Okay. Since some people found the minor characters confusing, I've decided to put a little key here to clear things up. :) I hope it helps. If anything else is confusing you, please let me know.

Lord Yasuda Takeshi- the heir to the Yasuda zaibatsu. Rich, twisted and has taken interest in a rumor concerning a certain 'supernatural man' from Kyoto.

Lord Akira Yoji- Lord Takeshi's childhood friend, and Kanzaki Saburo's master.

Lady Akira Kiyoko- the wife of Lord Akira. Vain, rich, and a little unstable.

Kanzaki Saburo- a servant of Lord Akira, who is Christian. Met Soujiro in chapter 5.

Nibori Mamoru and Nibori Komachi- the two young siblings that met Soujiro in chapter 1. They also bumped into Misao.

Taro- a bully who frequently picks on the Nibori siblings, stealing their lunch most of the time.

Aburakoji Shinichi- The old man who owns one of the last sword shops in Kyoto. Sold Soujiro his sakabattou.

Aburakoji Hiroko- Shinichi's daughter, a young woman in her thirties. Mother to a small boy named Ichiro.

The Handsomest Men in Kyoto- a group of violent bums with big egos who do little more than drink sake for free. Their leader is Taro's older brother, who is extremely protective of his pride. They beat Misao up at the riverside, but were in turn taken out by Soujiro.

Sho- Lord Takeshi's loyal servant, who was sent to Kyoto to find more about the supernatural man.

Lord Yasuda Zenjiro- Lord Takeshi's father, and the founder of the Yasuda zaibatsu. (He existed in real life. I just made up his family. :D)

Right. Now that that's finished, on with the story! ;P

The Hundred Item List

Fall into Place

By Leishe

It was supposed to be a street fight. Supposed to be. Everything had been perfectly arranged; from the valiant heroine and the poor, helpless victims, to the cruel, heartless bully who beat people up just for fun. Why, even the setting was perfect, with the passerby getting sparser, the wind blowing harder, and the dust flying up lightly from the dry ground.

The two opponents faced each other, neither one saying a word. Near Misao were the two children, crouched on the ground, their large, innocent eyes watching, and waiting.

Under the wooden awning of a carpentry shop stood a slightly plump, middle-aged man, wearing a typical traveler's tunic, and under that, a servant's robe. He too watched the stereotypical, seemingly prearranged setup with grave, patient eyes.

Everything was silent.

Burrp.

Well, almost.

Misao narrowed her eyes, her fists balling up, and her feet slightly apart. It was time to put Hannya's training to good use.

Taro was also ready, but inside, was not expecting a proper fight, if ever. For through his nose, the teenager had already predicted the seemingly unseen; the coming of a massive cacophony that would most definitely disrupt the almost formulaic equilibrium that lay between them all.

He sniffed the air again, just to make sure. The boy wrinkled his nose in repulsion.

Yup, that's them alright.

.0o0.

Sho's eyes nearly bugged out when he saw what came next. Standing comfortably under the shade, the servant expected to see a fight erupt between the young waitress and the bully, like the ones that happened back at the Yasuda mansion, when the stable boys were in a bad mood.

What happened instead fell a little bit beyond his expectation.

Step.

Step.

A young man, shabbily dressed in a worn-out blue gi, with a sword hanging at his side, suddenly appeared behind the bully. He was smiling at them all, which struck Sho as a bit unnatural.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunkthunkthunk.

Following the young man was a pack of big, dim-looking men who smelled strongly of sake, sweat and grime. The servant paused to cover his nose momentarily, but did not avert his gaze from the play that was taking place right in front of him.

Something very interesting was about to happen.

"Oi!" came a loud, slurred voice, "Little brother! Is that you?"

When the bully took notice of the men, he bolted like a small rabbit, dropping the lunch on the ground and running as fast as possible. His female opponent was taken aback for a while, yelling at him to come back and fight her like a man. She didn't do anything but watch his retreating form in disbelief for a while.

