[Author's note: This story was originally written and posted in 2004, when this site had some different formatting rules. In 2021 I reformatted it to adhere to current standards and have reposted.]
CHAPTER ONE
It was probably the most inhospitable-looking city so far. The tall dark buildings, all formed in that all-too-familiar Akuvian shape, were packed together so tightly it was almost hard to believe traffic could run between them. The place had been there long before Aku's time, and it still bore the telltale layout of a medieval town. Very few of the original buildings remained, but nevertheless it was still possible to transverse the city and come across the random gate fragment or stone house with stacked overhangs looking as if they were about to collapse, or the occasional Romanesque chapel that had long since been converted into office space.
The Samurai did not like cities, particularly due to the quantity of people around. He tended to attract enough attention even when he wasn't wandering around wearing nothing but a fundoshi. But that was precisely why he needed to be there; he had managed to utterly destroy yet another gi, and if he stuck to the small villages it might take weeks before he found one with the necessary materials to construct such a thing. Another advantage to having his tailoring done in the city was the machines. There existed some that could sew twenty times faster than even the most skilled seamstress. A simple garment such as a gi could be constructed in less than an hour.
Of course, money was an issue. At the moment he had none. Perhaps his fame would work to his advantage, for it was not unusual for his 'fans' to give him food and clothing gratis. Though it was considered rather unseemly for a Samurai to beg, the morals of his own world couldn't always apply to Aku's.
The biggest problem he faced was the very good chance that the people at the tailor's would turn out to be bounty hunters more interested in turning him in for the reward than in giving him free clothes. The second problem was that he was not currently aware of where to even find a tailor's shop. He needed to ask for directions.
Jack glanced around, looking for someone who appeared trustworthy. He was naturally inclined to prefer the company of humans to that of robots or aliens, and eliminating those races from the selection left him with five visible options: the first was a very old homeless man covered in ticks and feces, whether animal or human could not be determined. Next were two more-than-likely-gay men wearing black and white spandex bodysuits, clasping each other's hands as they sauntered down the road. On the other side of the street, a large, gruff man covered in battle scars and carrying no less than thirteen very large submachine guns stomped along in thigh-high Doc Martins.
The final human to catch his gaze was a fairly attractive woman in her early thirties who was exiting a second hand store. She carried a large shopping bag in one hand and a neon pink vinyl purse in the other. The only thing about her that could be dangerous were the fumes from her hairspray. The Samurai decided that she would be the best one to approach. He hastened towards her.
"Excuse me," he called, "Excuse me, madam."
The woman turned in his direction. Instantly, her eyes widened. She gasped and, for a moment, fell silent.
"I know who you are!" she exclaimed after ten seconds of wordless staring. "You're Samurai Jack!"
Jack tried to repress his smile. "Please, not so loudly. Forgive me for disturbing you, but I was wondering if you might be able to direct me to the nearest tailor."
The woman was actually bouncing up and down with excitement. "Oh wow! It's really you! I can't believe it!" All of a sudden it occurred to her just how ridiculous she must have looked. She planted her feet firmly on the concrete and tried to appear calm. "Sorry, sorry... okay... you said a tailor? Well, you don't find many of those around. But you're in luck! I do know one." She began ogling him up and down, too taken in by the sight before her to consider trying to be discreet about it. Jack frowned, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.
"I guess you need one of those kimono things?" she asked brightly.
"That is the case."
"I'm parked right up the street. Do you want me to give you a ride there?"
He bowed slightly. "I would be very grateful."
She smiled shyly. "It's, um, right this way..."
The woman could hardly concentrate on her driving due to her excitement. The candy-apple red Peugeot Coupé in her charge wove dangerously in and out of the traffic lanes, at one point nearly taking out a spire on one of the town's many Aku monuments. The way she was piloting across the afternoon sky, one would have presumed her the type that starts the day with a mimosa and doesn't stop.
