Day in the Life
Seiji

Mirror and Image

Seiji Date woke up. He had been told that people often wake up slowly, that there are vaguely aware of their body as they exit REM and fall back into Stage One of sleep, their senses only half working. This had never occurred to Seiji. His body just woke up. The blond youth was just suddenly aware. His lavender eyes opened and he was aware.

For a moment Seiji debated on staying under the comfort of his thick blankets, comfortable in his futon and hesitant to get up. The thought was quickly dismissed, however, when he looked over to his window. Seiji did not believe in shades, and had never used them in his room, much more satisfied with the natural light. Gazing out his window, he saw the gray-purple of the sky and decided he had better get going.

The lavender-eyed youth slid out of his futon, carefully folding the blankets and putting them away. The house was chill, and Seiji dressed himself quickly to avoid it. Normally, he would have run a comb through his hair, but looking out the window he realized that he had slept a little late, and satisfied himself with doing it later. Instead, Seiji slipped out of his room, careful not to wake anyone, and stepped out to the engawa, making his way to the eastern side of the house before sitting down.

In the few minutes that this took place; the sky had lightened noticeably; however Seiji had been in time. He always was in time. The youth had had the perfect sense of when the sun would rise and fall for as long as he could remember; and he was the only one in the house that was awake early enough to see and enjoy its beauty.

The sun raised slowly, his normally white-gold globe now and orange circle set in a sky that altered from orange to pink to a lavender color. His mother had once commented that it was the same color as his eyes. The transition from one color to the next was gradual; the only sudden change of color that was present was in the otherwise invisible clouds. Said clouds were numerous this morning. The higher the sun rose, the more yellow the sky and gray-blue the clouds became. Seiji wondered if there would be rain, perhaps later this afternoon.

The youth released the breath he was not aware he had been holding. A sunrise was always breathtaking; for Seiji in a very literal sense. He forced himself to inhale, taking in the scent of the morning. The chill inside the house was also present in the air; a crisp feeling that cleaned his lungs and seemed to expand his senses. A bird was chirping in a tree, saying good morning to the sun. Much as Seiji himself was doing, he mused. There was a flapping of wings and the bird took flight, leaving the tree and sitting instead on the roof above Seiji. More wings were heard as one or two other birds joined the first, all chirping good morning to one another and to the sun. Seiji inhaled the crisp air again. The sun was now a pure gold, a globe that shone brighter than anything in the world. Not even the magical light of the Korin yoroi could compare the light of the sun. Of that Seiji knew, and did not try to live up to such a perfect glow, content to merely shine as brightly as he could, even without the yoroi.

Noise.

Seiji sensed more than heard the sounds inside the house, and realized that he had stayed to long in the sun's beams. Sighing, he bowed deeply to the sun and rose. He crossed the engawa quickly and entered the house once again. He listened to his father rummaging around in his room. Nodding, Seiji entered the kitchen and turned on one of the burners of the stove. He quickly buttered a pan and broke some eggs into it, letting them cook slowly as he made his way throughout the house. Seiji's father was not a messy person, but he did tend to be a scatterbrain with his things. When the police officer would come home, he would often put things down here and there, thinking that he would remember where he left them. But then Makoto would see to him, and all thoughts of work would be left behind, long forgotten. It had therefore become Seiji's morning chore to search for his father's effects in the morning.

Today, his father's gloves were on a desk, his hat on a chair, his club in the kitchen, and his badge and gun in a drawer. The latter were effects that were always put in the same place after Seiji's father came home. Nobuyuki made it a very clear point to his family that no one was to touch either the gun or the badge. Not even Makoto was to take them. Seiji technically was not to touch them either, despite his age of twenty. However, when he had imposed upon himself the chore of collecting the scattered items, his father conceded to his son gathering the gun and badge. Seiji did not know why the two items were so important to his father, and he would not dare ask. He sensed that there was a story to the badge at least and perhaps the gun as well.

Seiji arranged his father's things neatly by his father's place at the table. Checking the eggs, he pulled out a spatula from a drawer and began to add in some rice from last night's supper. After doing that, Seiji turned and started to cook his father's coffee. He personally did not like the Western flavor of his father's breakfast, but thankfully it was the only Western dish his father liked. He then retrieved the silverware. Setting the table and putting the just done eggs and rice onto the plate, Seiji poured the coffee and set it down as well.

A door sliding open was heard, and Seiji quickly knelt down by the table, his hands placed neatly on his knees and his head bowed slightly in respect. He remained that way for only a moment before his father walked into the kitchen.

"Ohayo gozaimasu, Chichiue." ((Good morning, father.))

"Ohayo, Seiji." (('Morning.))

Nobuyuki sat down and Seiji bowed to him. "I hope that your breakfast is good." His father grinned as he broke apart his chopsticks and tasted the meal.

"It is, Seiji," he replied in an equally polite voice. Then he grinned at his son. "You slept in late, I take it?"

For a moment, Seiji did not know how his father knew, but then realized that his hair was still uncombed and sticking out in every which way.

"I awoke later than expected, Chichiue." ((Father.))

Nobuyuki laughed, pleased at the ever rare bursts of imperfection that came from his son.

"You should sleep in more often, Seiji. It will do you good."

"I like the sunrise."

"Missing it one day won't kill you, boy," his father admonished, still chuckling slightly. "It would be nice if you, just once, had people serving you instead of the other way around."

Seiji could not help but smirk ever so slightly. His father was about the only one in his family that could get away with making light of him.

"Were that to happen, Chichiue, then how would you find the items you so precariously leave around the house?"

Nobuyuki blinked, and then looked down to his neatly arranged things on the table.

"… Oh."

The pair of them laughed at that; quiet muffles that were barely such in their attempt to not wake up the entire house.

Seiji bowed and stood, opening the fridge. He took out a bento that his mother had made the previous night and offered it to his father. Nobuyuki took it gratefully and breathed in, trying to make out the contents of his lunch without opening it. "Rice and shrimp, I think. With a nikuman, right?" A nod was his reply, and Seiji's father made a victory sign, once more pleased that his nose did not fail him. ((Bento is a boxed lunch. Nikuman is a type of food.))

Seiji knelt down at his place again, his back erect and his eyes lowered in respect to his father. It was interesting as he thought about it. His father was the only member of the family that did not have to earn Seiji's respect. It was his father that he saw the least out of all his family, and it was his father that went out every day to look after the city of Sendai. Despite Nobuyuki's protests, Seiji had found the job heroic as a child, and looked up to him for that. There was also the consideration that his father was the only one who treated his son as his son. To Seiji's mother and grandfather, he was the family heir; to Yayoi, he was doll material; to Satsuki, he was the family's center of attention. Which was probably true.

Seiji was the young master of the house, even called that by his mother and by some of his grandfather's friends. His mother and grandfather had high expectations of him and often prevailed upon his free time. His older sister Yayoi resented the attention her little "Seiji-kun" received and did everything in her power to make his life miserable. It was what older sisters did, apparently.

"Seiji, are you sure you are awake?" Nobuyuki asked.

Said youth blinked, realizing that he had lost himself in his thoughts.

"H-hai, Chichiue. I was merely thinking," he said quickly. ((Y-yes, father.))

"You are worried, I take it? About Yayoi bringing home that Kensuke?"

Seiji's eyes looked down. "I will admit concern. It is unlike Onee-sama to wait so long in bringing home someone as… special as Kensuke-san."

Nobuyuki blinked. "Referring to Yayoi as Onee-sama? Now I know you're worried." Seiji's father gulped the last of his coffee, giving a great sigh as he finished. "For someone who hate's anything Western, you sure make great coffee."

"Shall I pour you another cup, Chichiue?" ((Father))

"No, I shall gladly do it myself," Seiji's father said, once again entering a light, if formal tone. "You may go about your business. Know that I will try desperately to make it home by the appointed hour, but that the evil criminals of the world may overwhelm me! I will fight, and fight hard, and fight valiantly! But I dare not make any guarantees as to my arrival! I may fall at the hands of my enemies!"

With only the slightest hint of a grin on his face, Seiji said, "Now you have a sarcastic tone, Chichiue. What would Hahaue say to such?"

Nobuyuki merely grinned as he poured his second cup of coffee. "She would say what you've said exactly; and then my lovely Makoto-sama would do things even you don't want to know about." Seiji's father turned to his son and winked, causing the young man to flush slightly as he caught his father's drift.

"Wakarimasu, Chichiue. Shall I go?" ((I understand, father.))

"Yes, Seiji, you may go do whatever you please! Be free among the trees and the winds and the skies! Take flight and shine your own light among the stars! Mwa hahahahahahaha!"

Seiji bowed and quietly left his father to his ramblings, knowing they would cease when he became aware that there was no longer an audience. Seiji slipped noiselessly into his room and allowed himself a full smile. His father and Satsuki were the only ones in the entire household that knew how to NOT take something seriously. Seiji sighed happily and put away the folded blankets that made up his bed. He slid open the closet and pulled out his training gi, knowing that he would need it when the women woke up. Standing, he grabbed his comb and ran it through his hair. Seiji's blond locks soon fell into place. Contrary to popular thought-especially some of the other Troopers, Seiji did not need any length of time to put his hair into place. Had he wanted any other style than the one he wore; then yes, time would be consumed. But because his hair fell naturally outward and to the side, the layered style he wore was very easy to create and to maintain.

Seiji noticed the time and slipped out to the engawa, his socks patting lightly on the floor as he met his father once again.An engawa is a porch that sort of wraps around a traditional Japanese home

"No fair leaving me in the middle of a rant like that!" Nobuyuki almost whined his voice was so high. "I was just getting into it! Anyway, I will try my darnedest to be home early, but like I told your mother, I can't make any guarantees."

"I understand, Chichiue, and will look forward to your arrival."

"Of course you will," Nobuyuki grinned. "I'm the only one you pretend to like."

"And you are the only one who would pretend to tolerate my misbehaviors," Seiji said. It was a routine they had gone through for as long as Seiji could remember.

There was a soft patting sound, followed by another, and one pounding sound. The women had finally woken up. Makoto-fully dressed in a proper muted red kimono and her hair pulled into a looped ponytail-bowed to her husband. "I would hope that your day at work pleasant, and the criminals intelligent enough to give themselves up."

Nobuyuki grinned. "I shall always strive to make that so." He gave an exaggerated bow.

"Be safe, anata." ((Darling))

"Always, Makoto-chan."

Seiji blushed at the familiar suffix and decided to leave the pair alone, instead entering the kitchen. Yayoi and Satsuki were already working on making breakfast. The pair pulled different foods from different cabinets, throwing some into a mixer, others into a rice cooker, and still others onto plates. Seiji deftly picked up the pan he had used to cook his father's breakfast and rinsed it, putting it in the dishwasher along with his fathers bowl and mug. Seiji knelt down, this time at his place at the table, the tatami cushion still soft despite the years of usage. The low table had already been set up, chopsticks and napkins at everyone's proper place. He waited.

By the time his mother Makoto had joined him; his two sisters had finished making breakfast and were setting the plates neatly on the table. Yayoi was dressed in a faded, almost sky blue kimono with a lovely tree pattern on the sleeves and skirt. Her obi was also a faded blue, with thin green stripes, tied into an intricate bow behind her. Satsuki, ever relaxed, was in jeans and a loose, light sweater over a collared shirt. It had a pretty color pattern on the sleeves. Seiji looked more carefully, however, at the collared shirt.

"It would appear that someone has yet to learn where the laundry goes after being washed," he observed.

Yayoi choked on her rice and glared at her little brother. "Just what are you suggesting, Seiji-kun? That I do not know my place? Surely the young master should punish me for my misbehavior that he is imagining."

Seiji shot her a one eyed glare, and then focused on Satsuki. "Then perhaps the culprit has resumed her old habit of hording from my closet."

Satsuki blinked, looking down at her outfit. Noticing the collared shirt that, at one time, had been Seiji's, she merely smiled sweetly. "But Nii-chan!" she said, causing Seiji to twitch. "It looks so good on me!" His little sister then gave her best impression of a puppy dog and looked pleadingly at him. "I don't have to take it off, do I?"

Yayoi scoffed. "Heaven forbid that the young master Seiji-kun not do as he so pleases. Should he have the desire, he would have you strip in front of the entire city and not think twice about it, so great is his stature."

Seiji had learned long ago how to deal with his older sister, and the corners of his mouth quirked up as he said, "And the young master's business and mighty stature, as you so delicately put it, would never be the business of a mere Baa-san, would it?" Satisfied with Yayoi's choking and sputtering noises, he looked to Satsuki. "If you like the shirt so much, you may have it. However, I respectfully request that you ask my permission in the future, should you feel that one of my articles of clothing is in the wrong closet." ((Old hag.))

Satsuki nodded her understanding and continued to munch on her rice and her greens.

"Expertly handled, Seiji-san," his mother said softly, drinking her green tea. "Your words are almost as sharp as your kendo skills."

"One tries one's best, Hahaue." Seiji bowed to his mother and continued his breakfast.

"Nee-chan," asked Satsuki. "When will you and Ken-chan get home?"

"I know that Chichiue will be late, and I shall try to be home by six at the latest."

"Kaa-san, can I have some friends over before Nee-chan and Ken-chan come home? Naoko and Megumi and Tetsuro? I want to show them something I made."

"Of course, Satsuki-san," Makoto answered. "Try not to destroy the house too much before they leave, since you will be the only one around to clean it up."

