It was business as usual at the local teahouse. The place was packed with rowdy customers. The men ogled Omitsu, the waitress, and their wives slapped them when they realized what their husbands were looking at.

It was true that Omitsu was quite the beauty. Any man in town would admit that she was the loveliest lady they had ever seen, assuming their significant others were out of earshot. With an irresistible childlike face, naturally rosy cheeks, and smooth brown hair that seemed to glow in the light, Omitsu had indeed been blessed. And although she appreciated the influx of compliments she received from hopeful suitors and casual admirers alike, she didn't particularly care for the drama and other trouble her looks often caused for her and others.

"Oi! Omitsu!" A tall, gangly man sitting with one of his friends waved at the waitress and beckoned her forward. She sighed in exasperation when she realized she had been summoned by one of her least favorite regulars.

"What can I get for you, Kichiro?" she asked unenthusiastically, making sure to avoid eye contact.

"Aw, come on, Omitsu! Is that any way to treat one of your oldest friends? Remember what I did for you when you first came here all those years ago?"

"I remember you called me a fathead and beat up the first person that tried to make you stop."

Both customers erupted in raucous laughter. "You mean that little punk Goemon? You can hardly call that 'beating up,' Omitsu. We just taught him a little lesson for trying to ruin our fun. We went easy on him. And I promise you, I never would've called you a fathead if I had known you would grow up to be so hot."

Omitsu tried her best to hide her anger while repeating her first inquiry through gritted teeth. "What can I get for you, Kichiro?"

"Oh, that. I don't really know yet. I just wanted to see your beautiful face up close for a little while. I'll call you back here when I've figured out what I want." He gave her butt a quick squeeze and went back to perusing the menu.

A thoroughly irritated Omitsu jumped a bit and suppressed a shriek. Kichiro was a perfect example of the type of customer she hated dealing with on a daily basis. "Right," she said in a low, vicious tone that her giggling customers failed to notice. "Why don't I get you some tea while you look over the menu?"

"That would be great, Omitsu. Thank you."

Omitsu nodded and walked to a nearby tea tray with her fists clenched. How dare that pathetic excuse for a human being, that pig, constantly insult her best friend like that? After all he had done for her, all he had done for Japan, she believed that she could never comprehend why people weren't bowing at the feet of him and his fellow ninjas whenever they walked by. Not a day passed by where she didn't think of the incident Kichiro had brought up. Not a day passed by where she didn't thank her lucky stars that someone as great as Goemon had come to her aide and kept her from running home crying to her parents and begging them to move back to their old home further west, away from these people who had treated her so horribly for no good reason. Goemon had given her renewed hope and provided her with the comfort that she so sorely needed.

"Here's your tea, boys," Omitsu said as she slowly approached their table, a tray with two small cups of green tea delicately balanced on her hands. An evil grin flashed across her face as she tipped the tray ever so slightly towards the table, causing the cups to slide down and spill their contents all over the two screaming, flailing customers. "Oh dear, I'm so sorry," she said with fake guilt. "Let me get a towel for you." She snickered to herself as she turned around and walked, at a pace much slower than usual, to the kitchen.

On her way there, her mind wandered, as it usually did, to one person: Goemon. Since she had first met him 15 years earlier, he had proven more times than she could count just how reliable he really was. He was always there to protect her from harm or save her from the clutches of the strangest villains, and for that she was eternally grateful. But something was eating her up inside, something that manifested itself in a single thought that made her sigh to herself as she stood otherwise motionless in front of a stack of dish rags. "Why can't I ever do anything to help him like he's helped me?"

She went over the events of the past 15 years in her head. She couldn't think of even one instance where she had done more to help him than provide him with a useful item, a fairly obvious tidbit of information, or even just encouragement. Not once had she done anything more significant for him than healing any minor wounds he had incurred, and she hadn't even done that in quite a while.

"I feel so useless," she whispered to herself with a sigh. It was at that moment that she remembered why she had been standing in that exact spot for so long, and realized she had been there for over a minute. She picked up the top rag on the pile and returned to the tea-soaked table. "Okay, let's get this all cleaned up..."

--

Her shift now over, the young waitress scrubbed at a particularly stubborn stain in her favorite frying pan. Her boss insisted that she go home.

"But I'm not done here, sir."

"Doesn't matter. You're a hard worker, which is great, but you've obviously had a really trying day. You can take that with you and finish cleaning it tonight if you really want to."

Omitsu sighed and nodded before drying off the pan and heading out the front door of the teahouse. As much as she enjoyed her work most of the time, it almost always left her feeling exhausted. At least she had something to look forward to today; she was supposed to meet Goemon for dinner.

At least, that was her plan. Her evening was ruined the instant she stepped outside, when her eyes saw nothing but a bright flash of light. When she moved her arm down away from her eyes, she was horrified to see that she was not on the ground, but in the air. More specifically, she was in a sturdy steel cage hanging under some sort of ship that was rocketing off to the north. On top of that, there were several other cages containing beautiful women hanging from under this same pod like some sort of demented mobile. Each of them was shaking at the bars, trying their best to free themselves from this twisted trap.

And at that moment, Omitsu did what had practically become instinctual in these types of situations over the years: she screamed. "HELP ME, GOEMON!!"

--

"I'm telling you, it's not a date! If it was, I definitely wouldn't let you come with me."

"Really, Goemon? Dinner alone with the most beautiful girl in town. Sounds like a date to me."

Goemon scowled at his portly, blue gi-clad friend, Ebisumaru. There were times when the big oaf really got on his nerves, and this was certainly one of them. "This isn't the first time we're having dinner together. Why can't two people eat together without other people insisting it's a date? And if you were so sure this was a date, why on earth did you want to come with us so badly?"

"Well, I was never one to turn down free food," Ebisumaru replied, licking his lips in ravenous anticipation.

"What?! Who said anything about this being free? If you think you're mooching off of me again, you've got another thing coming, buddy!"

It was at that moment that Goemon heard it. The earsplitting scream was all too familiar to him. Such a sound always fired him up because it always meant that his longtime friend was in trouble. And that was something he could never tolerate.

Goemon stopped suddenly and turned to his friend. "Sounds like Omitsu's in trouble again, Ebisumaru," he said as he scanned the nearby area, eventually spotting the escaping ship. "There! That's gotta be it! Let's go, Ebisumaru!" Goemon ran forward, deftly weaving his way through the throngs of onlookers scattered throughout the streets.

"Hey, wait for me, Goemon!" Agile movement was much more difficult for Ebisumaru than it was for his spiky-haired friend, but he tried his best to keep up anyway. This involved frantic flailing of the arms and occasionally blurting out "Excuse me", "Sorry", or "Hey, nice outfit" to the people who were unfortunate enough to be in his way.

"It's that crazy nun again, it's gotta be!" Goemon shouted back when he and his friends had cleared most of the crowd.

"Huh? Crazy nun? What are you babbling about, Goemon?"

"You know, the really weird one that worked for Jurokubei...Umm, what was his name again? Oh, right, Bismaru! Bismaru's got Omitsu again!"