The car began to drift into the overhead lane as the woman spoke. "Oh! My name's Rebecca," she said, sounding as airheaded as a balloon in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. "Rebecca DuMont. I know that you're called Samurai Jack, but can you tell me something? Just between us: is that your real name?"
Instead of answering, Jack leaned over and jerked the steering wheel to avoid crashing into the side of a building. Rebecca giggled nervously.
"Oh my! I don't know what's come over me! I guess with you here in the car, my concentration... well. Don't worry. We're almost there."
Jack reluctantly released his grip on the wheel.
Miraculously, they arrived at the dress shop in one piece. Rebecca parked her car in the docking area in front of the store, and she and the Samurai entered together. Inside was a comfortable waiting room and a desk where a girl, obviously not human, sat writing on a notepad with one hand, typing into a computer with another, holding the telephone with another, and gesturing for Jack and Rebecca to wait with the forth.
The Samurai looked her over. His first impression of her was that she was very beautiful, in the manner of an iris or a waterfall; two eyes, no nose, and pouty black lips. She wore a long bias-cut orange dress which contrasted fashionably with her cerulean colored skin. She had a neck like a swan, and all six of her limbs were as thin as reeds. Upon her head grew a reddish-brown substance which bore only the slightest resemblance to hair. She seemed, all in all, a charming girl.
Once she finished her phone conversation, she abandoned her other projects in order to devote full attention to the new arrivals. It only took a moment before the signs of recognition showed on her face.
"Rebecca?" she asked, "That you?"
"Djinny! How are you doing?"
"I'm great, you?"
"Excellent. How is business?"
"Not too good, I'm 'fraid; busy as hell and somehow I'm still broke."
Rebecca grinned broadly. "Well, I hope you can handle one more project. Look what I brought," she said as she pulled Jack closer.
Djinny raised an eyebrow. "A naked Japanese guy?"
"It's Samurai Jack!"
Djinny's eyes widened. "The famous Samurai?"
Rebecca nodded.
"Oh my God! It is him! I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you without your clothes on. What can I do for you?"
Jack repressed his inclination toward embarrassment and bowed his head. "I am very sorry to have to trouble you while you are so busy, but I am in need of a new gi."
"You mean your kimono thing?"
"Uh... yes. I was hoping that you might be able to construct one for me."
"Well of course I can!" she answered, gesturing wildly with all four hands, "Anything for you."
"There is just one problem," continued Jack, "I fear that I have no money at this time with which to pay you. Please forgive me for asking, but might it be possible-"
Djinny sighed. "You want it for free."
Jack bowed even more deeply. "If that is possible."
Rebecca stepped forward again. "Come on, Djinny, this is Samurai Jack. You can make one little kimono for him, can't you?"
"Even with two assistants helping me we're drowning in projects. We're behind schedule already..." she sighed again, looking Jack over. "...But okay. I'll do it. Let me just get your measurements."
Djinny produced a tape measure and came around to the front of the desk. Normally she left jobs like taking measurements to her assistants, but when it came to Samurai Jack, she was not about to pass up a chance to grope him. Jack frowned as she immediately began measuring his inseam. He held perfectly still and, making every effort not to offend the girl who was kindly giving him free clothes, asked, "Are you certain that this is a necessary measurement for the construction of my gi?"
"Hell yeah," she answered. Djinny then continued on with the remaining areas, recording each number on a blue notepad using her spare set of arms.
Once all that was done with, the Samurai had to select materials. Djinny got out her samples. As the shop normally dealt in the most ostentatious of formal and theatrical wear, the majority of options were various hues of lamé or fabric covered in sequins. After an exhaustive search they at last came upon a swatch of white synthetic silk and some light grey satin that Jack felt he could live with.
As Djinny disappeared into the back room, Rebecca, who had gained enough control over herself that she was no longer bouncing with glee, turned to Jack. "So where do you plan on staying tonight?" she asked.
"I do not know," answered Jack. He had been figuring on spending the evening in a storm drain, as was his usual practice when it came to accommodations in cities.
