"Please and Tang Soo"

Written By: anti-nostalgic kuma (or ANKuma)

Disclaimer: I don't own Gravitation. And I feel all empty inside because of it. sniff

Author's Notes: For starters, I'd just like to say that I plan on this chapter being much, much longer and with more than one POV. In this chapter, I'd like to use K's, Hiro's, Shuichi's POV, in that order. Also, I'm going to be writing the rest of this in 1st person, rather than 3rd, which was used only in the prologue and will be used in the epilogue. I've also changed the time span. Six months has been reduced to three. The questions left purposely unanswered in the prologue will be answered here or in a later chapter, and hopefully you'll enjoy this, too. All of this is really just a roundabout way of saying that this is a whole new ball game, folks! This story is already getting away from me and taking on a life of it's own, and I'm only on the first chapter! ' In regards to how I treat the Martial Arts in this; I know that in Japan or Korea(where Tang Soo Do originated), there would be much more discipline. But as I don't know anyone who practices Tang Soo Do in Japan, this is going to be very, VERY Americanized. Please, just grin and bear it? ' I intend to respond to each and every reviewer at the end of the chapter! So now, sit back, relax, and enjoy!

Chapter One: Music's Refugees

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K's POV

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"Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness."

-Maya Angelou

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Music really is a beautiful thing. If working in 'the biz' (as Ryuichi calls it) has taught me anything it's that music can express things that words fall short of. Music can make you feel things, see things, make you want to dance until you're consumed by flames and then dance some more, just for the hell of it. And when you're working with musicians, like I do, you can tell when something's wrong with them by the way they play.

Now, I know what you're going to say; I should've noticed something sooner. After all, I'm his manager. It's in my job description to keep him happy, functional, on time, and make sure not a hair on his head is harmed. And it's true; I am supposed to do all of those things.

But you're dead wrong if you think I didn't notice.

Most people wouldn't consider me the intuitive type. After all, I'm an American in a prim and proper Japanese society and I'd be lying if I didn't say that I was a little bit eccentric as well. At least, 'eccentric' is the term I use for it. Most people find 'bat shit crazy' more accurate. But isn't 'eccentric' so much more endearing? It has a bit of a sexy sound to it in my opinion. Hm. Maybe I'd ask Hiro for his opinion later. I'm sure he'd agree with me.

But I digress.

After working with someone who is as...let's say 'energetic' as Shuichi for almost three months, you tend to notice their habits, their wants and needs, their likes and dislikes, the way they sing when experiencing different emotions, the whole shebang. And I'm a keen observer, I can tell you that. By the end of month one, I knew things about Shuichi that his own family didn't know. By month two, I knew Shuichi as well as Hiro knew him. And by month three, I had Shuichi mapped out like...something you'd put on a map.

But overnight, everything I had mapped out became useless in the matter of Shuichi.

So, you see, I did notice. Of course I noticed. Everyone could notice.

The question you should be asking me is this; why didn't I do anything about it?

The answer to that is simple. I didn't know what the problem was. Shuichi doesn't confide in me. Shuichi confides in his best friend.

Enter Hiroshi Nakano, stage right!

Now, I'd never do anything as low as to ask him to betray the confidence of such a close and important friend. He wouldn't do that anyways, being the loyal friend he is, and if there were a rift between the two of them the headline would read 'Sayonara, Bad Luck!'. It's hard enough to keep Shuichi and Fujisaki from killing each other on a daily basis as it is.

So, no, I wouldn't ask him to do that. Based on my strict moral grounds, of course.

But there is still something that Hiro can give me.

Heh, I know I made it sound dirty just now, but that's really not how I meant it. If things go well, perhaps someday, but I digress once again. Even if he can't tell me what exactly the problem is, he can still help me come up with ways to keep Shuichi working and functional, and to make him feel as relaxed and at ease as possible.

All it takes is small things like always leaning to his side when he and Fujisaki have an argument, shooting Fujisaki instead of him, and letting him sleep in an extra five minutes every morning.

Sometimes I wonder when exactly it was that I became such a softie.

I guess what I'm really trying to say is that I care about the kid. I want him to succeed. I want him to be happy. And I want to make him the biggest super star since Ryuichi Sakuma.