Nobody saw her, but Komachi went to pick up the lunch lying on the ground.

Mentally, Sho counted to three.

One…

Misao tore her gaze from the coward, and looked up.

Two…

She saw the gang of men, and met Soujiro's smiling gaze. Her eyes widened in even more incredulity.

Thr—

"Good afternoon, Makimachi-san."

Silence.

Time froze for a little while, as the young woman stared at the wanderer, her green eyes as big as saucers. Subconsciously, her mind took note of the large mass of evil bums that stood behind him threateningly, but she paid no heed. Instead, one thought repeated and repeated and repeated and repeated in her head, not planning to stop anytime soon.

He's back.

He's back…

He's back…

…back here…again…

…but…why?

Soujiro blinked, and waved his hand in front of her, a slightly concerned look on his face.

"Are you okay?"

Misao just continued to stare at him, believing, but not wanting to. She blinked as well, several times, and rubbed her eyes a bit for good measure. The young man waited patiently for her to snap out of her trance. Frankly, with Misao staring at him like that, Soujiro was getting a little disturbed.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the ninja girl raised her left hand slightly, reaching out to touch him. The former Tenken, too busy trying to figure out what she was wrong with her, didn't have time to react, as she brushed the tips of her fingers lightly against his cheek.

"Er—"

His first instinct was to flinch upon contact, but before he did, Misao had already pulled her hand away, and looking at him for two seconds more. Her eyes never left his, even as she raised her hand high in the air…

Pak!

…and slapped him.

More silence.

The sound was particularly audible, and caused a pack of strolling old women to cast curious glances at them all.

"Ah…young love," one muttered, smiling her crooked smile.

Soujiro, for once in his life, didn't know what to say. What were you supposed to say, anyway, after being slapped really HARD by a girl who you'd only met twice before? The girl was pretty strong, that he admitted. He settled for 'ouch'.

"Ouch."

Misao, on the other hand, was staring at the center of her palm, which was a pinkish color, from where she had hit him. Her eyes flew to the side of the newcomer's cheek. It was the same shade.

"So…" she murmured, frowning, "You ARE real."

He reached to rub the back of his head absently, ignoring the stinging pain of her slap. Soujiro smiled sheepishly, letting out a loose chuckle.

"Well, Makimachi-san, you didn't have to slap me to find out." The tone of his voice was cool, airy and had a light quality to it, as if he didn't care much.

Misao folded her arms, giving him a hard look. "That's beside the point, Tenken. What exactly ARE you doing here?"

The young man looked at her, all expression vanishing from his face. His mouth slackened, and his eyes grew thoughtful. For a moment, the person who was Tenken no Soujiro looked like a normal human being, who thought normal thoughts, while living a normal life. Misao, however, knew better.

"…well?"

And then he smiled, slowly. It was not the strange, little half-smile that never reached his eyes, but a normal, full-blown smile; the kind that showed that you were actually glad about something. In Soujiro's case, he was glad that the weasel girl had asked him that question.

"The truth is, Misao, I don't really know."

.0o0.

Sho craned his neck to get a better view of things, and so did the two children. It seemed that the waitress and the wanderer knew each other, somehow, with the familiar, yet unnaturally hostile manner that they talked to each other in.

"Komachi," whispered Mamoru, "I think I've seen him before."

His little sister nodded in agreement.

Meanwhile, the Handsomest Men in Kyoto were not enjoying being ignored. They had been standing behind the short, skinny kid for some time now, waiting impatiently as he talked to the familiar-looking girl.

The leader slapped at his arm irritably, shooing a mosquito away. Seeing his little brother again had put him into a foul mood. That, plus the fact that he was drunk, didn't amount to anything good.

"Ishn't that the gurl who shtole your moneybag, bosh?" A very fat and short thug pointed a chubby index finger at the adamant form of Misao, who seemed to be trying to stare at Soujiro until he melted.

"D'uh, yeah…she does look like that wench we did in at the river place…maybe she's her sister…" offered another one.

