Chapter Seven

Seeds of Fortune

Kasumi stared deeply into the mirror as her newly showered hair tumbled down her naked body. She took in every scrutable detail of herself, from the vibrant red of her hair to the shape of her eyes; from the curves of her lips to those of her lithe, athletic figure, toned by years of training and competing in gymnastics. A few small scars and bruises marred her otherwise smooth, pale skin – most of which having been from her gymnastics training, though a couple in particular on her sternum and hips served as physical reminders of when she had been kidnapped.

The exact memories of the event were fuzzy in her mind, as were a concerning number of other memories from the past few months. Ever since she was kidnapped, and miraculously saved by Akira, Ann, and Ryuji, much of her life seemed to pass in a desperate, murky blur. Recalling specific details since her kidnapping proved difficult outside of the most menial memories, such as the day-in-day-out of gymnastics and dieting and generally trying to live life with such a weight on her shoulders. Kasumi assumed it must be the result of the trauma, perhaps being more severe than she was consciously aware. Since returning home, she had considered getting counseling, and her parents had encouraged her to do the same.

But the accident held her back. It always had. Such an event would inevitably be discussed in a psychiatric setting, and she did not feel ready to travel down that particular memory lane.

Kasumi heard her sister's gasp behind her, felt the push of her arm, and the rush of wind as the car narrowly avoided her entirely. She turned around for the briefest moment to see Sumire pushing her out of the way of the oncoming car, just long enough to take in the terrified expression of her younger twin sister in explicit detail – a memory burned into her mind forever. And she saw the blood, the flash of her sister's lower half separating from her upper half, just as vividly. She looked into the mirror, seeing the same face on the same body, and saw her sister's final moment, saving her life in exchange for her own.

The only difference was the hair color. Sumire's was always darker than hers, more burgundy than crimson like Kasumi's. But… there was that one Christmas where her parents commented on the "bright red rat's nest" of hers when they woke them up for presents. That was it, right? No, she must be misremembering. Her memory seemed scrambled enough as it was, surely this was just a result of all the trauma she had endured in the past year. She was Kasumi Yoshizawa, and she was still alive, carrying on her sister's dream to become an Olympic gymnast. Even though practice was becoming more and more difficult even more the kidnapping, and the accident.

Kasumi looked down at her hands, seeing them begin to tremble. Her mouth went dry, and her eyes started to twitch. She splashed cold water onto her face, but her breathing sharpened and shallowed, sapping her focus. The room suddenly felt hot, like a fire was creeping toward her from all sides, surrounding her, yet the shower had been off for some time and the hot steam had dissipated. She breathed faster, yet could not fill her lungs. The car crash played over and over in her mind, faster and faster. A gasp, a push, a crash, screams from all around her, yet she could not muster a whimper as she looked on her sister's mangled corpse.

Kasumi caught her reflection in the mirror, and while she saw the same reflection she always did, something felt off about it. Watching the girl in the mirror pant and gasp in perfect sync with herself, she felt like she was watching another person, as if witnessing herself from outside her own body. She clutched the sink until her knuckles turned white and tensed up, growling with stress as she tried to banish the memories from her mind. She heard a voice like her own cry out in her flashbacks "SUMIRE!", but whether it was her own voice or her sister's, to her utter terror, she could not say for sure.

She threw herself backward, landing on the floor and clutching her legs to her breasts. She buried her head in her knees, wrapped it in her arms to hug herself, blocking out the whole world around her, and she cried softly to herself. "It should have been me…" she whimpered in a low, croaking whisper. "Why was it you, sis? We were supposed to see the world side by side… Why did you have to go and leave me alone?"

How she wished every day and every night that they could have switched places. She was the elder twin – it was her job to care for her little sister. And Sumire was always such a natural talent at gymnastics. Everything always came so easily to her; she stunned every instructor and judge that ever had the privilege of seeing her perform. That girl deserved to live. That girl deserved to go to the Olympics. And she died. Right in front of Kasumi.

"Maybe I should have just died in that dungeon," Kasumi muttered to herself. "Maybe I deserved it for being so weak."