"If it's a dream that can't be reached, well, then-- let's fling it a--"(1)

But I swear to -insert deity of your choice here- that if his voice cracks one more time during this recording session, I'm going to put a slug right in between his friggin' eyes!

"What the hell was that!" I bellow, standing up so violently from my chair in the recording room that it topples over and Sakano nearly faints in surprise. "Can't we get through this song just once without your voice cracking! Get your act together or I'll shoot you in the face!"

Well, what can I say? Handling people with Kid Gloves has never been my thing.

I find that brute force and intimidation gets much faster results.

Shuichi flinches a little, Suguru looks more than mildly annoyed, and Hiro sighs, lowering his head so that his hair covers his face. Not a good sign. I feel a twinge of guilt as I remember I promised him that I wouldn't fly off the handle when dealing with Shuichi.

But damn it, we're supposed to be making music here! And I take that very seriously.

I take a deep breath and try again, removing my hand reluctantly from the Magnum in my holster. Huh. That's funny. I don't even remember reaching for it.

Anyways, back to Shuichi.

"I'm sorry, K. Really. I...I'll try harder, okay? From the top?" The look that he gives me in those brown eyes makes me feel ashamed of myself. For the first time I see how truly broken Shuichi is. Like a porcelain doll thrown carelessly to the floor. He's paler than he should be and thinner, as if he hasn't been eating. There are dark circles under his eyes from what without a doubt must be insomnia and his inky black hair is grown out; he hasn't been keeping up with cutting it. But the most noticeable difference are the shadows in his eyes.

When I first met Shuichi, those brown eyes were warm and vibrant and they shined like the stars. His eyes told me even more than his voice that he could become more than a star; they told me he could become a full-blown super nova the way that Ryuichi Sakuma's did.

But now the shimmer of the stars was dimmed by dark shadows that had no place there to begin with.

I shake my head. Mustn't get too lost in my own thoughts. I have a job to do, after all. "Don't worry about it," I say, a huge smile on my lips before giving him my trademark "no problem" in English. "Why don't you all take a break for a hour? We can have lunch early. How does that sound?"

It's Suguru who's the first to answer. "Fine. Maybe when we get back we can actually get some work done." He says it with a not-so-subtle glare as he leaves the room in Shuichi's direction, who bites his lip and looks down at his feet, overgrown bangs shielding his eyes from the world. Hiro sets his guitar down, propped up against the wall of the recording room and walks over to Shuichi, draping an arm around his shoulders.

"Why don't you go to Zenny's and order for us and I'll met you there in a few minutes, alright?" Hiro says, smiling reassuringly at the singer, who seems to unfurl a little bit in Hiro's presence. I find myself just a little bit jealous. I also find myself with my hand on my gun again.

Emotions, huh? They really like to screw with your head.

Shuichi nods and gives Hiro a poor excuse for a smile, exiting followed by Sakano. Me and Hiro are the only ones left. Alone. In the recording studio. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't fantasized about that numerous times since we met. Even when Judy and I were still together. Oh, yes, I can be a naughty, naughty boy...

But for the third time, I digress.

Hiro walks over to me, looking very tired himself, similar insomnia circles under his brown eyes, too. I wonder what (or who, I add bitterly) is keeping him up? He smiles at me, running a hand absently through his dyed red hair, and asks distantly, "Can I have a hair tie?" I laugh a little and reach into my pocket and supply him with one, watching as he pulls back his hair. "Thanks. The one I was wearing snapped on the way to the studio and it was getting in my face while I played. It makes it hard to practice."

I nod in understanding, reaching into my breast pocket and take out a cigarette for the both of us. We both look like we need it, I'm sure, and he accepts it gratefully. I light them for both of us and let the silence hang in the air, inhaling and exhaling slowly as I look out the window and then back to Hiro, the smoke curling and disappearing into the air. "You know that if we don't lay down more than the seven tracks we have soon, Tohma is going to make Shuichi's life hell, don't you?"

Taking another drag, Hiro nods, rolling his shoulder blades with a grunt. "Yeah, I know..."

I nod back absently as I chew the filter, taking it in. "If only he would just snap out of the funk he's in..." I muse, tapping away the ashes, and returning the cigarette to my mouth.

