. Go away."
"You did this?" The guard perhaps did have some brains, catching onto the obvious.
The scared one replied, "None of your business."
"You--You're under arrest," the guard retorted, mustering as much courage as he could manage.
The two looked to each other and burst out laughing, the arrogant smirk feeling generous and resting on both faces. The guards didn't exactly appreciate being laughed at, but then, given how intimidating the two looked, nobody was going to try and argue the point.
"You're under arrest," said a new voice. The two in the shadows paused in their laughter, and looked to the new player that entered the bar. It was the bald Gashura, his head shining a halo that almost blinded everyone in the pub. "By my authority, bestowed by the Cardinal Mukara."
The two looked to each other again and once more burst out laughing. Their chuckles were interrupted, however, by a resounding THUD from above, as some unseen weight landed on the candelabra above, the rope breaking from the strain and falling. The cast of extras were promptly flattened to the ground, and then, through the floor into the cellar below. The occupant who had dropped the candelabra easily jumped off, landing on more stable ground.
"Did I miss anyone?" he hissed, the arrogant smirk taking up residence on his face.
Gashura fumed. "Rajura, Anubisu, Naaza. I'll have your heads."
"You're a fine one to talk," Anubisu retorted, manipulating the shadows to surround Gashura's head, cutting down on the glare. "We had your head as I recall."
"Indeed," Rajura agreed, borrowing the arrogant smirk from Naaza temporarily. "Discharged due to conduct unbecoming a Mashokateer. You always were a coward, hiding behind women and children."
Gashura fumed.
Naaza took the arrogant smirk back. "Immoral, useless, ninja."
Somewhere in the French palace, Ryo was heard saying "Hey!"
All three Masho pointed their katana to the dishonorable and bald Gashura. "If you'll excuse us," Rajura grinned, taking the smirk again, much to Naaza's displeasure, "we have to be going."
Naaza landed the hilt of his sword on Gashura's blinding head.
Zettai! Unmei! Mokushiroku! Zettai, unmei mokusiroku; watashi no tanjou, zettai tanjou...
Shuten had finally found the Christian monastery. It was indeed on the outskirts of town, so far on the outskirts that he was fifteen minutes late in finding it. Although, if he looked at it the other way, he was forty-five minute early for the one o'clock duel and an hour and forty-five minute early for the two o'clock duel. Yes, that sounded much more to his liking.
Sodomu no yami, hikari no yami, kageya no yami...
Twitching, Shuten continued to climb the spiral staircase. The monastery was a cheap duplicate of the dueling arena from Shojo Kakumei Utena. The dueling music was pounding in his ears, but he bared it as it was much preferable on the stairs than in the elevator. Thankfully, his clothing did not magically change into anything, and when he reached the top, his first duel of the day was already waiting for him.
Mokushi kushimo shimoku kumoshi moshiku shikumo! Mokushi kushimo shimoku kumoshi moshiku shikumo!
"Your manners have not improved yet, boy." The white haired man from Mashokateer headquarters was leaning against the stone safety rail, his sword resting against his shoulders. "You're late."
Shuten only scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You try being a newcomer to a city as big as this and trying to find a damnable monastery."
The one eyed man stood slowly, grinning. "Christians are the only ones to make stone edifices like this. You need only to climb a watch tower and look around."
Shuten cursed himself for not thinking of that sooner. Instead he shifted into a fighting stance, his hand hovering over the edge of his sword. "Are we going to talk? Or are we going to fight?" There was suddenly a low, mechanical sound of hydraulics.
The one eyed man grinned. "Here come the grave diggers now."
The center of the floor of the arena opened up to reveal two very familiar faces, both beat red and standing as far away from each other as possible.
"What the hell was that?"
"Who comes up with these things?"
"We're never taking the elevator again!"
The white haired man walked up to them. "What are you talking about? I took the elevator and it was fine."
"You didn't have to take it WITH someone! I think I'm going to be sick..."
Shrugging his shoulders, Shuten's one eyed opponent stepped between them. "Whatever, I have a duel to fight."
That stopped the scarred and snake eyed men from whatever the heck they were talking about and looked over to Shuten. He glared at them, hiding very well the cursing he was doing in his head at the odds of him being challenged by three samurai who knew each other. Ah, well, if he was going to die, it was going to be with pride.
"Rajura," green haired said, shouldering past the one eyed man, "you cannot fight this boy."
"Why not?" the Cyclops huffed.
"I'm fighting him!" the snake retorted.
"Not until one o'clock," Shuten offered, keeping up his bravado.
"I have a duel with him too," the blue haired man murmured, glaring at the redhead.
"Not until two o'clock," Shuten answered glibly.
The one eyed man flipped his white hair behind him, the picture of elegance. "Well, boy, you choose your opponents well... Or should I say foolishly?" The other two stepped away, and Shuten's opponent shrugged off his outermost layer. The dark cloak revealed underneath it the royal blue of the king, spotted with the fleur de lit; the crown's insignia.
Shuten blinked, disliking the increasingly ignorant feeling he was getting. "You're a Mashokateer?" he asked dumbly.
The other two whipped off their cloaks, revealing similar colored haori. "You're ALL Mashokateers?"
"Does that bother you?" the white haired man asked.
"I've been looking everywhere for you! Where the hell have you been?"
"Well," Shuten's opponent said lightly, shrugging his shoulders. "You could always withdraw; make the duel a later date."
"No," Shuten said quickly, falling back into stance. "I'm a man of honor. I will fight. But believe me when I say that killing you will bring me no pleasure." Well, maybe a little bit, but they don't need to know that.
"Oh, he's a feisty little boy, isn't he?" the snake eyed man laughed.
