"The dojo is in the shape of a pagoda, a traditional Japanese temple," Yoshiro announced later that morning ("Later" being exactly one hour five minutes three seconds instead of the two hours, as it was with Lan Hikari), tossing his smooth black hair back as he adjusted his dark sunglasses.

"What kind of stuff do you do in there?" Lan asked the young tour guide, unsuccessfully standing on tiptoe to try to see behind his mom.

"Different types of martial arts, and the focusing of the mental and spiritual energies, Netto-kun," Yoshiro answered. Lan didn't know what he meant by "focusing of the mental and spiritual energies" meant (eleven years old and he doesn't know yet?), but he didn't want to ask for fear of making the tour any longer.

Yoshiro walked all the way to the door of the temple-shaped dojo and turned around and winked through his shades before reaching for a golden key around his neck. Tongue sticking out of his mouth, he looked up thoughtfully as he unlocked the door.

They walked into a room that was all about ninjas-in-training. It was divided off into about five separate sections, each one featuring about fifteen kids practicing different kinds of martial arts. Lan looked around so fast so that his spiky hair whirled; his headband came loose and he was forced to straighten it around his head.

"What are they doing?" Haruka asked, pointing to where one of the groups was practicing with - was Lan seeing properly? - swords!

Yoshiro nodded, a grin flicking around his lips. "They're practicing with katanas, which is the kind of sword we use here at the Bushido Dojo. Shikazu and Kiroji, when they founded the dojo, decided that only students of the second year would use the katana. However, it is many years before even the most experienced ninjas-in-training can use them with expertise and care. Indeed, even some professional ninjas have trouble."

Lan was watching the kids with the katanas, salivating at the mouth.

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Lan: Whoa, whoa. Hold it! Did you say I was salivating? What am I, a dog with rabies?

Pikasqueaks: Ooh! You actually know what 'salivating' means? Good job! (winks annoyingly) As for the dog question, no, you're more like Homer Simpson thinking about donuts.

Lan: Why you little-!

Pikasqueaks: (grinning now) You see? Now you're even acting like him!

Lan: Gr…

Thecrazyfanficcer: You know, Pikachu, you shouldn't say that.

Pikasqueaks: Odd…There was no sarcasm in that sentence. Why?

Thecrazyfanficcer: Because if he was really like Homer Simpson, he would be strangling you right now.

Mega Man: (appearing in a puff of smoke) If you ask me, we're all acting like Homer Simpson.

Lan: Hey! Cool! My Navi's in the real world! Cool! (starts poking him)

Mega Man: (rolling his eyes) No, Lan, it's called character interreaction and as soon as this script thing ends, I am officially disappearing in another puff of smoke.

Lan: (watches sadly as his Navi disappears in another puff of smoke) But it's not over yet!

Pikasqueaks: Hah! Shame on you, Lan Hikari!

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Anyway, even though the fake, Pikasqueaks-ish side of me would be ecstatic right now, I, as a normal person, think it is time to snap back into reality. Well, okay, fandom. Whatever. Anyway, Lan stood stock-still, paralysed or something, head laid back, eyes zoned out, salivating at the mouth. Haruka rolled her eyes and pointed at her dazed-out son, a small groan escaping her lips. Yoshiro smiled, took hold of Lan's shoulders and steered him ahead.

"This'll take care of Netto," Yoshiro muttered to Haruka, doing that annoying grinning-thing again. "Watch and learn, Hikari-san, watch and learn."