Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Today started like any other day.

The overbearing sun beat down relentlessly on the living beings beneath it. The great big ball of light high above the sky didn’t mean to cause any distress, as the heat was a byproduct of its own existence. Without the sun, most life as we know it would’ve gone extinct a long time ago. With the sun, we’re able to live happy, fulfilling lives...well, most of us bear through day to day tasks. In return for the sun’s life giving heat, we learn to deal with it.

Dealing with it comes with being a farmer in Tosa.

You don’t get to experience pleasures like air conditioning, refreshing water, or even sitting down for hours on end. Especially me, someone who hasn’t experienced a single luxury for years. Twelve years to be exact. Ever since the day I lost my father to an accident, I took the responsibility of the family legacy on my shoulders. Maintaining the farming business he worked hard to get off the ground and spread the practice of Rindoukan karate to the world. So far, it has had its fair share of ups and downs. Way more downs than ups, regardless I have been able to keep myself afloat with the customers I haven’t lost and dedicate all of my other time to martial arts.

But sometimes I can’t help, but to ask myself...

Will I be doing this forever?

“And here’s three pounds of apples. Thanks for your business.” Makoto handed over the knapsack full of apples over to the elder gentleman. “No problem, sonny. You’ve got the best tasting apples out of anyone in the market. Shame more people haven’t caught onto that.” The old man took a bite with what teeth he had left, “I know! Perhaps if you smiled more...”

“How many times do I have to tell ya? I’m a girl.” Makoto hissed. The old man adjusted his glasses, “OH! So you are! Please excuse me, I tend to be forgetful in my old age. Toodles.”

Makoto laid her back against the stand, “Well there goes my third customer in five hours. Business keeps on booming.” Out of everyone at the farmer’s market Makoto was the most famous with her participation in the Street Fighter Tournament series. However, Makoto’s lack of a high placement in such a well regarded fighting tournament meant nothing to a huge chunk of the population. With those citing that her placement was nothing to write home about.

...But it was the experience of a lifetime...

Blood trickled down the side of Makoto’s face. Sharp breaths drew in and out of her mouth. She could barely make out the image of her opponent from across the ring. A blurred image that wobbled through her swollen eyes. “I’m not...finished!” Makoto charged forward using the remaining energy in her being on one single punch. The rest after that was a complete blur, but the result had been an obvious one. She lost.

In the end Makoto had fallen flat unconscious, halfway across the ring.

“MAKOTO! MAKOTO! MAKOTO! MAKOTO!”

I could still hear the crowd calling out to me.

“Yoohoo. Hello? Anybody home?”

...That’s not what they said...

“Hey. Hey! You alright?”

Makoto returned to Planet Earth to see a fresh face in front of her. It wasn’t a beaten down middle aged person or the leathery face of an elder, but it was the face of someone Makoto’s own age. “Hey. What’s up?” The girl perked up, “Some old guy told me to check out your stand. Said you had tasty produce.”

Old man Mashima. Always got my back.

“What ya lookin’ for?” asked Makoto, attempting to maintain the smile Mashima advised her on, “I’ve got the best fruit from all around Japan just right here.”

The girl began dragging her eyes over the selection, “Good question.” she muttered, placing a finger on her chin. Makoto’s eyes were magnetized to the girl’s long pony tail that goes above her head and dangles all the way down to her thigh. Makoto made note of the girl’s jeans tattered around the knees, the many accessories around her bookbag and waist.

Nobody around here dresses like that. The girl must be new to the area, possibly just come in from an urban area like Tokyo.

Then there was the girl’s exposed arms and shoulders, aside from muscular definition, Makoto spotted the barely visible scars along them, “You fight?”

“Fight? Me? No. I just like to keep myself in shape.” A quick answer. One good enough to satisfy Makoto’s curiosity. For now.

The girl continued looking over the apples, blueberries, peaches, and other fruits in stock. “Do you have any durians? They’re my favorite!”

Makoto scratched the back of her head, “Actually, I’m sold out. The next harvest is in a couple weeks. Come back then and I’ll have some fresh fruit for ya.”

The girl hiked up her backpack, “Sounds like a deal. See ya then!”

Hours later, the liveliness of the farmer’s market had died down. Loud thumping of wooden panels sealing the windows echoed around the area as vendors closed up shop for the day. Makoto gathered the remaining unsold produce into a bucket which would be used for dinner over the next few days.

Orange sunlight bathed the steep dirt forest path Makoto trekked. Opposite to the usual noise of the farmer’s market, Makoto arrived home to dead silence. Just like the way it's been for years. Makoto threw down her satchel and set the bucket of produce in the kitchen. She changed from her farmer attire into a loose-fitting, patched up gi. Something far more comfortable.

Makoto’s father, Masaru, imagined that his son, Mokoto, would grow into a worthy successor of the Rindo-kan style and inherit the dojo after his passing. His time, unfortunately, came well before anyone imagined soon after he had been humbled by a mysterious man in South America. Makoto’s family and the residents of Tosa comforted him on his return after he had shared the details of his defeat. Regardless of everyone doing their best to raise his spirits it was clear that Masaru was a changed man.

Makoto remembered the last time she saw him. It was at night on the porch leading out onto the forest. Makoto walked in on him leaving for his usual weeklong trip into the forest for training.

“I want you to have this.” His tone sounded somber and broken, but his face showed the opposite. Masaru unraveled the yellow headband from his balding head, folded it properly with care, and gently placed it in Makoto’s hands. “Promise that you will carry on the Rindo-Kan legacy.” Makoto only nodded her head.

Masaru smiled.

He didn’t return.

Several search parties were sent out into the forest with very little direction or indication of his whereabouts. Makoto had remained hopeful, “He probably just decided to stay out there longer.” Or “He’s just working really hard on a new technique he discovered. You’ll see!”

That wasn’t the case. One member of the search party gently described to Makoto is that an incident took his life.

“I’m so sorry.” Old Man Mashima, back then just Mashima, told Makoto and Mokoto with tears welling in his eyes.

Mokoto, made the decision to quit martial arts that day to prioritize his studies. Whereas her brother had left the fighting behind, Makoto had felt it was her mission, fulfilling the wishes of her father to pick up the pieces and restore Rindo-kan karate to its former glory. Makoto took the gi her brother was no longer using and asked her grandfather, Riku, to train her. The request was quickly accepted with a strong hug and shed tears.

Over the years it’s become worn, dingy, and home to a musty smell that couldn’t be washed out. There are areas along the fabric that have been noticeably patched up from battle damage, giving the whole outfit an odd color inconsistency of white and off-white. None of that mattered to Makoto. She continued to wear the gi around to tournaments and dojo challenges with pride.

The rickety dojo door slid away by the minuscule force from Makoto’s hand. The musky stench of sun-warming wood hit her with a sense of nostalgia. It reminded her of the days when there was less of a struggle to stay afloat.

Makoto stood beside the wooden dummy affixed to the floor and began to warm up. Stretches; arms, legs, waist, neck, and knee highs. Running and jumping in place until she felt blood pumping from her heart. Once Makoto had felt satisfied with her warmup she looked eyes with the dummy. A thick wooden log standing upright with strong branches sticking from its side.

With one long exhale from her nose, Makoto began her training regime.

Loud ‘CRACK’s and ‘THWACK’s echoed through the wooden structure as Makoto unleashed her fury on the dense piece of wood. She aims to make each blow more devastating than the last over longer durations. Yesterday, she managed to go for forty five minutes. Today, she wanted fifty out of herself at the very least.

And those fifty minutes passed by with Makoto’s exhausting ever limb on her body. Scraps of skin and droplets of blood stained the wooden training dummy. The bandaging around Makoto’s calloused knuckles had worn down into tatters.

Makoto leaned on the doorframe as she turned the dojo lights off. She kept thoughts of acknowledging that she had gone too far at bay. Tomorrow she needs to go harder than today.

No excuses.

“Dinner Time.”

One of Makoto’s few luxuries in life were a nice warm bowl of vegetable soup, a cup of green tea, and a view of the night sky to die for. She leaned her sore back against the post of the porch. This was one of the reasons why she could never leave Tosa. It never really changed. Tosa had always been a quiet isolated spot from any sort of trouble.

Except for that new customer she happened to meet today.

“Perhaps things are gonna start changing after all.”

Makoto scoffed.

“As if.”

Chapter Text

Several weeks ago...

Tokyo, Japan.

“The next train to Shibuya Station will be departing in five minutes.”

A parade of shuffling feet increased in tempo as the sense of urgency rose. The morning rush of busy people swarmed into a chaotic stream.

Bustle. Bustle.

Hustle. Hustle.

Shoulders of pedestrians jabbed and bumped into one another to earn a muttered, “Excuse me”, before bumping into the next one. People who hopped off the train involuntarily joined the madness while the lucky passengers packed themselves like sardines aboard the railed vehicle.

Literally.

Due to Japan’s ever growing issue of overpopulation, public transportation started to lose the comfort it once had many years ago. To the point where the train stations needed hired hands to push passengers further in for the doors to close completely. Oftentimes, trains would reach full capacity minutes before departure, forcing the accidentally less punctual to wait more than an hour for another train to the same destination.

Kiryu Hyuga's determination to not be late burned like molten lava. His teeth sank further into his cigar upon picking up his pace. He’s a stout and sturdy well-dressed man, yet on the short side. Odd looking too. Big puffy lips, discolored teeth, and a thinning uneven hairline. Growing up, Kiryu wasn’t one to let his looks stop him from getting what he wanted in life. He succeeded in securing a top position at one of Japan’s leading security technology companies and marrying the most beautiful woman he’s laid eyes on. That woman tucked a list in his wallet earlier that morning containing items needed to make their anniversary night special.

“Almost there,” He mumbled, spotting the train. He pumped his feet even more while barely returning to the polite responses from pushing his way through the sea of swarming passengers.

Before setting foot out of the stream, Kiryu was blindsided by a direct impact from a pedestrian. He fell flat on his back. His odd stature made it difficult for him to scramble to his feet. “Oh my gosh! My apologies! Let me help you up.” Kiryu felt himself lifted upward and set onto his feet, he looked back to see the person at fault was a young woman.

His eyes met with her face, or rather of what he could see. The young woman wore a mask that covered her nose and everything beneath it. Kiryu felt stricken by her brown sharp eyes that tried to cool his burning temper.

“Hey! Why don’t you watch where you’re going?!” the business man fumed, swinging his stubby arms around. The young woman bowed, “So sorry. Won’t happen again.”