The scarred man nodded, that fickle smirk hinting over his features. "Feisty indeed; and incredibly cocky."
The white haired man grinned. "Shall we begin?"
Shuten nodded, feeling like the odd one out with his simple, home spun clothes. The two readied themselves, eyeing each other and gauging their strengths and weaknesses. The noncombatants watched, taking their own mental notes. Just as they were ready to charge, the hydraulic sound creaked into existence again. Filtered along with it were many shocked and offended cries and the occasional explicative.
The white haired man's shoulders slumped. The other two had their heads in their hands. "Only a baka would try and arrest us twice in one day."
The elevator opened, the cardinal's guards burst away from the contraption. One of them, the presumed leader, looked to the Mashokateers. "You're all under arrest."
The two noncombatants looked to each other. "Baka."
The leader puffed up. "Will you come along quietly or do you intend to resist?" he asked importantly.
"Don't be so stupid," the snake eyed man retorted, "of course we intend to resist; give us a moment, alright?"
And he did.
Shuten watched as the three huddled together. Well, he thought to himself, the Mashokateers are here, might was well join them now. He made his way over to them. "All right," the green haired samurai was saying. "Five of them, three of us, hardly seems fair." He pushed Shuten away, intent on ignoring his presence.
"Maybe we should have at least considered the option of surrender?" the scarred Mashokateer asked. The three paused in appraisal. "No," they all said at once.
"Excuse me!" Shuten said, finally muscling his way in, "but there's four of us."
The one eyed samurai sighed in frustration. "Go away boy, this isn't your fight; you're not a Mashokateer."
Shuten bristled. "I may not wear the haori, but I believe that I have the kokoro, the heart of a Mashokateer."
The three looked to each other.
"Warrior."
"Poet."
"Got a name, boy?"
"Shuten Doji."
"Rajura, Naaza and Anubisu."
The pleasantries were exchanged, nodding and bowing to each other. Naaza, the snake eyed samurai, took over. "Well, everyone acquainted?" He turned, drawing his katana, the three behind him doing the same. "NOW, we are prepared to resist you."
The leader paled visibly, taking an involuntary step back. But now that he'd made his bed, he might as well lay in it. "Get'em!" he said intelligently. And so, the fight started. The leader of the cardinal's guards headed for the apparent weakest of the bunch, the redheaded whelp, and let the others figure out what they were supposed to do. One went immediately for Rajura, another for Naaza. The other two, lacking favorites, went after Anubisu.
The order of fighting, from shortest to longest, was as follows: the first to finish was, interestingly enough, Anubisu. He blocked and parried his away around the arena until he had his two opponents on either side of him. The two lunged and Anubisu stepped away, rather accidentally-on-purpose letting them run each other through. Rajura was next, being uncharacteristically straightforward and simply outfighting his opponent. Naaza would have finished very quickly, but he was enjoying showing off his little arsenal. Pulling out a wakizashi, his clicked a hidden button and the blade split into three. Using it, he cut his enemy's sword in two. Said opponent knew when to run, but Naaza was not done. Pulling out a bola, he used that to crack the poor guy's skull. The last to finish was Shuten. The leader surprised him by showing some skill; he was more of a challenge than that dimwitted Touma, and Shuten actually had to work to defeat him. Ultimately, Shuten just wore him down and edged him to the safety rail. Then, in one fluid motion, he threw the leader over it, letting him plummet to his death.
Triumphant, he looked back to display his victory to the Mashokateers, proof positive that he was destined to join them.
They were gone.
Irked, Shuten looked around the entire arena, but his only company was the bodies of the other four cardinal guards. Shuten dared not look at the elevator, and instead was about to go looking down the stairs when he heard the hydraulics. Turning, he saw a bald man rise up from the elevator. He looked around at the carnage, and then locked his gaze to Shuten.
The young samurai realized too late what it looked like. "The Mashokateers..." he said.
"Long live the Mashokateers?" Gashura said. "Idiot." He calmly walked over, drawing his sword. Shuten readied himself for another fight, but in the blink of an eye Gashura was behind him, knocking his hilt into Shuten's head.
"Stupid ninja trick..." was about all the redhead could mutter before he fell unconscious.
When Shuten finally regained his senses, he looked around, rather unsurprised, to find himself in a prison. A prison that rivaled feudal Japan in its grotesqueness. The only thing this French prison had that was better than Japan was the fact that Shuten had a solitary cell, rather than being dumped in with hordes of other prisoners. Also of no surprise was the fact that Shuten did not have his katana.
Several unpleasant words erupted from Shuten's mouth. It was unsurprising, but still very unwanted. "Where's my katana?" he shouted amidst his profanities.
"It is a beautiful piece of craftsmanship."
Shuten got up and whirled around to find the tip of the very blade he was seeking at the edge of his throat.
"Where did you steal it?" The person who wielded Shuten's sword (and the fickle smirk) was a shiny-headed, bald samurai, dressed completely in black. If it weren't for the glaring shine, he would have rivaled Anubisu in creepy intimidation. The bald samurai seemed to notice the shine on his head was rather blinding, and pulled out a black French feathered hat, placing it on his smooth skull. A French feathered hat, and a samurai's hakama and haori. He no longer looked intimidating.
"That's my katana."
"Don't lie to the great Gashura," the un-impressive man stated, walking around the redheaded Mashokateer wannbe.
"Alright," Shuten replied, stealing the smirk from the now-named Gashura. "It's my father's sword."
"Baka... like your father."
CLUNK!
The hilt of Shuten's own katana nailed him in the back of his head, sending him down into the straw-covered dirt of the prison cell floor. Shuten still held onto the ever-elusive smirk, however, since he was faking unconsciousness. Gashura left Shuten alone in the cell with a guard. The guard was a large tin can soldier, garishly costumed in French clothes. Once Gashura was out of sight, Shuten leapt to his feet, grabbed the soldier's arm and flipped the ugly tin can over his shoulder and with a resounding CRASH, the unfortunate recyclable broke apart, leaking greasy black smoke that made Shuten cough.