Seiji's little sister made a face, but nodded. He grinned inwardly at Satsuki. As much as he respected his father, he loved Satsuki even more. To him, she was the only one who acted normally in the household, not afraid to just be herself. She did not have the entire family's expectations on her shoulders, nor did she resent not having those expectations. Satsuki was just… Satsuki, and Seiji loved that she could afford to be that way, unlike him. There were times that he felt that the self he portrayed, to his family and friends, was nothing like the self he felt he really was. Only the other Troopers knew his true self. His little sister could do and say as she pleased. She had no interest in kendo, but in crafts, in making things. Her room was covered with things ranging from sewing, to painting, and most recently to woodwork, of all things. Her latest career goal is to be a carpenter. Seiji felt that she would mostly likely end up teaching. Probably the elementary division.

Seiji's career, however, was already decided for him. He would take over the dojo. He had once entertained thoughts of becoming a racer, and later a musician. He still leaned toward the latter, but he knew that it would not be an eventuality. Too much was riding on him to take over the dojo. He did love kendo, and was told that he was an excellent teacher. What he did not like was that he did not have the CHOICE of taking over the dojo.

Drinking the last of his tea, Seiji bowed to his family. "I regret leaving you so early, however it is my turn to help Ojii-sama open the dojo, and I must not be late. I thank you for the delicious breakfast and will see you later today." Seiji bowed again and made a hasty retreat before Yayoi could comment on his leaving. ((Grandfather))

Going back to his room, Seiji picked up his training gi that he had left our earlier and exited. He slid his geta on in the gaken and left his home. His feet were light on the stone pathway that lead to the dojo, where his grandfather lived. He took his geta off and stepped into the large building.

"Ojii-sama?" he called. ((Grandfather?))

"You are late, Seiji!" The tall image of his grandfather appeared. Seiji's grandfather had solid white hair, with no signs of it disappearing any time soon. Other than a few lines under his eyes, there were no other displays of aging. He was dressed in traditional hakama and gi, both of soft green in color. A bokken was in his hand.

"Suminasen, Ojii-sama. Breakfast took longer than usual." ((Forgive me, Grandfather))

"No doubt you and Yayoi were fighting again."

"Yes."

Mamoru sighed. "Very well. Be sure not to be tardy in the future. Not a single member of the Date clan was ever late for an appointment, with family or otherwise." Seiji's grandfather let out another humph and added, "Exercises will begin in ten minutes. Change quickly."

Seiji bowed to his grandfather, hiding a clenched jaw as he did so, and made his way to the changing room in wide strides. Seiji knew deep down inside, that his grandfather loved him dearly. But there were times… Did Mamoru ALWAYS have to continually imply that Seiji was not a proper heir to the Date name? With every little mistake he would say something like "A Date would never do something like that," or "No one after the One-Eyed-Dragon was ever seen doing that," or something else along those lines. For years, Seiji thought that his grandfather saw his grandson only as an heir, a thing. There were times he still thought so. Mamoru would never learn it, however. Of that Seiji made sure. Once, when Seiji was only a little boy, he had shouted his frustration at his grandfather's lack of emotional attachment. He was hardly articulate, having said nothing more than "I hate you!" But it was enough to send him to the basement for the rest of the day.

Seiji shuddered at the memory as he tied his belt and walked to the large hall where the students learned. His father had later told him that Mamoru had been very upset, and little Seiji had amended his previous notions.

The detachment still hurt, though.

His grandfather was already on the mat, rolling his hips and his head to loosen up. Seiji stretched as well, and it was not long until both of them were ready.

The two bowed to each other, and slowly entered into the katas, the training sequences that warmed them up for the day's classes. Their motions were smooth, their rhythm flawless. Seiji and his grandfather mirrored each other perfectly. When they finished the first set, they went straight into the second, and then the third. They paused only long enough to grab some datchi before they entered into the fourth and fifth katas.

When they had finished, Seiji felt incredibly calm, almost numb. It was a type a relaxation that affected his entire internal ki, the energy that was called Date Seiji. The annoyances of breakfast and the ongoing irritation of earlier were forgotten, and Seiji had returned to the state that he entered when he watched the sunrise.

"Seiji, open up the dojo."

"Yes, Ojii-sama." ((Grandfather))

Seiji padded over to the main door, seeing that two students were already waiting to be let in along with their parents. He slid open the door.

"Welcome, Wong-san and Kurosawa-san."

"Ohayo! Seiji-sensei!" The two boys ran inside, their sneakers flying off as they made their way to the changing rooms. Seiji permitted himself a smile as he watched them run off. The children he taught were always so full of energy. He started to follow them when Mamoru stopped him. ((Morning!))

"Seiji!"

"Hai, Ojii-sama." ((Yes, Grandfather.))

"Because the dojo is only open this morning, I want to go over some of the financial details with you. Ever since Date Kenji opened this dojo, we Date's will do everything in our power to keep it open, and pass our technique on to future generations."

"Hai, Ojii-sama." ((Yes, Grandfather.))

With that, the white haired man once again disappeared. Seiji groaned inwardly at the thought of looking over all those numbers. Mamoru had always insisted that everything be done either by hand or by abacus, despite Seiji's gentle suggestions to buy a computer. Stepping into the great hall again, Seiji picked up the swords that he and his grandfather had been using earlier and moved to put them away. The younger children were not allowed to touch even bokken, not until they had been studying for three years.

As he was doing so, he heard someone enter the main hall.

"Yes?" he said, turning to meet whoever had some in.

Before him was a small woman, barely reaching his shoulders. Her hair was a light, almost mouse brown, and she wore a faded lavender shirt over a dark blue skirt. She kept her eyes veiled. By her leg was a little girl, no more than six, in a yellow elementary division uniform. She was gaping at Seiji, no doubt staring at his blond hair.

"May I help you, Ojyou-san?" ((Literally, 'Lady'. Here, it's used as a 'ma'am'.))

"H-hai. I was wondering… Could Rumiko sign up for your classes?"

"Of course, would you like me to give you the paperwork?"

"Ano… how much would it cost?" The woman's eye remained lowered, her hands clasped very tightly in front of her.

"Forgive me, but Ojii-sama handles the finances, and I am not yet familiar with costs. I will retrieve the paperwork and we will both find out."

"A-arigatoo." ((T-Thank you.))

"Please remain here until I return."

Seiji glanced at a clock in the hall. It was only seven forty-five. Class would not begin for another fifteen minutes. Plenty of time, he hoped. He stuck his head into his grandfather's office to see that it was empty. Seiji paused, trying to remember which drawer held the appropriate paperwork. Recalling, and then collecting it, he walked stiffly back to where he had left the woman and little Rumiko.

"I have retrieved the forms, Ojyou-san." He handed them to her and watched her face as she looked them over. He saw that she had deep brown eyes, and her brow was tensed with worry as she looked over the various fees and expenses of having Rumiko-Seiji presumed her little sister-enter a dojo. "If it is of importance to you, the first five lessons are free. Rumiko-san would join the new class, starting next Sunday. That class meets once a week, from eight o'clock until eleven."

"Until eleven?"

"School time comes first, Ojyou-san. Classes that meet on school days last only an hour, so that the student may have more time for their studies, and therefore meet more often."

"I see."

"Do I really get to learn how to beat people up?" asked the six-year old Rumiko.

"Rumiko!" the small woman said.

"I'm curious, Onee-chan. Without Okaa-chan and Otou-chan around to protect me anymore, I gotta make sure that no one picks on me anymore."

"I apologize, Date-san," said the woman. "Our parents… passed away a few weeks ago. I'm trying to find a job, and Rumiko needs a place to be, to focus, and… and…"

Seiji put a hand on the small woman's shoulder, her tears refusing to fall. "If you need a job, Ojii-sama has a great many contacts here in Sendai. You have only just moved here, I assume?"

"H-hai. We couldn't afford to live in Tokyo, and I was going to go to college…"

"You need not explain yourself, Ojyou-san. As I have previously stated, the first five lessons are free. That leaves you with five weeks to earn money. If you cannot make the payments, then come to either Ojii-sama or myself and we will work out a different way for you to pay. Is that satisfactory?"

"Hai. Hai! Arigatoo gozaimasu. Domo, domo arigatoo gozaimasu!" The woman bowed deeply; her hair falling beyond her head, her bow was so low. "I did not know what I was going to do. Thank you ever so much! Date-san."

"Of course." Seiji bowed his head to the small woman.

"So do I get to beat people up?"

Seiji looked to the brown haired Rumiko. He inwardly stiffened, not comfortable with handling small children one on one. Kneeling down, he said, "Rumiko-san, what does one call a person who beats up another for no reason?"

"A bully."

"Would you want to be given such a label?"

"I guess not."

"Then this dojo will not teach you how to 'beat people up'. This dojo will, however teach you how to handle the bullies you do not want around you. Do you understand?"

"Hai!" she said, giving a stout nod. Then she paused, looking at Seiji. "Are you a demon?"

"Rumiko!"

"Onee-chan, his eyes are purple! Okaa-chan said that demons had purple eyes!"

Seiji took a deep breath, willing himself not to take offense to a six-year old. "Rumiko-san, I am only a demon to my enemies. Do you want to be an enemy?"

"Uh-uh! Okaa-chan said that demons do really mean and scary things!"

"Good. Today I have no enemies. I was worried that you would be one. I do not like being a demon very often."

"You mean you got demon powers?"

"You have yet to see me spar with Ojii-sama."

"Sugoooooooooi!" ((Awwwwwwwesome!))

Seiji stood and looked to Rumiko's sister. "I expect to see you Sunday at eight, Ojyou-san."

"Tsubame. My name is Matsuri Tsubame. I thank you again."

"Date Seiji."

"Sayonara, Seiji-san." ((Goodbye.))

"Ja ne! Onii-chan!" ((See you later!))

"Sayonara, Matsuri-san, and Matsuri-san."

Seiji watched the two sisters leave.

"You handled that very well."

"Arigatoo gozaimasu, Ojii-sama." ((Thank you very much, Grandfather.))

"I think they will be an excellent example. I hold you responsible for them. You will bill them and collect payment; and I will use them after class when we are going over the records."

"Of course."

"I have already made a few calls. A friend of mine might take her on. We'll be stopping by later, at any rate."

"Of course."

"Class starts in ten minutes. Make sure your room is set up."

"Yes, Ojii-sama." ((Grandfather.))

With the Masturis gone, Seiji entered the room where he taught his eight o'clock class. The room had filled very quickly in the few minutes he had spent talking to Tsubame-san, and several of the students were in groups at various parts of the room talking about themselves. So engrossed were they in their conversations that they did not see Seiji enter, and failed to quiet down and stand in form. Knowing that class did not start for another several minutes, he let them continue and instead knelt down on the mat, his back straight and his hands neatly folded on his lap.

He watched the students with some envy. As a child, there were very few people who would talk to a "demon eyed gaijin". It was not until junior high school that other students started to get to know him. The downside of that, however, was that girls started to notice him. Instead of a gaijin, he became an "exotic beauty". Almost overnight, blond and violet was the complexion of the perfect man. Seiji was a prompt, punctual individual, but there were times he would have to get to school over an hour early to avoid the mob-like behavior of the female gender. This of course was an indication that Seiji was a nerd to his kendo friends who did not believe in making the extra effort to study, instead focusing all their energy on seeing who the better fighter was. Seiji's polite corrections meant little to them until he became vice president of the kendo club. ((Gaijin means foreigner))

That changed a lot of things. The president, Akito, had been a fellow student at the Date dojo, and knew Seiji's merit better than anyone in school, and gave him a free hand to the kendo club.

Seiji inwardly smirked at the memory. At their first meeting, Akito announced that Seiji would be in charge of their practices while he took care of the meets. Many people were surprised at that, not wanting some smart-ass gaijin from a prominent family to show them what to do. Akito settled the matter by having an internal competition, in which Seiji, of course, won.

Having girls mob him was bad enough, but having the out and out adoration of the men was downright insulting. Still, Seiji bared it, and the next year took Akito's place as president when the upper classman graduated to high school.

Seiji exited his internal musings, his internal clock again asserting its accuracy. He looked up to the clock on the wall-one he knew students would often stare at in vain hopes to make it go faster-to see that it was precisely eight o'clock. Most of his ten year old students were kneeling as Seiji was, waiting for class to begin. However some were still chatting in the back of the room, oblivious of the time. Seiji stood, his students following suit, sans the chatters in back. He bowed to his class, and they again followed his motions, most of them smooth with practice. When he raised his blond head, he saw that the students in back still had to notice class had started.

Exhaling slowly, Seiji moved to the back of the room. The students parted slightly to let him pass, and many turned around to see what he would do. Seiji's European appearance always caused confusion for the beginner classes, because they did not know how Japanese he really was. He handled the situations with patience, and usually settled matters by showing the class some of the more advanced moves, to prove he was worth listening to. This class, however, he had been teaching for two years; and the students in back he knew very well. Hayama, Midoriko, and Tsukishiro. Midoriko was the problem; the other two just followed him.

Seiji stood there, waiting patiently for them to notice his presence. Hayama and Tsukishiro did almost immediately, and tried to bow and back away at the same time. Midoriko, however, kept laughing and talking.

"I still say that gaijin sensei of ours is a girl! Or maybe he swings the wrong way, do you know what I mean? There's no way someone that feminine could be a Date! I bet he was probably just adopted because the Date's were desperate for an heir. Some son he makes!"

The entire class, of course, heard this. Several of the students offered prayers up to Kami-sama to make Midoriko's death mercifully painless. It was a silent rule to NEVER talk about Seiji's coloring in front of him. He had never said anything about it, but it was at times like this when the students learned it. Midoriko, however, refused to acknowledge the rule. In fact, he even did all he could to bring it out, deliberately baiting Seiji.

"And another thing!" Midoriko said, still oblivious to Seiji's presence behind him or the frightful looks of Hayama and Tsukishiro. "He's not even that great at kendo! I could beat him anytime I wanted!"

"Could you?" Seiji asked quietly. He always strove to keep his voice quiet. To speak too sharply was to cause disrespect. So always, his ways were quiet and polite. But never were they in deference to anyone. Not even to his grandfather.