“Stupid punk,” he growled. Visible steam rose from underneath his shoddy combover. Kiryu angrily carried on towards the train where he managed to get one of the last spots. The train departed from the station shortly after.

As a part of subconscious actions, Kiryu did the three point check; patting your pockets to check your phone, keys, and wallet. He did so.

Phone. Check.

Keys. Check.

Wallet...

In his back pocket. Nothing. The other back pocket. Nothing. He turned and checked the seat he sat in incase it fell out.

No wallet.

Wallet and Anniversary list. Gone. Check.

Kiryu gulped.

“What do we have here? It’s a list. Handcuffs? Blindfolds? A whip? Lemon juice? Ooo. Kinky. But not useful.” Ibuki tossed the list along with the other trash on the roof. “For a guy dressed up so nice he wasn’t carrying much,” Kiryu’s wallet contained enough cash for a light breakfast; a blueberry muffin and a black coffee with three sugars and a pump of caramel syrup. There was his credit card, but usage would require a PIN number only the owner would know. Not worth the trouble it would cause. The wallet ended up with the anniversary list.

Ibuki chomped away what was left of the muffin and leapt from the twenty foot rooftop she perched on into the back alley where a couple strides put her right in the streets of Tokyo.

Tokyo felt alive today just like any other day. The sound of thousands of pedestrian footsteps, honking cars, billboard video ads, and construction all formed together to create the daily chaotic symphony. Ibuki played in this symphony too, she played the part of the band member who pretended to play their instrument and sat furthest from the audience and the band itself.

Or to put it plainly, Ibuki isn’t a contributing member of society like everyone else who walked the same street. In order to survive in Japan without a job, Ibuki made use of what skills she learned from ninja training; mainly using her sharp skill in sleight of hand to steal from unsuspecting people. Ibuki’s ability to pickpocket the residents of Tokyo without getting caught only got better throughout the years. Not that she was proud to admit it.

Ibuki sipped from the coffee cup again, it’s nearly empty. What little coffee remained was cold to the touch of her lips. Still, she held it in her hand and took smaller sips. It made her look busy, “Oh, look there she goes with that coffee. Must need an extra boost before clocking in at her job.” She imagined the man passing by thinking those words.

“You see her? She’s super pretty and in shape. She must be a model signed with an exclusive modeling agency.” This time Ibuki imagined the two elderly women she just passed muttering that to one another.

Ibuki walked along the street far enough to leave the heart of Tokyo and into an area where everything began to look less modern. Then further to a part of town that was regarded as run-down. The pavement making up the sidewalk was damaged. Trash littered nearly every square foot she walked. Ibuki stopped at a corner and took a sharp right into an alleyway.

In said alleyway, a pipe affixed to a not-so abandoned building runs from the ground to the roof. Ibuki uses this to climb her way towards the fourth and final floor. There a double wide window is opened with ease to where she smoothly slides her way in.

“Back home.”

Ibuki slid onto the bed sheet, also known as her bed, on the floor and grabbed the ball beside it. She tossed it at the wall.

Years ago, Ibuki had a home in the Glade of Ninjas. It was beautiful. Surrounded by nature. A place of peace and prosperity. For the most part. It all changed in a blink of an eye when the Glade came under surprise attack by a rival ninja clan. They fought back, but the dwindling numbers forced them to retreat. Only her and a few others made it out alive, yet she didn’t know where they went.

She squeezed the ball in her palm, “They’re out there...somewhere.”

After the attack, Ibuki made her way to Tokyo in hopes of finding them here. Unfortunately, her search ended up fruitless. Tired and low on resources, Ibuki made her stay in Tokyo. More specifically in this building on the top floor of a small, unoccupied, broken down department store.

Others without homes came to the same idea. The lower floors of the building soon became occupied with the homeless population. Ibuki decided to keep her presence unknown in case they would try to steal her belongings or do something shifty as she slept. She barricaded the entrance to the fourth floor sometime ago. It did work, but only at the cost of a few particular residents coming to the conclusion that a spirit haunted the fourth floor due to the noises from above.

Again, Ibuki threw the ball against the wall, “Perhaps I can try to get a cutlet bowl for lunch. Maybe a hotdog or something.” Without money or anyone else around there isn’t much else she could do to keep herself entertained. Throwing the ball against the wall had become as dull as watching paint dry. Still, she laid back and threw the ball yet again.

Lunchtime came and went without any successful pickpocketing attempt. The targets either had their money stashed elsewhere or were too elderly for Ibuki to prey on. Ibuki faced the same struggle during dinnertime. She had wandered along the streets of Tokyo searching for a target all the way till midnight. Her stomach loudly howled like a wolf calling to the moon. As much as she hated to fall back on it there was always the unfortunate, Plan B.

Her eyes were met with an overfilled garbage bin along the street, “Fuck me.”

The pungent smell alone made her eyes water, “I don’t have to eat today. I could wait until the morning and bump into someone else at the Train station.” Her stomach growled again. “And hope they’re carrying cash.” Ibuki paced back and forth, “I could probably just sleep this off and feel fine in the morning.” The growling got louder. It felt as if her own stomach started to digest itself in order to satisfy the hunger pangs. Ibuki exhaled and began digging through the garbage.

As fortune would have it, Ibuki didn’t need to dig in too deep to find a suitable meal. In her hands she held a nearly empty plastic bowl of ramen from a vending machine and a half eaten egg sandwich with a soggy bun. Possibly from all the beer dripping on it. The ninja begrungedly started her meal and did her best to keep her mind off of where the food came from. Hot tears rolled down her cheek as she forced the food down.

Getting a job wouldn’t be an option. Managers don’t simply hand out pay in cash value. But in checks, which require a bank to cash. Ibuki doesn’t have the credentials for that. No place nearby was old fashioned enough to pay in cash anyhow.

“Oooh. Here it comes.” Ibuki drew herself from the garbage bin, away from the smell. She slammed her hand over her mouth as she retched and shook, trying to keep her meal down.

She needed something to take her mind off of it.

Then it came.

A distraction.

Noise from down the alleyway.

Muffled screaming and excitement.

Ibuki walked down the alley to the staircase where the chipped steps led to a grey metal door. From underneath the door, a neon pink glow radiated onto the grey concrete. Jeers and hollers seeped through, making Ibuki all the more curious. “I’m almost certain that I know what this place could be...just a quick peek.”

Just behind the door, Ibuki found herself between two bleachers and before a ring surrounded by a chain link cage. Two men fought against one another inside. Hollers from the entertained spectators drowned out the sounds of each impact, but from a visual standpoint it was clear that the two combatants meant business. Elbow strikes, headbutts, donkey kicks, wrestling throws, dropkicks. One combatant suddenly achieved a competitive edge on the other. A hardy headbutt stunned the other, letting the bearded combatant land a clean pile driver. The spectators burst into a mixture of joy and disappointment. They collectively stomped off the bleachers to collect their winnings. Ibuki saw the referee hand the fighters their earnings in cash for tonight.

“I can do this.”

There was no way she could enter herself as just ‘Ibuki’. Some girl from the street didn’t seem like a character the people would root for. No. She needed some kind of alternate identity. A whole new persona. That very morning, Ibuki stepped into the hobby store across the hall for the first time in years, “I need something that screams mysterious, but shows my personality just a bit.” She grabbed as much cloth as she could. Mostly in the color black, brown, and white. The building lacked any electricity to make the sewing machines operable, leading Ibuki to do the sewing by hand. Slowly, but surely enough, Ibuki endured enough frustration and accidental finger pricks to bring her alternate identity to reality.

“Ladies and Gentleman! I am proud to announce a brand new fighter!” The referee waved his arm to the corner, “Standing at one hundred and twenty one pounds at five foot four inches. The Black Tanuki!”, the spotlight hovered over Ibuki to the crowd's silence. A few coughs too. Ibuki felt relieved to not instantly get negative feedback on her outfit. If the name wasn’t enough of a give away, Ibuki created her costume to look like a human Tanuki. Dark in color with a styled mask to hide her face.

“And in this corner, still fighting for his first win in the beginners circuit! The Masked Saikyooooooo!” A man dressed in a pink gi and a red tengu mask rolled into the spotlight. The crowd reacted in uproarious laughter.

“Not this guy again,” one said.

“Get the hell off the stage!” Said another.

Some even threw half empty beer bottles. The man balled his fists and started to cry, but not from the spectator’s disapproval, “This is all for you father.”

DING DING

“Begin!”

The Masked Saikyo’s had an impressive physique that didn't match his fighting capability. The strikes he threw out were weak and misguided. As if he didn’t know the true art of fighting. He was clumsy and underwhelming too. Almost tripping over his own feet in some instances. Adversely, Ibuki’s lightning fast style of fighting and flashy moves won the crowd over with ease. “Uh, pardon me.” She approached her opponent between rounds, “You don’t want to tuck your thumb into your first. It’s supposed to act as a guard.” The Black Tanuki gently approached her opponent to demonstrate. The crowd began to laugh.

“Like this,” her fist shot forward, “From the hip. Got it?”

DING DING

The man nodded, “So, you mean...I throw a punch...LIKE THIS?!” The Masked Saikyo took The Black Tanuki by surprise with an uppercut. She recoiled, wiping the spittle from her mouth, “Big mistake, long nose.” The Black Tanuki unleashed a series of lightning fast strikes that left the Masked Saikyo reeling in pain. With one final fierce kick, The Masked Saikyo flew into the air and landed on his head with a thunderous ‘THUD’. The crowd screamed and cheered. Not from the victory alone, but from The Black Tanuki’s stunning performance.

“Nice fight, kid. Ya got personality.” A sleazy man sauntered over. He stature was much like a snake. Thin as a rail. Tall as a tree. Oily skin to match. He pinched his cigar between his fingers. “Name’s Gonzo. I'm running this here joint.” From his coat pocket, he handed Ibuki an envelope full of yen. “Don’t get cocky. The fights up ahead will be nowhere as easy as that one was. But, uh, don’t stop that from letting you ‘wow’ the crowd like you did today.”

Ibuki, or as the spectators knew her, The Black Tanuki rose through the ranks. Wielding the unconventional martial art of ninjutsu gave her the upper hand against every opponent. For a while, Ibuki had it all; A badass job, stable and increasing income, a secret identity that was loved by her fans, and peace of mind.

Tragically, as life would have it. Nice things don’t last forever.

Everything went as normal that Saturday night. The Black Tanuki vaulted her way into the ring and hyped up the crowd. The spectators all screamed her name louder and louder. Claps and cheers rang through the interior, “In this corner, The Black Tanuki who needs no introduction!” Applause raged on. The Black Tanuki humbly bowed.