"Nah…'sides, the girl wasn't wearing an apron," put in a thin, oily-looking man.

The men then started contemplating on the true identity of Makimachi Misao.

A few feet away, Komachi helped her brother to his feet, still holding onto the boxed lunch. The older boy groaned as he got up, clutching his stomach painfully. He gestured weakly at the upright form of Soujiro, eyes widening slightly in recognition.

"It's that guy! It's him! The one who rescued our lunch before, remember?" there was a hint of excitement in his voice.

The little girl blinked. She cocked her head to one side, examining the face of the young man. Slowly, she nodded.

"Yeah…it does look like him…kinda. But his gi WAS a little cleaner last time—"

"What was his name again?" Mamoru interrupted her, looking at the former Tenken in wonder, "Seta…Soujiro, right?"

Komachi nodded again. "That's him."

.0o0.

While everyone was busy talking to each other, the boxed lunch that the little girl held possessively in her arm was doing a little communicating of its own. The mischievous bento was calling out to one of the more dim-witted men waiting oh-so-patiently behind Soujiro.

Come, come dear one…come and feast on my delicious insides…

It was tempting him…persuading him…drawing the unfortunate gorilla into its web of sinful gastronomic desire…

Feed on me…taste me…

The man began to drool, looking with half-lidded, hypnotized eyes at the boxed lunch that was with Komachi.

Fooooood, it seemed to say. Eat meeee…eaaaat meeeee…

A weak-minded fool, he certainly was. Without warning, he leapt at it.

.0o0.

What happened next was most certainly nothing short of a good, well-played, one-sided street fight. For a second there, Sho almost thought that he had gone up a dead end, and that there was nothing more to see than some disturbing issues concerning the two kids, the funny-looking men, and the pair of confused young people.

Circumstance had proven him wrong.

"Aaah!"

When Komachi had cried out sharply, Misao wasted no time getting to and kicking the offender's lower regions with all the strength she could muster. As the man wailed, keeling over from the pain and clutching himself, Soujiro was momentarily forgotten.

The young woman picked the lunch up and handed it to the little girl. There was a hint of urgency in her voice, as she spoke.

"Go there, okay? You'll be safe. And your brother, too." She pointed in the direction of the Aoiya, where, thankfully, no one had yet gone out to check on her.

Komachi looked up with tearful eyes. There was no way that they would be able to get to school properly, now. Sniffling, she nodded, and began walking towards the restaurant, tugging at her brother's sleeve and urging him to do the same.

"Right, right…" he murmured, looking back as Misao kicked the man again. "I suppose we will be safer there…"

As the children went inside, the Handsomest Men in Kyoto were only beginning to crack their knuckles threateningly and mutter curses under their breath. One particularly ugly scar-faced man was squinting at Misao, trying to figure out from what angle he should punch to make her fly into the some wall real hard.

The smart leader, however, was way ahead of him.

"Charge, valiant men!" he cried, pointing a long, thin finger at the weasel girl, "Avenge your fallen comrade, for such is the maxim of a truly honorable warrior!"

Not many of them knew what exactly he was saying, but since he was drunk, they figured that he just wanted them to go on ahead and beat the girl up, drag their friend's unconscious body back to the sake shop, and order another round without paying the owner a single fraction of a yen.

So, that was what they did.

"Charge!" Yelled the leader, "Charge, charge chaaaarrrrgeee!"

And the men charged. Oooh yes. They charged with all their might, in a brutal, barbaric, and extremely stupid manner, not forgetting to belt out unintelligible battle cries as if they were Tanzanian wolfhounds instead of normal, civilized human beings.

Of course, being the trained, agile and wonderfully on-guard okashira that she was, Misao saw it coming.

The young woman grinned, pulled out five kunai in each hand, and flung the small, sharp weapons at the thugs with deadly accuracy. None of them were actually injured, of course, since the ninja, out of the goodness of her heart, had taken care not to hit flesh, but instead aim for cloth, so that the unfortunate victims were instead pinned to the nearby walls, or to the ground.