I wish we could have switched places. This power, this life, is something I don't deserve at all. This power… This power… What is this power? Akira said his mom might know, but…

How did I get it? When did I get it? Why did I get it? Did Sumire have it too? I wouldn't be surprised. She had everything…

I think…

…

Dawn broke softly over the town, and Akira was the first to wake again in the hotel room with the other young men. He got up to stretch his tight, aching muscles, seemingly having slept on his right side wrong, making his arm and leg feel raw and uncomfortably numb. He stood up shakily and looked out the window to the back of the property, where he was surprised to see Futaba on the back porch sitting in a cushioned lawn chair at such an early hour, designated from a distance by her recognizable orange hair. Akira's mind immediately began racing with what could have prompted her to be up so early; he hoped she was not suffering a panic attack or something of the sort. Quickly and quietly, he made his way downstairs to check on her.

Akira stepped out into the crisp morning breeze, seeing Futaba crouched down in the cushioned chair before him, holding her legs to her chest and staring out at the trees on the edge of the property. She watched them sway with the wind, birds appearing out from their leaves and branches and flying into the air. "Sleep well?" Akira asked, causing her to start with a high-pitched yip, apparently having not heard him coming at all. "Sorry, sorry," Akira chuckled. "I didn't mean to scare you. I was just wondering what you're doing up at this time."

"I thought you and everyone else was still in bed."

"They are, but I guess it's a good thing I woke up when I did." He took a seat beside her, and Futaba directed her attention back to the trees. "Anything going on?"

Futaba puckered her lips in thought. "I've hardly ever been outside the city. I've never seen anything quite like this."

"What? A nicely cultivated yard?" Futaba nodded. "Oh."

"I mean, I've seen the Kitagawas' place, obviously. But this is different."

"How so?"

"It's much more… natural?"

"I believe that. It's definitely not right off the highway like the estate."

"Definitely."

Akira leaned back in his chair with a content sigh. "Nice view, isn't it? I've spent quite a lot of time here the past few years. Had many parties on that lawn during the offseason with my friends here."

Futaba giggled to herself. "You sound like an old man."

"I take offense to that," Akira joked, and they both laughed together. "But seriously, is anything the matter?"

Futaba's smile faded. "Being here is weird," she confessed flatly.

"I'm sure."

"Everything that's happened is weird."

"Uh huh."

"Everything feels so weird."

"Tell me about it."

Futaba shifted in her seat, briefly humming some light tune to herself as she thought. "Your mom is nice. And cool. And pretty."

"She sure is," he nodded.

"Since she taught you how to fight… do you think she could teach me how to fight? Or you maybe?"

They finally made eye contact again in abject confusion. "You wanna learn how to fight?" Akira asked.

Futaba nodded. "Mm-hmm. I think I should, after all that's happened."

"I'd by lying if I said the thought hasn't crossed my mind. You are a high-priority target. But wait, hasn't your grandpa ever taught you?"

She shook her head no, murmuring, "Mm-mmm."

"Why's that?"

"Dunno…"

"That tracks," Akira muttered. "He's definitely the cagey type. Though I bet he had good intentions, you know? Probably just wanted to protect you."

"I still got kidnapped," she murmured.

"Oh, right…"

"I don't want that to happen again. I want to know how to save myself." She pointed directly between Akira's eyes with a determined glare. "You will teach me! Or your mom. Or both!"

Akira could not help but smile. "Maybe it is good that you learned the basics," he admitted with a chuckle. "You've certainly got the spirit. Fine, I'll show you a few things when we have the time. Promise."

"Really promise," she commanded him.

Akira nodded and held out his pinky finger. "Really pinky promise," he grinned to her.

She hesitated for a moment, then snatched his pinky with her own energetically. "Really really pinky promise," she chuckled, shaking their entwined grips like they were shaking hands.

"Good deal. Now run along and get yourself cleaned up. I think we're gonna have another long day."

Futaba blew a raspberry as she got up from her comfy seat. "Fine, fine. I wonder if I can get Ann or Haru to do my hair…" she muttered to herself as she walked away. "Oh, and… thanks," she said back to him, stopping in her tracks for a second.

"Don't mention it," Akira nodded. And Futaba made her way back upstairs with a much more positive energy about her. "Man, she sure marches to her own beat, huh?" he asked himself, sitting back in his chair and watching a flock of birds fly off into the sunrise. It was a beautiful serenity he had missed so much, broken a moment later by the door to the inn opening behind him.