Still, the smirk remained on Shuten's face as he tasted freedom and slipped out of the cell with the guard's keys. Sticking close to the walls, he slinked through the shadows, unaware that he was taking after the quiet Anubisu. The smug smirk accompanied him along the way as he slipped through the twists and turns of the dungeon, without a clue as to how to escape.
Fortune smiled upon Shuten and his smug smirk, however, when he spied a lovely woman following the well-known cardinal Mukara. The cardinal was cheating on Naria? Oh, how interesting. Shuten knew all the gossip from his short time in Paris. The queen Naria wasn't interested in her King Ryo at all. She only had eyes for the ragged red Mukara. But here was Mukara (also said to belong only to Naria) with another woman. Shuten's curiosity got the better of him. He followed.
Inside an unusually rich chamber (in a dungeon?), the woman looked extremely irritated as she gazed at the cardinal.
"My name is close to Naria's. You could at least say 'Nasutei', couldn't you?"
Mukara merely glared at her, before glancing at a paper that lay on an ornate wooden desk nearby.
Nasutei sighed, walked over to the desk, and read the paper. Despite herself, Nasutei whistled.
"For a man with a one-word vocabulary, you're very articulate when you're writing."
Mukara glared at her, and raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, you didn't write this?" Nasutei looked at the curious document again. "Of course. This smells of the twins. I doubt you could even speak the language."
Mukara merely shrugged and continued to glare.
"Right. Deliver this to the Duke of Buckingham, have his signature on it before Ryo's birthday, this Friday. I'll go from a ship that sails Tuesday at midnight from Calais." Nasutei scowled. "Now that I've divulged your plans, what more do you want?"
Mukara scowled right back, his glare turning insulted.
"As long as we understand each other," Nasutei replied.
Shuten had to admit, he was impressed. Nasutei handled herself quite well, and she was quite lovely as well. After all, Shuten mused, he was stuck in a fic that had very few in the female cast, so actually being able to see a woman in French silks was quite nice.
CLUNK!
He was beginning to hate this. The smirk left his face once more as he was dragged into the ornate room he had been observing. Nasutei was nowhere to be seen, most likely having made a discrete exit.
Shuten was thrown down in front of the silent cardinal.
Mukara glared and Shuten realized why Nasutei had done all the talking. He was going to have to do this scene by himself again. What did he do to deserve this?
"No," Shuten replied. "I didn't hear anything."
Mukara's glare intensified.
"I don't know!"
Glare of torturous death.
"No." Shuten wouldn't explain his lines if Mukara didn't even say his own.
Glare of long torturous death.
"I don't know."
Glare of long torturous death with a raised eyebrow.
"If I did, I wouldn't tell you."
Glare of long torturous death with a smug smirk that had vacated Shuten's face earlier.
CLUNK!
Shuten was learning very quickly to hate Paris. It smelled, for one. The streets were filthy, there were no waterways, only garbage ways; the buildings were dim, narrow, and uninviting; the people were all but indifferent. Well, until now, that is. Shuten discovered, to his abject consternation, that Paris public loved beheadings. And guess what was about to happen to him? Someone out there was laughing at the redhead, he was sure of it.
His cart wheeled to a platform, a smith's anvil creaking on the rotting wood. The crowd half jeered and half cheered, some was throwing rotten fruit at him and others throwing profanities. It was not the glorious death that Shuten had picture for himself, and he was feeling increasingly bitter to the set of circumstances that led him to it.
The axe man grabbed Shuten's now dirty gi and jerked him onto the platform for everyone to see. The hooded man was mumbling to himself about something or other that Shuten could not make out, and the priest was speaking quietly to the Cardinal's guard. Why a dying man needed a guard was beyond him.
"Shuten Doji!"
No. Shuten rose his soon-to-be-gone head to see the blue haired Touma and his three-as-one brothers, Seiji-Shin-and-Shuu, watching the spectacle from a rich looking balcony. Of all the things he needed.
"Shuten, what's the matter?" Touma asked; a bright, evil smile on his face. "Have a headache? Well, the headsman will take care of it, won't he? I doubt you feel any difference than how you usually feel. You are rather empty-headed, after all, aren't you?" he continued glibly. "Your head's so swelled its no wonder you haven't floated away, what with all the hot air in it and all."
Shuten spat in his general direction and looked to the headsman. "I don't suppose you can hurry up, could you? I'd like to keep at least a little of my dignity."
The man with the axe nodded, his beady eyes shining with something Shuten could not determine.
The priest finally came over, cloaked in black with a wide brimmed, feathered hat pulled so low Shuten couldn't see the holy man's face. "Are you prepared?" he asked solemnly. Shuten blinked in response. "Are you prepared?" he asked again.
Shuten straightened. "I am always prepared for my death," he answered; he followed his reply with a scowl. "I just didn't want to die like THIS."
That seemed to satisfy both the priest and the headman. They nodded in unison.
"Fear not, my son," the priest said. "We are with you. Always. Tout pour un, un pour tous."
Startled, Shuten looked at the priest, who obligingly lifted the brim of his hat. It was the scarred Mashokateer, Anubisu.
"Now, this axe was a gift to me, from Orochi-sama, the lord of snakes," the headman stated. The beady eyes now were familiar, that of the snakish Naaza. Said snake roughly pushed him to the anvil. Rising his axe well above his head, Naaza milked the crowed as the cheered, waiting for him to give the final blow. Instead, he turned and butted the end of his axe into the face of the guard. Pandemonium ensued from the crowd as a second guard climbed up the platform to stop the headman. Anubisu the priest, however, countered by lifting the guard up and magnificently throwing him into the crowd, creating a mosh pit that wasn't afraid to let the guard know what they thought of the cardinal.