The referee stuck a finger in the air, “We do have a special competitor joining us tonight.” The referee paused for dramatic effect, “Weighing in at four hundred and forty pounds and standing at seven feet ten inches.” He waved his arm out as a large shadow crept over the ring.

The Black Tanuki watched wide-eyed as her competitor hunched over to enter the cage. He effortlessly caused the ring to quake each monstrous step, “Hailing all the way from Germany.” His emotionless chiseled face didn’t move an inch as he walked forward in a Frankenstein-like fashion. His presence alone captured half of the space inside the cage.

“HUGOOOOOO!”

The crowd cheered for their new gargantuan competitor. No matter the outcome the spectators knew they were in for a match of a lifetime. The Black Tanuki didn’t share the same feeling, “I can’t let this guy get a hit on me.”

DING DING

Ibuki went on with the match despite the circumstances, delivering strikes at a blazing fast speed. However, Hugo’s girth absorbed everything The Black Tanuki had to offer. No matter of trickery or power could make a scratch on Hugo. The mountainous man stood as still as stone.

“OW! THAT HURTS!” He taunted. His deep gravelly voice rattled Ibuki’s ear drums. A pink haired woman shot from her seat, “Enough screwing around, big guy! Time to give ‘em the show they’ve been waiting for!” At that very moment, Hugo’s firm face snapped into a subtle smile. Ibuki continued to dominate the space she had in the ring until the pink dressed monster swung his hands around. He managed to land his first hit on Ibuki, sending her flying into the chain link barrier. The strike had stunned her. She struggled to get to her feet afterward.

“Let me help you up.” Hugo’s big meaty hands clutched Ibuki’s torso as he brought her up to face level. His hands squeezed even tighter, putting pressure on Ibuki's rib cage. Regardless of the brutal sight, the crowd got pumped up even more. Their cheers of excitement drowned out The Black Tanuki’s cries of anguish. Hugo looked toward his manager who gave a thumb down. He smiled. The crowd watched as Hugo flung Ibuki down to the floor like a child play fighting with an action figure.

DING DING DING

A towel flew in from the sidelines and slid down the side of the cage, “Someone has thrown in the towel! The fight is over!” And just like that, the crowd forgot Black Racoon’s legacy just like that and hailed Hugo as their new champion.

“How bad is it?” The sound of a familiar voice was the first thing Ibuki heard. “Four broken ribs, several broken fingers, bruised ankle, and a leg fracture.” The man dressed in a dingy doctor's coat turned to the now awake Ibuki, “At least that muscle bound freak didn’t pull your head right off your neck.” The doctor left the room. Gonzo stepped forward with a somber frown, “As much as we like ya here we can’t go callin’ an ambulance. I ain’t fit to wear no silver bracelets, ya see?” Ibuki nodded her head slowly. Gonzo approached and gently handed Ibuki a bottle of pills, “Take some of these cause I know you’re gonna be hurtin’ for a while. Exits through the back door.” Ibuki carefully set herself off the bed to be immediately rewarded with a shooting pain in her left ankle. The best she could muster is a limp which took herself from the infirmary through the back door. Unless she wanted to brave the heckling from drunk degenerates.

The door slammed shut, closing her off from the world of underground fighting for now. Ibuki hobbled through the dark streets. Her groans echoed into the night. After what felt like an eternity, Ibuki finally managed to make her way right outside of her home. All that’s left is to ascend the pole to her room which seemed much further away than it usually is. There wasn’t much of a choice given the current circumstances. Ibuki wiped the tears away and took deep breaths. She cut off a part of her belt and bit into it.

For the next minute, Ibuki endured the pain felt as if someone jabbed shards of metal through her fingers and joints. With the belt in her mouth her wails of pain were muffled, but still loud. Once in her room, Ibuki popped another painkiller and rested her head down. Ibuki drifted in and out of sleep over the course of several hours. Every time she woke up, she popped a painkiller followed by a drink of water and a snack then went back to sleep. All that was left to do was wait until the injuries healed.

Four men gathered in front of the barricade blocking the fourth floor, “I’m telling ya. T-there’s something up there.” The homeless man known as Arthur swigged from his Whiskey bottle.

“Didn’t you hear it last night?” Spencer looked to his cohorts, “The wailing of some sort of ghost?”

Vergil, a man dressed only in a trench coat, led them into action, “Come on then. Get that shit out of here so I can shut yer yaps once and for all about this ghost.” One by one, they pulled the collection of items away, dismantling the barricade until it was nothing but scraps of wood strewn about the floor. The sound of stumbling feet stirred Ibuki awake, “W-what’s going on?” She held her breath to hear the cautious footsteps trounce along the floor. Quickly she dove behind the counter where they wouldn’t see her from the door.

Frank, one of the homeless men, held up his camera, “There this show I saw on TV that gives cash prizes for ghost sightings. We’ll be filthy stinking rich, fellas!”

“That’s if it exists,” the skeptical one said. Frank took a brave step forward, “We know you’re here, spirit! We ain’t leaving’ without a sign.”

Spencer added, “We can fish it out if we check the rooms. Perhaps it’s in here.” The shuffling of feet got closer and closer. Ibuki acted fast by grabbing the nearby ball, throwing it through the missing panels in the ceiling. The ball managed to gain enough air time to land into the hallway and roll into the cloth store. “Over here!” Frank called out. The homeless men chased the noise. Ibuki peeped her head over the counter to see the bumbling men huddle together, “So, it’s in here, huh?”

Through the ceiling tiles a gust of wind disturbed the tapestry hanging on the walls. Everything danced around as if there was an otherworldly presence. The men stumbled back, immersed in their own fantasy. Frank swung his camera around, “We’re gonna be so rich! Hey Arthur, watcha got there?”

Arthur, the drunken member of the group, lowered a lighter to the piece of cloth dipped in his whiskey bottle, “There’s only one way to solve this! Be gone you bastard spirit!” Without a moment of hesitation, the man lit the piece of cloth on fire and threw the bottle to the other side of the store.

“What the hell?! No!”

Shards of fire exploded on impact, landing on shelves stocked with cloth that quickly spread the fire along. The men’s attempts to contain the sudden fire were null. Tapestries and yarn from the walls burned bright with a mixture of red, yellow, and orange. It all travelled along all four walls quickly reaching the ceiling to transform into a raging sea of flames, “Get out of here. Get out of here now!”

The fire spread fast throughout the confined space as if it were chasing the men fleeing from the building. Ibuki stood in disbelief as one careless action initiated the destruction of her home and all she did was watch. She stuffed what belongings would fit into her bookbag; The leftover fight money, The Black Tanuki outfit, and her sleeping bag. She ran for her own exit. The window leading to the back alley.

“Help!”, the call paused Ibuki mid-vault. A voice from inside cried out again. “Damn it!”, she threw herself back in. Another cry led Ibuki towards the now open staircase. Down at the base level, Ibuki spotted the man who threw the bottle lying face down at the bottom of the stairs. She brought the man to his feet with his arm slung around her shoulder. The trickle of blood from his head stained her shirt, “Who are you?” Arthur mumbled in a wheezed whisper.

“The bastard spirit.”

Outside, the homeless gathered a safe distance away from the burning building. The fire department had already arrived and attached their hoses to the nearby hydrants, but the damage already done wouldn’t save the building. “I thought he was leaving with us,” the man put down his camera, “What happened to him?”

Frank zoomed in on the blazing inferno, “I’m not going back in there. That’s for damn sure.”

“Look!”

From the billowing smoke and heatwaves, Arthur emerged alone from the fire and stumbled to his knees. A pair of firefighters came forth to carry him to safety. “The spirit saved me. It saved me!” He rejoiced.

Ibuki watched from a further distance away. The place she called home vanished into a smoldering pile of debris and ashes in front of her eyes.

“Just my luck.”

She didn’t know where she was going or how far she was going, but it seemed like a good time as ever to skip town.

All she could hope for was to find a place to call home.

A place to find a fresh start.

Chapter Text

Sunday.

A day of rest known to all.

The majority of Tosa remained indoors due to the yet again overbearing late-spring heat. That day the air was thick with humidity. Just one breath of air would set your lungs on fire. The sky was disappointingly clear with nary a cloud in sight.

Within the town, only a few cars roamed along the street accompanied by children playing amongst the sidewalk. Makoto, was one to not be deterred by the sun’s offense. She ran along the countryside. Dry blades of grass in her path were senselessly trampled as her strides continued at a steady pace. The yellow hachimaki wrapped around her neck fluttered in the hot wind behind her.

Makoto ran along the dirt path that passed along numerous homes of fellow farmers and their grassy green fields full of crops. Past the barn where gated off farm animals roamed in their vast field. Over the bridge that connected the two sides of Tosa; Rural into Modern. When crossing the bridge, Makoto increased her pace. Pumping her legs even harder after contact had been made with concrete. She whizzed by places of business even faster. Her skin slick with sweat and red with adrenaline fueled blood.

It wasn’t long until Makoto had been afflicted with a symptom of overexertion. Her mouth watered. Stomach contracted. Green around the gills. She attempted to combat this affliction only for it to worsen Makoto hastily ducked into an alleyway across the street.

HUUUUURK

Five sunny side up eggs and two pieces of toast ended up in a mushy pile on the pavement tucked into an alleyway in town. Makoto leaned against a brick wall gasping to catch her breath. Droplets of sweat from her brow crawled over her shut eyes. Makoto endured her body forcing her to dry heave for minutes before stopping.

“Guess that means workout’s over.”

Once her stomach settled, Makoto made her way into the local shop to buy herself a bottle of water and boba tea. Specifically strawberry flavored milk tea with extra tapioca pearls just the way she liked it. She took a seat outside the store and enjoyed the strawberry taste. Grayish white clouds rolled in from the west, shielding outdoor Tosa residents from the still unrelenting sun.

“That’s better.” Her voice light with relief.

Tosa, as a town, had its share of modern conveniences; restaurants, a train station leading in and out of town, roadways, supermarkets, and so on. When it comes to the quality of these places that’s when the differences start to show. Stores usually don’t carry anything expensive or fancy like you’d find in other places. The true beauty that lies in Tosa is the untouched forestry that spans for miles home to natural rivers and caves with a thriving animal economy. Then there’s the temples and constructions made hundreds of years ago that have been preserved to please the tourists new to the area.