"Akira," said the voice of Yukiko, and she appeared already fully clad in her traditional kimono. "Hey, Akira, we received a… letter for you, of all things."

Akira raised a confused eyebrow. "A letter? What for? From who?"

"I don't know. It just showed up in our postbox overnight and was addressed to you." Yukiko handed him a small envelope with his name written on the front in surprisingly sophisticated handwriting. "Look at that," he showed Yukiko. "It looks almost calligraphic."

"Well, open it up! Maybe you have a secret admirer?"

"That I rather doubt," Akira remarked, opening the envelope quickly. He took out the small piece of parchment inside and read it to himself with growing confusion:

Young sir, Kurusu Akira

I wish I could say I was writing to you regarding more positive subjects, but I am afraid that what we must discuss promptly is of the utmost importance. I trust that the proprietors of this esteemed lodging will be able to deliver this message to you quickly, as there is much we must discuss.

Come down to the riverside by the old bridge tomorrow morning at sunrise, and I will offer you all the insight I can on your current conflict with one Komaki Sosuke. I assure you that I am a very reliable source.

I will be expecting you,

Sotaro

"What the hell?" Akira muttered.

"What is it?"

"It's… related to Komaki apparently. Someone who seems to know about him wants to meet up."

"This sounds like some kind of trap."

"If it is, I don't think I'll have anything to worry about. Unless this guy is as strong as Komaki himself, I think I'll be fine." Akira stowed the letter in his jacket's inside pocket. "I'll be back soon. If anyone asks, I'm on a walk."

"Are you sure, Akira?"

"Nothing to worry about," he reassured Yukiko. "I'll see you in a bit." Without another word, he walked off toward the river trail. "Whoever wrote this is too eloquent to be one of Komaki's goons," he said to himself. "Either that, or he's somehow started recruiting academics."

Some time later, he came up to the end of the trail near the walking bridge connecting both sides of the river, and there he saw an old man in disheveled clothing watching a large fish leap out of the water, trying to catch some insects as prey. The man was hunched over with his hands behind his back, completely still as he watched the fish try in vain to catch its breakfast. No one else was around, so Akira assumed this must be the sender of the letter.

"Uh, excuse me, sir?" Akira approached him. The old man turned to face him, his expression as stern as his posture. "This sounds like a crazy question, but I was supposed to meet someone here. Would you happen to be the person who wrote this letter?" he held up the parchment.

The old man nodded, his long whisker-like moustache swaying with his head. "Yes, that would be me. I assume you are Kurusu-san then, yes?"

"That's right. But how do you know who I am? And how do you know about my conflict with Komaki?"

The old man turned back toward the fish, who finally managed to catch a damselfly out of the air and rapidly swam downstream. "Because, to put it bluntly, the young Sosuke and I have our own fair share of history, young man."

"What kind of history? Any info you can give me would be valuable." Akira looked him up and down and continued before the old man could respond. "Unless you're looking for a fight first?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"The way you're dressed, your posture, your toned shoulders; I think you must be a fighter."

Sotaro chuckled to himself. "How astute, Kurusu-san. Yes, I have some experience in martial arts, though I was not planning to withhold the pertinent information from you before fighting. Though it would be a good way to stretch my old muscles, and we are going to need to fight anyway."

"Why's that?" Akira lowered his stance slightly. "Are you with Komaki?"

"No, no, not at all," Sotaro shook his head. "That's likely the last thing that boy wants. You see, Kurusu-san, I am a Komaki as well. Komaki Sotaro."

Akira stood up straight in surprise. "You… you're a family member of his? He only had his parents around here when we knew each other, and they moved away shortly after he left."

"True, they did. I am Sosuke's grandfather, on his father's side. My whole life, I've been traveling the nation to hone my skills as a martial artist, only settling down briefly in my youth, which is how my son was born. Though he wanted to walk his own path when he was older, to go to school and become a lawyer, though I'm sure you know that part."

"Yeah, it's why the… incident was so bad for them specifically. His parents had quite the reputation around here, all lost in a moment."

"Because he hurt your beloved, correct?"

"Y-yeah, that's right. Did he tell you that?"