A knife from Naaza left Shuten free and rubbing his rope-burned wrists. Marching up to the nearest guard, the redhead happily punched him dead in the nose, grabbing the obliging katana as he fell into the crowd. Now armed, Shuten was more than ready to take on the entire country of France.
Anubisu had other plans, however, and kicked Shuten, causing the redhead to stumble over the edge of the beheading platform and into the awaiting shotgun seat of a carriage. Rajura, at the reins, waited only long enough for his two friends to hop through the thin fabric of the roof of the carriage before his whipped the reins. "Hyah!"
The four white horses started and immediately stampeded away. They passed under the expensive balcony, Touma staring in shock as his nemesis made his getaway. Shuten offered a rude gesture in farewell, but it did not last long as Rajura jerked the reins, breaking a hard turn that nearly drove Shuten off the carriage.
"Watch where you're driving!" the young warrior demanded.
"You're a fine one to try and complain after we just saved your life!" Rajura retorted, yanking the reins and bearing another ninety-degree turn.
"You didn't save my life! I could have handled is by myself, I had everything perfectly under control!"
"A small piece of advise." Shuten whirled around to see Naaza behind him, standing on one of the seats of the carriage. "Don't lie when witnesses are around." Shuten cursed as Rajura and Anubisu grinned. "Now, for a chase, the cardinal recommends his wonderful 1745 Cabaret." Producing a bottle from somewhere, he handed it to Rajura.
"No sake? Barbarian." Rajura took the bottle, however, and handed Shuten the reins while he enjoyed himself. The redhead looked expectantly at Naaza, knowing that there must have been other brandies and liquors. The snake eyed Mashokateer only grinned. "Sorry, boy, you're the designated driver."
Anubisu appeared, but said nothing as he hefted several boxes up and out of the carriage. They shattered as they hit the ground, spilling out what must have been almost a thousand gold pieces. A riot burst into being, people destroying each other to get a fistful or more of the gold. Naaza nodded approvingly even and Anubisu disappeared back into the carriage. At Shuten's questioning look the snake replied, "He just deterred any pursuers, boy. Be grateful." He turned to Rajura, "Care to join us in the carriage? Challenge us to see who can get drunk faster?"
"But what about--"
"About what, boy?" Rajura asked.
Shuten took a deep breath. "There's a ship called the Persephone that's leaving Calais this Tuesday at midnight with a spy who will get the signature of the Duke of Buckingham on a treaty with the cardinal so that they can oust the king out of the throne and if we get our hands on the treaty we can prove the cardinal guilty of treason and be heroes and I can finally be a Mashokateer like I'm destined to be!"
Rajura, Naaza, and Anubisu, blinked. From there their reactions differed. Rajura grew into a look of firm determination, Naaza grinned manically at the thought of a fight, Anubisu's eyes chilled to a winter cold.
"Does that mean you'll help me?"
"After we've gotten drunk."
Shuten cursed the fates.
Three days later, Shuten and the others, now on the four white horses instead of the carriage, were riding through a large open field. The redheaded young man continued to mumble and sputter to himself, shocked that three warriors as disorderly and unorganized and as capable of bickering were really the fabled "one for all, all for one" Mashokateers. Shuten prayed very hard that these three were not a true representative of the rest of the Mashokateers, he wasn't sure if he could take it.
His thoughts were interrupted, however, as he heard a fine whistling in the air.
"Do you hear that?"
"Hear what?" Anubisu asked.
"Whistling."
Naaza grinned. "You didn't even drink and you have a hangover."
Rajura slowed his horse, however. "I hear it, too. It sounds like a--"
KABOOM!
"Cannonball!"
"I hate cannonballs!" Naaza exclaimed, even as the four struggle to regain control of their horses. Finally doing so, they galloped across the field and into an obliging forest.
"Cardinal Mukara must have put a price on our heads," Shuten speculated.
"Thank you for stating the obvious, boy," Rajura spat. He turned to the other two. "There's less likely a chance of them catching us if we split up."
"See you in Calais," Naaza shouted as he and Anubisu veer their horses away.
"Or hell!" Rajura offered in reply. He and Shuten spurred their horses faster, especially when they realized they were being followed.
Ryo went through complex kata, trading his ridiculous costume for a simple practice hakama and gi. He knew that various French nobles were looking on in curiosity, wondering why the twins had cast someone of such foreign extraction as their king, and why he was doing such graceful, yet un-king-like behavior. Ryo ignored them. The twins had let him rewrite this fencing scene to allow him to relax in more comfortable attire. Besides, he would need to keep his head since this scene required him to talk to Mukara. Note: He'd be talking to Mukara, not with Mukara. The African never said anything. He only glared.
Ryo sighed briefly as he entered into his finishing stance, twin katana glittering. The crowd around him applauded politely, quickly loosing interest. Still, Mukara parted the crowds effectively as he approached the foreign French king.
"Mukara," Ryo greeted the rough cardinal in a friendly manner. "I wished to talk to you."
Mukara only nodded his head, but made no other move to acknowledge him.
Ryo gritted his teeth. Mukara's one-word vocabulary was going to be the death of anyone who had to do a scene with the dark warrior. It was so frustrating.
"I've been hearing some rather disturbing rumors lately."
Mukara said nothing.
"I wish to remind you, that I'm perfectly fine with your being with Naria. I didn't ask to be her husband in this fic."
Icy glare of a tiger.
Ryo glared right back. His eyes could also bear the tiger-like quality that Mukara was currently wielding.
