"Oh, Miu. Is that a new shirt?" Shirahama inquired through a naive, wholesome smile.

Renka huffed, her arms folding across her chest. Sure, sure — Kenichi notices when Miu wears a simple T-shirt: one of those free promotional shirts that they give away at booths on college campuses, during those miscellaneous student fairs they have. Of course, the Elder procured it through the means of acting like a 20-year old student named Garyu-something. Whatever, Renka wasn't really paying attention when the Ryozanpaku locals described what happened. What was on her mind right now was…

… The fact that she blew all of the tips she made from her job to buy this new (revealing) qipao, no thanks to that accursed prince's dress-tearing antics, and instead, Kenichi honed in on the stupid T-shirt that Miu was sporting! Tch! He's just focused on those giant mammaries, that's all! No wonder Kisara calls her the "Dairy Cow!"

Suffice to say, it was yet another bad day. Was she cursed with the inability to attract male attention…? She posed the question to herself, and yet, guys down the street were turning to ogle her curves, accentuated by her new attire.

Renka continued to traipse through Tokyo, head down, eyes glued to her silk slippers — oblivious as her thoughts honed in on her own papa. Aside from the obvious fact that he had abandoned her in China, and still currently insists on living separately from her... he, too, had the tendency to brush her off. Always busy "training" Kenichi, only to go off and read Playboy magazines with him. He claims it's Renka's overbearing mother that drove him away, but what if … what if it was her own shortcomings as a daughter? What could she have done better?

Thoughts like this were better suited to a secluded forest just outside of town. The leaves were golden brown, just beginning to fall. The perfect autumn weather. Breathtaking sights, yet relaxing and soothing to the soul. Perfect for training. And perfect for tending to the wounds of overwhelming negativity — especially when trying to conceal such vulnerable feelings. Not very many people visit the area due to dangerous wildlife. Of course, such creatures were nothing Renka couldn't handle.

A little meditation ought to stave off such despondency, Renka thought, and promptly perched herself on the branch of a tree, eyes welded shut.

Breathe in…

Breathe out…

… CRAACCK. The sound of a twig snapping.

Her pigtails twitched. Who's there?

An eye cracked open, pupil adjusting size until it managed to focus in on the individual beneath her.

… No.

No way.

It's him, that blonde bastard. Mr. Natsu Tanimoto himself.

Shortly after transferring into Koryo High and seeing his (unused) nameplate at the Shinpaku Alliance's headquarters, it was obvious to the cat that he was a martial artist, too. A puzzling one that challenged her to a fight with his powerful killing intent, but then pretended like it never happened. Talk about mixed signals, sheesh. However, there was no mistake that he was a fighter. But to what extent?

Over the last month or so, Renka had kept a closer ear to the ground and gathered intel about this "Hermit" guy that plagued the streets of Tokyo. How he was a part of the now-disbanded Ragnarok — its dismantling being an event that she simply wasn't present for, still tucked away in her uncle's restaurant deep within the heart of Chinatown.

Well, hearing of this cloaked individual wasn't new to her; what was new was how she noticed that those in the alliance seem to call the blonde by the same code name, but only within their secret meetings... that Renka often had to break into, uninvited. Stupid alien never tells her when they're being held! She wasn't that disruptive, was she? (She was.)

Why was Tanimoto's identity such a secret? Why did he act so differently at school? Was it really the same guy?

Questions plagued her mind as she observed him from the trees. He appeared to be strolling around with little urgency, and yet he already seemed pre-programmed with a destination in mind. His path was direct, and he took no time to observe his surroundings. It was clearly familiar to him. Renka squinted, suspicious of his presence. Why was he out here, and where could he be heading?

It didn't take much to convince the cat to tail him, assuming that his ultimate objective was likely malevolent in some way, shape, or form. Was he a drug dealer? Is that why he was so rich? His father was supposedly a successful businessman, but perhaps that was all a front!

Renka continued to inaudibly dart from tree to tree, as silent as the gentle wind; the rustling of leaves with each leap could be mistaken for the soft breeze, and the prince hadn't noticed her presence.

… But, even if he thought he was alone, it was strange that he suddenly decided to stray from the path he was taking and… plop down right under a tree, as if struck by a sudden wave of narcolepsy. He lay down, upper back pressed up against the tree trunk, and became still as a statue, save for the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

Renka's features scrunched together. What — what the hell was he doing? Did he come all the way out there to take a nap? Because that sure as hell wasn't meditating!

. . .

A few soundless minutes passed, and he made no efforts to move from his spot. He… he really was asleep?

Renka grew impatient and began to approach the sleeping prince. She questioned everything: from his motives, to why his hair was perfectly blonde like that (was it dyed?) to … how bizarre it was that he could look absolutely angelic while asleep. It's nothing like the jerkish attitude he had while conscious.

But alas, as they say: curiosity killed the cat.