"Well, look," said Rebecca, sympathetically, "I have an apartment. If you'd like, you can stay with me for the night. Then tomorrow I can drive you back over here to pick up your clothes."
Although the idea of driving with her sounded unpleasant, the thought of sleeping on a nice soft bed, or even a nice soft couch, did appeal to him.
"If it is not too much trouble for you, I would appreciate it."
"It's no trouble at all! Come on, it's only a few miles from here."
Rebecca's driving seemed to have improved dramatically since the last time, and when she and Jack arrived at her building, he was no longer troubled by the idea of going back to the bridal shop with her in the morning.
Rebecca's 12th floor apartment was small and cozy. Through a large window in the livingroom was an excellent view of the cars outside, soaring about in their stacked lanes. Sadly, Jack was too distracted to notice these virtues. He was too caught up with the decor. It was a frightening combination of surrealist and pop art, and worst of all, it was all modeled on him. Andy Warhol would have fainted at the sight of the wallpaper, a repeating image of the Samurai's wanted poster advertising the two googolplex bounty. The coffee-table was supported by small art deco style statuettes fashioned in his likeness. The sofa was something else, an atrocity which called to mind a detail in the right panel of Hieronymus Bosch's Garden of Earthly Delights. Even a flower pot in the corner which housed a half-dead cactus was painted with fake Momoyama period portraits of him posing in fighting stances.
Oblivious to the horrified look across her hero's face, Rebecca began showing off the house.
"This is the livingroom," she said. "The kitchen is behind you. Those are the bedrooms to your left, and that's the bathroom." She paused as if waiting for him to react, but he said nothing; his brain was still trying to comprehend the furniture.
"Well," she continued after a full twenty seconds of complete silence, "Why don't you make yourself comfortable? I'll be right back."
Rebecca disappeared into one of the bedrooms. Since Jack could not bring himself to sit on the couch, he began to explore the room. The kitchen was stocked with real food, suggesting that Rebecca was not a robot. No torture devices. No weapons of mass destruction. All signs indicated that the house was safe.
Feeling somewhat calmer, he set his sword in a corner where it was unlikely to be disturbed and spent the next few moments enjoying the view from the front window. It was indeed a lovely sight.
An upbeat yet melancholy yet obnoxious groove began to play in the bedroom. Jack could just make out the disco-friendly innuendo of the lyrics. He could hear the bedroom door open, and the soft shuffling sound of Rebecca stepping out. Unconsciously he turned to look and was suddenly struck aghast at the image he saw. There Rebecca stood, completely nude, posing seductively against the wall, her creamy skin smothering the faces on the wanted posters. Doubtless the real thing was next. She pranced toward him and began circling him like a shark. All Jack could do was stare at her.
Just as the dancing nymph was beginning to have an effect on the Samurai's body, he snapped back from his trance. He tried to look away from her and found his eyes focused on the wanted posters. It unnerved him even more. At last he found himself glaring upward at a lightbulb on the ceiling. He tried to think about tai chi.
"Madam," he said sternly, "I appreciate your allowing me to stay in your home, but your behavior strikes me as most improper. I ask that you stop this."
"Oh, come on," she said with an electrifying smile. "What am I doing that's wrong? You need to relax a little."
"I am in the midst of an important journey. I cannot be distracted now with matters of this nature."
"You're not doing anything right this minute."
"I cannot afford to expend my chi on such frivolous diversions."
"Come on! There's nothing wrong with sex. Everybody has it," she said, pressing her body against his. Tai chi. Tai chi.
"Not everybody is on a quest such as mine," he answered squeamishly.
"You have to be at least slightly interested. Here-"
She jumped up and tried to kiss him. Jack turned away, disgusted. He sighed in frustration. "I apologize, for I seem to have misinterpreted your offer, and you seem to have misjudged my character. I will take my leave now."