Mukara nodded, accepting that he had glared out of turn.
Ryo's face softened. "I'm trying to be a friend here."
Mukara merely rolled his eyes.
Ryo raised an eyebrow. If Mukara was going to be silent, so was he.
Long silence.
Mukara growled and gestured rudely, rolling his eyes once again.
Ryo nodded. The African wasn't angry with him, he was angry at the twins. They were doing everything. "I have a suggestion then, about what to do with the end of this fic."
Mukara said nothing (big surprise) and raised an eyebrow.
"I think you'll like this proposal."
The only difference between Paris and Calais was that Calais was smaller. Naaza and Anubisu used this to their advantage, quickly finding the England-bound ship. The pair stared up at the wooden vessel, wondering idly if they should bother to put on a show. The two looked at each other.
"Nah," they said simultaneously.
Naaza, water snake that he was, led the way up the ropes and onto the deck, Anubisu close behind and quiet as a wolf. The crew was either drunk or sleeping or just damn cocky, there being no guards to be seen. This made the pair grinned as they made their way to the captain's cabin. Naaza dealt with the pompous man quickly, giving Anubisu a quick nod.
"All hands on deck!" he shouted. "All hands on deck!"
There was creaking and some swearing, but the crew arrived relatively quickly. Naaza slowly stepped out of the captain's cabin and everyone froze in fear.
"Orochi-no-Naaza. Student of Orochi and pirate extraordinaire!"
They stood stock still, everyone too scared to move until Anubisu ran the first one through.
It was a quick fight.
Shuten cursed his lousy rotten luck. Not that long ago, he'd been conked on the head again and robbed. All he had left was his katana, which was currently in the possession of his savior and current captor, Nasutei. The same woman whom he had seen "conversing" with the silent Mukara. The twins were determined to see him suffer.
"Permission to come aboard?" Nasutei called out.
"Permission granted," a voice hissed in reply.
Nasutei used the tip of Shuten's katana to shove him up the plank and onto the wooden vessel. Shuten growled something decidedly unpleasant.
"Manners," Nasutei replied. The tip of the sword pushed him farther once more. "Captain," she called out. "I wish to disembark immediately."
"I'm afraid that's going to be a problem," a voice barked.
Nasutei stiffened.
Two people came out from the shadows. One snakish, the other wolfish.
Nasutei snapped the fingers of her free hand, and guards of the cardinal appeared out of nowhere and a fight between two Mashokateers and their servant versus the red-clad guards. Nasutei thought this was an appropriate diversion and left the brawling to the boys as she slipped off the ship. She wasn't a warrior, after all. They didn't need her on that ship.
She stopped rather quickly, however, when a sword came to her neck. She turned and glared at Rajura.
"The treaty, if you please," he grinned winsomely, hand extended for the document. Nasutei smiled, however.
"As you wish."
To say that the Mashokateers were pissed, would be an understatement. After all of their hard work to apprehend Nasutei to try and save their stupid king Ryo, they were thwarted. So naturally they were pissed.
"How were they thwarted?" you may ask. Quite simple actually. All four of them spoke Japanese (with translations provided for this fic). The treaty was in French. Archaic French no less.
They were pissed.
However, since this fic is about Shuten finding appropriate acceptance from the Mashokateers, he pointed out something.
"Nasutei is half French."
Rajura was out the door before the last syllable was sounded.
Nasutei looked up to see Rajura and the document she had handed over storm into her cell.
"What is that Mukara after?"
Nasutei merely smiled sweetly.
"Well?"
"I'm slotted for death by beheading. What's in it for me?" Nasutei replied.
"Just tell me."
"Why?"
Rajura growled in frustration.
"Mukara is merely going to be giving a demonstration of his loyalty to England."
"How?"
Nasutei continued to smile. She'd given him enough information. Let him figure it out.
Rajura cursed, long and loud. Finally, he pulled out a wakizashi. "You wanted to know what's in it for you?" he asked. "How about a chance to die without a beheading."
Nasutei looked long and hard at the blade. An honorable suicide or a public beheading. "He will somehow display this loyalty at the celebration of the king's birthday. I don't know how."
Rajura left the blade on the ground in front of her and left the cell.
Kenbukyo was angry. The Mashokateers had been disbanded and he was angry because of it. Years of faithful and loyal service gone in an instant, so that he could be an infantryman. While the army was an honorable occupation, it was not Kenbukyo's occupation.
An arrow shot through his window and he caught it easily.
Now what?
Looking at the arrow, he noticed a paper tied to it.
Toute pour un, un pour toute!
Kenbukyo smiled, and petted his black tiger. He finally had work to do.
It was Friday, the day of the king's birthday. So, of course, it was cause for a nationwide celebration. The city of Paris was packed to bursting with people of all shapes, sizes, backgrounds, and socioeconomic status. The castle was abuzz with activity, cooks and servants literally scampering this way and that to make sure that everything was in order, that everything was perfect for the virtue-bound king.
The royalty in question was walking down a great hall, as intricately decorated as he was. Clad in his finest Japanese formal attire, Ryo was a drool worthy site to behold. At the other end of the hall, his wife Naria was also walking down the hall. She was dressed in the exquisite French silks befitting her status. Ryo noticed, not for the first time, what Mukara saw in her.
The cardinal was in the entourage, gazing lovingly at Ryo's queen and glaring ice daggers at him. Ryo ignored him thoroughly. It was his birthday, after all, and he wasn't going to let Mukara ruin it.
Ryo and Naria met in the middle of the hall, and Ryo extended his arm with grace and ease. Naria accepted it humbly, and the walked down a new hall, leading to a balcony of the castle where Ryo would great his people.
