Why do I even bother to say how long a story will be? Not only is this no longer a one-shot, it's going to be more than two chapters also! Oh well. I hope you enjoy this next installment, wherein we met the mystery man and his wife. -Neg
Jiro suddenly felt very sick as he refocused his eyes past the desk and on the doorway which was filled by a tall, dark figure. The man stepped into the office and Jiro took a quick step back, his grip on the sword tightening.
Piercing amber eyes that seemed to gleam with a predatory light held Jiro frozen in place. His imagination raced through several scenarios of what to do. They all ended badly for him. The small, rational part of his mind was telling him to just apologize, say he was lost, and ask for help finding his classmates. Another, previously unknown, part of himself raised the sword still higher and braced his feet apart. He could feel his arms shaking not only with the effort of holding it up, but a strange excitement as well.
After a charged moment of silence, the man spoke. "Well, are you going to come at me? Or are you going to frighten me away with the prospect of having to watch you flail about and cut your own foot?"he asked sarcastically. Jiro's eyes narrowed in unthinking resentment.
Before he even realized he had moved, Jiro found himself charging the stranger, being disarmed and then facing the business end of the same sword. The man held it easily in his left hand, almost as if it was an extension of his arm. Keeping the sword at Jiro's throat, he moved to the desk and retrieved his cigarette. His fierce eyes never left Jiro's as he brought the cigarette to his mouth and inhaled.
"This sword has tasted many men's blood, but not yet a child's. Perhaps today will be the day that it does," the man said. Jiro had no doubt that this man had certainly killed others. There was something about him that brought to mind battlefields and blood. He was all but panting with dread when his attention was caught by something else nearly as frightening. Tilting his head toward the door, he heard footsteps rapidly approaching.
"Your absence has been discovered," the man stated flatly, as he stabbed out his cigarette. Still without moving his sword arm, heused his free hand to opena desk drawer and swept the cigarette tray into it. A woman came to the door of the office just as he snapped the drawer shut.
"Goro! You need to come help us! And don't bother hiding that thing; I could smell it before I even entered the corridor!" she was saying as she appeared in the doorway.
The woman, dressed in old Japanese style, stopped when she saw Jiro and turned to someone in the hall. "He's here. You may take the class back now," she said quietly, then entered the office. Jiro recognized her as the guide for the tour.
Without a word she studied the strange tableau of man and boy. Then, staring pointedly at the sword, she raised an eyebrow. The man lowered the weapon to his side. Passing them both without a word, the woman went to the window over the table and opened it.
"Really, Goro! You could at least open the window and it wouldn't be so obvious!" she said finally, turning back around and putting her hands on her hips.
"I have nothing to hide from you, woman!" he replied harshly, but she was not disturbed by the gruff tone. She remained in front of the window, smiling slightly as the breeze ruffled her hair out of its elaborate style. The man called Goro leaned negligently against the desk, and defiantly produced another cigarette from his shirt pocket. The two adults continued to stare each other down and Jiro slowly began to edge toward the door, thinking they had forgotten him.
A gravelly, "I'm not finished with you, boy!" froze Jiro in place. The woman made a sound that could have been a laugh, but Jiro was afraid to take his eyes off the man to look at her.
"State your name," he was commanded.
"Kur- . . ." Jiro began to give his family name, but stopped, hoping that perhaps he could still leave his family out of this. "Jiro," he stated simply.
"Jiro," the man repeated thoughtfully. Finally looking away from the uneasy boy, he lit his new cigarette and smoked in silence. Jiro turned his attention to the woman. He remembered now that she had been introduced as Mrs. Fujita. This man must be her husband. Jiro realized that the woman was looking back at him; he dropped his eyes and blushed.
Breaking the silence, the woman asked, "What will you do with him, Goro?" There was laughter in her voice which made Jiro begin to think that he may avoid punishment after all.
"Well, he did run away from his group, trespass in a restricted area, tamper with private property and attack a museum official."
Jiro's shoulders slumped further with each item in the litany of his wrongdoings. The man sighed deeply, rolled his eyes heavenward, and added the crowning blow, "And I certainly can't let him get away with the insult to my Kunishige."
Jiro's eyes widened in awe at the mention of the famous swordmaker, Kunishige. He had actually held a Kunishige? He gazed at the sword, which the man still held, with a new appreciation. No wonder the sword had almost seemed alive in his hands.
Mrs. Fujita noticed Jiro's astonishment and spoke up in Jiro's defense, "See there? The boy didn't even know what he had!"
"Exactly," her husband replied. Taking a last, long drag on the cigarette, he raised the sword in front of him and looked speculatively from its blade to Jiro and back again. "I suppose someone must teach this nuisance what swords are made for," he said darkly. His eyes flashed yellow fire as he slowly pointed the sword's tip toward the boy.