Hiro exhaled deeply, letting loose a puff of smoke into the air, looking mildly angry at my ignorance. "I'm sorry to tell you this, K, but what Shuichi's going through isn't something you just 'snap out of' and magically get over!" His words are harsh and for a minute I'm taken aback. Hiro's never sassed me before. Hell, out of the lot of them, he and I get along absolutely famously. The surprise must have shown on my face, because Hiro automatically looks apologetic and I feel his hand grip my forearm gently. "Hey... I'm sorry... You don't know what he's going though and that's not your fault..." He shakes his head and takes another drag from his cigarette in a self-berating sort of way that I find extremely endearing. Huh. 'Endearing'. I like that word. Especially when describing Hiroshi Nakano. "I shouldn't have said that."

I smile to show him that I've already forgiven and forgot. He smiles back and moves a little closer. We don't realize until we're done with our cigarettes that he's still holding my forearm.

Blushing, he pulls his hand away like he's touched a hot iron and I find myself with this mad urge to kiss him senseless. I want to so badly and I lean in, dangerously close, but he pulls away the last second, smiling and blushing profusely. "Thanks again for the cigarette and the hair tie, K. Let's... uh... Let's do this again...sometime." He nervously jerks his thumb to the door before continuing. "Shuichi's waiting for me and I don't want to keep him waiting. If it means anything, I think he's ready to start moving forward. He's taking steps to get past this...part of his life right now. And I know he'll finish the album." He twitches anxiously, eyes darting towards the door. "I should go. He needs me. And he really shouldn't be alone right now." He gently runs his hand over mine, fingers brushing against fingers and he smiles so gently that I forgive him for leaving. "I'll see you in an hour."

As he leaves and I replay the song we were just recording, hearing Shuichi's crooning, sad vocals, I can't help but think about my singer and his current state of disrepair.

"Shuichi," I muse out loud around a second cigarette to the empty recording studio from my once again upright chair, "who so thoroughly destroyed you?"

(1)from 'Blind Game Again', translated, towards the end of the song.

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Hiro's POV

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"Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent."
-Victor Hugo

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There isn't any limit as to what I would do for Shuichi. I'd die for him, I'd kill for him, I'd steal and cheat and lie and I would gladly have taken the terrible things done to him that night three months ago in his stead if I could've just so that he wouldn't have had to suffer. I'll even put my relation--whatever this thing is-- with K on hiatus just to take care of him. I can't think of a single thing I wouldn't say or do for him.

Why? Because I know that, if our positions were reversed, Shuichi would do the same for me.

Sometimes I wonder where I'd be without him. Probably in Med School, playing the part of the 'good son' and married to some airy-fairy beauty who, though pretty, doesn't have a single original thought in her head.

In other words, I'd be living for my parents and hating every second of it.

It sounds terrible, but unlike Shuichi, there is a limit on what I would do for my parents.

I wonder what my mother would think if she knew that I had feelings for my crazy, American, gun-toting manager?

She'd probably disown me.

And that's what I love about Music. Music is so kind. It doesn't judge you, it's always there for you, and it can be your voice when no one listens. Next to Shuichi, Music is my best friend. And Music knows things about me that K and Shuichi don't even know. It knows things about me that I prefer they didn't.

I enter Zenny's, the bell attached to the door tinkling merrily as I do so, and spot Shuichi in our usual corner, stirring his coffee aimlessly. I walk up to him and put on a smile, sit opposite him and poke his forearm to let him know I've arrived.

He jumps at the contact, but smiles when he sees that it's only me. I'm only glad that he knows I'd never hurt him. I'm only glad that he trusts me enough to let me touch him after all he's been through.

What can I say? I love the little punk.

Not romance, 'til death do us part, three kids, a house, and mortgage kind of love, but one that runs deep with affection and trust nonetheless. I love him more than a brother. After all, there is a limit on what I'd do for Yuji, but not for Shuichi.

"What took you so long?" His eyes are like almonds, with shadows that I can barely look at without feeling the urge to kill those sick sons of bitches that made them that way (after all, I did say that I'd kill for him, and I meant that). And yet, he still manages to retain that innocence, that beauty, and once in a while, I can catch a glimpse of the old Shuichi I fell 'in love' with, so to speak. Sometimes, I can tell he's going to survive this.