Green spots flashed before his eyes due to staring at the lightbulb for so long. As he went to retrieve his sword he was startled to hear the sound of someone crying. He turned to find Rebecca curled up in a pitiful heap upon the carpet. Smoke-colored tears poured down her face, washing away her eye makeup.
"I'm sorry," Rebecca sobbed, "I was only trying to impress you. I just wanted you to be happy!" She burst into another fit of tears.
Jack melted. He moved next to her. "Do not cry," he said consolingly, patting her on the back in the most non-suggestive manner he could.
"You hate me now!" she wailed.
"I do not hate you. Please, calm yourself."
She leaned over and started crying onto his chest. He was a bit uncomfortable with the situation, but raised no objection. Rebecca's tears faded quickly under the circumstance, but for a while after she feigned weeping in order to stay pressed up against him. She stopped just as Jack was beginning to grow suspicious.
"I'm sorry," she said, wiping tears and mascara from her cheeks. "I didn't mean to get so upset. It's just that you're like a hero to me, and I don't want you to be angry with me. I can't believe I'm so stupid..."
Jack began to consider the situation. Clearly the girl liked him, and by the furniture he could guess that she must be very devoted indeed. Perhaps his presence had affected her judgement. If Bishamon or Amaterasu-Omikami appeared before him, he might not know how to behave either. He decided to give her another chance. "I am not angry with you. I would be more than happy to stay here with you, but only on condition that you cease this behavior."
"Of course, of course. Oh, thank you!" she cried, hugging him tightly. Jack tried to hide his discomfort.
Just as he opened his mouth to suggest that she go put on some clothes, there was a sound of keys being forced into the lock of the front door. They both started. Rebecca pulled away, gasping in horror.
"Quick, into the bedroom!"
"Why?"
"Just go, quick!"
Clearly seeing that the girl was panicked, Jack did as instructed. Rebecca followed him. The instant they disappeared into the bedroom, the sound of someone entering the apartment could be heard.
"Get into the closet!" Rebecca whispered with all the force of shouting.
"What is going on?" Jack whispered back.
"It's my husband! I wasn't expecting him home this early!"
Jack stared at her, appalled. The day just got worse every minute.
"We can't let him find you!" Rebecca squeaked. "Quick, into the closet; I'll try to get rid of him."
She shoved Jack into the closet before he could react and closed the door on him. It was done just in time. At that moment, her husband entered the bedroom.
"Donald!" she said, turning toward him. "What are you doing home so early?"
Donald moved toward her. "I was on my break and noticed it was getting cloudy. I thought I should stop by and get my umbrella... Why are you naked?"
Rebecca suddenly realized that she was still dressed as Lady Godiva. "Why?" she said, trying to think up a good story, "Well, it's funny you should ask that. You see... I wanted to surprise you when you came home!"
Donald raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Yes! See, I saw that it was getting cloudy as well, and so I knew you would probably stop by to get an umbrella. I was just getting undressed as you walked in."
"Oh," Donald said, seeming mildly surprised. "Well, seeing as I am home..."
Jack was huddled quietly on the dark floor of the closet. From where he sat, he could hear the whole conversation between Rebecca and her husband, followed by twenty minutes of squeaking bedsprings. His head began to burn like it had been rubbed with capsicum. He was mortified.
He considered jumping out of the closet right then and telling her husband everything. Then he decided it would serve no purpose. Besides, the man was probably happier this way.
The soft moans and muted gasps he heard through the closet door signaled the end of the encounter. Jack began to listen more intently, waiting for some sign that he could leave. One thing was certain: he was not going to stay around that fickle, deceitful woman for one second longer than necessary.
"Well, I'm going to be happy back at work, that's for sure," said a grinning Donald as he buttoned his shirt.
Rebecca smiled, slipping back into the red dress she had been wearing earlier. "I'd like to think so. You're late returning from your break. Your boss isn't going to be too happy with you if you don't get back there right away."
Donald kissed her on the cheek. "You're right. I just need to get that umbrella I came here for, and I'll be on my way. I think it's in the closet..."