Midoriko swung around to see his sensei standing over him, his violet blue eyes narrow. At first he blinked, and then for a brief moment he showed fear. But the boy thought of something, and his green eyes became defiant. He stared openly at Seiji when he said, "Damn straight! Gaijin!"

Seiji nodded his head. "As you so wish, Midoriko-san." Then he turned to the class. "Minna-san, today's lesson will be slightly different then I had planned. Would you please follow me to the main hall?" Seiji bowed to them and left, not even bothering to check to see if they would follow. He knew that they would. On his way he passed his grandfather's classroom. He saw Seiji, and nodded, guessing as to what was going on. His mother had slipped into the dojo at some point and was teaching her class as well. She nodded. Only Yayoi's class was cancelled. Too bad, Seiji would have liked to know her opinion of what he was about to do.

Stepping into the main hall, Seiji picked out two bokken. Exiting to a storage room, he also pulled out the fighting masks and chest plates, along with the gloves used in proper matches. He reentered the main hall and to the green eyed Midoriko he handed one of the sets and a bokken. As the rest of the class gathered, Seiji motioned for them to take their seats. They knelt down at the edge of the training mat and waited, no one sure of what Seiji-sensei was planning. Even Midoriko showed signs of confusion. When things quieted down, Seiji held his bokken by his side like a seethed katana. He bowed to Midoriko. ((Bokken are wooden swords, common in kendo.))

"Midoriko-san. Your boast to be able to beat me I have, appropriately, taken as a challenge of skill. I would not insult you with a beginner's level shinai, and have given you the bokken as a symbol of my respect to your challenge. I would ask that we fight now, to see if your claim is indeed valid. I accept you challenge."

"MY challenge?" Midoriko cried. "You're the one demanding that I fight you!"

"I demand nothing. You have made a challenge and I have accepted it. You may refuse to fight, if you wish. However, proper etiquette dictates that such a refusal is the same as a defeat. What do you choose?"

"That's not fair! You're pulling some kind of gaijin trick!"

"I do nothing of the sort. I was born into the Date clan, Midoriko-san, and have been taught in all the proper ways of kendo. I am merely behaving accordingly. Surely you knew this would happen, otherwise you would not have challenged me."

"You're lying! You used some dirty gaijin trick. And what would you know about kendo, huh?"

"Fight me and find out, then, Midoriko-san. There is a reason why this dojo waits three years before students learn kendo. This is the lesson I will teach to the class. To you, I seek to prove to you once and for all that I am a Nihonjin and that I take insult to those who would call me otherwise. Now, you claim to be able to beat me, show me your skill then."

Midoriko, trapped by his own boast and his pride, raised the bokken clumsily, holding the hilt all wrong. "How do I know that you won't cheat?" he breathed.Nihonjin mean Japanese person

"If your proficiency in kendo is as strong as you claim, then you will easily point out where I have erred."

"How can I do that? I'll be too busy fighting you!"

"All experienced practitioners of kendo know when a mistake is being made. But if you wish, we may have an impartial judge." Seiji looked over to his students to discover that his grandfather and mother's classes had gathered to watch. Seiji ran his eyes over the crowd. "Sakamoto-san," he said. "I believe you have submitted to be a judge."

"I have, Seiji-sensei," the young man answered. He was a tall student from Makoto's class, with broad shoulders and small eyes. "I would be honored to judge the match you have proposed."

Seiji bowed to him deeply, his bokken still held by his side like a katana. Then he looked to the green eyed Midoriko. "Have you any more objections, Midoriko-san?"

"I don't wanna do this," he answered slowly. Behind the faceplate his face glistened in sweat, his hands shook with nerves, but his green eyes remained defiant. "I don't wanna hafta show you up to the entire dojo." Midoriko refused to give up his pride.

"Then, Midoriko-san, you should have thought of that before you sought to challenge me. This display is your doing, not mine. I have acted as any kendo practitioner would; however you seem to fail to realize this, despite your claims to be better in kendo that I. Now, shall this match of skill begin?"

Seiji bowed to Midoriko, beginning the match and thereby brooking no further argument. He stepped forward, entering proper fighting stance, and "drew" his bokken, holding it firmly in both hands. Sakamoto, the judge, nodded at the fluidity of the motion and turned to Midoriko. The boy tried clumsily to mimic the motions Seiji had made, still holding the bokken with unfamiliar hands. Seiji began to circle the ten-year-old boy, his steps light. Midoriko circled also, his feet unsure. He clearly had never held a shinai before, let alone the heavier wood of the bokken. His stance kept changing, altering between stances he had already learned to poor copies of those shown on anime and TV. Seiji knew that he could disqualify the boy with one strike, but he preferred to have the green-eyed youth to make the first move. The circling continued for several minutes. Finally Midoriko, his face still defiant, ran to Seiji with his bokken raised. The boy was fast, but not as fast as Seiji. He merely held his bokken forward, letting Midoriko run into the wooden sword. It hit squarely in the chest.

"Point, Seiji-sensei," Sakamoto said.

Midoriko huffed, striving to get air back into his lungs and got up. Those green eyes were now filled with rage. "Foreign dog," he spat in breathes. The boy grabbed the bokken he had dropped and gripped it.

"Midoriko, that's enough," Tsukishiro said from his place on the mat.

"That's right," Hayama added. "You don't want to get Seiji-sensei mad! He's supposed to go all hitokiri like on Rurouni Kenshin!"

Seiji inwardly winced at the comparison of him to an anime character. Only once had he entered a rage in front of his students, and the story of it still floated amongst the students. He swore to himself that he would never do so again.

"Urusei!" Midoriko shouted to his companions. ((Shut up))

He raised the bokken again and charged again. And Seiji let the boy walk into the bokken again.

"Point, Seiji-sensei."

"Mou. Just because you were adopted into a wealthy family, you think you can do anything you want. You can treat people however you want. Stuck up, high handed, arrogant, GAIJIN!" Midoriko stood again. "I HATE YOU!" The boy raised his bokken a final time and charged. He avoided running into Seiji's bokken, leaping to the side, and swung his wooden sword toward Seiji's ribs. However, Midoriko really didn't know any kendo. He would not have signed up to learn it, otherwise. Seiji easily blocked the strike; and then tapped him lightly on the chest.

"Point, Seiji-sensei. Winner, Seiji-sensei."

Many of the students "oo"ed and "aw"ed Seiji as he bowed to the enraged Midoriko. He turned and bowed to the judge, Sakamoto. The gasps from the three classes did not alert him to Midoriko's movements, the clumsy footsteps on the mat did. Seiji raised himself from the bow and turned to grab the bokken, pulling it out of the boy's grasp. Midoriko raised his foot, ready to kick Seiji. But the other hand raised and blocked the foot.

"Midoriko-san," Seiji said softly. The students did not hear him, only the boy did. "There is no need for this."

"There is," the green-eyed boy spat. "You don't understand, gaijin, but there is."

"What offense have I committed?"

"You were born!"

Seiji released the child, who threw off his chest plate, facemask, and gloves before storming out of the dojo. Seiji pursed his thin lips. The boy was a problem. For the two years that Seiji taught that boy, Midoriko refused to learn.

Seiji's grandfather and mother came up to him. "Are you alright?" Makoto asked.

"Hai."

"You are responsible for that boy," his grandfather said. "His misconduct is your responsibility."

"Hai," Seiji responded through clenched teeth. One would think that his grandfather would also take offense to Midoriko's insults. But no, it was his fault Seiji was insulted.

Seiji corrected that train of thought immediately. He really was responsible for the students he taught; that point was made very clear when he began teaching. Seiji could expel the green-eyed boy anytime he wished, but he did not. Why? Because Seiji could not understand why Midoriko hated gaijin so much, Seiji-sensei in particular.

Seiji looked to his students.

"Minna-san, class is still in session." He led the students back to his classroom and bowed to them. "Do you have any questions about that demonstration?"

Hayama raised his hand. "How come you were always bowing?"

"Kendo is an honorable and respectful sport, Hayama-san. You show respect to both your opponent and to the judge. Kendo itself is a practice of showing respect."

"Then why do you let nobody's come in and learn?"

"No person that we let in is a nobody. If a person is part of the wrong crowd, which I assume is your meaning, then we teach them honor and respect so that they may not be part of that wrong crowd. Or, if all else fails, to teach them how to control their anger."

"Then you're not doing a good job," Tsukishiro muttered under his breath.

Seiji bypassed the comment and answered questions for the remainder of the class.

The eight o'clock class finally let out, and the nine o'clock class went by with considerably fewer problems. Seiji had no ten o'clock or eleven o'clock class, and his grandfather had cancelled his ten and eleven classes to make time to sit down and cover finances with Seiji. Under normal circumstances, they would go over it in the afternoon, but the afternoon was considered full because of Yayoi and Kensuke. So, Seiji changed back into his clothes and locked the dojo before joining his grandfather in Mamoru's office.

His grandfather's office was large, with a rich oak desk with a painted trim. Behind it was a thick comfortable cushioned chair. This furniture was merely decoration, however, used only if a western guest were present in the room. Mamoru's work was always done on the low table at the far side of the room. The tatami were a mulberry color, in keeping with the rich wood of the desk and table. On the low table was a snack. Seiji knelt down to rice crackers. Green tea was already poured, and Seiji's grandfather sat there waiting for him, much the same way Seiji had waited for his father for breakfast.

"I am here, Ojii-sama."

"That you are, Seiji." He knelt down on the empty cushion and bowed to his grandfather. "Tell my how you will go about paying the bills for this dojo, Seiji."

Direct as always. Seiji took a deep breath. "I would first gather all the bills, examining what, exactly, they were for. I would then gather all the payments from our students and calculate how much that was. Were it enough, I would pay the bills accordingly, and were it not enough; I would pay only the most important bills."

Mamoru shook his head. "Not good enough. Bills are not that simple, Seiji. You should know better."

Seiji twitched ever so slightly, but showed no other outward signs of annoyance. "I apologize, Ojii-sama. My knowledge of billing is limited at best, and my previous statement was based on that small amount of knowledge."

"Then it is a good thing I decided to go over these bills with you. You would never make it on your own without my teachings."

Actually, Seiji suspected that he would do just fine on his own. He had good instincts about people and could always tell when he was being cheated. The first few months would be haphazard at best, but it was doubtful that Seiji would drive himself out of business, like his grandfather was implying.

"I bow to your wisdom, Ojii-sama."

"First of all, what types of bills do you think a dojo would have?"

Seiji paused to think of the answer. "Obviously bills on licenses and maintenance of the dojo, ordering the gi for the students, and of course taxes."

"You have the general idea, but you are missing something important. Insurance. Japan is nothing like America, but we must always take precautions. Especially since more and more Amerikajin are coming into this country. Those gaijin are sure to ruin us."

"I will be weary of their presence, Ojii-sama," Seiji said politely.

"Very good. Here is a standard bill for the dojo. I want you to explain everything on it."

Seiji accepted the paper and scanned its contents quickly before speaking.

"This is obviously a form for someone who has just recently joined. The number of weeks due is smaller than is normal. The names of the student-in this case students-are filled out as is the name of the guardian."

"Wrong." Mamoru stated flatly. "That person is the one who is paying the bills, not the one who is guardian. Rare as it is, sometime a person different than the parent or guardian pays us, and you must be aware of that."

"Wakarimasu, Ojii-sama," Seiji stated politely, bowing is head. "The amount charged is listed," he continued. "And so are any outstanding debts. There are none here, however. Also listed are the address of the payee and the address of the dojo." Seiji handed back the paper. ((I understand, grandfather.))

"You will become very familiar with those forms when you take over the dojo. Bills are sent out the first of every other month. Do you know how much income this dojo receives?"

"I would hope an adequate amount to pay our own bills and expenses. Perhaps a few million yen a month?"

"You are close. How much of that do you think goes to our own bills?"

"Knowing about how much we spend a month, perhaps three quarters of it?"

"It is good to know that all the yen we spent on your education was well spent. Your mathematical skills are adequate. Higher accuracy will be needed for the future, but for now you pass. Later I will expect you to know exactly how much we bring in and how much of it goes to our own payments."

Seiji bowed his head. He knew that he was very close to what the numbers actually were; otherwise his grandfather would not have said such… soft things. What Touma often said was true-knowledge is the route of all finance.

Similar series of questions and answers were thrown at Seiji, who answered to the best of his ability. Afterward, Mamoru unlocked a drawer and pulled out the entire financial folder for the dojo. Seiji was to look over it and ask if he had any questions; which in Mamoru's language meant "You better understand this by now or you'll be sent to the basement." Seiji wouldn't have been sent to the basement really, but the threat had always been implied even long after her had grown out of the punishment.

It was not that Seiji's grandfather was cruel; it was merely that he was strict. Sometimes Seiji thought that Mamoru was still living in the end of Meiji era of Japan, where everything was uncertain and a war was heavy on everyone's minds. Such old principles were continually pressed upon Seiji, who took them up reluctantly. Seiji had always been the type of person to speak his mind. Period, the end. To have to particularly state everything in polite rhetoric and merely imply his opinion grated on his nerves to no end. It was always etiquette that got him in trouble; and Mamoru was a stickler for etiquette.

It sometimes put a great strain on their relationship when Seiji was younger. Seiji wanted so desperately to state his opinion clearly, but his grandfather often refused to hear it until he said it politely. Sometimes, when Seiji was really mad, he would slip into a very rough manner of speaking just too great on everyone's nerves and make himself feel better.

When the finances were gone over, Mamoru took a deep breath, and Seiji wished desperately that his grandfather would allow a computer.

"With that over with, I want to take you to meet someone. He's an old friend of mine, so I expect you to be on your best behavior."

"Always, grandfather."