I smile falsely. I don't want to worry him with my own pathetic problems about K and my non-existent love life. His current plight is much more important. "Sorry. I had to talk to K. We had a smoke. Are they cooking our food?"

Shuichi nods distantly in response to my question and taps the glass of Coke in front of me with his fingernail. Huh. That's funny. I didn't even notice it. "It should be out soon." Suddenly, I am fixed with the most pricing look that Shuichi's ever given me. I freeze underneath his gaze. "So...you've been talking with K a lot lately, haven't you, Hiro?" His voice is light and airy, but I can sense the implication of it. Damn it. I've been treating him so delicately that I seem to have forgotten how perceptive and capable he really is.

I try to worm my way out. Shuichi doesn't need to know any of this. At least not right now. "I don't know what you mean." My voice is as lofty and smooth as his was as I sip my Coke, but my own implication rings clear in his ears; 'drop it'.

It's too bad he never listens to me.

He sighs and smiles softly, reaching his hand out to touch my wrist, shaking the limp, too-long bangs from his eyes. "Hiro, Hiro, Hiro... Don't lie to me. I can always tell when you're lying." He taps his nose and smirks a little, still not letting go of my wrist.

I try again. "Really, Shuichi, there's nothing to talk about. You don't need to worry about my problems right now, okay?" Please, I say telepathically to him, please don't worry about this... You've got enough to worry about already.

"Did it ever occur to you that it might be...healthy for me to worry about it?" His hand is still on my wrist and he squeezes gently. Sometimes I can be such a mother hen when it comes to Shuichi. "I mean...we used to worry about each others problems all the time... I liked that. I miss that. I miss the normalcy of everyday meaningless chit-chat where you didn't look at me with such sad eyes." Shuichi's slight shoulders slump and seem to almost disappear. His hand leaves my wrist and his forefinger ghosts the skin underneath my eyes. "Such sad eyes, Hiro. What do you have to be sad about?"

I smile and lower my head, embarrassed. I really had been coddling him. My eyes meet his once more. "You really want to know about the ongoing drama of Claude Winchester and Hiroshi Nakano?" His eyes brighten immediately and it's almost as if those shadows aren't there. I know that they are, hiding just in the corners of his eyes, but right now, at least I can pretend that they're not.

He grins. "Oh, yes, the whole torrid love affair." I laugh and he echoes me. The waiter brings the food and I insist on paying for us both, which makes Shuichi actually whine at me. Kami-sama, how I had missed that whine.

"So, Hiro, tell me! I wanna know about you and K and your forbidden office romance!" He's almost like he was before. Full of life. I try to pretend like nothing's different. And he does the same thing.

I laugh. "You're really making this into something much bigger and dramatic than it actually is, you know, " I tell him, reaching over and poking his side, which makes him giggle. I take a bite of my maki roll before going on. "I like K." Shuichi snorts as he eats his miso soup and I chuckle. "Alright, alright, I'm understating, I admit it. I...I have strong feelings for K. And I think he likes me, too... Only..."

Shuichi nods. "You're afraid that you're going be a rebound."

"Well, that's definitely part of it," I admit, taking another sip of my Coke. "And the fact that he's our manager. I mean, if things worked out between us, it wouldn't really effect our work that much, you know? But what if we break up? Or have a fight? What would that do Bad Luck?" It feels so good to tell that to someone other than music. I forgot how good it feels to tell things like this to Shuichi.

"I think that there's something else, too, isn't there?" Shuichi takes a long gulp of his coffee as he looks at me, serious once again. K was right when he said that he and Ryuichi are a lot alike. Their similarities transcend mere looks. "You're afraid of what getting into a relationship might do to me."