He took a step toward the closet door. Rebecca suddenly jumped in his way. "You really should just get going," she said.
"It doesn't take long to find an umbrella," answered Donald.
"I really don't think it's going to rain today. You shouldn't trouble yourself."
"I'd rather have one, just in case."
He continued toward the closet door. Rebecca scoured her brain for another argument. "Actually, I think I moved the umbrellas. I think I put them in... my car."
"Really? When was this?"
"Last night... after you fell asleep."
"That's strange. When I got my coat this morning I remember seeing them right there."
"I meant this morning."
Donald raised an eyebrow. "Is something wrong?"
"Of course not! Why would anything be wrong? Oh, dear, it's getting late. You had better get going."
Donald nodded. "Just as soon as I get my umbrella."
"But I just told you! The umbrellas are in my car!"
"I'm going to check in here anyway."
Rebecca gave up. The best she could think to do now was hope her 'surprised' face would be convincing enough for Donald. She held her breath as he opened the door...
The closet appeared perfectly normal. No near-naked samurais in sight. Donald spotted the umbrellas, grabbed one, and began heading out.
"Told you," he said as he was leaving.
Rebecca smiled and nodded. She waited till she heard the click of the front door closing. As soon as her husband was gone, she raced to the closet, hoping to learn what had happened to Jack.
A quick glance upward and her question was answered. He was on the ceiling, his body rigid, his hands and feet pressed firmly against the wall to hold himself up.
"There you are!" she screamed. "It's alright; he's gone."
Jack released his grip and landed gracefully on the floor.
"That was close. I was worried for a minute there," said Rebecca. Her demeanor changed then and she started rubbing up against him like an affectionate feline. "Well," she purred accordingly, "Now that he's gone, how about you and me go over to the bed and pick up where we left off?"
Jack's brow furrowed. This girl didn't give up. "I believe we left off when I asked you to end this behavior."
Rebecca laughed deliciously. "Oh, come on!" she said, "If it's the mess that bothers you, I can go and wash up."
Jack's agitation was growing more apparent. "No. Your offer is most kind, but I cannot accept it. I will leave-"
They were interrupted again by the sound of someone entering the apartment. Rebecca quickly shoved the Samurai back into the closet.
Donald entered once more, still completely unaware of what had transpired.
"Forgot my coat," he said, heading for the chair over which the item was draped. He grabbed it, and quickly disappeared out the bedroom door a second time.
Rebecca thought that would be the end of it until she heard her husband's voice call from the livingroom:
"Honey? Why is there a sword in here?"
Oh, dear God. Jack had left his sword in the livingroom.
"A sword?" she called back nervously. "Oh, yes! Of course. It's an exact replica of the one Samurai Jack uses. You know how I love Samurai Jack!"
"Indeed I do," Donald replied. "Alright, then. See you later."
She waited until she was certain that he had left before opening the closet door once again.
"It's like being married to the bubonic plague," she gasped at the Samurai. "You think you've gotten rid of it, but it just keeps reappearing..."
"I should depart as well," said Jack, stepping out of the closet. He turned towards the door. Rebecca tried to stop him.
"Oh, come on, Jack! You really don't want to miss out on this, do you?" She lifted her dress so that it was hanging like a cape from her neck, exposing her admittedly attractive figure.
"Enough," Jack remarked bitterly. He tried to step away from her. Rebecca held onto him.
"Are you sure?" she sang. She sprang to her tiptoes and kissed him passionately.
Jack exploded. After all the other insults the woman had inflicted upon him, to top it off by forcing on him one of the most vile sexual deviancies imaginable to someone from his world was just too much. He wanted to slap her; if there was ever a woman who deserved to be beaten, this had to be her. Nevertheless, he restrained himself. He shoved her away and went for the door.
Rebecca was surprised by his reaction. She hadn't meant to upset him. "Jack?" she called, pulling her dress back, "Wait, look, I'm sorry. I promise I won't do it again."