While deep in thought, Makoto’s eyes wandered towards the local highschool where she reminisced of her times inside those walls. During those years Makoto protected her brother who never used martial arts outside the dojo. Whoever she spotted picking on him would wind up in the nurse's office. Sometimes the hospital. The constant violent altercations made it difficult for Makoto to fit in. She was too rough and tumble to hang out with the girls. The boys were too intimidated by previous beatings to give her the time of day.

Most of the time, she ended up in the principal's office due to fights started on her own behalf. Even students who went out of their way to avoid Makoto became victims of her hair triggered rage.

When not in trouble Makoto performed excellently in school exceeding her teachers expectations of a student with her attitude. Except for world studies.

Makoto’s knowledge of the world outside Tosa came from the stories her father told of matches he fought around the world. He painted such a clear picture describing the material and color of the landmarks he saw, even going as far to recreate them by whittling miniature figurines from wood. The knowledge he provided didn’t fare well on quizzes, yet Makoto insisted on his vision.

After Mokoto graduated and attention towards their father’s dojo dwindled Makoto made the decision to drop out just after her third year.

Mokoto...

“That’s right! He’s visiting today!” Makoto jumped to her feet and felt the revenge of the muscle fibers she tore during her run. The adrenaline keeping her from feeling such pain wore off some time ago. However, Makoto enjoyed the feeling of torn muscle fibers as it signified that her muscles would grow as a result.

By the time Makoto made it back home, the clouds rolled in and blew the humidity away while shielding Tosa from the sun, Makoto spent the time before Mokoto’s arrival to tidy up the house. Portraits on the wall were straightened out, the dishes were cleaned, incense burned to give the home a more pleasant smell. She made the final adjustments at the right time as her brother's car pulled up to the home.

“‘Sup, sis.”

“Hey, bro.”

Makoto welcomed her brother with a hug. He stood a good number of inches taller than her. He would be just as tall as Masaru, but growing up Mokoto didn’t have a man’s appetite as their grandfather stated. He was sickly in build as a result. The glasses on his face came as a result of his love of computers growing strong over the years, forcing his vision to deteriorate. Nevertheless, Makoto had always been fond of Mokoto and loved him as much as she loved the rest of her family.

Makoto's eyes shot towards the plastic bag he carried, “Whaddya bring?”

“Our favorite.”

Belonging to Makoto are two rolls of Eel Maki, Red Spicy Tobiko, and Fermented Soybean roll. Mokoto bought himself a couple rolls and pork filled dumplings. His favorite side dish. “I knew it was Sunday so I’d figure you’d be hungry right about now.” And how right he was.

Together, they gave thanks then started their wonderful meals. After a suitable amount had been eaten Makoto found it appropriate to start a conversation, “How’s things in America?”

“It’s ok.” Mokoto responded in between dumplings, “Just as long as we stay out of discussing the politics there. It’s a circus I’m telling you.” They both shared a laugh.

“I see the dojo is holding up alright.” Makoto sighed, “Holding up as it's gonna get better when I get my hands on some real wood. From what I can get it just doesn’t last long, y’know.” Her brother perked up, “That reminds me. Have you thought more about it?” The tone in his voice got quieter. Makoto snorted, remembering what “it” was, “Saw it. Not sure what’s so great about it.”

“What’s great about it is an opportunity to live a stable life. You’ve been scraping by week after week for so long. Living like this can’t be good for you.” Makoto’s gaze turned cold, “I’m doing just fine.” Despite the response, her brother continued, “I mean. You could enroll in the program, learn English, and come work for the company. You get started off near six figures. That’s pretty good!”

Makoto’s stubbornness kicked in. She crossed her arms with a steaming huff, “Doing this makes me happy.”

“I know that but I want the best for you.”

“You and I both know that I can’t just leave fathers legacy behind.”

“I know that what’s happened isn’t your fault and that you’re giving your all. It’s just that sometimes things aren’t meant to be.”

A slammed fist on the table silenced Mokoto’s plea, Makoto shot to her feet, angered, “Just because you gave up and moved to America doesn’t mean I want the same. When father passed I took it upon myself to restore the dojo and the Rindokan name to its former glory. I just can’t leave it behind! You know that!” Makoto plopped back down.

Mokoto backed down, defeated, “I’m sorry...”

Twinges of anger pulsated in Makoto’s neck. They sat silently for a while, unsure of how to continue the evening. That was until Makoto cooled down, “You said you wanted to get some belongings?”

“Ah, yes! That’s right!” The two left the kitchen and into Mokoto’s room just a few steps away. There Mokoto opened his closet door and gently began packing his stuff. Old clothes, notebooks, journals, comic books, and old toys. From the wall he repossessed posters and both his high school, and college diploma. The once lightly decorated room had been stripped clean of any signs of presence. Except for the gaming console still in the closet, “You’re not going to take the Dreamcast?”

“Eh. I mostly play videogames on my computer.” He zipped the duffel bag closed, “Keep it. You could use the time to get good enough at Puzzle Fighter to beat yours truly.”

Makoto brought the entertainment system from the closet. Her fingers wiped away the built-up dust on one controller, “We did have a lot of good times playing this.” Mokoto perked up, a smile on his face, “You know we did! We’d play it till our eyes bled after training.” The siblings chuckled when the memories came flying back, “I remember the time you got so mad you chopped the TV in half!” Mokoto added.

“That’s right!” A beaming smile shone on Makoto’s face, “Dad was so impressed by my form he didn’t make me work to buy a new one.” It felt near impossible to not get sentimental about the past. Back when everything felt limitless and good times would last forever. An era of magic.

As time has the ability to heal all wounds, time created them as well. Silence had fallen between the two once again.

“Say. Just how long are you going to live in America anyhow? It’s been such a long time.” Makoto inquired. Mokoto cleaned his glasses, “Can’t be too sure. If I were able to find a better offer here I would in a heartbeat. But...” Mokoto cleared his throat, “Something about the way America operates is just more relaxed.” Mokoto picked up the duffel bag, “Well I guess that’s everything.”

Makoto jumped in his path, “Unless you wanna spar for old time’s sake?” Her brother laughed, stepping away, “Oh please no. I’ve gotten soft just sitting around the office all day.”

“Fine,” Makoto gave him a firm dig in the shoulder anyway. “Wow. You have gotten soft.”

With his belongings packed into the trunk, Mokoto was set to head back to America. The siblings embraced once more before seeing each other off.

“Have a safe trip home!”

Back inside the house, Makoto couldn’t help, but to be bothered by the presence of overwhelming silence. Upon looking back at Mokoto’s room bare of anything, she leaned against the doorframe feeling numb. Clean and quiet. Similar to what happened to her father’s room after he had passed. She crumbled up the pamphlet in her hand and tossed it inside the room just to give it a little life.

At times like this, Makoto had a special place to go to receive guidance.

The recently replaced metal of which the dojo door rolled along rusted a great deal over the past few days. Makoto applied more force to the door making it move and release an unpleasant squeal as it did. Regardless of Makoto’s constant repairs to the dojo the materials she repaired with were cheap, succumbing to failure quickly. Half of the light bulbs needed to be replaced as well as the sign out front now that the wood rotted out. Forestry debris fell in from the hole in the roof that was made after a man from Hong Kong dressed in a pink gi tried to challenge her honor. Needless to say it was a challenge effortlessly won.

Makoto noted to save these repairs for another day. She turned towards the closet where inside a shrine dedicated to her late father was built. Inside were his old memorabilia, photos,prized possessions of his, and trophies Makoto earned from martial arts competitions. Makoto placed two lit sticks of incense before a photo of him and sat silently.

Unbeknownst to Makoto a pair of eyes watched her every move inside the dojo. Utilizing her ninja ways, Ibuki managed to track down Makoto’s whereabouts. The ninja was able to observe Makoto through the human sized whole in the roof.

“This is what she does with her free time? Burning incense in front of a photo? Just who is that anyways?”

“Father, if you think I should carry on with fulfilling your dreams. Please. Please. Give me a sign.” The outpouring of emotion proved too strong, forcing Makoto to choke. Her voice trembled and lowered. Ibuki leaned forward to hear better. Invested. Perhaps too invested. Ibuki applied too much pressure and a piece of wood gave in causing several roof shingles to clatter to the dojo floor. Ibuki flung herself back, lost balance, and tumbled off the roof into the bushes.

“A sign! Yes!” Makoto jumped to her feet full of joy, “I promise to carry out your mission, Father! I won’t disappoint you!”

Through an incident of sheer coincidence Makoto’s faith in her own success had been restored.

Chapter Text

Whatever benevolent being that controlled the weather blessed Tosa with a sky full of scattered clouds keeping the atmosphere cool. It wasn’t muggy as usual, granting the Farmer’s market attendants a welcome break from the heat. Ibuki internally expressed more gratitude than the rest. Ever since arriving to Tosa via train, her only place of shelter was a hollowed-out tree in the forest. The overarching foliage in that area trapped the heat making her time here unbearable.

“Excuse me. Pardon me.” she mumbled after bumping shoulders. That day the farmer’s market in Tosa was overswept by high foot traffic much like the train station in Tokyo. This time, however, Ibuki left her thieving antics behind. No accidental “bumps”, no sleight of hand into the back pocket, no handshakes to steal a wrist watch. A new place means a new start. A clean slate. Her focus fixated on the crystal clear objective: getting a job.

And there was one place where she felt guaranteed to get it.

There’s just the matter of finding where exactly Makoto’s stand was. The farmer’s market isn’t complex in layout by any means. So few stands stood out in appearance which made it hard to get a grasp of her location.

Her sneakers stepped along the dirt path between the rows of stands on both sides. At both sides the farmer’s contested against one another in volume to grab a potential customer’s attention in hopes of a quick sale.

“Get your meats here! Fine marbled, high quality meats here!”

“Soybeans going fast! Get ‘em while they’re hot!”

Ibuki’s frustration dealing with the other customers obstructing her line of sight forced her to walk on the tips of her toes. Over the sea of heads, she spotted Makoto’s stand bare of any life. It's almost as if the surrounding space is a repulsive force field that repelled potential customers away. Regardless of the obvious low foot traffic, the martial artist wore a look of unyielding determination, “Looks like I’m catching her at a good time.”

Ibuki wet the palm of her hand with her own saliva and slicked her hair back. Another palm of saliva finely straightened her long ponytail. Brimming with confidence, Ibuki slipped through the crowd and into the clearing before Makoto’s stand.

Ibuki folded her arms on the counter, ready to work her magic, “Hey, how’s it going?” Makoto grinned, more naturally than last time, “Good. Ibuki, right? Things are pretty good. Yerself?” Ibuki shrugged her shoulders, “Life couldn’t be better.”