"I expect you to be ready within fifteen minutes. I will be outside."

"Hai, Ojii-sama." Seiji bowed to his grandfather and left the dojo. There was not really need for the fifteen minutes on his side. Mamoru was the one who needed the time to change out of his sweaty gi and into something nicer.

It was just after eleven, and with his mother and grandfather at the dojo and Satsuki at school, the house was empty. Seiji patted into his room and sat down. His dark slacks were tight around his knees, indicating that he was finally growing out of the pair. He had worn them since he was fourteen. They were big on him then; they had finally grown small. Uncertain what to do with the free time he strove to get comfortable. Thinking ahead, he knew that he would most likely be home in time for lunch with his mother. The afternoon was free up until perhaps five. Yayoi did not get home until six, but he knew that that was not always cast in stone. Assuming lunch was over by two, he had a few hours to kill. Perhaps he could go down to the tracks and see who was there.

Nodding at the decision, he continued. He knew that Akito would be there, and perhaps Osamu if the boy wasn't working. Not enough to race, but certainly enough to work together on an engine or two, and to see what the latest news was. Seiji had been a little out of touch lately because of the news of his sister. It would be good to catch up with everyone and see how they were doing. He wondered what they were all doing over the last two weeks. He had also meant to get in touch with the other Troopers. Touma had just sent him a letter, and Shin had written over a week ago. Seiji had started writing a few days ago, but Yayoi had come home to say that she was bringing home someone special to her. His mind was more focused on that than the Troopers.

It was interesting. He thought of the other Troopers just as much as he thought of his family. In a way, the Troopers were his family. Seiji was closer to them than even to his senpai Akito, who had looked after him and believed in him in school. He made sure to keep in close contact with all four of them. He even received an occasional letter from Kayura and the Masho. Touma was pushing everyone to switch over to email, and had even convinced Shin and Shuu of it. Ryo had said that he didn't have the yen to spend on an ISP, and Seiji didn't even have a computer. His grandfather never thought it was necessary and wouldn't hear about the subject. Seiji knew once he inherited the dojo, a computer would be his first purchase. Shin meanwhile was talking about how his mother needed a live in nurse. Shuu's letters were always pages long, explaining the exploits of his family and extended family. Ryo's letters were always short and to the point, and like the man himself, always positive. The thought of the four of them made Seiji smile. Maybe, once the Yayoi thing had settled down, he would invite everyone up and make a weekend of it.

Nodding again, Seiji stood. He looked at the clock and smirked. Fifteen minutes exactly. He padded out to the ganken. Instead of putting on his geta, he satisfied himself with a simple pair of sneakers and stepped out of the house. His grandfather, he saw, exited the dojo at the same time.

"Come," Mamoru stated. "I do not want us to be late."

"With you, Ojii-sama, that will never happen."

The subway station was only three blocks from their home, and the train ride took just under ten minutes before they were in the heart of Sendai. Stepping out into the tree lined streets; Mamoru paused to get his bearings.

"The shop is in walking distance," he muttered to himself, looking around again.

Seiji watched his grandfather carefully. Date Mamoru, getting senile? He never forgot anything, much to Seiji's constant annoyance, even in his advance years.

"Are you alright, Ojii-sama?"

"Just fine," Mamoru said, his tone frustrated. "I knew they were building in this area, but it could not have changed that much."

Seiji, at that moment, got very concerned. He had never seen his grandfather confused, at it was beyond his nature to get lost. Especially when en route to a person he had known most of his life. Seiji looked at his grandfather intently. Mamoru's eyes were clear, and his faculties seemed to be all about him. But Seiji watched anyway.

"Ah! There we go!" Mamoru finally stated. "They renamed that restaurant over there. Come, the shop is this way."

Seiji let out a silent sigh of relief and followed. The shop they were looking for was five blocks from the subway station. It had older style architecture, possibly early Meiji Era; Seiji could not be sure as he was not an architect, but he thought is was a good guess judging on what his grandfather had said on the train ride. Musashi Fujitako's grandfather had built the shop just before the Meiji Restoration and the fall of the Tokugawa regime. Sword repair became difficult, especially with the no sword laws that broke out later, but the Musashi family managed well despite that, looking after and repairing the sword of the richer families and sometimes training the heirs.

"Fujitako!"

"Mamoru!"

An old man, dressed in hakama, gi, and haori like Mamoru was, came to greet them with open arms.

"It's been weeks, you old man! Where've you been?"

"I have been preparing to meet my granddaughter Yayoi's special Kensuke."

"Oh? Finally getting out of the house, is she? She was always a smart girl, that one." Fujitako looked to Seiji. "How about you, boy? When will you break away from this disrespectful maniac?"

"I will do so when I see that I am able," Seiji replied politely. He liked Fujitako.

"Haha! That's my boy! Mamoru, keep you eye on him. Seiji is going places!"

"What he is going to do is to act as go between for you and me. He will be taking over the maintenance of the dojo's swords. You'll be seeing a lot of him."

Fujitako let out another hearty laugh. "No, I won't. Didn't you know? I retired!"

Mamoru blinked. Seiji smirked, watching his grandfather, for the first time, be shocked stupid.

"Pick your jaw up, old man! You look like a shattered sheath."

Mamoru blinked again and regained control of his voice. "What on earth made you retire, you old fool? You are still in your prime, with plenty of years on you! Do not go leaving me to deal with only children!"

"My niece is hardly a child, you know! She's had two children now, one of them following in her mother's footsteps."

"You're NEICE? Do not tell me you are letting a woman's small hands take care of the delicate work of-"

Fujitako raised a hand. "Now Mamoru, you old dog. Misao's hands are hardly little. They're bigger than mine, actually. S'what she gets from that Kenyajin mother of hers. I'll show you. Misao! Would you come in please?"

Seiji remembered Kenya. He wondered briefly what Naria and her brother Mukara were doing now.

The sliding sound of the shoji indicated the arrival of Fujitako's niece, and Seiji blinked when he saw her. She was tall, taller than anyone Seiji could think of off the top of his head was. Like Fujitako had said, her hands were large, and her complexion was darker than the average Japanese person, but not so dark that you automatically thought she was African. She looked exotic, with her deep eyes and midnight blue colored hair. Her age was only just beginning to show, laugh lines heavier than that of a young person. Misao wore a lavender colored kimono and gold striped obi, and her hair was braided, falling over her shoulder.

"You bellowed, uncle?" Rougher speech than Seiji was used to hearing from a woman, but it was light, jesting.

"Misao, this here is Date Seiji and his demonic Jii-san, Date Mamoru."

"Hey, there. Nice to see ya." She waved politely and then bowed more formally.

Seiji bowed stiffly. "It is indeed an honor to meet you. Ojii-sama has always related stories of you and your family."

It was Misao's turn to blink. "Wow. You're more polite than most of the guys who come into this shop. Didn't even stare at me, neither."

Seiji knew from personal experience that it was impolite to stare, and only looked at her.

"Ya, I guess you'd know about that. You're a 'pure' Nihonjin?"

"I am."

"Thought so. Couldn't be otherwise with that shape face and hair texture."

Seiji inclined his head politely. The rough manner of speech and manners threw him off, and he found he was unsure of how to react to her. On one part her empathy for his "gaijin" situation made him glad to know her. But her lack of respect confused him. Perhaps it was compensation for being considered a gaijin?

"Y'uncomfortable, Seiji?" Misao asked.

"I… will admit uncertainty in how to react towards you."

The dark skinned Misao laughed. "Boy, you're too polite. Don't beat around the bush. C'mon, let's let these two old men talk themselves out. I'll show you what you'll be doing when you come here." She stood quickly and left the room, leaving Seiji to hurry to catch up.

"Kaa-chan!" Two children ran into the hallway. The older, a boy was chasing after the younger, a girl. The four-year-old girl leapt up into her mother's arms and the eleven-year-old boy reached up to grab her. Misao was too tall, however, and lifted the girl high into the air.

"Seiji, these two monsters are my children," she said finally after several minutes of keeping the two from tearing the other apart. "Demons," she said to her children. "This is Date Seiji, grandson of Date Mamoru. Now what do you say?"

"Yoroshuku," said the boy. "I'm Keichi." ((Pleased to meet you.))

"Yoroshuku," said the girl. "I'm Kinomoto Sakura."

"No you're not!" said the boy. "That's just some anime character!"

The girl shook her head. "Mm-n! I'm Sakura, and Sakura wants to get all the Clow cards! Ne, Kaa-chan?"

"Of course you will," Misao said, winking to Seiji. "Why don't you see if you can go find one?"

"Yooooooooooooosha!" the little girl cried. She looked to her brother. "C'mon, Kero-chan! Let's go find the Clow Cards before that mean ol' Li does!" With that the little girl lowered herself from her mother and ran down the hall to the room from whence they came. Keichi followed after an apologetic bow.

Misao laughed brightly. "Her name's really Sakura," she explained. "Because of that she's convinced herself that she's THE Sakura. This way." Misao lead the way down the hall finally and entered a large room. "This's where we will do all our business. Most of our customers use the main room where those two old men are. But you Date's've been our customers since day one. That kinda loyalty gets special privileges, I think. Anyways, this is where I do my work. If I ain't in the main room ta greet ya, I'm in here workin'."

"Will I make regular visits, or only when a sword needs repairs?"

"You'll make regular visits. Some o'the swords you have're downright ancient. One of'em dates way back to the Heian Era. They don't make swords like that anymore. You're grandpa is quite the collector, and I've worked on almost all of them swords."

"I see. I thank you for giving me such honored treatment, and look forward to working with you in the future."

"Do you?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Do ya really want to work with me? Do ya really want to run the dojo? Do ya really want to take your grandpa's place?" Misao's light nature lowered, and she spoke very soberly. "I been able to get away with a lot. My ma an' I spent a lot o' time traveling. I been to America, France, just about everywhere in Africa from Kenya to South Africa to Egypt to Angola. I've found out that a lotta Japan's culture is based on duty and expectations. I ain't dissin' it; it's a damn good thing. But sometimes they take it way too far. I been hearing 'bout you for a while now. How the grand heir Date Seiji will continue the tradition and takin' your grandpa's place. I'm tellin' ya, it sure ain't easy to do what you want. It took me over five years to get my uncle convinced that I was good at fixin' swords. But I was able to do it. So I guess I'm askin' ya what you really wanna do."

"I…" Seiji paused, uncertain what to do. He had never met anyone quite like Misao. His anxiety towards women seemed to have disappeared around her, perhaps because she hardly acted like a woman, nor did she idolize him in the slightest. In fact, she seemed to see him for more than what he looked like or what he represented. She saw him for who he was. Only the other Troopers had every really seen him. They had often asked what he wanted to do, and he would answer automatically. This time, however, he was put on the spot, and he found himself thinking.

"I… I will admit to entertaining other ideas for my future. But when it comes right down to it, I think I want to take over the dojo."

Seiji felt a pull in his heart, and he realized, perhaps for the first time, how true his words actually were. As much as he loved racing; as much as he loved music; he loved the dojo even more. He loved teaching there, to watch the students grow and improve. Seiji was beginning to discover that he had a knack for making the students pay attention and to learn. The students honestly respected him for his talent, not for his family name.

Well, most of them. The face of the green-eyed Midoriko entered his mind. He would have to do something about that boy.

To the dark skinned Misao, he said, "It may have draw backs, and it may not have been my initial choice, but the more I learn about the art of running a dojo, the more I find that I like the work."

Misao nodded. "Y'know what you like. That's good. I think we'll get along quite well, Date Seiji."

"I hope so, Musashi Misao."

When they reentered the main room, Mamoru and Fujitaka were still talking. Seiji's grandfather said that he should go on ahead, and that Mamoru would take the next subway back to Sendai. Seiji hesitated momentarily, remembering the trouble he had with finding the shop, but Fujitako reassured the boy that he wouldn't let the old man kill himself in a fight. Nodding, Seiji went home alone, easily finding his way back and returning to the dojo.

No one was there, so he entered his home to the smell of teriyaki and tamagoyaki.

"Tadaima," he called. I'm home.

"Okairi nasai," his mother Makoto answered. Welcome home.

"Ojii-sama stayed behind to continue his conversation with Musashi-san. He informed me to come home ahead of him."

"I expected that," his mother replied. "With him gone and with Yayoi either in class or with Kensuke, we appear to have the place to ourselves." She placed still-warm plates on the low table and sat down, offering her son's plate first.

"Hahaue, it is a warm day today. If I am allowed the luxury, may we eat outside?"

Makoto smiled. "Of course such a luxury is allowed you, Seiji-san. Please find a blanket while I gather the foods."

"Hai, Hahaue." Seiji withdrew from the kitchen and entered his parent's room. He knew that they kept a picnic blanket in there somewhere, and he found it in the closet. Pulling it out, he hastily put on his geta and stepped outside.

Behind the Date household and dojo was a traditional garden. It was modest in comparison to other families that lived around the neighborhood, but to Seiji it was beautiful. A large sakura tree spread out over half of the yard, engulfing the small property in shade. Rocks had been compiled in a pleasing, Zen-like fashion at various parts of the yard, and the grass was a very green color this year. Seiji often practiced in the garden when the weather was nice. The warmth of the sun on any given day often stole him away from his shade-less room and outside, where he could enjoy the solar energy more thoroughly. Today, the day was warm, and the sun poked through the thickening clouds, creating brilliant streams of light.

Seiji spread out the blanket and placed a few small pebbles on each corner to prevent it from blowing away. The breeze was only slight, but one wanted to make sure. Seiji moved to reenter the house to see if he should help his mother, but a stream of light moved over him, and he paused, moved that the sun wanted to greet him. Seiji closed his eyes and raised his head, letting the warm rays pass through him and charge his entire internal ki. The morning sunrise flashed in his head, the golden orb amongst the clouded and colored sky. What a beautiful day this was! On days like this the Korin armor would work at its finest, if it still existed! The beauty of the day was marvelous, and Seiji found himself smiling despite himself as the thought ran through his mind and his entire being.