After a moment, I nod hesitantly. There isn't anything to be gained in lying to him. "You're...going through a lot right now. I just don't feel right about pursuing this thing with K whenever his divorce--albeit a rather friendly divorce--is so recent and right after you've been--"

"Hiro, take me to that Tang Soo Do dojo after work." Shuichi's eyes are hard and I am unable to argue. I nod. "If it'll make you feel better about this thing with K, and it'll make me come to terms with everything's that's happened, then I want to do it as soon as possible." His gaze turns soft again, vulnerable like a spooked rabbit. I feel the need to hug him. "I don't want you putting your life on hiatus because of me. We're too good of friends for me to allow that." He sighs brokenly and seems to look through me for a second, melancholy personified. "Music is the only thing I was ever good at and I could always say what I felt better with it. It was the one thing that I could tell all my secrets and trust not to judge me. It was my only refuge. But now... I don't think Music is enough to help me now." He looks so lost in this moment, so untouchable and yet so breakable, and I want to protect him.

"Have you thought about writing your feelings down? I heard that that helps. Maybe put it to music?"

Shuichi smiles in an ironic sort of way. "I tried to, " he admits, taking another sip of his coffee. "But what's expressed in those scores and lyrics are not meant for human ears." He changes suddenly, a warmer smile on his lips, eyes wide and innocent. The shadows there are playing hide-and-seek again. "So, you'll show me where this Tang Soo Do place is?"

I nod. "Yeah, I'll give you a ride there on my motorcycle and then I'll give you a lift home. If you want, I can crash on your coach for the night."

He nods back, taking everything in. The waiter cleans our table and we thank him. "Thanks. I appreciate all the moral support." I leave money for the food and I let Shuichi tip.

"No problem. What are friends for?" We stand up and go to leave, silence falling over us as we walk back to NG. I can't help but ask. The question seems to just slip out of my mouth. "What would happen if someone would listen to the music you've written about your feelings lately?"

Shuichi turns around to look at me, another enigmatic smile on his lips. "They'd go insane."

We don't speak for the rest of the walk, but I can't help but wonder what he means by that.

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Shuichi's POV

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"You are the music while the music lasts."
-T. S. Eliot

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I used to think that Music could solve any problem that I might have. To me, it was a supreme, omnipotent force that only a chosen, lucky few could tap into. Being able to make music--music in its truest form--was like being touched by Kami-sama or reaching complete nirvana. Music was enlightenment and the absolute understanding of everything. With Music, there was nothing that I couldn't say or do because it was the one thing that I knew would always be there for me, to solve any problem, to get me through any hurt.

But three months ago, HE changed all of that.

All of my carefully laid plans, my dreams of stardom, my longing to be able to tap into Music...it all became so meaningless. Everything seemed that way. Colors didn't seem so bright, the air didn't smell as sweet, the food didn't taste as good. Nothing seemed as vivid when compared to this red-hot pain deep in my stomach.

If it weren't for Hiro, I'd probably have killed myself.

Of course, he doesn't know that. If he knew, he'd never let me be alone for the rest of his life. It's not as if I feel stifled or controlled by him; Hiro lets me make my own decisions and he knows ultimately that the decision is mine. For instance, he wanted me to press charges, and I didn't. I don't think I'd be able to go through the lengthy law system and besides, HE took pictures of everything. I don't want anyone to see those pictures as long as I live.

Anyways, it's not like I'll ever have to see HIM again. A few weeks after it happened, HE mysteriously disappeared and no one seems to know where HE is. Which is comforting in one way and petrifying in another.

Sometimes, when I sleep, I see THEIR faces looming over me and smell their foul breath and I feel everything again with such acuteness, it makes me vomit.

Hiro doesn't know about that, either. There are just some things that I don't think he should know. And, fortunately, he never pushes the issues I don't wish to discuss. He's really a great friend.

I cling to him as we ride his motorcycle. He always let's me wear his real helmet instead of his flimsy secondary one. He's always been like that; 'my knight in shining armour' as Maiko would call him. It really is an accurate description. He's always looked out for me, ever since we were little.

Maybe that's why he blames himself for what happened.

I don't think he really knows that he's doing that. I doubt he's really thought about why he feels so guilty. It's like he's punishing himself for it by not letting himself get involved with K.

But I want that for him. I want him to be happy. He, above everyone else, deserves that.