The two turned their heads toward the crowd of people going about their day. Ibuki felt reminiscent of the train station, but at a fourth the speed. Not so much hustle and bustle here, rather that people are enjoying their time gathering necessities and having fun.

“So, uh, you wouldn’t happen to have any job openings would you?” Ibuki nervously gripped the shoulder straps of her backpack. Makoto paused, as if she had just heard the phrase “job opening” for the first time in her life, “Job openings?” Makoto sneered, “Eh, no.” She looked back towards the market.

“A-Are you sure? What about some help attracting customers or-“, Makoto shook her scruffy black haired head, “Nope. No jobs.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

That was it. The one person at the market who wasn’t a middle aged man or an elder shot down her inquiry quickly. Ibuki bit her tongue, disheartened, “Uh, cool. I’ll buy an apple then.” The exchange was made and Ibuki went on her way.

Like always, Ibuki had a back up plan for these sorts of situations. A little more drastic yes, but certain to get her needs met.

“Looks like it's onto Plan B.”

That cloudy white sky turned into an orange sea that afternoon. The sound of footsteps and rocks tumbling against one another alerted Ibuki who hid behind a tree. She peered from beside it to see Makoto lugging unsold produce from her stand. “Someone’s got their hands full,” Ibuki pinched a makeshift kunai she whittled from an apple core between her fingers, “Time for a little divine intervention.” With pinpoint precision, one masterful flick of the wrist sent the kunai whizzing through the air towards the bottom of Makoto’s bookbag where the fabric split against the sharp edge. The produce inside spilled out onto the rocky path.

“Son of a bitch!” Makoto spat, setting the buckets down.

Ibuki gasped audibly, making an appearance from behind the tree. “Oh no! All that stuff fell out of your bookbag! Let me help you with that.” Utilizing her agility, limited by the soreness in her ribcage, Ibuki retrieved the foodstuffs from the ground into her folded arms at impressive speed. She brought them towards Makoto with a smile, “Say. Don’t you think you could use someone as fast as me?”

Ten seconds passed. Nothing came from either of them. Ibuki opened her eyes to see Makoto’s face, tired and angry. Her eyes were narrow, analyzing the person before her. Nostrils flared, a tight frown, and a deep scowl. Swiftly Makoto slapped everything from Ibuki’s grasp back to the ground. The ninja swallowed nervously. The martial artist snatched Ibuki by the collar, bringing the two face to face, “Are ya mockin’ me?”

Does this chick know what personal space is?

Ibuki attempted to pry herself from Makoto’s grasp, but her fist remained locked like a bank safe, “No. No. No. No. No.” Ibuki’s mind pranced around for an answer, “It’s just a...funny coincidence.”

“Funny?” Makoto shoved Ibuki flat on her back, disturbing the healing process her ribs had gone through. Seconds slowly tick by as Makoto approaches one step at a time, “Get up.” Ibuki’s breath trembled, unable to steady her shaken nerves. She scrambles up to her feet, feeling pinned by the tree behind her. Makoto focuses both eyes on Ibuki, her gaze cold and unforgiving. Makoto snapped into her combat stance in a blink of an eye. In another she threw out a blinding fast strike.

WHUNK

Leaves shook from the tree branches and fluttered to the ground. Makoto’s fist planted on its target with a sickening crunch. Her terrifying strength left a permanent impression of her fist. Makoto pulled her fist from the inches deep impression she made in the tree bark. Ibuki stood beside the tree, heart thumping as adrenaline shot through her veins.

Makoto’s face stretched, astonished, “You ARE fast!”

Makoto struck again, going for Ibuki’s feet with a quick sweep. The ninja avoided the attempt just as quickly as before. “I don’t know what the hell you were doing over there. Hiding behind that tree, but I know one thing for sure,” Makoto’s face brightened, “You know how to fight.” Makoto deeped her stance once again going for Ibuki.

No amount of talking would get Ibuki out of this one, as it seemed clear Makoto felt passionate about the thrill of fighting. Ibuki unwillingly gave into the demand only remaining cautious of her injury. However, In the world of fighting there is no such thing as a perfect defense. Everyone has a weak point. It’s all a matter of adjusting your focus to cover that new weak point. Despite trading blow for blow the slip-up was bound to happen.

Makoto exhausted Ibuki’s defense by offering an overwhelming offense mid-match. When one strike was blocked another came right after just a strong. Makoto came quickly to the realization that Ibuki’s defense focused entirely too much on protecting her torso. An unexpected leg sweep forced Ibuki to lose balance. In that time, Makoto made several impacts to the chest and groin area. The sudden surge of pain became too much to bear. Ibuki stumbled backwards holding up her hands, “Stop! Please!”. She doubled over, fell back, and clutched her side. Makoto stood next to her with a balled fist of pride, “Hmph. I must be getting pretty strong!”

“No, you meathead! My ribs were already hurt!” yelled Ibuki, following several coughs. She twinged feeling her rib cage throb in pain. Makoto, no longer fueled by the thrill of the fight, knelt down next to her injured opponent, “Show me.” Ibuki hesitated for a moment, but gave in. She lifted her shirt to let Makoto witness the extent of her injury. Splotches of red and purple were painted on her upper torso. A curious index finger jabbed Ibuki’s side, “Ow! You fucking prick!”

Makoto shot to her feet, “That settles it. We’ve gotta get ya to a doctor.”

“No. No,” Ibuki struggled to get to her own feet, “I’ll leave-“ Makoto wrapped her arm firmly around Ibuki bringing them shoulder to shoulder. Ibuki experienced Makoto’s scent which smelled of sweat and musty wood. She could feel Makoto’s hardened muscles pressing on to her own. Similarly, Makoto whiffed Ibuki’s scent which consisted of deodorant and grime. As if the woman hadn’t bathed in a while. Her arm felt along Ibuki’s shoulder which matched how it looked; defined and strong.

“Look, ya ain’t gonna be much use to me if yer hurt. Let’s get ya fixed up.” Even in pain, the words brought a smile to Ibuki’s face, “You mean I got the job?” Makoto tugged the injured ninja along with her, “Not until you explain just who you are.”

In between destinations, Ibuki gave her life story; The Glade of Ninjas, her way of life in Tokyo, the underground fighting ring, the department store fire...everything. Makoto remained silent after hearing Ibuki’s story. Probably trying to process some of the things she told her as fact or fiction. Together, the pair made it to the hospital just as night had fallen.

A staff member relocated the pair into an isolated room to await the practitioner. The walls were a clean stale white with a wallpaper wrapping around just below waist height. Ibuki took her spot on the patients table, kicking her dangling feet in the air. Makoto sat on a nearby chair cracking her knuckles.

Not a word had been exchanged between them since Ibuki concluded her story.

The surrounding appliance provided noise to keep the silence from feeling maddening. Above the fluorescent lights gently hummed to add a constant sound. The faucet on the counter occasionally dripped to a metallic THUNK. Makoto unknowingly joined in by popping her knuckles and her neck bones.

“Shadow clones.”

Ibuki turned to Makoto, their eyes meeting, “You have to be able to do shadow clones.”

“Never got that far into my training,” she replied, “The closest I can do is substitution.”

“Throwing knives?” Makoto added.

“Kunias. I lost the metal ones I had. So I use wood.” Inquiries of Ibuki’s ninja prowess stopped then and there. For a brief second anyways.

“Giant Frog.”

“What?”

Makoto’s eyes shot back towards Ibuki’s. She spoke again with clearer diction, “Can you summon a giant talking frog?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Makoto lunged at Ibuki grabbing her by the shirt, “I know you’re hiding some sort of secret technique from me! You’re going to teach me whether you want to or not!” Two gentle knocks silenced the room. The door swung open following whom they’ve been waiting for, “Good afternoon, friends. How are we today?”

“Could be better I suppose,” answered Ibuki. The doctor walked over to the counter and picked up the clipboard the nurse left beforehand, “Let’s see here. Ah! Broken ribs! How did this happen?” Makoto stepped off from Ibuki, “We were sparring when I tapped into my true potential and delivered a devastating blow that turned her ribs into dust.” The doctor tilted her head of snow white hair. Ibuki pinched the bridge of her nose, “We were rough housing...”

The doctor looked closer at Makoto, “Yes! You’re the Rindokan master I’ve heard so much about! Your track record is-” The acknowledgment seemed to excite Makoto. The martial artist proudly swiped her thumb across her nose, “Impressive, innit?”

“The doctors share stories of how your time in school made the local dentist a rich man.” The two shared a laugh. Ibuki found herself curious pondering if such stories were fact or fiction.

“Forgive me,” the doctor’s blue eyes shot wide open, “I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Medical intern Ng’ang’a filling in for the normal doctor while he’s out on vacation. You can call me Elena.”

Elena stood many heads taller than Ibuki and Makoto with a slightly lanky build including incredibly long limbs. Her different skin tone gave away that she wasn’t from Japan. Most importantly, Elena had a smile that could warm the coldest of hearts.

“I haven’t seen you around town before? Ya new?” asked Makoto to which Elena responded, “I come from Kenya to study medicine abroad.” Elena gathered her tools as she continued to explain, “Just doing simple things, nothing too serious.”

Ibuki leaned forward, “Broken ribs are simple?”

“Simple as in anything, but surgery.”

Elena proceeded with Ibuki’s examination. A very simple process. Use the stethoscope to listen for the heart and determine any shortness of breath. Next came a visual inspection, Ibuki removed her shirt for Elena to examine the damage. Elena noted that Ibuki appeared underweight. Her slightly visible rib cage and cold fingers were telltale signs. “Does it hurt here or more here?” Elena gently prodded a finger into Ibuki’s side. The injured grunted a response once the most painful spot had been touched.

“I’d expect a full recovery within four to six weeks. No heavy lifting. Plenty of rest,” Elena placed her gaze specifically on Makoto, “And no sparring or rough housing.” Makoto rolled her eyes.

“In the meantime I’ll prescribe you painkillers to make your life a little easier,” Elena handed Ibuki the clipboard, “Just fill out some basic information and I’ll be right back.”

The room went back to the quiet from before. Ibuki tended to the paperwork, jotting down what information she could.

First Name: Ibuki. Last Name: ...

Being an orphan in the Ninja Glade Ibuki never had a last name nor the need for once. Hence why none of the villagers gave her one. Her eyes shot around the room for inspiration. On the counter laid a small well kempty bonsai tree.

Last Name: Banzai

“Phone Number and Address...”, Makoto snatched the clipboard from Ibuki and scribbled the rest of the information, “There. As far as anyone is concerned you live with me. Got it?”