The Samurai stormed out of the bedroom. Rebecca followed him out to the livingroom.
"Wait!" she called after him. "The spare room is all fixed up already! You can just lock yourself in there and not have to so much as look at me again for the rest of the night!"
"Thank you. No."
"Just stay a little longer? I can make you some food. We can sit down and have some miso..."
"No more of this trickery! If you seek a tale with which to amuse your friends, you have obtained one. Even if you were not married I would find your behavior to be deplorable. I should never have allowed these deviations to be taken so far. I thank you for your kindness to me, and I bid you good day."
Jack picked up his sword and was about to go for the front door when the sound of a key turning in the lock could be heard once again.
"Oh, God," Rebecca whispered, "Donald must have forgotten something else. Quick! Go hide!"
"No," said Jack, standing perfectly still.
"What? Are you crazed? He'll kill us both!"
Jack folded his arms. "I am through with your games. If he comes in and wishes to know what has happened, I will tell him."
Rebecca sighed, and began rehearsing her 'surprised' face again.
The subtle difference between fake and genuine surprise was exhibited as the door was kicked open, revealing three FAMAS brand robot bounty hunters.
Nico, François and Lautrec were large, clunky older models, but still quite deadly in spite of it. Their left arms were equipped with fingers for grabbing and picking things up; their right was the "fire-arm," designed as nothing more than a gun barrel. Their hollow torsos each held 16 STANAG magazines containing 30 rounds each; a bit under 1500 bullets between them. Identical models dressed in identical black coats and fedoras, the only way to tell them apart was by the name-stickers adhered to the chest of each one.
Seemingly not noticing the names, Rebecca asked in a stunned voice: "Who are you?"
The robots simply began scanning over the interesting decor of the livingroom. There was no doubt: The man before them was Samurai Jack.
"And how did you get a key!?" she demanded.
The three intruders aimed their guns simultaneously. Rebecca started to scream.
Just as they opened fire, she felt herself being pulled from the path of the bullets. Samurai Jack had rescued her. Now the two of them lay on the floor, using the ridiculous couch as a shield from the shots which were aimed at them. The Samurai's fiberglass twin was chipped and torn with each round that hit it.
Jack had to yell over the gunfire. "Is there no back exit to this place?"
"No," Rebecca screamed back, "There's only the one door."
Jack paused for a bit, trying to think of a solution. The three bounty hunters continued to fire all the while. Even if they weren't hitting the real Samurai, that couch certainly made them feel as if they were achieving something.
"Maybe if we stay here long enough," offered Rebecca, "They'll run out of ammunition."
Jack looked at her. Being that he hailed from quite some time in the past, he knew little of how machine guns worked. "You mean it is possible for them to run out?"
"If they don't shoot through the couch first..."
"We must not take that chance," said Jack, rising to his knees. "We will have to escape out the window."
"But the window doesn't open."
Jack grabbed her by the arm and turned her toward what was going to be their exit. "Start running. Now."
With Jack's hand still firmly grasping her wrist, Rebecca took off into a scamper. Jack ran along side, with much more speed and grace. For eleven of the fourteen feet which they covered, he was practically dragging her. The robots, watching from the doorway, paused momentarily as they adjusted their aim to match the new position of the fleeing couple.
When they resumed fire, the barrage of bullets caused the window to shatter. Jack gripped Rebecca's wrist even more tightly and leapt forward, out the window, into the turmoil of flying cars. Rebecca screamed one long, trilless note as she suddenly saw the ground, a full eleven stories down, rushing toward them. Then quite abruptly she felt her arm jerk, and the next thing she knew, the world was zipping past as quickly as a Toyotsubishi Super-Eclipse. She looked up to find Jack clinging to the bumper of just such a car using his right hand. With his left hand, he still held tightly onto her wrist. As for his sword, it had been tucked into the side of his fundoshi.
Rebecca watched her apartment building quickly shrink into the distance.
"Well, thank God I put my clothes back on," was all she could think to say.