"I heard it through the grapevine, and through his parents after he ran away. He came to find me, you see. He told me he wanted to break past his limits and become a stronger martial artist. He deceived me, yes, not telling me the true reason he had left his home, but I always had my suspicions that there was more to the boy's story. He was overcome with such anger; I've never had someone injure more of his fellow pupils under me than my own grandson."

"He sure could pack a punch when he was angry," Akira looked down the river in reminiscence. "So, you know that I beat him and that's what pushed him over the edge?"

"I do. When I confronted him about it, he at least had the decency to confess, even to striking a young woman. Such a thing is one of the greatest offenses to martial arts that one can possibly perpetrate, and for that, and for his deception, I expelled him from my dojo. Martial arts is a refined tool to be used for the defense of yourself and others, never to strike out in anger at those you quarrel with, especially if they are not practitioners themselves." Komaki sighed. "And I have not seen him since."

"But you tracked him here. I'm guessing he doesn't know that?"

"I heard that someone matching my grandson's description was forming a gang in the Kansai area. I decided to investigate, and it led me here. Quite the beautiful little place, though. I do not wish to see any harm come to it."

"Are you going after him then?"

Komaki paused and sat down on the soft grass cross-legged. He patted the ground next to him, beckoning Akira to sit down, which he did. "My body screams at me to do so," he continued. "But the wisdom of life experience indicates that I should not, at least not personally."

"Why?"

Komaki looked down at the small ripples flowing up to the riverbank. "Because I am sure my grandson has not yet forgiven me for expelling him. He believes I abandoned him, as did his parents. Of course, it's not true at all, but he's too enraptured by his own anger and hatred to see that. Were I to fight him, were he to even know I was here, he would likely see that as the final betrayal by a family that sees him as a monster, not a man." He sighed. "I cannot slay the raging beast within my grandson, no matter how I tried when he trained under me. And oh, did I try. But the more I pushed at the beast, the more it pushed back. That's why I want to give you the tools to defeat him, Kurusu-san. I believe you and your friends can stop this madness and bring some peace to my grandson's spirit. Were I to try though… both myself and his parents would truly lose him forever."

Akira paused a moment, looking out over the water as well. A beautiful heron sat in the reeds, searching for some food. "He probably hates me way more than you though. What makes you think me fighting him would change his mind when you can't?"

"You are rivals, are you not? You are on equal footing – two martial artists testing their strength of mind, body, and will. For myself, it would be an elderly family member pulling him away by the ear, exerting my authority over him, that is if I could even defeat him. I am old, Kurusu, and he is in his physical prime. You experienced it too; he is far, far stronger than when last you fought him."

"He beat me with a single punch. I still have no idea how."

"I do, because that was my move. And I can teach it to you."

Akira looked back to Sotaro. "You taught him that?"

Sotaro nodded. "And much more, boy." He looked to Akira with sadness clouding his old eyes. "Please… slay his beast, Kurusu. I want him to pay for his crimes, to serve just punishment for what he has done. But I do not want him to hate our family forever as well. You can meet him as an equal, and defeat him as an equal."

"And you think this is the best option for dealing with him?"

"I'm certain of it. He is crafty, both strong and headstrong, but my grandson is not cruel. I believe that these more extreme crimes perpetrated by his underlings may have more complex origins than we currently understand."

Akira's lips pursed. "He could just be a bad seed, I think."

"I'm not surprised you may think that way after what he did, but I have faith in my grandson, no matter how unlikely it may seem. But nevertheless, to defeat him, you will need an understanding of the same tools he has. There are more skills at his disposal than you have seen; the Tiger Drop is only one of my moves."

"Tiger Drop? Is that the counter he used against me."

Sotaro stood up, as did Akira. "It is the signature move of the Komaki style. With how you described it, it could only be the Tiger Drop. To master it requires great discipline as well as innate talent, and Sosuke picked it up quite quickly. Now," Sotaro stepped back three paces, "I would like to see what you are capable of. You've defeated Sosuke before – I expect great things from you."

"You sure about this, old timer? I mean, I don't want to hurt you. And I'm not exactly the same fighter I was back when Sosuke fought me."