"Agghh!"

"Watch out for those pointy things!"

"Ooof!"

"Uurgh!"

"Grroooan!"

It was pretty short work, and pretty amusing for both Sho and Soujiro to watch. The idea of a one-sided fight with one young woman against about thirty burly grown men, with the former on the winning side, was quite hilarious at that time. The servant watched in bewildered stupor as, one by one, Misao knocked half of the men out, armed only with her fists, her feet, and five dozen kunai. (The shuriken, apparently, had been forgotten in a dark corner of her bedroom.)

"Take this! And that! And thatandthatandthat!" The weapons whizzed into the air while she performed a flying kick on the ugly, scarred man, with the attempt being successful. Misao was a whirlwind, albeit, not a very skilled one, but a destructive nonetheless. The men were flying out like discarded peanut shells, at the rate that she was going.

Fifteen seconds later…

Soon, nothing stood before her but a span of dry, dusty ground scattered with unconscious bodies and protesting men who were pinned to the walls by the sleeves of their gis and the flaps of their hakamas.

The weasel girl folded her arms, a triumphant look on her face, surveying her handiwork. As bright green eyes swept over each of the mangled bodies of the fallen men, Misao realized that there was one particular body that was missing.

A deep, scratchy voice came from behind her, making her heart rate speed up a bit.

"Hello, little girlsie."

The leader was breathing down her neck. Oh no, she thought. No. Nononono. Not him. Not him! The young woman held her breath and braced herself for the impact of his strike, knowing fully well that he was strong enough to knock her out with one blow… but it never came.

Pok!

"Uuuurgh!"

Thud.

Misao blinked.

…what just happened?

She turned around to see the man's body in a crumpled heap, on the ground, and Soujiro, standing behind him, holding up the hilt of his sword. The wanderer obviously had something to do with this.

Misao glared at him venomously, a sign that marked the official beginning of Soujiro's acceptance.

"What on earth did you do that for!" she hissed.

The young man, registering her question after a few seconds, merely blinked at her words. He opened his mouth, but before he could answer, she was already talking again.

"I'm no weakling, I could have taken him!" She began ranting. "Just because you have your weird zippy fast Shukuchi technique doesn't mean that I'm a damsel in distress, you know! I mean…I'm a trained ninja, for kami-sama's sake, and the okashira too! That guy is no match for me, Makimachi Misao!"

Soujiro smiled at her.

"Right," he said, putting his hands up in mock resignation. "I'm sorry."

.0o0.

Sho straightened up, his ears alert. His eyes were focused on Soujiro. The man's mind was racing. Did he hear it right? The girl had said so herself. He was the one. The one who they said possessed the speed of the gods. Shukuchi, she said, and the servant knew immediately.

"I've found him."

Lord Takeshi was going to be pleased.

.0o0.

Before anything began, the old man had confronted him with a question.

"Do you have any doubts?"

The young man thought he knew the answer. He pulled out the sword, showing Okina the blunt edge. The master nodded at it, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

"It's a reversed-edge sword," said the wanderer, watching the old man's face. "I got it the last time I was here."

"Indeed," agreed Okina. He looked at Soujiro. "A sakabattou, just like Himura's."

After a pause, the wanderer added, "But I am not Himura, Kawanzaki-san, I am Seta Soujiro."

"Aa, and there is a difference, isn't there?" There was a twinkle in the old man's eyes. He stopped then, as the smell of dinner cooking wafted in from the kitchen. Breathing in deeply, Okina turned to Soujiro again.

"You are staying here for a while, yes?"

He nodded.

"Very well…" the old one trailed off, seemingly satisfied. "Come and have some supper then—" at this point, he grinned, "—you look like you haven't eaten a decent meal in ages."

.0o0.

It was nearly dinnertime, and the sunset colored the sky beautifully. The blue was now fading into bright, fiery orange, with tendrils of deep violet at growing the ends. Light, feathery clouds drifted lazily, like sheep, as a single early star twinkled further above the day's spectacular encore.