Hiro pulls over and parks in a lot next to a small, one-story building. We get off the bike and walk over to the dojo. I walk very close to Hiro. It's unremarkable on the outside; plain and boring white cement and Venetian blinds, the words 'Uesugi Tang Soo Do' above the glass pane door. Most days I simply passed this building by without a second thought, but today...today I was going inside of it. I was going to become part of it.

Hiro turns to me and smiles encouragingly. "Ready to go in?"

I nod with more confidence that I feel.

Together, we open the door and walk in.

We enter the room and are greeted by two flags; Japanese and Korean. Inside, the floors are polished to a perfect gloss. There is a gong hanging over the doorway on the other side of the door. There are photographs of people wearing their do bohk, some sparring, some holding up awards, some simply standing and smiling. Equipment also lined the walls, everything from weapons to pads and framed belts to show ranks. Mirrors also line the walls sporadically, so, I assume, the students can see if they are doing everything right.

In one photograph, a tall man with blonde hair, possibly half American or European, stands with his fully trimmed do bohk and sporting the highest rank of black belt, his hazel eyes piercing and cold. I can't stop looking at him.

"What do you want?" I turn towards the door with the gong and see the same man in the picture I was just staring at. He stands tall with perfect posture and I am pinned underneath his cold eyes. I seem to lose all power of speech(2). I find that his voice is just as captivating as his eyes.

Hiro bails me out. "Please, sensei," he says with a low bow, "my friend here wishes for you to teach him Tang Soo Do."

My eyes widen as he considers Hiro for a minute and turns to me. I don't know how he got across the dojo so fast. He looks at me and I feel as though I can't breath. "Is this true?"

I nod and bow lower than Hiro had a moment before. "Yes," I manage to squeak out, starring at the polished wood of the floor. "I wish for private lessons."

His hand reaches out and holds my chin in a surprisingly gentle way, forcing me to straighten up and meet his eyes. His eyes scrutinizes me for what seems like hours, and I'm sure he can see every fault and imperfection that I have. It's only when he pulls his hand away that I realize I haven't flinched at his touch.

"No." His answer is short and simple as he crosses his arms across his chest. "I won't teach you. You're too weak." He turns and begins walking away, back through the door with the gong above it.

I feel a fire start in the pit of my stomach where all my hurt has been stewing for so long now. "Yes," I say back with such forcefulness that it makes Hiro gape at me and the blonde stop in his tracks. "You will teach me." He turns around and the look on his face can only be described as mildly amused. What an asshole. "I mean, what gives you the audacity to look at me for five seconds and then call me weak? What do you know? You're like, 'oooh, I'm a big bad black belt. I'm sooo strong, I can look down on anybody because they're short and skinny.' Well, that's not how life works! Do you even know what I've survived in my life? What do you know about any of that?" I realize I'm rambling, but I can't seem to stop myself. It's been too long since I've just let everything loose. It feels good. "You know, maybe I am physically weak. That's why I'm here! So that I can protect myself against ego-maniacs like you! So, unless you're afraid that little old me is going to be too much of a challenge, take me on as your new student!"

Hiro looks like he can't decide whether or not to be horrified or burst out laughing. The blonde has an unreadable expression on his face and I wonder for a moment whether or not I've gone too far. Well, of course I did, I think, biting my lip, he's not going to teach me after I called him an ego-maniac!

But suddenly the corner of his lips turn up in a sort of half-smile and he walks toward me until he's right in front of me, only a few inches away. I have to look up to see his face and I realize just how much taller he is than me. "You know," he says in a dangerously soft voice that sends shivers down my spine, "I don't think anyone's had the balls to say anything like that before. Especially not someone of your stature." I glare at him for the jibe at my height and his smirk widens. "When would you like to start taking lessons?" My surprise must show on my face, because he continues, "Yes, yes, I'm going to teach you. Don't gape at me like a fish. Now when would you like to start taking lessons?"

"Well," I answer after I collect myself from the shock, "I just got off work about fifteen minutes ago, so I'd have to do it around this time most days. But I'm not sure when I'll be able to train once I start touring..."

He scoffs. "A musician. I should have known. Looking to be the next Nittle Grasper, are you?"

I glare at him. "No. We're going to be better than Nittle Grasper."

The blonde smirks. "Don't we have big dreams," he teases in a patronizing sort of way. Really, what was K thinking when he recommended this guy? He's a total prick! "I'm assuming that you already have a record deal?"