Sotaro chuckled to himself. "Then perhaps there is hope for you yet." He adopted a rigid fighting stance, his eyes steely and fearless before the younger fighter. "Do not allow me time to make the first move. If you do the same with my grandson, you may have already lost when the time comes."

Akira entered the Dragon Stance yet kept his Heat quelled. Fighting his mother was one thing, and what he had proven capable of would likely be fatal to most normal fighters. Komaki raised his hand and wagged his index finger toward him, beckoning the younger fighter. Akira smirked, impressed by the old man's bravado, and lunged into the first attack.

Something hit him in the gut, and the world just as suddenly spun around him, and he was on the ground staring up at the sky. It took a few seconds before he felt the pain in his back and core, though nothing too severe. He sat up, more bewildered than pained, and shook the daze from his head. "What the hell was that?"

"You hold back," said Komaki from behind him. "I could see it in your first movement. You were restrained, slowing yourself. Because I am old, yes?"

"I just…" he slowly stood up, "wanted to see get a feel for your skills, Komaki."

"Do not get a feel. Fight me, dammit!"

Akira cracked his neck to the side, feeling slightly embarrassed and quite aggravated. This time, he charged far quicker, unleashing a mighty jab, but hit only air. In a single breath's time, he was kneeling on the ground, caught in a mighty hold from behind. "I guess that you did not fight so callowly with my grandson," Sotaro said into his ear. "If you held back against him, you would have already lost."

So it continued for some time. Akira would get more and more pissed off and could nary land a hit on the old man. It was three attempts later before he finally touched him, but was quickly pushed aside by Sotaro's incredible skills. However, he did show some slow improvement, developing more and more responses to Komaki's defense, until Akira finally collapsed to the ground in exhaustion from their sparring, breathing heavily on his back.

"Where did you learn all that, old man?" Akira gasped out.

"Some from all over the world, some I taught myself. I've thought about spending my twilight years writing it down in a book, after my body is rendered entirely incapable of practicing martial arts. I've seen quite a few extraordinary things in my time that might make for some interesting anecdotes."

"Hell, I'd read it," Akira shrugged, sitting up. "And don't worry, your secret is safe with me. I won't let anyone know that you're here."

"Good. I'll stick around until you finally learn how to beat Sosuke. We will maintain your training whenever you are ready, and starting soon, I will instruct you in some of my signature techniques that Sosuke has adopted. Only then will you be able to defeat him."

"The Tiger Drop on that list?"

"Imperatively. You will be unable to defeat him at all if you do not master that technique. However, I do hope you learned at least one thing today. I noticed you were beginning to anticipate some of my strikes and knock them away with the back of your arm. It seems you are beginning to learn the Komaki Knockback. Very good," he nodded. "That is the most basic of all my techniques but will serve you well in any encounter."

"Yeah, it doesn't feel bad at all," Akira shook out his tired, stinging hand. "I'll keep that in mind whenever I'm in a fight again."

"See that you do. Even the most rudimentary techniques can decide a victory or loss. Now go, young one. Meditate on what you have learned, but do not forget our training. Tomorrow morning at sunrise. Be here."

"Yes, uh, sir."

Sotaro shrugged his shoulders and began to walk away.

"Uh, where are you going?" Akira asked. "Aren't you supposed to be in hiding?"

"To hide," he stopped a moment, "does not require one to be invisible, should they know how to simply not be seen. Take care, Kurusu." He waved to Akira and continued off, leaving the younger man entirely confused.

"Crotchety old timer, but he seems to be the real deal," he remarked, looking out over the river. "Guess I have a new master now… somehow."

And he made his way back to rejoin his friends, who had just sat down for breakfast. They remarked on the grass stains and marks on his skin, but he deflected the question by changing the subject. Akira and Ann found themselves sitting together at the table, which seemed to be a more and more common occurrence as of late. He had not explicitly intended to sit next to her, but could not say the same for her. Nonetheless, it was an entirely pleasant arrangement, and he found himself distracted by how lovely she looked even fresh out of bed, though obviously with some time to make herself presentable. The sunlight pouring through the windows truly loved her bright blond hair as it danced through her flowing locks…

And it was then that Akira realized he had spilled some milk on his pants as he was haplessly staring at her. He did not know whether or not she had noticed the spillage or staring as he carefully tried to clean himself up without drawing too much attention to himself.