"You are in good spirits, Seiji-san."

Seiji turned to see that Makoto had already set up the lunch upon the picnic blanket and was waiting for him, her red kimono darker under the shade of the tree. The stream of light passed, and Seiji was again in the graying presence of the day. Breathing in deeply, Seiji walked back to under the tree and knelt down across from his mother.

"Itadakimasu." ((Literally, "Thank you for the food." But it translates to more of a "Bon appetite".))

The teriyaki was delicious, but the tamagoyaki was a little over done. The pair ate in relative silence, the only noise coming from the birds overhead and the occasional sound of a bike or car rushing by. Seiji let his mind drift as he ate lunch. The day was proving to be quite surprising. Between the incident with Midoriko and meeting Musashi Misao, he wondered just what his role in the dojo was. He was beginning to realize his like for the job. He no longer moved to open the dojo doors with dread, but with a neutral state of mind. He liked teaching the students who wanted to learn, but he found he had little patience with the new students who did not know his heritage or the upstarts like the green eyed Midoriko. He knew that such problems would occur, even persist. He knew that he would have to do jobs that he did not like, such as dealing with the finances or overbearing parents who thought they knew better.Teriyaki is a sauce, and tamagoyaki is fried eggs.

But then he would meet people like Misao, or the Matsuri sisters. Rumiko thought he was a demon, but he was able to show her that he was all right. And of Misao he did not know what to think. She grew up as he did, laughed at and jeered at for being a gaijin, but she grew up healthy despite it. She had a good sense of self and did not seem perturbed by her appearance and the reaction of others. Seiji still stiffened when even the well meaning brought up the topic of his looks. An upstart child did so, when Seiji was in bad humor to boot, and the students to still spread exaggerated rumors to the new comers of what will happen if you got Seiji-sensei mad. It was a reputation that he did not like.

But in some circumstances it served him well. His class thought that he was going to kill Midoriko, but instead he showed them how kendo etiquette was applied and gave them further incentive to study the art. When, angered, his cold eyes often drove people away, giving him the quiet he often desired when he was angry.

Seiji had a sudden urge to see his friends, his fellow Troopers. They could help him understand the thoughts running through his head. Touma would explain logically what his options were, listing the pros and cons of each choice. Shin would ask him how he would feel about each circumstance Touma would give, and then Shuu would ask him to spare with him, to "get a feel of how a future dojo sensei would fight". After all that was done, Ryo would give a story of someone he grew up with and then everything would be clear. Seiji would know his own mind better than he would were he to enter the deepest level of meditation.

"To what are you thinking?" his mother asked.

"Many things," Seiji answered. "The primary of which is my role in the dojo."

"You still debate on whether or not to inherit it? I thought we had gone through this before."

"We have. You and Ojii-sama feel that my fate has already been determined. I would like to think that I have a say in what my destiny is."

"Surely you do no think us so cruel, Seiji-san. You yourself have stated any number of times that you love kendo."

"I do, and I consider the idea of taking over the dojo very seriously. But please understand that I do have other interests. Music and racing are as important to me as kendo is, and I consider their possibilities as well as that of taking over after Ojii-sama."

"They would not be as lucrative, or as secure as running our dojo. We have run it since before the Meiji Restoration. It is a tradition."

"Then why must I be the one to succeed Ojii-sama? Yayoi clearly wants the position. You would have succeeded if I were not born."

Makoto took a deep breath and looked up to the half cloudy, half sunny sky above the canopy of leaves she sat under. Sunrays filtered though the tree leaves and illuminated her dark hair.

"Did I ever tell you that I, too, did not want to teach at the dojo?"

Seiji blinked.

"When I was much younger, I did not want to teach. I was good, and one of the few women in Sendai who knew how to handle a bokken. But my ideas were very different then those of Chichiue. My hopes were to become a teacher. Not of kendo, but of literature and history. It is and has always been one of my passions. When I was your age and younger, I hated teaching at the dojo. The children-all boys-laughed at a woman holding a bokken. The older ones leered at me and often tried to corner me when I was alone. We had another teacher then, and he would often try to take me, either in practice or in a more suggestive manner."

Seiji bristled. A fellow teacher would dare try to make a pass at her? Without her consent?

"Do not think so negatively. It was to be expected. As I said, I was one of the first women teachers of kendo. Their actions made me all the more resolute in showing them that I was better than they were. I became a very brash young girl, Seiji-san. I spoke rudely and listened to no one. No even Chichiue could make me do what he wanted. The consistent leers and jokes made upon my person made me become a very ugly young girl.

"But then something very special happened. A young man signed up to one of my classes. He was gangly, awkward, and entirely too sure of himself for my tastes. His moves were clumsy; it was obvious that he had never performed any kind of physical activity before hand. My grandfather forced me to become his personal trainer. Imagine my frustration when he would fail miserably at every exercise I put before him and then laugh about it. Despite my criticism of this boy, however, he never spoke negatively of me. On the contrary, somewhere along the way he became quite an admirer of mine. This fact was totally lost to me, however.

"One day, I finally gave up and told him that it was impossible for a gangly youth such as him to learn the fine art of kendo."

"How did he react to that?"

"He laughed."

"What?"

"He laughed," Makoto repeated. A small smile appeared on her face as she remembered the encounter. "He gave the most honest, sincere laugh that I have ever heard. Then he looked at me with serious eyes and asked me whether or not I had heard the same thing told to me. I believe it was the first time I was ever struck speechless. Thankfully, such an occurrence had not happened since. But I must admit, I must have looked very stupid, standing there gaping at this tall, gangly boy who could not do anything I told him. But his question had a very true answer. Many people, from my students to my fellow sensei to the ever-implied indications of Chichiue thought that I could not become a kendo instructor.

"That was when I realized something. I had done what I had done in order to prove everyone wrong, but to my astonishment I was merely proving him or her right. My rough speech and lack of manners insulted the kendo art and my love for it. My lack of respect to even my students gave them no cause to respect me, and that was why they could not take me seriously; because I was not taking me seriously. Do you understand what I am saying?"

Seiji paused before he answered. "You are saying that your own goals and desires got in the way of your teaching kendo."

"It is a lesson that I must sometimes still learn. It is why I still teach kendo. There are times when I get so wrapped up in myself that I loose sight of kendo and what it does and what it represents. I must sometimes remember that gangly boy asking me if a person ever told me that I could not do something, and remember that that person is often I."

Makoto took a breath, sipping her tea and savoring the taste. The continually graying sky seemed to lighten, if only for a moment, casting one more ray of sun down on Seiji's mother to emphasize her point, before becoming completely overcast with clouds. She gazed at her son, her deep eyes seeming to bore into him.

"I do not think that my lesson is the same as your lesson. But I wanted you to know that you are not alone in your opinions and feelings. I once shared them and I know what you are going through, Seiji-san. You are merely too courteous to express yourself. As much as I might wish otherwise, what Chichiue and I want for you should not apply in your decision. We will support any career you undertake, and should you so wish, Yayoi will inherit the dojo when Chichiue passes on."

Seiji's mother stood slowly, her kimono a darker red in the poor light.

"The sun's rays no longer support us; I suggest we go inside before there is rain." She gathered the dishes and walked lightly back into the house, then returned and began to fold up the blanket as Seiji stood to help her.

"Hahaue," he started, before pausing.

"Hai, Seiji-san?"

"A… Arigatoo gozaimasu. Thank you for sharing your lessons with me."

"You are most welcome, Seiji-san."

"What… What ever happened to the boy?"

"The boy?"

"The gangly youth who made you realize so much."

"Oh, him. He married me."

"Hahaue!"

Makoto smiled as she put the dishes into the sink to be washed. Then she turned to her son and kissed his forehead. "It is not an easy choice to make, Seiji-san. I speak from experience. But it is not one to be made merely to spite someone. That I also say from experience." She held Seiji's head in her hand, still smiling. "You are such a beautiful boy. You turned out so well that I am bursting with pride. You are still thinking, and that is better than I ever did as a child. Take your time. Chichiue still has many years on him yet, and you have the time to think about it."

Did he? Seiji thought back to when his grandfather could not find his old friend's home. Were his faculties beginning to wane? Mamoru may have many years left to live, but what if his mind began to go? If he became incapable of running the dojo, then Seiji would be forced into the job without even a choice. It would be expected of him to do so in his grandfather's steed. Such was the tradition. When a Date had to step down, then the next in line was required to take over. What would he do then?

Seiji needed to get out of the house. He needed time to think in his own terms without the opinions of his mother or grandfather or anyone else. Seiji went into his room and took out his raincoat. He did not think it would rain for a few more hours yet, but it was better to be safe.

"Hahaue, I had hoped to go to the tracks. I will not be more than a few hours."

"Of course, Seiji-san. Say hello to Akito-san for me. He was always a prize student."

Seiji put on his sneakers in the ganken and bowed to his mother. "Itekimasu." ((I'm leaving now.))

"Iterashai, Seiji-san." ((Have fun.))

Seiji left his house and walked briskly to the subway station where he bought his tickets. While in the underground train he took the time to gather his thoughts. He was beginning to sound like Touma, overanalyzing a simple situation of not being able to get one's bearings. However, Seiji's grandfather had never done that before. Even if he just forgot which direction to go, it was hardly indicative to some horrible disease or frailty. His grandfather was merely showing his age.

At least, that was what Seiji hoped.

He shook his head finally and gave up. Brooding about his concerns would do him no good. It was an hour's ride to the tracks, so Seiji closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting his senses withdraw into himself until he could no longer hear the sounds around him. The baby crying, or the couple cooing, the newspaper turning, or the engine of the train all faded away. Even the rocking of the car he was in no longer registered. He could only sense himself. Seiji carefully examined his internal ki, noticing that it was noticeable tighter and more worried than in the morning when he had watched the sunrise, or when he had relaxed while performing his katas, or even when he was listening to the story his mother had related about her lessons of life. Seiji focused on his tightness and tried to smooth it out, letting go of the negative ki that had begun to enter into him and to accept that which decided to stay.

By the time his stop was called out, Seiji had calmed about half of himself, and felt all the better for it. Stepping out of the car, he walked in long strides out of the subway station and into the suburbs outside of Sendai.

The sky had darkened considerably in the hour's ride, and Seiji was glad he had decided to wear his dark raincoat.

The racetracks were a short walk from the station, and it was under fifteen minutes before Seiji stepped out onto the tracks. Predictably, there was already a small group of people in the pit stop, surrounding a car. As he approached, Seiji saw that, as expected, Osamu was in the driver's seat, making wild comments about the performance of the vehicle. Akito was standing with the ever-greasy Takato over the engine, exchanging specs and comparing notes. Oddly enough, there was a girl there as well.

"Konnichi wa," he called out.

"Ah! Seiji!" Akito called out, beckoning him to come closer.

"Date! Where've you been?" called out the stained Takato. The youth picked up a filthy rag and began wiping his black hands, only to succeed in smearing the grease and filth further.

"I apologize for not coming sooner. I had to deal with my nee-san dropping a bomb shell."

"Oh?" Akito asked. "Don't tell me she went and dropped a fiancé on you or something."

"You are actually quite correct. It would appear that nee-san decided to bring him home for inspection."

"That must have taken her a while to finally pull off. You know that you're the one who's essentially inspecting him."

"And Ojii-sama, and Hahaue, and Chichiue, and Satsuki."

"Oh, sure," Akito said, moving closer to his friend. "But you're the future head of the family, right? You're the one who has to accept him. I should know. I had to do the same thing when my little sister wanted to get married."

"Fujiko wanted to get married?"

"Well, she was only six at the time. But when she brought home that poor boy to be accepted into the family, I was the one who ended up judging him. Otou-san said that it was my job as future head of the family. In fact, he still says it every time Fujiko-chan decides to bring someone home."

Seiji nodded. "She seems very intent to get married."

Akito gave an exaggerated sigh. "You have no idea, Seiji. She thinks every boy who's nice to her is 'the one'. It's only gotten worse since she went to high school. I can't wait for her to graduate, and then I can tell her to wait until she's serious about someone before she brings him home."

"He'll regret that," said the filthy Takato. "Then the same thing that's happening to you will happen to him."

"Well, good," said Akito. "Then I'll know that she's serious."

"Hey, guys," Osamu said from the driver's seat of the car. "I thought I came here so that you could admire this baby!"

"It would help if you told us what it was," said the girl.

"I told you! It's an American car. A Ford or something."

Takato shook his head. "For all your self proclaimed knowledge, you can be very dense sometimes." Takato slammed the hood of the car and sat on it, oblivious to the grease smears he was leaving on the car. "This is a Mustang, a GT 500 Cobra. You don't get cars like these without paying an arm and a leg. This is one of those power cars of the sixties. Don't you ever read manga from Sonoda Kenichi?"

"Yeah," Osamu said indignantly. "I have every issue of Exxaxion."

"You should've started collecting earlier," Takato pointed out. "Pick up Gunsmith Cats sometime. About the only thing this baby is missing is the racer stripe; otherwise it would be a dead ringer or Rally Vincent's car."

The girl rolled her eyes. "Children and toys," she muttered.

Seiji felt his teeth clench at the comment, but the others seemed oblivious to the remark as the continued to try and convince Osamu to let them drive the car.

"I do not believe we have been properly introduced. I am Date Seiji. Hajimashite." ((Pleased to meet you))

"Hanagawa. Call me Hana, everybody else does. I'm that grease rat's older sister."

Seiji looked to the dirt covered Takato, noticing for the first time that the he and Hanagawa shared the same unruly hair and broad shoulders. "I see the resemblance," he said slowly.