I nod. "Of course I do! I'm signed on with NG Productions. I'm Shuichi Shindou of Bad Luck!"

I glance at Hiro who looks extremely amused at our exchange. I turn back at the black belt who chuckles sardonically. "Oh, so that explains it. Tohma's finally getting senile in his old age. That single you guys came out with was one of the worst things I've ever had the misfortune to hear. Though, I suppose, that means the teenage kogal(3) demographic will go wild over it."

I narrow my eyes at him. "What do you know about Music, anyway? And what's with calling Mr. Seguchi 'Tohma'?"

He smirks again, an infuriating kind of smirk, and brushes some stray tresses from his eyes. "Why, don't you know who I am?" I shake my head and feel kind of stupid. Should I know who he is? "I'm Uesugi Eiri. I'm Tohma's brother-in-law."

Holy crap.

"You're Seguchi's brother-in-law!" I say in a shrill voice, taken aback. He nods with amusement and I 'gape like a fish' as Uesugi-sensei would put it. What a twist! "But...but... Seguchi-san's wife is full Japanese!"

His eyes darken. "So am I." I swallow hard. Sometimes I really need to keep my mouth shut. "Just because I was born with blonde hair, doesn't mean that I'm not every bit as Japanese as you are. If there is one thing that can be said for America, it's that no one ever thought I was strange for my differences. Japan puts too much emphasis on what a Japanese should look like." His voice is deep and dangerous and I feel bad for what I've said.

"I'm sorry," I say, bowing low, unable to think of anything else to say.

He sighs deeply and waves dismissively with his hand. "Don't worry about it. So, when would like to start?"

I straighten up and shrug. "Is the spot right now empty every week at this time?" Uesugi-sensei nods. "Well, then, is every Thursday at eight sound good? I could come on the weekends, too, if that's alright. I live only a few blocks away."

Eiri nods once again. "That should be fine. You'll need to buy a do bohk and any belt you earn. Whenever you get a higher rank, you'll need to get a new do bohk with special trim." He walks over to one of the walls and pulls out a pamphlet from a shelf, before walking back and handing it to me. "The prices and any additional information you need will be in that." He gives me an appraising look. "You do realize that private lessons don't come cheap?"

I look him in the eyes. "You do realize that I have two hit singles and a album coming out which is speculated to go platinum?"

He smirks. "Touché." He walks back towards the door under the gong with an air of nonchalance about him, before turning around to look at me again. "I'll see you next Thursday with enough money to cover everything. Then, we'll begin our lessons, Shindou-san." With that, he disappears through the doorway. I stare after him.

A hand on my shoulder makes me jump. I turn and see Hiro and smile at him in relief. "Well," I say with a nervous sort of laugh, "that went well, huh?"

He just shakes his head and leads me towards the door. We leave the dojo and I put on his helmet as he fastens the secondary one to his chin. "That Uesugi guy... I mean, K told me he was intense, but I didn't think he was going to be like that."

I laugh. "He's an asshole, but I can handle him. I'm just worried about him. Maybe he's not up to training superstar Shuichi Shindou."

Hiro looks at me for a minute and then smiles, getting on the bike. I hop on behind him. "You know, I feel good about this. I think you and Uesugi-san will be good for each other. Just look at how being around him for a few minutes has transformed you."

He turns the bike on and I hold onto his waist tightly. As we ride to my apartment, I can't help but think that Hiro's right. When I was talking to Eiri, I did feel a little bit like my old self again.

Why does that scare me so much?

(2) I didn't realize this when I wrote this orignally, but when I was proofreading and changing errors, I realized that this was a lyric in Placebo's 'Without You I'm Nothing', featuring David Bowie... I love that song.

(3) A kogal, from what I understand, is the Japanese equivalent of a Valley Girl. Short skirts, tube socks, etc. Teeny boppers, if you will.

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To Be Continued...

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Author's Notes: Wow! This story is really taking on a life of it's own! I don't think I've ever written a chapter that's 5,944 words long before! An entire story, maybe, but a chapter? Yowza! Anyways, I hope you liked it! Read and Reveiw!