Ann did notice. And she was quite flattered.

…

The morning passed unassumingly until Haru received a message on her pager that her "package" had arrived. "Oh, wonderful," she beamed. "Ryuji, the car should be outside."

"For real!?" Ryuji bolted out the door with a bright, childlike smile on his face, and all his friends had to follow. Ryuji stopped in his tracks as he saw a proper, debonair butler stepping out of an absolutely, gob-smackingly beautiful red car on the curb. And with a nod, silently confirming to Ryuji that yes, this was real life and not a dream, motioned toward the driver's seat. "Sakamoto-sama, I presume."

"Y-yeah," he stammered.

"Your steed, sir," said the butler.

Ryuji's eyes widened, and he felt he could nearly cry at what he was witnessing. He did not even notice Haru and their friends coming up behind him, and with a quite prideful smile, Haru declared, "The Ferrari F40 roadster. Uh, please be gentle with her. There's only a couple hundred of them in Japan."

Ryuji's eyes bulged and his mouth fell agape as he took in the slim body, the elegant spoiler, the gold-colored rims, the iconic Ferrari red shining in the morning sunlight, and the low, powerful rumbling of the magnificent engine. "I-I, uh, I don't, I…" he stammered with absolute glee, which Haru took a special shining to. "This is… I mean, this is a real Ferrari, Haru! These things go for, what? 600 mil?"

"Around there, yes. We bought it directly from the Ferrari lot itself last year."

Yusuke seemed almost as enamored with the car as Ryuji was, in his own way. "Absolutely remarkable," he said. "I'm not an expert on automobiles, but that is an art piece, friends."

"And you're… you're letting me touch it? Let alone drive it?"

Haru looked down at her feet with a softer smile. "You saved my life, remember? With some incredible driving at that. I… trust you, Ryuji."

Ryuji shook his head in disbelief, but his smile could not be abated. "I don't know what to say. Really."

"Then drive it," Haru urged him. They met each other's gazes for a moment, their friends watching on in endeared fascination. "At least try it."

Ryuji nodded and walked to the butler who handed him the key. He entered the car; it was like it was made for him. The seat, the cockpit, the wheel, the handbrake - everything was immaculately constructed and presented. He put the key in the ignition, and the engine roared to life like the finest aria, prompting Ryuji to close his eyes with a soft moan of satisfaction. Catching himself, he desperately regained his composure and took hold of the wheel, feeling the vibrations of his new "steed".

"You're beautiful, baby," he whispered to the car. "You're a dream." The passenger door suddenly opened, surprising Ryuji. "Whoa-! Jesus, Haru!" he exclaimed as she sat beside him.

"You gonna drive it or do you need some, heh," she chuckled, "privacy?" she asked sweetly.

"Nope, no, no," he shook his head quickly. "Not at all. Just getting a feel for her—it! Getting a feel for it, that's all."

Haru laughed to herself. "Just around the block, come on. Around the block now."

Ryuji breathed deeply, letting the weight of 600-million-yen worth of beautiful machinery fall on his shoulders. The crown of responsibility waved heavily on him, but that weight immediately lightened as he put the car in gear, and drove.

Like an angel did it fly and sing down the street, grabbing the attention of all onlookers. His friends cheered for him, but Ryuji did not hear them. He listened only to the car, its engine roaring to signal a shift of the gears as he rounded turns and charged straights. He noticed Haru seemed completely calm in the experience, that trust she had mentioned apparent in her relaxed posture and content smile. He only drove for a few minutes along the river before bringing it back to the hotel, gliding effortlessly into a stop as his friends gathered around them.

"So?" Haru asked. "What do you think?"

Ryuji could not hold back his smile, and his boyish giggling, as he met her gaze while his friends came up to the windows, basking in the glory of the car. "We're gonna win that fucking race!" Ryuji proclaimed confidently to his passenger, holding up his fist to her.

She nodded to him, and as their fists met, said, "Goddamn right we will!" They laughed heartily in excitement.

"Thanks," Ryuji muttered. "A lot."

Haru shook her head. "Thank you," she said softly, barely audible over the engine's rumble.

[Reviews are always welcome. Thank you to all my readers.]