“Does that mean...”

“Mean what?”

Ibuki shyly touched the tips of her index fingers together, “Well...I may or may not be...homeless...”, Makoto crossed her arms followed by tilting her head, “You’re just full of surprises aren’t you?” Ibuki brought out the puppy dog eyes that softened Makoto’s steely, cold gaze, “C’mon, Makoto. After all you did beat up someone who is already injured-”

“Fine! You can stay. For two weeks,” grunted Makoto to which Ibuki celebrated with a gentle fist pump.

At that moment, Elena returned to the room. The clipboard exchange was made meaning business here concluded, “Before you leave,” Elena fished in her coat pockets. “I can’t leave a patient empty handed. I’ve got three things for you!”

“Huh?”

Elena held out two lollipops, “One for each new friend I made today.” Makoto grabbed the green apple; Ibuki took the cherry flavor, “Gee, thanks! What’s the third thing?” Elena reached into her coat pocket once again and handed Ibuki a slip of paper, “The bill.”

Outside the hospital, Ibuki’s built up internal stress went external, “TWENTY TWO THOUSAND YEN?!” Ibuki paced in front of the shop where the two grabbed sandwiches for dinner, “How the hell am I supposed to pay this? All she did was tell me things I already knew! All I have is a thousand yen to my name!”

Makoto calmly chomped from her egg sandwich, “I can take care of it as long as ya work off the rest ya owe for that bill.” Momentarily Ibuki forgot that since they cleared the air Makoto had given her a job, “I’ll start ya off real simple. Then when you heal up I’ll get you on the regular work. It’s incredibly simple stuff and the pay is alright.” Makoto tossed away the wrapper for her sandwich, dusted off her hands, and firmly hocked a loogie in her right palm.

“We gotta deal?”

Ibuki grimaced, the circumstances of her future situation looked bright, an admirable one too, but the deed to seal the deal between the two seemed less than ideal. “Well...when in Rome...” Ibuki spat into her right hand.

The two clasped hands and shook on it. “Then it’s settled,” Makoto knelt down before Ibuki facing forward, ”Now hop on my back.”

“Huh?”

“Dealing with yer injury put me off schedule for today’s workout. I see this as an opportunity to make up for it. Now get on.” There wasn’t a point in contesting against it. She’s come so far, why stop now? Ibuki leapt on Makoto’s back, wrapping her arms around her strong shoulders.

The distance going home Makoto alternated between lunging and squatting each step.

A house to sleep and a job. I sure am making strides for someone who’s new to town. In a place like this, I don’t imagine there’s going to be much excitement. I could use just that for a while.

Plan B worked like a charm.

Chapter Text

Warmth.

The ache and grime built up from a grueling days work melted away under the relaxing spray of warm water. Ibuki’s long black hair rested slack against the length of her back, clinging onto her damp skin. She stood motionless and at ease. No longer at work. Her mind wandered off amidst the relaxation, thinking about the pleasant things in life. All of the luxuries she could daydream of having were hers at a simple thought.

Money.

Food.

The Beach.

Travel.

...Another presence?

“...eh?” Ibuki poked her head through the shower curtain to see Makoto brushing her teeth, wearing nothing but her underwear, “Ack! What are you doing in here? Don’t you know anything about basic privacy?!” Makoto spat out a mouthful of foamy toothpaste, “Ya always take so long in the shower. I’m not waiting an hour to brush my teeth. And did ya forget whose house this is?” Ibuki stuck her head behind the shower curtain, “Fine. Just hurry up.”

The disgusting sound of gurgling went over that of the shower. Makoto spat another mouthful into the sink, “If you use up all the hot water again I’m kicking your ass.”

Once clean, Ibuki laid back on the same bed sheet she always had. It still retained a hint of the smoky smell from the department store fire. However, the sheet was far too comfortable to switch out for a new one. It felt just right.

Ibuki wrapped the sheet around her body. The soft snug fabric allowed the built up exhaustion to come crashing down. Picking produce from the field, working at the farmer’s market, training, and dealing with Makoto all day wore her out plenty. Tomorrow could be more of the same. Whether that was a good or bad thing she had yet to figure out. For the time being, it felt nice having a sense of stability.

Her eyes gently closed shut.

Makoto snapped wide awake. Blood flowing through her veins like cars speeding on a highway. Although her body felt sore from yesterday’s training she felt completely rejuvenated from a good nights sleep.

She flung herself from the comfort of her own bed then grabbed her field clothes from the floor; a pair of blue overalls, gloves, her gi pants, black boots, and her yellow hachimaki. She quickly slipped into the outfit just as she’s done for years.

Out in the kitchen, a whole pot of coffee started to brew, multiple slices of bread toasted in the toaster, and eggs sizzled in the oiled pan. All was perfect, except for one new component to the routine.

Makoto threw the guest room door open and found just what she expected. Ibuki, completely curled up in her sheet, sleeping through the alarm.

“Rise and shine, twinkle toes! We got work to do!” Makoto tugged the bedsheet, unraveling Ibuki from her safe haven. She roughly shook the slumbering ninja, “Up and attem!” Ibuki grunted in response, her eyelids tightened. “Having one of those mornings, huh? I know just the thing that’ll wake you up.” Makoto stepped out of the room.

“Don’t get the bucket again...” groaned Ibuki.

“Already filling it up.” The clang of water splashing against metal made Ibuki shudder. She learned from the incident last week that Makoto isn’t above using dirty tactics to stir Ibuki awake, “Alright. I’m up. I’m up.”

After a hearty breakfast consisting of eggs, toast, and a couple mugs of strong coffee the two set out into the field. About seven weeks have passed ever since Ibuki started working for Makoto. The work itself was simple enough: Fortunately her job was as simple as Makoto explained. Find the produce, clip the stem, and put it in the bucket. If it’s rotten. Throw it away. If it’s not ready. Leave it.

Easy and simple.

That morning, the ground was thick with patches of mud thanks to the overnight rain. The televised weather forecast predicted clear skies for the entire week. Ibuki had come to learn about Tosa’s inconsistent weather through Mr. Mishima’s ramblings the other day, “I swear the weather just does what it feels like. The blizzard of nineteen ninety three in June. The heatwave of eighty-five in February. It gets pretty crazy here I tell ya.”

Ibuki finished slurping on the spicy ramen he made for lunch, “Huh. That explains it...I guess...” Suddenly, a mischievous grin grew on Mishima’s mouth, “Would you like to see Makoto’s baby pictures?”

“What? No, she wouldn’t!” Makoto crossed her arms in protest.

“I’d love to!”

From his bookshelf, he pulled out a massive scrapbook and flipped through to his favorite memories, “Here’s one of young Makoto when she didn’t get a toy racecar from a kid’s meal. She cried and cried! Boohoohoo!” He flipped through again, “Ah! And here’s the time when Makoto beat up another kid at her birthday party for blowing out the cake candles. And then she started to cry.” He imitated her cry again for Ibuki’s entertainment.

“Geez, Mak. Didn’t know you were such a crybaby,” chuckled Ibuki. White hot steam rose from Makoto’s burning red face. The embarrassment became too much, “That’s it! I’m outta here!” The elder and the ninja continued to laugh at the memories for a while.

Mr. Mishima turned to Ibuki, “C’mon. Let us hear it. Surely you have your own stories to tell about your family.” Ibuki paused between sips of tea, “Family? Uh, well...I don’t really have a family anymore.”

The old man’s wrinkled face dropped.

Ibuki turned away and fiddled with her hands, “They’re...erm...” Mr. Mishima placed his wrinkled palm on her hands, “I apologize. I didn’t mean to bring up anything bitter.” Ibuki cleared her throat. She turned to the old man who wore a sorrowful look of understanding, “Any friend of Makoto’s is considered family of mine.” Ibuki wiped the misty tears from her eyes and embraced the elder.

“Thank you.”

Over the course of the following week, Makoto introduced Ibuki to some of the other Tosan residents. Although, only a couple managed to stand out above the rest.

First is local Bartender, Kenjiro Tsuda; A family friend of Makoto’s. Makoto explained that he used to bartend in Tokyo many years ago, but the amount of crime gave him fear for his family’s safety. Making him relocate to Tosa. They bumped into him while grocery shopping, “Oi! How goes it, Kenjiro? Didja meet my new friend, Ibuki?”

The man stood tall, about five foot nine inches. The top of his round head was absent of any hair, but had a fashioned ponytail in the back with what hair he had. His figure was solid just like a fighter, “Nice to meet you. Ibuki, right?” He extended his hand outward, “I’ve heard you’re quite the saleswoman at the market.” Ibuki rubbed the back of her head and shook his hand with the other, “Aw, shucks.”

The man smiled, “Me and Makoto’s father were great friends when he was around. Man loved whiskey so much he passed the love of it on to his own daughter.”

Makoto shyly shrugged, “What can I say? I like the hard liquors.”

“You drink?” asked Ibuki in disbelief.

“On occasion,” replied Makoto.

Ibuki shot a look at Kenjiro, “If we stop by your bar can we get free drinks?”Makoto jabbed her elbow into Ibuki’s side. Kenjiro smiled even brighter, “All I can promise you is that the first round will be on the house. Haha.”

Next was another farmer Makoto knew of, Genji Uzumaki.

The elder lanky man sat on his porch in his rocking chair. Without rocking in it. He plucked at his long wispy beard and only kept one eye open. Makoto jabbed her thumb at him, “His family is the one who started the farmers market. They were the very first to take a spot at what now is called the farmers market.”

“Dat’s right! My grandpappy is an innovative genius,” his Tosan dialect was much thicker than Makoto’s, “Say. You’re new here right? Maybe if things don’t work out workin’ for ol’ Makoto, I could give you a spot.”

Makoto stuck an arm out as to guard Ibuki, “Hey! No poaching my friend!”

Genji hooped and hollered, “Ah! I’m only yankin’ yer chain there youngn’.” He then sniffed the air with his pointed nose, “The Miss’ blueberry pie should be done coolin’ off by now. What do you say we steal ourselves a slice?” They both nodded.

Hours later, Makoto and Ibuki made their way over to the pond. Ibuki snatched the flattest rocks she could find from the ground. She tossed the stones in her hand a few times before pinching one between her thumb and index finger. With one quick motion she sent the rock skipping over the lake, “Sheesh, not a single cute boy in sight. Don’t know how you managed all these years.”

Makoto laid back on the grassy hill beside Ibuki, taking in what sun was left, “Whaddya mean?”