The girl shrugged and pulled out a cigarette. "That's it for us. He only dragged me down here to show me where he worked. I leave in a half and hour." She lit the cigarette and took a long drag. As she blew out the smoke she looked at Seiji for the first time.

Seiji felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, a sensation he had become very familiar with as the girl, easily five years his senior, gazed at him with hungry eyes. An unattractive smile crossed her face as she gave Seiji the once over.

"So tell me, where are you from?"

"My family runs a dojo in Sendai," he said politely, already feeling his nerves tense.

"Really, so you know how to defend yourself?"

"… I do," he said after a pause.

"You speak Japanese very well," she said.

"That would be because I was born and raised here." The polite manner of his speech masked the irritation at once again having to go through a woman-no, a girl, take a fancy to him and to assume he was a foreigner, a gaijin.

"Then where are your parents from?"

"My family has lived in Sendai for many generations. One of my ancestors was Date Masumane, the One-Eyed Dragon."

"Impressive," she said, her voice lowering. "You'll have to tell me all about him."

Seiji wanted to scream. This was the first time a girl had used his heritage as a way to pick him up. He resented the underlying insult and bypassed a reply by instead focusing his attentions to Akito and his friends.

"…Are you sure I can't take her out for a spin?" Osamu was asking.

"I would not advise it," Seiji interjected, throwing a glance to the sky. "I suspect that it will rain within a half hour or so, and it would be too dangerous."

"Yeah," Akito said. "Especially with your driving record."

"Hey!" Osamu said. Then he turned pleading eyes to Takato. "I can go, can't I?"

The greasy man shook his head. "No way. If Seiji says it's gonna rain, it's gonna rain. Besides, if you take it out unsupervised and something happens, then I'm gonna be responsible."

"And Kami-sama forbid he should loose his job here," muttered Hanagawa under her breath.

"Look, guys, it's only a lap or two; I'll be done before it rains, honest! C'mon Takato, you've been working here for five years; you can be supervisor! Please?" Osamu gave his best impression of a shojo anime character angsting.

"Let him drive," Hanagawa said. "Let's see if he's a great has he's been claiming since he got here. An hour ago."

"Yeah!" Osamu shouted, giving a victory sign. "I knew you would understand. So, Hana-chan, do you want to ride shotgun with me?" He gave a downright evil smile. "You could handle the emergency break, should it come up."

"He's so subtle, isn't he?" Hanagawa said in a husky voice to Seiji. "He has no idea how annoying he is; does he?"

"Aw," Osamu said as he turned on the engine. "You love it and you know it."

Hanagawa wrapped her arms around Seiji's elbow after taking another drag of her almost gone cigarette. "I never said anything of the sort!" she whined, her voice too high for her age and appearance. She then turned to Seiji with large eyes. "Neeeeeeee, Seiji-kun, save me from the lecher, please?"

Seiji resisted the urge to throw up the meal his mother had cooked for him. Subtlety was obviously not her strong point. "You are mistaken," he answered politely. "I have never known Osamu-san to be anything but a gentleman to any girl he is attracted to. He fortunately only acts like a hentai." ((pervert))

"Seiji!" Osamu said from the driver's seat of the Mustang. "Don't go ruining my image like that!"

Takato and Akito merely laughed. "You didn't have an image to begin with!"

"Mou," Osamu said, making a face. He gunned the engine and took off down the track, speeding around one of the turns.

"Hey!" the greasy Takato shouted. "I never said you could race yet! Come back before my manager comes out and kills me!"

Akito shook his head. "Idiot. No sense at all. It's starting to rain, too."

It was. The very lightest of showers was beginning to fall, dampening everyone's shirts and coats as the asphalt of the race track started to darken.

"Mou!" cried Hanagawa, still clutching Seiji. "I'm getting soaked! Seiji-kun?" her voice again lowered and became husky. "You'll dry me off, ne? Seiji-kun? Or will you make me wetter?"

That was it. Osamu was known for not being very subtle to a girl he liked, but he never got anywhere. Hanagawa wasn't going to get anywhere either. It was bad enough that she tried to use Seiji's ancestor as a come on and called him "Seiji-kun", but blatantly making herself available to him was crude, low, and trashy. Seiji forcibly pried her hand off his arm and moved over to Akito.

"Seiji-kun, what's the matter?"

"I must politely decline," he said in a slow, measured voice. "I have no interest in what you have to offer, and I do not appreciate such actions upon my person. I respectfully request that you refrain from further comments when in my presence and no longer disturb me with such talk."

Takato looked at his sister with disgust. "I see you haven't changed since you went to live with mom," he said bitterly. "I'm sorry I can't send you on the next train to Hokkaido."

Hanagawa lit another cigarette. "'Tou-chan' would never allow it."

"That's too bad," Takato replied. "I try very hard not to associate with people like you."

"Hey," the ever calm Akito said. "Ease off, guys. Hana-san, you could have refused to come here. Takato, you didn't have to invite her. And I don't care if you father expected it, or forced it, or whatever. You could have gone along and then split up when he let you out of his sight."

The brother and sister looked at each other, and then looked away. Osamu's car zoomed past the quartet and started the second lap as the rain started to get heavier. The silence reined for a few minutes as they watch him drive.

"Arigatoo," Seiji said under his breath to Akito, the rain drowning out his voice to the siblings.

"You forget that I was your partner when I learned kendo at your dojo. I know when you're out of your place, especially for the ladies. I can't tell you how many girls in high school asked me to give you love letters. Some of the excuses I had to come up with…"

Seiji raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Akito was like that sometimes. He had always supported Seiji when he was growing up, had been a good friend. Seiji considered Akito his best friend outside of the Troopers, sometimes just as close, like right now. Akito did things, shielded him from the girls, organized that kendo competition to show off Seiji's skills and, most of all, Akito never asked about his disappearance during the war with Arago. He had come close once, when Seiji had just come home. He had rushed over from across Sendai, on bike. Seiji would never forget the site. The ever calm Akito standing in the doorway, panting and out of breathe, staring at Seiji like he was a ghost or something.

Then he had stopped, and smiled.

"I thought friends always knew where friends were," he had said, his face a picture of relief.

Seiji was still numb from the first battle. He had gone through many trials and many tribulations, had even experience his own death and rebirth. He had been dazed at best, and more than shocked to see Akito anything other than calm. His response had not been the best, but under the circumstances he could not think of anything better. Seiji had replied, "You always know where I am. You merely do not always realize it."

Akito's relieved face had turned to something of puzzlement, and Seiji knew he had erred. But how did one tell his family let alone his best friend that he was given an ancient yoroi with vast spiritual powers in order to fight another dimensional demon floating head that in actuality created the yoroi he had worn when he helped defeated him? Life was not simple, and Seiji did not know how to correct the situation.

Seiji must have somehow showed his confusion, because Akito's smile broadened, and all puzzlement was erased from his face.

"So da. So da na. Sorry for being so stupid." ((Ya. Ya you're right.))

Seiji in turn smiled. "You have no need to apologize. It is I who should apologize for not being clear."

"You need only be clear when you feel that you can."

Seiji would never forget that one moment. It was probably one of the defining moments of his life. There were many defining moments during the time in his life when he wore the Korin yoroi. But this always stood out in his mind. He had said something in a daze, not fully aware of what he said or how his reply could affect someone. However, what he had said defined his friendship with Akito. He always had a sense of where he was and visa versa. The pair could always feel each other out and sense when to back off or but in. Akito was always there for Seiji and Seiji was always there for Akito.

"Arigatoo," Seiji said again.

Akito looked at Seiji, but then smiled. "That's what friends are for."

At that moment, Seiji made a decision. "I have some other friends that I would like you to meet. I plan to have them come over after this problem with my sister."

"You met your friends in Tokyo, ne?"

"Hai. So desu. It is past time I told you what happened during that time. I am not sure how much of it you will believe, but you of all people have the right to know."

Osamu pulled in, having finished his go at the tracks. The Cobra splashed water from a puddle onto Akito, Seiji, and Takato and his sister. Hanagawa gave an annoyed cry.

"Takato, I HATE YOU! I hate Sendai! I hate your friends; I hate you, I hate EVERYTHING! I was happy in Hokkaido, and Tou-chan had to convince Hahaue to drag me down here for family time! Why was I ever given a dirty little brother like you? All you do is spend time with your stupid cars and your stupid friends and your stupid tracks and your stupid engines! I HATE STUPID JERKS LIKE YOU!"

"You're a fine one to talk, Hana!" Takato replied his dirty face twisted in anger. "You're the one who sided with mom even after finding out she was cheating on Tou-san. You can be shallow and narrow minded and cheap all you want to me, but leave my friends out of this! They're good people, better than you, and you have no right to talk to them like that! Kisama!" ((Literally, "You!" translated as "Bitch!"))

Seiji stepped forward.

"I believe that is more than enough." He put a hand on the filthy Takato and offered a warm smile. "Thank you for your defense," he said softly to him. Then Seiji turned to the equally dirty, if in a different way, Hanagawa. "To you, I say that this is not the time for a family argument. Whatever differences you have between yourself and Takato should be discussed in private, not in public where you put anyone who can hear you in an awkward and unwanted position. That is discourteous and puts shame upon you. If you find this place so disgusting, I point out that, like my friend Akito had mentioned, you could have left at anytime. However, now I must ask you to leave, lest you bring further shame upon yourself."

"Shame has nothing to do with how I feel," Hana spat. Then her mouth curled into a smile. "But a gaijin like you would never understand."

The rain suddenly turned heavy, soaking everyone on the race tracks. Seiji's violet eyes narrowed, and both could be seen. Osamu and Akito instinctively backed away from the site. Takato would have were he not so mad at his sister.

"Hanagawa-san. I will ask you once more. Leave." Seiji's voice was quiet, polite. There was no threat in anything he had said. However the threat was given, very clearly. Loud enough that even Hanagawa realized she had gone too far.

"You wouldn't dare."

Takato picked up where Seiji left off. "You obviously haven't seen him or Akito practice kendo." A rude smile crossed his face. "And even if they don't do anything. I will."

Hana gave a great huff and then stomped off into the rain, muttering to herself.

A great sigh of relief passed though the four young men.

"That was scary!" Osamu cried. "I thought Seiji was really gonna kick her out of here."

"He wouldn't have," Akito said. "But had she said anything else, he might have."

"I'm sorry you had to see all of that," Takato said, the raining slowly washing off the grease and dirt that had built up in his day of work.

"We are sorry that you have so shallow a sister," Seiji replied. "I was not even aware that your parents were divorced."

"I don't really like to brag about it," Takato said as he put a nervous hand behind his head. "It was a few years ago, and it was really messy, and the story's a little to long to get into right now." Takato laughed. "With the rain, I guess I have to really get working inside. I guess that about wraps it up for the day. I'm sorry to end it on such a bad note."

Akito shook his head. "It wasn't a bad day. We learned something about you. You are fiercely defensive of those you care about. It is a good quality." Akito put his hand on Takato's shoulder. "Ja, na." ((See you))

"… I better get this Mustang Cobra out of here before my parents find out I took it. Ja!"

Seiji didn't say anything. He merely looked at the now soaked Takato for a long moment, then nodded and left. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the greasy boy pick up his tools and go behind the stands, were the garage was.

The hour train ride seemed very long. When he came home his body was exhausted, yet he could not bring himself to sit still. With all that had happened in one day, from the confrontation with Midoriko to the meeting of the Masturi sisters and Musashi Misao, to the discussion with his mother to the event at the tracks, Seiji wasn't sure he had the emotional energy to meet Kensuke-san.

"Nii-chan!"

Perfect timing.

Satsuki ran up to him. "Nii-chan, you're soaked! Was it raining at the tracks?"

"Hai; and it seems to have followed me home."

"How come you didn't have your umbrella?"

"I had thought that I would not be in the rain long. I was mistaken."

"Aa. So."

"Are your friends still here?"

"No, they just left." Satsuki helped Seiji out of his coat. "Kaa-san is helping Jii-san clean up the dojo since Ken-chan is coming over. Do you need any help with anything? I better get some other clothes for you. Jii-san and Kaa-san want us all to look our best. They even got a kimono out for me. Like I'm going to wear it."

Seiji openly smirked despite himself, at the thought of his little sister trying to put on a kimono. "Should you decide otherwise, I would be glad to help."

"Hentai. You just want to see me in my underwear." ((Pervert .))

Seiji raised an eyebrow. "You forget that I am no longer a teenager. I do not-and indecently never have-take pleasure in such activities. You seem to forget my fan clubs in high school. Beside, I am your Nii-chan. I have seen you in your underwear many times."

"Nii-chan. You're taking me seriously again."

"Oh. Sumimasen." ((Forgive me))

Satsuki laughed. "You're still taking me seriously! Come on. If you can help me change, then I can help you change."

Seiji allowed himself to smile and followed his little sister to his room.

"So how has your day been?"

"Long," Seiji answered. "I have come through several confrontations and surprises, and the most important part of the day has not arrived yet."

"The same thing happened to me," Satsuki said. "My friends got into this huge argument today at lunch over the stupidest thing. Naoko and Megumi were talking about weddings of all things, going on and on about what type of wedding dresses they want and how they want their ceremony. Then Tetsuro had to go and say it was stupid, that he was never getting married. Then Megumi started cuddling up to him and making nice just to make him blush and say yes, he might get married. But then Ayumi stepped in and said some horrible stuff about weddings, which made Naoko and Megumi furious. Tetsuro joined Ayumi to make himself feel better, and everything degenerated from there. I tried to stop it, but instead somehow I got dragged into it. It was horrible."

Seiji nodded at he pulled off his shirt. Despite herself, Satsuki turned around and opened her older brother's closet, digging around and pulling out a deep blue hakama and white gi. Not skipping a beat, she tossed them over a head and, with uncanny aim, the clothes landed on his head.