"You look beautiful," Ryo whispered. "I can see why Mukara is always so jealous."
Naria flushed politely. "Do not let him hear you say that, or you will not live long."
"I don't let him bother me," he replied lightly. Mukara sneezed once and, guessing who was talking about him, threw more ice daggers Ryo's way. The king caught them easily and melted them in his hand. "See? It's my birthday, and no one, I mean no one, is going to ruin it."
Mukara sneezed again.
Unknowing of this conversation, three Mashokateers and a young recruit were milling about in the crowd below the aforementioned balcony. The guards had tried to confiscate their swords, but four very cold glares had them running away screaming.
"It's best we split up," Rajura said, always thinking ahead. "We can cover more ground and up the odds of someone reaching either the assassin or Mukara."
Shuten, being young, brazen, and thinking himself better that the collection of old men he was associating with, was ignoring all of this and spying the intricate rooftops of the castle courtyard. It was magnificent architecture, and also the perfect place for an assassin to hide. True enough, he spied the glint of a rifle and the massive bulk of a sharpshooter. Well, now. This was his chance to be a hero! Shuten dashed off, looking for the closest entry way and hopefully the quickest way up to the roof.
"Shuten! Shuten get back here!" But the redhead was long gone and Rajura only sighed. "That boy is determined to get killed."
"Let him," Naaza said. A manic grin spread across his face. "It's not like he's a Mashokateer."
Anubisu's winter gaze snapped to attention and he looked up. The other two followed, trusting the wolf's senses, and watched as King Ryo and Queen Naria entered onto the balcony. The crowd threw into an uproar, cheering and shouting and not a few fans trying to get Ryo's attention.
"Let's go," Rajura said. The other two agreed and they pushed their way forward.
Shuten, meanwhile, was huffing and puffing. Just how many stairs were IN this castle anyway! Reaching the top of yet another flight, he burst through a door and squinted as the sun invaded his eyes. Ah! The roof! But where was he on the roof? Taking a moment to look around as his eyes adjusted, Shuten found to his consternation that he was at the exact opposite side of the castle! How the heck did that happen? Growling and cursing and wondering not for the first time where that delightfully smug smirk had disappeared to, he started to run along the rooftops to see if he could get any closer.
The assassin was big, bulky, and looked suspiciously like Daala. Looking down, Shuten saw that Ryo was already on the balcony, waving to his people and grinning like the ignorant naïve fool he was. Shuten was about to curse, he wouldn't make it in time, until he tripped and landed flat on his face. Ready to take his rage out at whatever had tripped him, he sat up and discovered an old, discarded, kusari gama.
He blinked. Who on earth would leave such a weapon here of all places?
. . . Never mind. Not about to look a gift weapon in the mouth, he picked it up and with practiced skill and ease, swung the ball end of the kusari gama at the assassin, rapping it around the barrel of the rifle and yanked just as the gun went off. The shot was heard by everyone and the crowd ducked as one. The bullet missed by a narrow margin and embedded itself onto the guardrail, sending rock splinters flying everywhere. Ryo instinctively stepped in front of Naria, protecting the innocent like he always did, as one particularly mean piece of shrapnel cut into his face.
"Mukara!" Shuten could hear the cry even from where he was, and watched what happened below.
Ryo and Naria were ushered back into the castle for their own safety - Ryo's fury aside - and Mukara stepped forward and stared down at Rajura, Naaza, and Anubisu, who had at some point shed their cloaks and were brazenly displaying their blue Mashokateer haori. The red priest merely pointed at the three, but the meaning was clear.
"Kill those Mashokateers; they're trying to murder the king!"
Shuten could not watch further as Daala, the assassin, finally made his way over to Shuten's part of the roof and jumped him.
Rajura and the others drew their katana as one, intent on defending themselves. But even they were a little nervous as what was easily two hundred of the cardinal's guard drew their swords. Even THEY could not fight so many.
Their slight nerves did not last long, however. An interesting crowd swelled up from behind them, and as they shed their cloaks it was obvious that they, too, were Mashokateers. Suddenly, the match looked much more interesting.
Rajura puffed up in pride, a certain smirk spreading across his lips. He raised his sword.
"Save the king!"
The fight began.
Ryo struggled against his captors. He would have put them to shame, but Naria was in their grasp as well. He dared not let any harm come to her. Mukara appeared, grinning slightly.
"How dare you!"
Cocked eyebrow and tilted head.
"I won't let you have the throne!"
Backhand and icy glare.
"How many times to I have to tell you? Naria is ALL YOURS!"
"Ryo!" Naria cried out, blushing bright red. This of course only infuriated Mukara further, kicking the king in the midsection. Grabbing a tuft of raven hair, the cardinal raised the king's head, still glaring.
Ryo could only glare back. "I'm not repeating myself."
It would have been an even fight, the numbers were about equal and so were the skills, except for three little things: Rajura, Naaza, and Anubisu. Oh, and Shuten, too. Of course, this was after he had taken down Daala single handedly and made his way down all those damnable stairs again. When he finally arrived, the fight had moved its way to into the castle. Naaza was enjoying himself thoroughly, of course, using his multitude of weapons to bring his enemies down. Anubisu was no where in sight, but that was to be expected of him. Rajura, Shuten found, was in a deadlock with Gashura, who was interestingly using HIS sword. Thief.
Upon closer examination, Shuten saw that Rajura was leading with his left hand. On his right arm was a dark stain that could only be blood. Shuten didn't know whether to be concerned or self righteous; concerned over the wound, self righteous that someone as high handed as Rajura had gotten wounded. There was a brilliant clash, and the katana, Shuten's katana, slid to his feet. Shuten tossed both concerned and self righteous out the window and opted for the third option, vengeance.
