Chapter II: Killing Time While Time Kills You

Since when did everything get to be so predictable? He asked himself as he leaned further into his chair while watching the city rush by.

Men in suits charge through the sidewalks, only acknowledging to step aside for others if they were more attractive or richer than themselves. Sleep deprived mothers dragging their restless children along; begging them to behave while keeping a running list behind their eyes on the various errands that still need to be done. Teenagers weaving brazenly through dense crowds on their bikes, laughing even harder when they hear cries of annoyance. Young couples sheepishly crossing streets together as they held onto each other for dear life. While watching every walk of life he could think of, Fukuzawa was saddened to not find himself on those streets.

The 33 year old looked away from the scenery and closed his eyes, which were now exhausted from watching another busy Tuesday. Dressed in traditional Japanese garb, a style that has become synonymous with elderly men and yet with a face that still has a lot more summers to see, Fukuzawa was an interesting character to most in the city. With his height, ashen gray hair and his mother's good looks, Fukuzawa was used to catching people's attention. But it also sometimes left him feeling isolated and despondent to those around him. Times like this when he has found himself too much in his thoughts, Fukuzawa could catch himself longing for an equal - someone that wasn't an adversary but more of a partner.

Oh God, is that what I'm doing now? He shook his head hoping it would rid himself of such pathetic thoughts.

"Sir?" A young waitress placed a piping teapot and matching cup on the table before him. "Your tea." She announced.

"Thank you, miss." He answered as he watched her masterfully pour the liquid.

"Would you like anything else?" She folded her tray under her arm; almost hoping that the handsome gentleman would send her away on another request to appease him.

"No thank you, miss." Fukuzawa, oblivious to her wistful stare, brought the tea to his nose in hopes to breathe in its floral scent.

"Careful," She turned while warning him in a sing-songy tone. "It's hot."

And right she was.

As soon as the waitress said it, Fukuzawa (on que almost) burnt the roof of his mouth.

"Careful," a familiar voice sang from behind him. "It's hot." Fukuzawa abruptly turned to find the one who was mimicking the waitress' voice.

"Natsume." Standing in the same place where the waitress once stood was an old man in a brown trench coat and bowler hat.

"I'm surprised to hear you're still able to speak after burning your mouth with that tea of yours." He chuckled at the swordsman's impatience. "May I?" He gestured towards the empty chair across from Fukuzawa.

"Please." Still dazed from the shocking pain of his mouth, Fukuzawa was temporarily disabled from fully expressing how delighted he was to find the familiar face of his old mentor.

"Is this how you spend your fun-employment these days? Ignoring pretty waitresses and resorting to self-inflicted pain."

"Your sudden presence caught me off guard." Fukuzawa, a terrible liar, wasn't humble enough to admit he is prone to clumsiness sometimes.

"Of course." Natsume waved the weak attempt of Fukuzawa saving face. "But you didn't answer my question." He folded his hands before him. "How are you doing since you've decided to exit the Goken.

Fukuzawa sighed deeply.

The Goken was a rather small subset of swordsmen like himself; dedicated to doing the bidding of their nation's government when discretion was as important as certainty. To put it bluntly, it was a bunch of accomplished assassins who got their hands dirty on behalf of the government when all other factions failed. Fukuzawa was no exception, however; compared to the other members of the Goken, his hands were the bloodiest. It wasn't long until Fukuzawa began realizing that he started to enjoy his job a little too much when he decided it was time to exit the Goken. After many conversations with various officials begging him to stay, the Silver Wolf was victorious in not only leaving his position among the Goken but leaving with his head still attached. It's been almost three months since he decided to figuratively lay down his sword. After a few holidays in the countryside and to far flung countries, the Silver Wolf has returned to his favorite city by sea; bored and restless.

"Taking it day by day," Fukuzawa finally answered. "I must say, I can see why not many people retire at my age."

"Oh?" Natsume cocked his head; playing ignorance. "How so?"

"The idea of waking up with nothing to accomplish can be gnawing."

"Well why don't you use your certain set of skills."

"I left the Goken for a reason." Fukuzawa crossed his arms like a hurt child. "Last thing I want to do is find myself returning to similar position"

"Well you can't exactly take up the position of a math teacher now, can you?"

"And why not? I like math." The swordsman pouted.

"And terrible at it." The two men stared at each other until both erupted in laughter. Fukuzawa was sharp but he was no expert in advanced calculus. As the men's laughter quieted down, Fukuzawa was able to reclaim his breath.

"And what would you have me do? Open up a school to teach how to kill war generals for our nation?" He joked.

"Well," Natsume looked at the table for a while too long, causing Fukuzawa to grow nervous. "There is a position opening up that I had you in mind."

"I'll stop you right there." The Silver Wolf held up his hand.

"I haven't even told you about it."

"I'm not interested in freelancing on what I just decided to stop doing - it wouldn't make sense. And the government would have my head should I start doing what I told them I wouldn't do anymore."

"The government wouldn't even know about it. It has nothing to do with what you've done while in the Go-''

"I decline. You can go find another hitman. The way the news is going, it seems like there's a dime a dozen these days."

"It's not a job for a hitman, Fukuzawa. It's one of protection. Not elimination." He whispered.

"Bodyguard? Ugh." The young man rolled his eyes. "That's the calling card of the end for every retired assassin."

"Well, aren't you considered a retired swordsman?"

"That's different. I'm only 33 - I still have much more to offer than following some bloated business man between his office and the brothel."

"This job is not for a bloated businessman. It's for a doctor."

"Then have the doctor hire actual bodyguards. Are they crossing enemy lines or something? Are they doing a Doctor Without Borders? No, I wanna stay in Yokohama."

"And you will. It's local and it'll pay you well too while also keeping you from daydreaming out of a window in a cafe day after day."

"Stop following me, Natsume" He sighed while rubbing his temples.

"How else would I have known to meet you here?"

"I was paid well during my time with the Goken. I don't need the money–''

"Then take it for a distraction. A lot of different characters float in and out of the clinic every night. I just get worried for the doctor and his safety. Especially considering things aren't getting any better." He took a long look at the unamused swordsman. "I think you'll enjoy it."

"And why would I? Standing around a clinic hoping I won't catch a cold?"

"He'll challenge you." Natsume folded his hands. "And I think you'll like the challenge."

"What makes him so challenging?"

"Oh," Natsume smiled. "You'll see."

Next Chapter : First day on the job, Fukuzama finally meets the acclaimed young doctor, Mori. What starts off as two young men trying to size each other up turns into the two bumping heads. What was Natsume thinking about putting together such an arrangement? Feel free to drop a review!