"Very good, Satsuki."

"I try hard."

"What else happened during your strenuous day?"

"Well, I brought everybody home to show them some of the carvings I've done, and to just hang out. But nobody was talking to anybody until Megumi thought she'd settle everything by watching this stupid anime called Wedding Peach. These three girls go around wasting valuable Maho Shojo transformation sequences to change into wedding dresses and defeat their enemies using love-love waves. It was pure torture watching the first two volumes. Give me Nurse Angel Ririko any day." Satsuki gave an exasperated sigh.

"I see you day has been very hard on you."

"No kidding! With all this talk about wedding and how bad everything's turned out, I don't know how I'm going to react when Ken-chan shows up."

"I empathize with your position. I have little to no energy to face Kensuke-san today."

Seiji heard Satsuki gasp. "My mighty Nii-chan, the heir of the Date clan, the prize of the Date family, doesn't have the energy to face one dinky little fiancé? You must have had a bad day!"

Seiji, fully changed, turned to his little sister. "I would not call it a bad day so much a long day." The looser clothing made Seiji feel lighter and less constricted. He could never understand how some of the clothing that Westerners wore could feasibly be considered comfortable. Seiji cocked his head from side to side, stretching and pulling at his tight muscles. He would have to remedy that before Yayoi came home. But first thing was first.

"I believe it is your turn to change?"

Satsuki's head fell. "And here I was hoping you'd forget." Then her face lit up. "Ah! I know! You can help Kaa-san and Jii-san to clean the dojo."

Seiji just smiled. "Nice try."

Satsuki's head fell again.

"Fine. Come on."

Satsuki's room was perhaps the least formal of the entire house. Posters of different idols and the host of the TV show "English Please" hung on the walls along with different art projects that she worked on when she was younger. Satsuki was hardly neat, and her different carpentry projects were scattered across the floor, along with articles of clothing that came from either her or Seiji's closet. The school uniform she had changed into after having breakfast in the outfit she wore now hung wrinkled on a hanger next to another hangar that held the kimono she was supposed to change into.

The kimono was covered in a stylized sakura design against a pale lavender cloth. Her obi was the same shade of lavender with a black stripe in the middle. Satsuki stared at it as if it were a demon. "Remind me why I'm about to put this on?"

Seiji grinned again. "Because we need to impress Kensuke-san as much he needs to impress us."

"Nii-chaaaaaaaaaaaaaan," Satsuki whined, causing Seiji to twitch slightly as she began to undress. "Nee-chan met him in medical school, remember? Why does he have to impress us?"

"Just because Kensuke-san is also studying to become a doctor does not mean that he is not proper for Yayoi-onee-sama. That is why families always interview the soon to be in-law. Even the Amerika-jin do that."

Satsuki pulled on the first layer of her kimono before saying, "I still think it's stupid. I mean, they're gonna get married whether or not we approve of them or not. They love each other, isn't that enough?"

"Yes, it is. However, there is also the consideration of who marries into what family. Kensuke-san wishes to take our name, and we must be willing to consider him a Date as well as an in-law. If not, then Yayoi-onee-sama must marry into his family, and she has already hinted that he is of lesser income than us. It would be easier for him to change names than for us, as it is beneficial on all sides. Kensuke-san would remove a significant financial burden from his parents and we would continue to be blessed by Yayoi-onee-sama's wonderful personality."

"Why, Nii-chan," Satsuki said as she placed the last layer of her kimono on. "I do believe you were sarcastic!"

Seiji openly smiled. "Please keep that a secret. I would hate to ruin my reputation of an overly serious, overly Japanese gaijin."

Satsuki closed each layer of kimono over herself, and let Seiji hold everything closed as she reached for the obi. She reached behind her to tie it, but found she did not have the dexterity to do so. So she and Seiji switched positions; she held the kimono together as Seiji knotted the obi into a simple bow. Then Satsuki stepped back and turned around.

"You look beautiful." And she did. "You should wear a kimono more often."

Satsuki merely stuck her tongue out at him.

"I have to get supper ready. Do you want to help with that too?"

Seiji shook his head. "I would like to take the time to gain balance of myself again. I would not wish to disappoint Kensuke-san."

"Whatever." With that, Satsuki pounded out of her room and into the kitchen as Seiji once again made his way to his room. He placed a tatami under the window and took out his bamboo flute.

For the longest time, he had played a bamboo flute that belonged to his grandfather. However, when he turned fifteen, a bamboo flute had been one of his birthday presents, along with his very own sword. The sword was kept in his room, the most cherished possession in it, and his flute not far behind. He gazed at the worn bamboo, aged with use and with care; it gave the purest of sounds, better than any flutes he had ever played. Seiji often wondered if the sound came from the flute or from him.

One last gaze and he lifted the flute to his lips. The silvery sound filled the room and almost automatically, Seiji's tension built up from the day seemed to drift away, seeming almost insignificant. Slowly, the bamboo flute began to fill him, creeping in at first, calming his mind and bringing his senses to a sharper and more accurate edge. It was common for him to enter such a meditative state when he played. He seemed to become one with the flute, and his family often told him that the music he played, created on the spot to match whatever mood he was in, was the most relaxing that any of them had ever heard. Even his tight lipped grandfather had to concede the point, proving his talent.

His thoughts drifted as he the music continued to enter into him. The topic that continued to come up during the day was the dojo. Even the trouble at the tracks dealt in a subtle way with the dojo. Hanagawa had thought nothing of him or of his heritage-calling him a gaijin, and that was an insult to him. It was a repeated problem in his life. People did not believe that he was an honest Nihon-jin, now matter how much he acted like one. His fellow Troopers often said that he was more Japanese than any Japanese person they knew. People thinking of him as a foreigner often had a lower opinion of him, making him look like a fake or an imposter; and often people would try to bring points of error to his attention, as if he didn't know any better. Direct these low thoughts to the idea of him running the dojo, and suddenly he could not perform the task.

That thought reminded him of the story his mother had told. People had thought that she could not teach at the dojo, let alone run it. She had gotten angry and became a gruff person, hardly honorable and unbecoming of a member of the Date family. However, Seiji did not let himself be anything other then Japanese. The traditional raising of his family made him enjoy such things, and he had to admit that sometimes he took a morbid pleasure in proving people wrong. But more often than not he did nothing to such insults, saying nothing and leaving the matter well enough alone.

That did not stop it from hurting him though; and the resentment that built up from such low opinions could often drive him into a rage. He entered such a rage in front of the students once, and the repercussions still reverberated across the dojo. It would hardly do if he wanted to take over the dojo.

Did Seiji want to take over the dojo? The question reasserted itself in his mind as the mood of the flute changed. The events of the day brought about several mixed emotions, some of which he was not even aware of. He hated not knowing of himself. It was not knowing himself that had nearly cost him several times in his fight with Arago. Even after a lifetime of meditation he did not know his own mind enough to make a decision like what he wanted to do with his life.

Then he remembered a Buddhist story he had been told. A mighty emperor heard that a pious and learned monk was coming to his kingdom. The emperor wanted to learn from the wise man, and upon the monks arrival invited him to his palace. The emperor gave the ancient and holy monk a fine meal and the best entertainment he could find, and after such he asked the monk a burning question. "Holy one," he asked. "What is self?"

The wrinkled and holy monk sipped some of the fine tea presented him and answered, "I don't know".

Seiji admonished himself. Life was a continual learning process. A mere twenty years was not enough for Seiji to know his own mind; and what he knew could easily change as he himself changed. Look at his two decades of life. When he was a boy he was defiant, his eyes hard and refusing to lower. He had hated etiquette and rules. Now he thrived on them. The trial he had gone through as a Samurai Trooper, from fighting Arago to the torture of New York to traveling to Africa to loosing his armor. Each battle brought about a new part of Seiji, made him learn a new thing about himself.

Even now Seiji was learning something about himself. The music was now completely absorbed in his system, and most likely the room and even the whole house if he chose to extend his perceptions and find out. Seiji's flute shot up to a very high note, and it vibrated across his entire presence. He felt his body resonate with the high note. His nasal cavity vibrated and shook all the way to his crossed feet.

Seiji was learning about himself. He was learning that he didn't know nearly as much about himself as he thought; and he was learning that he wanted to learn more about himself. Introspection was an endless process.

Seiji turned these thoughts to the dojo to see where they would lead.

His feelings toward the dojo were mixed at best. He resented being expected to run the dojo. However, the more he taught at the dojo and became more familiar with its running, the more he liked the job. Certainly, there were things that he did not like. Dealing with and teaching new students ranked among the highest. It wasn't that he didn't like teaching, but he hated proving to the students over and over that he was a good sensei. But now that he thought about it, he realized that such trials were probably common to every teacher. It would be a question that he would have to ask his mother. Seiji did not like the finances, but it was something common to any profession that he would chose, from racing to music. Besides, he had people to help him out. If his grandfather's connections were too busy, he could always ask Touma or Shin.

Was there anything about the dojo that he really didn't like? Something with a passion? Surely, there was some task that came with running a dojo that he hated beyond all else shy of Arago. But he could find none. The flute expressed his surprise as he realized this fact, a single low note drawn out for several minutes.

There was nothing about the dojo that he hated, and anything that he did not like could easily be remedied. But how did he feel about taking it over? What muddled emotions did he feel about that? To that he had no answer. That perplexed him. He queried himself again, but no feelings arrived to him. Perhaps he was not ready for the answer? That perplexed him even more. It felt as though he had introspected upon himself for a long time. Why would he not be ready for an answer?

The silvery flute died away as he removed it from his lips. It was something he could not comprehend. However, something told him that he should let the matter alone. A voice in his head, a feeling in his ki, a sense he could not resist told him the wait that the answer would come when it was ready. Such a feeling only overcame him in the rarest of times, but it was a feeling that he always trusted. It was this feeling that told him to run away from Anubisu after Kaosu had visited him in a dream, causing him to go to the Akiyodashi caves. It was that feeling that made him continue to fight against Shikaishin in New York despite his drug numbed mind. And it was that feeling that made him give up his armor to Suzunagi. He was not about to go against this compelling emotion.

The silence rained in his room until the fusama slid open to reveal his sister.

"Why'd you stop so suddenly?" Satsuki asked. "It sounded so beautiful."

"I… had something of a revelation. I needed to pause and consider what had come to me."

The little sister shrugged. "Nee-chan and Ken-chan will be here in under an hour. Are you still going to play, or will you help me with dinner?"

"I think that I will play more," Seiji said smiling. "My previous music was brought about from personal musings. Now I hope to entertain you with something more pleasurable."

Satsuki made a face at the thought of continuing her work alone, but slid the fusama closed behind her. Before Seiji lifted the bamboo flute to his lips again, he heard his mother enter the house, and then heard Satsuki start pleading for help in her cute way.

Smiling, Seiji raised the flute to his lips and began to play again. This time, he focused on the music and his ki. His body had become entirely relaxed with the previous music. He had finally returned to the state he was in when he awoke that morning, a feeling of complete oneness with his self. The sun against the pastel and colored clouds crossed across his mind as he played, and the deep music that he played seemed to soar with his mind as he recalled the memory.

Light notes and silvery music filled his being and he reached one of his highest levels of meditation. His perceptions left him and filtered out of his room and around the house, following his music as it traveled about the house. He could sense, almost see Satsuki and Makoto in the kitchen, chopping the vegetable and pouring them either onto the frying pan or a pot. Rice balls were made, and the table had already been set. Mamoru was pacing about in front of the ganken, obviously waiting for his granddaughter and her fiancé. His music could not go much further outside the house, but Seiji was happy with what he could see. He would have to write the Troopers about the experience. He would also have to tell of the surprising day he had bee having. Yes, he would have to invite all the Troopers to Sendai, perhaps at the end of the month, when everything had settled down.

The music was beautiful. Some of the best he had ever played. It was rare that he ever played to flute so well, and his ki rejoiced with knowing the solid silver of the note that he played. The joy filled his being, and the happy feeling seemed to increase the sound of the music that he played. Ah! The beauty!

Noise.

If ever there were noise, it was now as he heard as someone entered the house. His music was interrupted, and he found himself reluctant to pull himself away from his flute. Instead he cast his senses out as he had done before. It was Yayoi and Kensuke. Had he been playing that long?

Finally, Seiji brought himself to stop playing. For a moment he just sat, letting the last soothing feelings of the meditative playing of the bamboo flute leave him on his own.

"You must be Kensuke-san. Hajimemashita." ((Pleased to meet you.))

"Hello, Date-san. Date-san. Satsuki-san. Yoroshiku." ((Pleased to meet you.))

"My husband will be home soon, I hope; and the young master of the house, Seiji-san will be here shortly."

"Was he the one playing the bamboo flute?"

"It was. It often helps him relax. It is his favorite form of meditation, next to watching the morning sunrise."

"It sounds as though he has a very Japanese spirit. It is a rare thing nowadays."

"You are not aware how rare one like Seiji-san really is."

Seiji twitched. "Arigatoo, Hahaue," he muttered under his breath. "I am sure that will make is reaction towards my appearance all the more violent."

"I am honored that you all invited me to dinner. Yayoi-san is often very shy to talk about you."

"I'm not surprised about that. Nee-chan wouldn't want to scare you off."

"Satsuki!"

"Haha! Got you Nee-chan!"

Seiji smirked and stood. His feet were a little numb after sitting for so long, but feeling quickly returned as he took sure steps toward the fusama.

"Please come in, Kensuke-san. Satsuki-san and I are in the middle of preparing dinner. If you are willing to spare your fiancée, I would like her to help finish it all the more quickly."

"You may if Yayoi-san wants to help you," Kensuke said slowly.