"This sword belongs to me," he said quietly. He picked up the blade delicately and threw a quick glance to Rajura. The one eyed Mashokateer nodded and went off. Even he knew a battle of honor when he saw it. Good. Shuten tossed his borrowed sword to Gashura. The bald man caught it easily and readied himself.
Then came the shot.
Anubisu had stayed hidden, not partaking in the fight all that much because this was not his fight. His fight was with Mukara, who had started all this. Kill him and kill the fight. Simple. Spying red in both cloth and aura, Anubisu spotted Mukara and Ryo. The ninja headed them off easily and stood to block their way.
"Mukara, you are under arrest, charged with treason, dishonor, dirty tactics, and an unwillingness to speak." He raised his sword. "How do you plea?"
Well, Mukara's eyes hardened slightly, he pulled out a gun, and fired. I guess that means guilty.
Anubisu twisted with the hit, clattering to the floor senselessly.
"Anubisu!" Naaza, who had witnessed the crime, bowled through the crowd, pushing aside Mashokateers and blindly killing the cardinal's guards as he made his way to his friend. Rajura was close behind. As they approached, however, Anubisu stirred, groaning.
"What happened?"
Anubisu rubbed his side, expecting to find a bullet hole, but was surprised to find none. He looked around and found the bullet in the hilt of his katana. Woah. The three looked at each other, took a moment, nodded, and then plowed after Mukara and the king.
The fight with Gashura proved annoying at best, taxing at worst. That shiny head proved to be a good distraction, and the man was just plain slippery. Gashura got the upper hand only once, literally pulling the rug out from under Shuten and causing him to fall down a collection of stairs.
"I hate stairs," Shuten lamented. A sword leveled to his throat and he glared menacingly at Gashura.
"How ironic, killed by the same man that killed your father."
Shuten blinked. What?
"Well, one thing is certain. You are no Mashokatee--!"
There was a long period of silence. The katana had pierced through the other side of Gashura, and blood dripped down the blade, pooling at the hilt before it fell to the floor. Shuten was breathing heavily, the high emotional energy suddenly leaving him.
"I might. . . have been mistaken. . ." Gashura fell bonelessly to the floor when Shuten yanked out his katana. He stood for a moment, contemplating what he had done.
"Ah, well, it's not like he'll be missed."
Shuten hurried after his three compatriots.
Following Mukara turned out to be an arduous task. After going behind a hidden panel, they were inundated by a seeming labyrinth of corridors, prisons, and torture chambers.
"This is obviously the dungeon," Naaza said lightly. He snatched a few interesting looking weapons here and there, intent of using them to their fullest capabilities. Anubisu, still absently rubbing where he should have been shot, only rolled his eyes in response and kept going. They finally reach a three way fork.
"I guess we split up," Rajura said, speaking their thoughts.
Bowing their head to each other, they each took a corridor. Naaza, never one to be cautious like his friends, barreled into the darkness. He was surprised to find little resistance until he ran into something that he knew for a fact hadn't been there half a second ago.
"Ow," he said dryly. "That hurt."
"That was the idea." A pair of twin warriors stepped out. "We can't let you pass."
Naaza had the decency to look curious. "Really? And you are. . . ?"
"Saryuto," one said. "Managers of this dungeon."
"Lovely job," Naaza said, looking around idly. "Tell me, do you get much insurance pay, or do damages by great men such as myself come right out of your pockets?"
In reply, the Saryuto attacked, one from either side of him. "I guess that means the latter." Naaza easily evaded, but the pair did not run each other through, instead avoiding each other. So that trick wouldn't work. Good, that meant Naaza could get a real work out.
"So if you pay for the damages, then what about the expenses of maintaining this place? You know, keeping the torches lit, the prisoners bloody, that kind of thing?"
The pair did not like his brand of humor, however, and did not bother replying, instead focusing on just trying to get him.
Bored at the lack of response, Naaza finally drew his katana and took care of them in one powerful swipe.
"And who pays for your burial?" he asked their bodies. There was, of course, still no reply, so the snake shrugged and continued barreling through the corridor.
When he exited, he saw Rajura fighting off the last of the cardinal's guard while Anubisu was talking quietly with the king, Ryo. With no need to fake his confusion, he walked over to his scarred friend, bowing his head in respect to Ryo. "Did I miss much?"
"Rajura is negotiating Ryo's release," Anubisu said, not a bit glibly. He motioned his head and Naaza followed his gaze, flushing as he saw Mukara and Naria locked in a very intimate kiss. Rajura felled the last of the enemy and turned around.
"Does that settle the dispute?" he asked politely.
"There's only one thing left," Ryo said. Interestingly, that smug smirk, elusive for the last several scenes, had planted itself firmly on the king's face. He walked calmly up to Mukara and batted the cardinal over the head with his katana. Unconscious to the world, Ryo then hoisted the antagonist up onto his shoulder and tossed him unceremoniously onto a boat. Turning, he bowed to Naria. "My queen," he said politely, "I think your boat is about to set sail, even though there are no sails. Please give my regards to your fiancé, Mukara," Ryo straightened. "and tell him that now we're even." Bowing again, a graceful movement worthy of many screams of adulation, he walked back to the three Mashokateers. "Shall we go?"
"I'm finally here! I'm finally here! Where are the bad guys?"
Rajura, Naaza, Anubisu, and Ryo looked to see Shuten, out of breath, rushing up to join them. When he arrived, Naaza promptly batted him over the head.
"Too little, too late, boy."
"Mukara has Naria, he won't be coming to for a good while, so they'll be safely out of the country before he gets any ideas." Ryo smiled. "I can finally have a moment's peace and enjoy being king."
Shuten blinked. "Uh, okay."
Ryo frowned. "Was there supposed to be something else?"