Ibuki skipped another stone and beat her record of nine with fourteen skips, “Y’know. The thrill of romance. A little action. Urges and desires that NEED to be satisfied.”

The rambunctious martial artist jumped to her feet, “The only desire I have is to prove that Rindo-kan karate is the superior martial art of all martial arts! All of my heart belongs to carrying out my father’s wish!” Makoto swiped a rock from Ibuki’s palm and skipped it. Her attempt landed fifteen skips in total. Just half the length of the pond. She faced Ibuki with a smug confident smirk.

Ibuki gathered her focus. The piece of flint rock perfectly fit Ibuki's formed fingers. An expert flick of the wrist sent the rock whizzing just above the water and across the length of the pond right into the other side where it split a large boulder in half, “You’ll be singing a different tune once that special someone comes along,” said Ibuki as she walked up the hill. Makoto remained in place, mystified about the feat she just witnessed.

“Wait! Teach me how you did that!”

Chapter Text

Makoto sharply inhaled the crisp morning air, “Another day...” She stretched her defined back muscles, “Another dollar, eh sleepy head?”

Ibuki pinched her eyelids shut in an attempt to ward off the sleep that sapped her energy like a tick. She would need to suffer a little while longer until the morning coffee kicked in. Until then, she’s stuck at the stand counter watching Makoto stretch and practice her karate moves. Ibuki’s eyebrow curled, “You just never turn it off, do you?”

Makoto swirled her arms around in the air, “fraid not.”

If she wasn’t working the counter, she’d still have her old job of keeping the produce stocked. But that changed when she decided to intervene on a business deal some weeks ago.

“What are you just standing there for? Are ya goin’ to buy something or not?!” Makoto’s sudden aggression frightened the customer. The martial artist looked as though she'd leap over the counter at any minute and strike the indecisive man. Luckily, Ibuki was there to defuse the situation. She placed a gentle hand on Makoto’s shoulder, “Allow me.”

Ibuki took her spot at the counter with a warm smile to greet the customer, “Good morning, sir, how may I help you?” His mouth trembled, “I-I would just like to buy four turnips. That’s it. Four and nothing more.”

Ibuki put the turnips into a plastic bag, “It's safe now. She’s out of the picture.” The middle aged man looked back at the stand, still shaking, “I don’t like t-that beastly woman.” The ninja snorted, “Try living with her. Some days I just wanna lock her in a cage and throw away the key.”

Whether it was her friendliness or sex appeal, Ibuki easily provided much better customer service than Makoto could provided.

Ibuki fanned herself with the money she just received, “Is it getting hot in here or is it just me?” Makoto snatched the bills and slipped them into her overalls, “Since yer so good at selling, ya can deal with those boneheaded customers from now on.” With those words, Makoto unceremoniously passed the torch onto Ibuki. Subsequently, the forcefield keeping customers at bay disappeared. Foot traffic around the stand increased due to Ibuki’s ability to attract male customers' attention with her good looks.

Back in the present, Ibuki tended to another customer using her ever developing skills, “I just can’t get enough of guys who have that earthly aroma. Kinda like Tarzan who eats nothin’, but fruit all day.” The affectionate man before her then bought several pounds of blueberries.

Next came two adolescent boys who looked at Ibuki wide eyed. They shoved each other upon approaching, “Back off! I saw her first!”

“No! Me! I saw her first!” The other hollered.

Seeing the two tussle brought a chuckle out of Ibuki, “Boys. Boys. There’s enough of me to go around. But...” Ibuki went silent. The two boys pressed on with curiosity, “But what?” She checked her surroundings and leaned closer, “Haven’t you heard? Only good boys who eat their fruit and vegetables can attract beautiful girls like me?”

Their eyes widened further, “Really?”

Ibuki nodded her ponytailed head, “Really. Why don’t you buy some apples? They’re nice and cheap.” They pooled their money together to buy six apples in total. In unison, they both took a bite and nodded positively towards the reception of the taste. The boy with the bowl haircut stuck his chest out, “So, s-sweetheart. Can we get your number?” Ibuki folded the bills into her pocket, “When you’re older, suckas.” The boys carried off, still fighting with one another.

Just then, someone caught Ibuki’s attention right out of her peripheral vision. He seemed to be lost almost uncertain of where he was going. Ibuki couldn’t take her eyes off of him. Something seemed familiar. Ibuki snatched a small pebble from the ground and whipped it at him.

“Ow! Who-?”

Ibuki squinted her eyes further. She put two fingers in front of her mouth vertically. The man of interest quickly did the same. Ibuki gestured towards the farmer’s tent then held up an open palm indicating five minutes of time. He nodded.

Ibuki went behind the stand to find Makoto sleeping in her chair with the Karate Weekly loosely laying on her face. She shook her awake, “Hey, I’m going to the bathroom. Cover for me will ya?”

Makoto grumbled in confirmation.

At the tail end of the farmers market is a tent exclusive to the vendors. It provided shelter from the harsh weather conditions and acted as a break room. Ibuki walked through the entrance and found the person of interest helping themselves to cookies and juice.

He set the snacks down and pressed his palms together, “For ol’ times sake?” Ibuki matched his gesture. Suddenly, the pair begin firing off ninjutsu hand motions. Their fingers blurred amongst one another changing the form and alignment of their digits. This game concluded with a firm handshake between them, “Ibuki! It is you!” Tears welled into a stream rolling down his cheeks. Yuta hugged Ibuki.

She backed away then sized him up, “You didn’t get all that much taller.” His cheeks reddened, “Five foot nine is perfectly respectable for male height!” His sudden mood swing made Ibuki laugh. She always did find entertainment in making light of his height when they were young. Yuta narrows his eyes at the woman, “And you...got a lot more tan.”

Working under the sun darkened Ibuki’s skin by a few shades almost to the point where she matched Makoto’s skin tone.

Yuta tapped his chin, “What have you been up to all these years?”

Ibuki sighed, rubbing the nape of her neck, “It's a long story. We can talk about that later. For now, do you know how many of us are still around?”

“I only remember seeing you, me, and a few others escape. No telling where they are now,” he replied.

Ibuki threw her head back, “Ah, man. This is going to be impossible!” Yuta lifted his chin, “Funny thing is,” he pointed a finger towards himself then Ibuki, “The world is smaller than you think.”

From outside the tent, a familiar voice roared, “Oi! This isn’t an art gallery! Either buy somethin’ or scram!” Ibuki hung her head, “Ugh, that girl!” With a nearby piece of paper she scribbled down her phone number and handed it to Yuta, “We’ll have to catch up later. I gotta get back to work.”

Chapter Text

“Hours. Days. Weeks. So much time had passed since our last clue that the trial we worked so hard to follow had gone cold. The Commissioner asked me to drop the case and take some time off. I refused. There’s no way I could consider myself a hero after letting such injustice go unchecked. One day, after a long stake out, I had crossed paths with a stranger who gave me useful information that led me towards the Headquarters.”

Undercover Agent Fei Long ducks behind a pair of bushes on the Headquarters property. His overall suspicions were proven correct upon witnessing the organization's henchman carrying about their business. “Looks like this is it. It’s now or never,” Fei Long turns to his new partner in law enforcement, an average sized monkey who’s skillfully trained in martial arts, Mr. Peel. He opens his mouth, “You think the two of us can take them all? You must be bananas!”

“The task before us seems dangerous, but it must be done, Mr. Peel. Let’s not hesitate any further!”

Fei Long and Mr. Peel burst through the front door of the headquarters to be taken by surprise by the sudden, haunting darkness that engulfs them. Suddenly, small reflections of light emitted from the eyes of assassins who slink from underneath the shadows. Their outfits are pitch black and their eyes sharp as the freshly sharpened blades they wielded.

Fei Long takes a step back and brushes against his partner, “Looks like we’re surrounded. Got any ideas?”

“I always like to have a snack when the chips are down. Banana chips that is!” The primate brought a bag of name brand banana chips to his hands and tore it open. The scent alone fueled his animal instincts, sending him into a blind rage. “Look out! He’s going apeshit!” one assassin warned his cohorts. The primate proceeded to lose his mind and attack everything around him that wasn’t his partner. Mr. Peel’s fury distracted the goons long enough for Fei Long to slip inside the mansion.

Makoto felt awestruck by the actions taken on screen. The bravery. The tactical genius provided by Mr. Peel. Not to mention, the impressive acrobatics provided by Fei Long himself. It was all so inspirational.

“Hey,” whispered a voice, “Can you pass me the popcorn?” Acting on instinct, Makoto passed the popcorn to her left, “Thanks. What’s the story on this one?” the voice asked again. “It’s about Fei Long and his new partner, Mr. Peel, setting on an adventure to tackle the evil underground organization called Shada-HEY! WHEN DID YOU GET IN MY ROOM?!” Makoto snapped towards the voice who happened to be none other than Ibuki. Her innocent smile did nothing to defuse Makoto’s short temper.

Ibuki laughed, “You just noticed? Really?” Makoto jumped from her bed and rolled up her sleeves, “I don’t know how ya got in here, but I know how yer getting out.” The martial artist shoved the ninja towards the door. Ibuki resisted by posting her arms at the side of the doorframe, “Oh, c’mon. You’re really going to have a movie night and not invite your friend?”

“We ain’t friends, got that?,” Makoto grunted, “Yer my farmhand-“

“...and roommate...and training partner...While I’m here I did want to talk to you about something,” Makoto stopped pushing. Ibuki slid a hand in her pocket and pulled out an envelope containing her pay for the week, “Can I get a raise?”

Makoto slowly tilted her head to the side with narrowed eyes.

“Please,” the ninja urged. Makoto rolled her eyes and stopped pushing. She threw herself back on the bed then gestured towards the lone chair in the room. Ibuki tossed the pile of clothes from it and sat in it backwards.

“Talk.” Makoto muttered with her eyes shut.

Ibuki waved the envelope full of bills, “I think it’s great that you took a chance and gave me a job, but don’t you think the pay is a little low? I’ve done so much for your business. The increase in sales has to mean something, right?”

“Ya don’t think I’m letting ya stay for free, do ya?” Ibuki opened then closed her mouth. Makoto raised two fists in the air and placed up one finger for every fault, “There’s the food ya eat, MY snacks ya eat, rent, yer hospital bill, then ya take long showers causing the water bill to go up-“.

Ibuki’s brow knotted, “Oh. So you’re my landlord too now?”

“If you want to look at it that way, yeah. Don’t like it? I’m sure there’s lots of garbage cans in Tokyo just waiting to be eaten out of,” replied Makoto. Ibuki let out a defeated sigh, “Sorry. I guess I just expected more.”