Seiji nodded as he opened the fusama.Sliding door inside a house

"I do," Yayoi replied.

"Hey! That sounds like Nii-chan!"

Everyone turned as Seiji made his way down the hall. Mamoru stood almost directly in front of Seiji, Satsuki behind him and slightly to the left. Makoto and Yayoi were partway to the kitchen. Kensuke, behind everyone else, had dark blue black hair falling into a neat bowl cut. He wore a simple three piece suit, light blue in color, and a dark tie. His eyes were large for his face, and were a deep brown. Those eyes widened when the saw the blond Seiji.

"Eh? Yayoi-san, you never mention that your Itoto was adopted into the family." ((little brother))

Everyone froze.

NOW Seiji was in a predicament. He had been introduced as the young master of the house, and Kensuke doubtless knew that he was to inherit. This entire meeting was set up so that Seiji alone could judge the worthiness of Kensuke, just like Akito had predicted. Things were not off to a good start; Kensuke had committed a family sin-bringing up his appearance, and Seiji only now realized the position he was put in.

For a brief moment, a wave of resentment passed over Seiji at his family for putting him in such an awkward situation. The wave passed, thankfully, when he realized that he knew full well that this was most likely to occur. He had been preparing himself for this exact reaction since Yayoi had told them all about Kensuke.

But what was he to do? His first reaction was to ignore the insult, but the circumstances prevented that. Besides, his family-however odd they were-would never let such an insult just go away. He could not correct Kensuke-san either. The last thing the man needed was to be scolded in front of his entire in law family by a man younger than him. Seiji could not react childishly either, because this meeting was as much his impression of them as their impression of him.

There was a full minute of silence before Seiji stated, "Would an adopted son have such a rare Japanese spirit? Kensuke-san?"

"A… ano… I guess not."

"Please remember that lesson, Kensuke-san. It will run rampant with this family."

"H-hai. Ano… You must be Seiji-san. Yoroshku."

"Hajimemashite, Kensuke-san. Please be seated at the table. We obviously have much to talk about if you are to marry Onee-sama."

"H-hai." Kensuke's shoulders slumped as he bowed and made his way to the low table. Seiji's grandfather muttered something under his breath and moved to follow, but Seiji grabbed the man's hand.

"Seiji, you should have done more! No one will call my grandson a gaijin and get away with it!" he whispered harshly.

"As much as I appreciated your ever rare bursts of emotion," Seiji replied, meaning every word. "I do not want anything that has just happened to weigh upon you. You should know after twenty years that this is a very natural reaction. It was to be expected, and it happened. There is nothing more that we can do now. Besides, he is already being punished more than you may realize. When he learned that he was invited over to dinner, he was not stupid. He knew that this would be an interview, and has spent his time preparing for it. How do you think he feels now that he has made what this family considers a sin? Look at him; he has lost all hope of gaining our approval."

"And he is right in thinking so!" Mamoru said in a louder whisper.

"Date Mamoru," Seiji in a normal tone, loud enough that everyone in the house could hear it, his eyes hard. "I was the one who was introduced as the master of this house. Therefore, it will be I who decide whether I approve of him or not. Please remember that."

The house once again reigned silent for a moment. Satsuki, however, broke the tension as she sat down by Kensuke.

"So, Ken-chan. Have you done anything with Nee-chan yet?"

Kensuke turned bright red. "L-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-like what?"

"Have you made out yet?"

"IMOUTO-SAN!" ((LITTLE SISTER!))

"Nee-chan! I was curious! You never tell me anything anymore!"

"That is because there is nothing to tell!"

Satsuki grinned and looked to Kensuke. "Is that true?"

"H-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-hai?"

"Yokatta! If you had done anything before the wedding then I would have to hurt you!" Satsuki grinned evilly, suddenly, while Seiji and his grandfather sat down at the table. "Did you know that I'm into wood working, Ken-chan? It's really great. I get to work with saws and hacksaws and blunt saws and chisels and nails and stuff. You'd be surprised at how much cutting and digging is involved when you carve. There've been times when I actually split woods!"

"Satsuki-san, I do not believe, however much your job it is to do so, that it is appropriate to scare Kensuke-san to the very transparent color that he is now."

Satsuki made a face. "No one in this house can ever take a joke!"

"Kensuke," Mamoru said in a hard voice. "What are you studying?"

"Ah!" The question brought the previously almost-dead man back to life. "I am studying to become a doctor, like Yayoi-san. However, I plan to go into forensic science."

"So you would perform autopsies and the like?"

"So desu." ((Correct.))

"Tadaimaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

Seiji, Satsuki, Mamoru, and Kensuke looked up to see the slightly ruffled form of Nobuyuki.

"S-sorry I'm late!" he panted as he shrugged out of his coat and gloves. "You would think with the rain that everything would go quietly, but no! Everything has to prevent me from coming home on time. Ah! You must be Kensuke-san. I'm Date Nobuyuki, Yayoi's father. Hajimemashite. I hope my family hasn't scared you yet." Seiji's father paused to take a breath before adding, "Oh! I see that you are a few shades paler than I expected. Satsuki must have tried to scare you, right? And Chichiue's face is enough to scare anybody…"

"Muko-dono!" ((Son-in-law!))

"Sorry, Chichiue," Nobuyuki said, obviously not meaning a word of it. "I just wanted to make sure that Ken-san here knew what he was getting into, and that includes Satsuki's mindset, Makoto-sama's temper, your intimidation, Seiji's seriousness, and my perfect personality!"

"Chichiue," Seiji said slowly, managing to keep his face straight. "You seem to have left out your customary appearance."

Nobuyuki looked down at his wrinkled and ruffle uniform, his coat on the floor, his gloves in one hand and his gun in the other.

"…Oh."

Satsuki burst out laughing as her father tried belatedly to look less like a mad scientist and more like a police officer. Poor Kensuke was merely dumbstruck.

By the time dinner was served, things had FINALLY calmed down. Nobuyuki and Satsuki still tried to make random bursts of normalcy to show that Yayoi's family wasn't nearly so stuck up as they were trying to come across as. Mamoru and Makoto, on the flip side, did everything they could to show that they were a proper, traditional family, and not nearly to strange as Satsuki and Nobuyuki came across. Yayoi and Kensuke merely sat and watched the repertoire, Kensuke obviously clueless as to what to think, and Yayoi absolutely shocked that her family could act they way that they were. Seiji merely watched all of this quietly.

"So tell me, Kensuke-san," started his mother, finally shifting the focus to Kensuke, who promptly turned white. "You stated before my husband came home that you wish to perform autopsies. May I ask what kind of training is required? I assume that it is different from Yayoi-san's training."

"Not really. I still work to determine what is wrong with my patient; however I have the ability to cut him or her open and investigate that way. It is often the coroner who discovers the clues that the detective use to catch killers."

"Then you must like mystery novels," Makoto continued.

"Yes, very much so. I like to wrap my mind around puzzles and determine how to solve them. However, I have found that I am a lousy puzzle solver. I can find all the right clues, but it often takes someone else to put them together."

"Do you have other interests?" asked Yayoi's grandfather.

"I like reading, as you know, as well as kabuki music and plays. I must admit that I am an indoor person. I suffer from terrible allergies, and have learned to keep myself entertained inside. I am okay a jigsaw puzzles and different card games, and like to watch game shows. I also like…" his voice trailed off as he stole a glance to Yayoi, then blushed. "I also like you daughter."

"That of course was to be expected," Makoto said, sipping her tea. "Thank you for answering my question so honestly."

"Boy," started Mamoru. "Do you practice kendo?"

"Sadly, no, Ojii-sama," Kensuke said slowly after a pause. "I have found that I am not very good at physical activity."

"Then you're a klutz?" Satsuki asked.

"I do not think so. I have just never been conditioned to exercise. I tried once, but found I never had the time for it."

Mamoru humphed.

Nobuyuki stepped in. "Have you sent out any applications for work? Do you know where you'll end up?"

"I have sent out inquiries, but have gotten to replies as of yet. I hope to keep working here in Sendai. I grew up here, and do not really want to leave."

"You are well grounded then," Makoto said. "I like that."

"HAHAUE!"

"You forget, Yayoi-san, that this is your own doing. Be embarrassed on your account, not mine."

Seiji's sister muttered something unintelligible but otherwise kept quiet.

"Does anyone want dessert?" Satsuki asked. She got up and went to the kitchen before anyone could answer.

Makoto stood as well. "Anata, Chichiue, Yayoi-san, could you please help us?" Nobuyuki followed almost immediately, and Mamoru only moved after a very meaningful glare came from both his daughter and grandson. Yayoi looked to her fiancé, and then got up and left.

Kensuke kept his head bowed. The man had not looked at Seiji at all since he had arrived.

"You may stare at me, if you wish. It no longer bothers me like it used to."

"But it must still bother you, Seiji-san. Otherwise no one would have reacted at all let alone as strongly as they did. I jumped to conclusions and opened my mouth before I thought. Yayoi-san deliberately did not say anything to see how I would react, and I did so poorly."

"Had she told you that I had a lighter complexion, would you have reacted any differently?"

"I don't know."

"I think that you would have. You would have deliberately made a point of not caring about my blond hair or violet eyes, and your true thoughts of my appearance would have been lost."

"Would that not have been better?"

"I cannot speak for the rest of my family, but it would not have for me."

"Eh?"

"I have learned from both personal experience and from those of others. I have found that it is much better to let another person know what your thoughts are in a situation than to say what you think ought to be said. Ojii-sama has a very bad habit of only implying what he wants of you, of implying how he feels toward you."

"He was hardly implying today."

"That means that he feels very strongly. Please believe me that when I say that such a strong attitude almost never befalls upon the man. The cost of his impartiality, however, is that he is often hurt in the process. As a child, I was sent to the basement more times than I remember because I would react honestly to his aloof nature. It was my honest reactions that often got me into fights at school when students would tease me. Do not get me wrong, there is a right and wrong way to react to a situation, but how you reacted earlier this evening was the right one."

"It was?"

"Look at it this way. Had you not expressed yourself, then your feelings would never have been acknowledged, and you would be left to wonder. If I am truly a member of the Date family, then why does everyone make it a point of saying that I am one? But if I am one and I look like this, then what happened to cause it? Was Date-hahaue free with herself? No, that could not be possible because she loved Date-chichiue too much. Then was she taken? Then why not say so in the beginning? Your mind would oscillate back and forth, and your confusion would be expressed, however subtly, in how you react towards me in the future. I would wonder how you truly felt, and speaking for myself, I would resent the mixed messages that you would send me. Eventually, I would confront you, you would finally express you thoughts about me, and I would become angry that you said nothing earlier. My anger about the topic would spread throughout the entire family, and you would be cast out, shunned, whether you were the son-in-law or not."

Kensuke's large eyes blinked. "That's a very thorough reaction."

"Take no doubt that I have questioned how and why I look the way I do. When I was fourteen, however, I finally realized that my appearance has something to do with my destiny, my role in this incarnation. Since then I have become a much less defiant boy."

"You have put a lot of thought into this."

"Would you not?"

"No, I don't think so." Kensuke took a long sip of the green tea. Seiji joined him, surprised that he had so much to say. Much of it he knew, much of it he did not. A thought suddenly entered his mind.

"Did Onee-sama tell you that it is uncertain whether or not I take over the dojo?"

"No. I had thought that the matter was resolved."

"More like resigned. I had finally resigned myself to my position."

"Oh."

"But do you know something?" Seiji took another sip of tea. "I have finally come to realize that I want to take over the dojo."

"Oh?"

"It has taken longer than I am willing to admit, but I acknowledge that I like working at the dojo, and the added responsibilities that Ojii-sama puts upon me are not difficult. However, I never knew whether or not I wanted to take over. I have other interests that I wanted to explore."

"I feel that I'm supposed to ask what made you choose the dojo."

"You are perceptive, Kensuke-san. Yes, you are correct. I choose the dojo because of you."

"Eh?"

"Kendo is an old and traditional sport. It teaches one discipline and manners as well as self defense. Kendo also teaches-me at least-how to express myself. When I turned fourteen and started to use kendo more intensely, I learned more about myself, and through that I was slowly able to express myself better. I have grown up, I think. I want to teach the lessons I have learned in my life to others. You are my first pupil."

"Arigatoo gozaimasu."

"You have passed, Kensuke-san. Welcome to the family."

"Arigatoo gozaimasu."

At that moment, right on cue, Yayoi ran from the kitchen to Kensuke. "Ken-kun, that is so great!"

"Way to go, Ken-Nii-chan!" cried Satsuki as she tackled hugged her new relation.

"Congratulations, Kensuke-san" said Makoto quietly as she took her seat.

Nobuyuki slapped his hand on Kensuke's back and sat by him, trying to get a word in edgewise between his two daughters.

Mamoru said nothing as he sat down by his grandson, taking his now empty cup and filling it with a freshly opened bottle of sake. "This calls for celebration!" he said over the noise. Then he turned to Seiji. "I'm not that aloof, Seiji!"

"Of course not, Ojii-sama you just act that way."

"Seiji…"

"You cannot say anything, anymore, Ojii-sama," Seiji said slowly, a very free grin on his face. "I believe I have finally succeeded as head of the family."

"That you have, Seiji-san. That you have."

The rest of the night was spent in surprisingly light conversation. Well after ten o'clock, Yayoi left to take Kensuke home. By then it was so late that the family went to bed. Seiji sat on his futon, tired and somehow content. He had missed his opportunity to meditate during the sunset, but it was not uncommon for that to happen. He wrote a note to himself to write the Troopers and invite them to Sendai for the last week of the month and to let Akito know that he was invited as well. After this, Seiji slipped under his blankets and laid his blond head on his pillow.

"This has been a good day."

Seiji rolled over and was asleep instantaneously.

End the Second Day.