"Oh, I don't know," Shuten said sarcastically, "maybe my induction to your little fraternity?"
The French throne room was a nice healthy shade of blue, as was expected of French royalty and decorated with fleur de lit, Mashokateer symbols, and other French iconic items to give the place a cool French feel. On the throne sat Ryo, once more in resplendent Japanese clothes, looking out of place in the room of French-ness, but still maintaining an air of respectability. Before him were rows upon rows of extras in the blue hakama and gi of a Mashokateer, katana and wakazashi openly displayed and decorated. In front of all the Mashokateer were three rather individual-looking Mashokateer. One had white hair and an eye-patch. One had green hair and a bandana. One had blue hair and a scar over one eye. Finally, beside the white-haired Mashokateer was a very out-of-place civilian, in plain brown French-peasant clothing, complete with feathered hat. Shuten was, needless to say, blushing as red as his hair. His three companions were merely smirking.
With the description out of the way, Ryo finally stood, stepping forward and looking elegant in the clothes of a Japanese ruler. "My enduring, obedient, and pious friends," the three Mashokateers' smirks grew even wider, "I would like to thank you very much for staying so true to me during this piece of fiction. Since I currently have the French treasury at my disposal, each of you may come forward and ask what sort of reward you desire for you greatly appreciated services."
Ryo bowed to the assembled warriors, and they returned the bow, many already murmuring approval. There was a reason they liked this Trooper.
"Anubisu, step forward and ask what your heart yearns for."
The blue-haired scarred Mashokateer stepped forward and bowed appropriately. Ryo returned the bow.
"Ryo," Anubisu stated, dropping some of the stuffy formality. "I'd love the chance to duel a certain blonde." He grinned wolfishly, and the shadows within the room quivered in anticipation.
Ryo turned and looked backstage. Seiji, who was busy with the lighting grinned just as wolfishly and nodded.
"You may have it," Ryo answered. The smirk on Anubisu's face grew.
"Naaza, step forward and ask what your heart yearns for."
Anubisu stepped back from the throne as Naaza stepped forward. He gave a sloppy, but respectful bow to Ryo and smiled. "I'd like ownership of the smirk."
Ryo blinked, eyes widening in surprise. "The smirk is a free gesture. It decides who to bestow itself upon. Would you cage the smirk for your own purposes?"
"Please," Naaza hissed. "The smirk would still do whatever it wants. I just get bragging rights by saying that I own it." The smirk tugged at Naaza's lips. "It's actually quite fond of me."
The smirk graced Ryo's face as well. "Very well. It will take time to set it all up, but you shall have ownership."
Naaza, still smirking, bowed and stepped back.
"Rajura, step forward and ask what your heart yearns for."
Rajura stepped forward and bowed. "I'd like to be the leader of the Mashokateer."
Many of the extras in the back face-faulted, tabi-covered feet high in the air.
Ryo nodded. "A reasonable request. However, I would like to add the condition that you become leader if you can defeat the current leader in a match of his choosing."
Rajura smiled, bowing. "I accept and will soon be leader."
"Shuten, step forward and ask what your heart yearns for."
Shuten, still as red as his hair and still looking like the odd-one-out in his peasant clothing stepped forward.
"I--I--" words failed to come out of the red-head's mouth. Why was he so blasted nervous. He deserved to be part of the Mashokateers after all this, so why wasn't he saying such.
Naaza came forward, grabbed Shuten in a headlock, and gave him a noogie.
"Ryo, this brat has only one desire."
"Indeed," Anubisu agreed, also stepping forward, "he's been bugging us about it since he decided to drop into our lives."
"So to get him off of our backs," Rajura added, stepping forward, "let him be a Mashokateer."
The smirk that Naaza now had claim over, widened Ryo's mouth into an almost feral grin.
"Shuten, you've got a lot to learn. Since you started this fic, you've had an arrogance that has tripped you up and led you astray many a time." Shuten blushed furiously as Ryo went about outlining every single one of his errors from the beginning of the story all the way up until the end. However, once Shuten was properly humbled, Ryo stepped forward, unsheathing his katana.
"Though you have much to learn," Ryo stated, "you've proven that you have potential. Thus, you are now a member of the Mashokateer. Rise, and let the three you've been following teach you." With a swift swipe of his katana, Shuten's clothes tore apart, revealing the blue hakama and gi of a Mashokateer underneath.
Shuten looked down confused. He knew for a fact that he didn't have this uniform on underneath his peasant-clothes. They wouldn't have fit. So how. . .?
Before he was fully aware, Shuten was pulled out of the throne room and dragged outside of the palace, his shock still befuddling his mind.
"Welcome to our crew," Naaza hissed, the smirk wide on his face. "Now that you're under us, we can teach you however we choose to."
"I think you'll best serve me if you start cleaning my home," Rajura added, "that way I can teach you about a little bit of discipline."
"Ryo gave you your first lesson in humility," Anubisu chimed in, "I think you need a few more though."
"Ah, Shuten."
The four looked up to see Touma and his single-entity brother Seiji-Shin-and-Shuu in the street. Touma had a bow with an arrow cocked. Seiji separated himself from his brothers and had a katana out, smiling and looking for a promised duel. That left Shin-and-Shuu back to back, each holding a staff.
"Now then," Touma continued, "I have the advantage this time, do I not?" He pulled back the arrow.
The three Mashokateers looked to each other.
"Boy," Rajura stated, landing a hand heavily onto Shuten's shoulder, "you need to learn how to finish what you start. Here's your tutor." With a swift shove, Shuten headed for the deadly-looking Touma.
"Tonight, tell me what you learned," Rajura called over his shoulder as he and the other two disappeared into the shadows, Seiji following after them.