Natsu's eyes flashed open, forcing a faux yawn out between his lips. An accomplished actor he was, and it was impossible to determine the authenticity of his exhaustion.

"Ah, Kitty Ma, you came to visit."

His princely smile beamed in the light of the sunset; he stretched his arms up and over his head… then promptly aimed to scratch behind her ear, that grin of his darkening into something mischievous. Could he get away with it a second time?

It was embarrassing to have been caught staring at someone while they were "asleep," and that fact alone almost made Renka succumb to his charms once more — but she had deftly clutched onto his wrist this time around.

"Oh no, you don't!"

"Agh—!" Natsu attempted to retract his hand with haste, acting as if he had made no intentional moves to antagonize her first. It was her, harassing him without reason, obviously! "The hell are you doing here?!"

"What are you doing here?! I go here when I'm upset— I mean— … when I'm trying to… clear my mind!" Her defensive words only strengthened her steel grip on his wrist; any other poor sap who hadn't been conditioned to handle such force would have their bones snap in an instant. Renka was avoiding eye contact, nose snootily pointed to the sky.

"I'm here for personal reasons," the blonde shot back, her death grip simultaneously pissing him off and impressing him with the sheer strength she possessed. Of course, it was to be expected of a daughter of Ma. The niece of his terrible, but great master.

But this had gone on for far too long. He sensed her little chase earlier — it was cute that she even thought he wouldn't notice her pathetic efforts to stalk him — and thought he could get a laugh or two out of her dumbassery. Clearly, that wasn't going to happen. The cat was overstaying her welcome, and way too close to him for comfort.

He exhaled through his nose, trying to quell his rage. "Are you going to let me go or what?"

"Are you going to get out of my forest or what? … I don't— I don't want anyone with the likes of you near here!"

Something about what she yelled felt self-sabotaging, her heart craving some form of company during this disheartening day. But how could she ever admit that? Especially to this guy?

"Your forest?" The prince scoffed. "As if you could afford this place. Besides, I train here whenever your uncle decides to go off on some journey."

Yes, Tanimoto had reunited with Sougetsu Ma in recent days, but was still apparently known for vanishing without a trace. Like brother, like brother. A couple of abandoners, leaving their poor disciples without direction, dawdling around during their pursuit to keep up with their peers. Renka was fortunate in that her Uncle Hakubi had taken on the title of temporary sensei.

Great. Reminded of her papa again, who still won't come back home to China with her, among other things. The cat relinquished the crabby boy's wrist from her claws, and turned away in exasperation.

"Fine, I don't care anymore! Just— just—... nyah!"

She stomped away, shrill voice trailing off.

Well, it seemed that Tanimoto won. And yet, he didn't. The weird feeling he harbored in his stomach vexed him. He no longer wanted to stay there; it smelled like her.

"You know what, keep the damn forest!"

His fist pounded the trunk of a nearby tree, and a gym bag fell from the thicket of leaves. A small segment of midnight blue fabric seemed to protrude from the partially opened zipper. He swiftly caught the bag, and also began to take his leave.

It could have ended here.

It could have, and the two would have no longer butted heads for the rest of the school year.

But it didn't.

"Fine! I will!" Renka declared from afar, flicking a pebble at him. A simple action turned nearly homicidal, for her sheer strength sent the small rock hurtling at the blonde disciple with the speed of a bullet.

A simple tilt of his head caused the makeshift bullet to ricochet onto the tree behind him and up in some random direction.

The tree fell, defeated on impact. And the resulting crash echoed through the silence as the cold prince stared Renka down.

. . .

His cobalt eyes seemed to disappear beneath flaxen curtains; the area had dropped about 10 degrees, and his aura became suffocating, sucking the life out of everything within a 5 mile radius. All the wildlife fled the area, and what little care he had for the kitten had disintegrated in his burning rage.

… Renka's pupils shrank in alarm, his unbridled killing intent choking her senses. A sensation she was conditioned to withstand.

So.

This was the true Natsu Tanimoto. More accurately, this was Hermit, the former Sixth Fist of Ragnarok that she's heard tall tales about — just without that fabled cloak. This was the side of him that she had only learned of from terrified thugs on the street, but never fully witnessed for herself. She was right to think he was shady!

Finally. His true colors were shown, without all the misleading layers of masks and lies. It was terrifying, and yet …

… Electrifying. Invigorating.

Someone who would actually dare to hit her, unlike Shirahama.

Someone who would put up a good challenge for once.

With her heart pounding, a daring smile shone through, adrenaline pumping through her veins. Her wrists raised up to the height of her chin, arms straight but relaxed. Open palms placed themselves on the defensive, right leg perched behind her to support all her weight. She sank deep into her cat stance as Hermit began to speak, his frigid voice in complete contrast with his aura.

"I think you lost something."

"Oh? What's that?"

"Your damned mind!"

From arctic words to boiling fury. The enraged martial artist flung his bag aside and dashed forward with a knifehand, golden leaves obliterated in his wake.