In a small apartment, not too far from the heart of Kyoto, a little girl looked into the sky, her shining eyes reflecting the colors. Komachi smiled.

"Goodbye, sun."

The air was cool, yet humid outside the restaurant, wherein several people sat around the low, flat table, busily eating their dinner. Smells of gyoza, newly cooked rice, and miso soup drifted around, combining with the fragrant jasmine tea leaves that Okina always had lying somewhere. Altogether, it was an intoxicating aroma with the scent of the outside, which was unique only to the Aoiya.

Kuro looked up to sniff the air. "Do you smell that?" he asked, putting his chopsticks down, "It smells good."

Okon raised an eyebrow at the man, before resuming her own meal. Omasu on the other hand, sniffed the air as well. The short-haired woman cocked her head to one side, trying to detect the scent. After a few moments, she shook her head.

"No, I'm afraid not." Plucking a piece of beef from her plate, the ninja woman turned to their guest.

"Do you smell anything, Seta-san?" she inquired politely.

"Spplugthhh!"

At that sound, everyone automatically turned to Misao, who was currently occupied with choking violently on her drink. She began coughing and sputtering a lot, prompting Shiro, who was seated beside her, to thump the ninja girl's back firmly.

After that was over, Omasu turned back to Soujiro, expecting an answer. Smiling, the young man nodded slightly, indicating that he agreed with Kuro.

"Yes, I think I do smell something."

.0o0.

It was after dinner, and everyone else was inside, cleaning up, and preparing for sleep.

He was sitting outside, on the platform just outside the dining area. It was the same platform that he had laid Misao down on the last time he had been there, a whole two months ago. The wanderer let out a heavy sigh, tracing the wooden ruts with his hands.

It wasn't too long ago…

His blue eyes traveled to the darkening skies, and they twinkled.

"Hello, star," he murmured.

Today had been a nice, interesting day, and it felt good to be back in Kyoto. It seemed that all the events that had transpired—the journey towards the city, the brief conversation with Misao, the particularly amusing street fight, and the warm, filling dinner at the Aoiya—added to the effect that the capital city had on him.

The young man felt his doubts and worries slowly slip away; his questions about God, about life and about what he truly believed in, fade into the warmness of the evening. It was as if the great one in the sky was telling him to take it easy for a while; that not all the problems in life could be solved with the speed of the Tenken.

Soujiro watched, as, one by one, fireflies began to appear. They were very pretty, glowing amidst the darkness of the evening.

He needed time, he decided. And here in Kyoto, a city on the brink of modernization, there was plenty of it in the most unexpected of places. Where there was time, there was healing, and healing, wisdom.

Maybe I didn't need to become a wanderer to gain wisdom, he thought. Maybe, it was right in front of me from the beginning.

In the background, music floated through the air. Someone was singing, and the voice sounded vaguely familiar.

Sleep star, small one,

Bring the night with you

In another dream

The skies will smile

And rain falls from the moon

Journey to find your peace

Your everlasting peace

And smile, dear one, just smile

Heaven shines only for the true…

The music played on, and the voice continued singing, but Soujiro wasn't listening anymore. Resting his head against a part of the sliding door, the exhausted wanderer finally closed his eyes after a long day of journeying, and slept.

.0o0.

Sho the servant began to walk back in the direction that he had come, holding up a small oil lamp to light his way. In the darkness, he smiled. What the old men had said was true.

The answers are always right in front of you. All you have to do is to look hard enough.

.0o0.

"The stage is set, and the lights are ready. Two have already joined the play, and the story has begun to unfold…"

Notes:

Writing high? Yes. Permanent writing high? Sadly, no. :- I will soon edit the previous chapters, to correct what needs to be corrected. A few things on my part: no, I am not catholic, and yes, I really did think that the prices were inflated back then, as they are today. (scratches head) I guess I should have researched more…again…

That's all, folks! Reviews are greatly appreciated, and advice, even more. :-)