Makoto opened her eyes partially, “That’s working for ya. I‘d like more pocket change myself. Over half of what I earn goes towards fixing the dojo. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve replaced the sign. Cheap wood doesn’t last long.” Makoto brought her attention back towards the movie on her laptop. Ibuki’s focus shifted to the room around her. Unlike the rest of the home, Makoto’s room was messy and unorganized. Clothes, equipment, trash, and other things littered across the floor.

Her eyes then landed on a picture frame on the desk. It was a photo of an old man, a middle aged man, and a kid, all wearing gis and posing in front of the Rindokan dojo, “Is this your family?”

“Yep. Well...most of it. My grandpa moved to America with my brother some years ago and my father passed away when I was a kid.”
“Oh, Makoto. I’m sorry to hear that.” Thinking quickly to lighten the mood, Ibuki spotted another framed photo with Makoto, her grandfather, and a young man in a suit, “Oooh! Who’s this?”

“That’s my brother, Mokoto. We took that one before he left to work in America.”

“He’s one hot piece of ass that’s for sure! Does he have a girlfriend?” Ibuki’s curiosity was then rewarded with a forceful slap from a pillow, “You stay away from my brother! He wouldn’t like a horny, sneaky, delinquent ninja like you!” Makoto stuck her finger firmly at Ibuki. “Man, you really know nothing about boys do you? When I walked in this room and saw these posters I thought you were hiding your good taste from me.”

By “good taste” Ibuki referred to the posters decorating the four walls of the room. There’s one of a woman with legs more muscular than a horse, another poster with a blonde American man with a flat-top combing his hair, and another with a man dressed in a torn white gi and red headband walking into the sunset, “These aren’t posters to drool over. This is my motivation. Ya see this guy here?” Makoto gestured to another poster, this one was of a man kicking into the air with his leg surrounded by flames.

“That’s just Fei Long.”

“JUST FEI LONG?! He’s my idol! This guy is a complete badass both on and off the movie set! He even does his own stunts.” Ibuki smirked, “The tabloids say that’s a lie. He clearly uses a stunt double.” Makoto nearly snapped her neck to face Ibuki, “You dare mock greatness in my presence?! Why I outta...” her voice trailed off, Makoto inquisitively analyzed the woman before her, “Hey, wait a minute. Your ribs. They’re healed up, right?”

Ibuki patted the sides of her torso, “Better than ever. Why?”

A wide, narrow smile grew on Makoto’s face like a troublesome housecat, “I’ve been itching to spar with you for a while. You said you wanted a raise, right?” she pounded a fist into her open palm, “Beat me in a fight then.” There wasn’t much use in talking down Makoto out of a challenge. Ibuki’s come to learn that in the time that she’s known her, “Ok, but if I win...along with the raise we go out on a night on the town.”

“Huh?” Makoto recoiled, “Night on the town?”

“Y’know. Go out, eat at a restaurant, have some drinks. That kinda stuff. Staying in on a Friday night isn’t my idea of fun. And I’m craving some junk food. Real bad.”

Shortly after, they entered the Rindokan Dojo dressed in their respective fighting attire; Ibuki dressed in her ninja dougi while Makoto wore her gi. Makoto’s visible enthusiasm for combat made Ibuki anxious. The way she stretched and shadowboxed reminded her of the everlasting energy Makoto contained that one morning at the farmer’s market. After weeks of training together and their initial fight, there’s no doubt Makoto had gone over their inevitable match over a million times in her own head.

Makoto took her spot near the center of the ring. Ibuki did the same. They exchanged looks of determination though said determination was fueled by different reasons, “Give me the best ya got. And don’t hold back one bit, hear me?” Ibuki nodded.

The match officially started when Ibuki and Makoto simultaneously bowed.

The second after, Makoto started her approach. It was the same as Ibuki witnessed before in their training. The walk cycle taught by the Rindokan dojo was deliberately slow to inject uncertainty into the opponent. Makoto’s style of fighting, Rindokan Karate, itself is very basic, only consisting of punches, kicks, chokeholds, and karate chops. However, it certainly felt effective given Makoto’s sudden bursts of speed and strength to hit like a truck.

Just then, Makoto dashed with his fist held forward. Ibuki barely managed to sidestep the attack, yet still remained within Makoto’s range. Makoto then let out an onslaught of strikes to which Ibuki narrowly avoided then repositioned herself at the opposite side of the ring. She beckoned for Makoto to approach.

The same thing happened again. Again. And again.

“I see what yer trying to do. You oughta know by now that the thrill of the fight gives me energy! You can’t tire me out, ya sneak!” Makoto proved her words to be true by speeding across the room within a blink of an eye to bury her fist directly into Ibuki’s sternum. The impact sent Ibuki crashing into the dojo wall. She gathered her bearings in time to slip past a devastating karate chop that shattered the floor underneath. Makoto spun and leapt into the air with her leg raised ready to come crashing down on her opponent.

While it was true Makoto dominated the ground game, Ibuki performed just as well in aerial combat. Ibuki shot herself from the ground towards Makoto. She twisted her body in just the right position to evade Makoto’s leg and grab hold of her body in mid-air. With their momentum combined and in her control, Ibuki whipped Makoto straight towards the ground. Makoto failed to catch herself and landed face first. She scrambled to all fours when Ibuki’s heel swiftly struck the apex of Makoto’s head. The force sent Makoto crashing again into the dojo floor, splintering the planks upon impact.

Ibuki landed on the floor with her back towards her defeated opponent. She tugged down her mask and stretched her arms, “Good fight. Now let’s get something to-” A sudden blow just below her shoulder blades sent Ibuki crashing through the dojo door and onto the rocky surface outside. Ibuki winced, reeling in pain. She looked towards the splintered dojo doors to see her opponent slowly emerge from the interior. Makoto’s eyes were bolder with beady pupils of a killer animal. Her skin was just a shade or two lighter than the dark red blood seeping from her nose, “Never turn your back on an opponent!”

Just like before, Ibuki quickly scrambled to her feet just in time to defend herself against Makoto’s strikes. This time around, Makoto had let loose any resemblance of restraint. Ibuki blocked the attacks, but felt the impact more than before. As if Makoto punched through Ibuki’s muscle and impacted her bones. Ibuki continued her evasive maneuvers, avoiding Makoto’s blows entirely.

“I need to think of something quick. Not only will I lose out on this raise, but this girl is going to put me in the emergency room!” Ibuki looked behind the dojo and spotted the forest close to it. She gave Makoto one last look before sprinting off into it. Makoto grunted and gave chase.

Ibuki’s speed surpassed Makoto’s own. She lost track of her in a clearing within the forest, “Where are you? Don’t hide like a coward!” The rustling of a bush caught Makoto’s attention. She leaped forward and brought down a strong karate chop that damaged the foliage. Beneath there was nothing.

“Oh, I’m not the one who’s scared.” Makoto heard Ibuki’s voice above. She turned, but didn’t see her. “I know you’re a pretty strong fighter. No secret about that. However, I always have the element of surprise on my side.”

From the shadows of the woods, Ibuki jumped out with her foot forward. Makoto spun around just in time to block the strike only to be met with a cloud of smoke. A single log of wood fell to her feet. “How?”

Suddenly, Ibuki jumped from the tree branch above and pounced onto Makoto where she managed to grapple the martial artist into a chokehold. Ibuki’s hand pushed Makoto’s head forward, further pressing Makoto’s windpipe into Ibuki’s forearm. This position meant that Makoto’s offensive options were severely limited. With each attempt Ibuki pushed down harder and harder. Makoto struggled only to further realize she had no options left. She firmly slapped her hand down on the ground signaling surrender.

Ibuki threw herself onto the cool grass to catch her breath. She couldn’t remember the last time she had to fight so hard to get a victory.

It felt refreshing. Having won such a hard fought battle.

Ibuki threw herself off of Makoto and sat herself on the wood log she used as a distraction. Above, through the tree branches, Ibuki gazed at the stars in the night sky. She smiled, not able to remember the last time she bothered to even look at them since it was impossible to do so in Tokyo due to the light pollution.

After a moment, Makoto took a spot next to Ibuki.

“You alright?” asked Ibuki.

Without a word, Makoto threw her arm around Ibuki’s shoulder and gave a surprisingly approving smile, “You and Me! We’re going to get strong together! I just know it! I didn’t know you could do such cool stuff! Ya gotta teach me sometime!” Relieved, Ibuki sighed, “For sure. We can save it for after we get some food in my stomach. I’m starving.”

“Do we really have to? What’s wrong with chicken and rice?”

“You cook that every night, Mako. Let’s go have some fun!”

“I-? Mako?”

Ibuki stood up and walked toward the house, “Mako. Short for Makoto. It’s a nickname. It’s what friends do.”

Makoto rubbed her chin like an elder learning about a new age trend for the first time, “I’ve never had a nickname before. Mako. Hm. Very well. Let’s go get something to eat, friend.”

Chapter Text

“WHILE WE’RE YOUNG, IBUKI!!”

Makoto eyed the clock again. If everything was right in the world she’d be finished with the Fei long movie and already fast asleep to wake up early to spend the entire Saturday fixing up the dojo. Instead, Ibuki just had to insist on ‘painting the town red tonight’. Whatever the expression meant is still a mystery. All Makoto could hope for is that it doesn’t mean vandalism.

The ninja stowed herself away in the bathroom almost forty minutes ago just to freshen up. In comparison, Makoto changed into a more casual outfit consisting of her loose fitting gi bottom, a black athletic shirt, and her usual hachimaki in just three minutes. Ibuki, who finally emerged from the bathroom, dressed in her casual attire of ripped jeans and a white t-shirt, “Sorry for the wait. You know what they say. There’s no rushing perfection.”

Makoto snorted, “Perfection? All ya did was change yer clothes.”

Ibuki wrung the remaining water from her ponytail, “I washed up too. I can’t go around smelling like sawdust and sweat unlike somebody I know.” Ibuki said, taking the lead as she walked out the door.

“What can I say? I like smelling like hard work.”

The trek into town felt shorter than normal. Perhaps it was due to this sense of impending doom looming over Makoto. She just couldn’t imagine herself running around her hometown like some sort of delinquent. As someone who was raised to live and die by discipline and respect it would bring great shame to her family to be dragged into acts of degeneracy.

And yet, she still followed into the night behind Ibuki who sauntered on without a care in the world. Ibuki lived like the world was her oyster and she’s more than happy to treat it like one. Ever since they met, Makoto has kept an eye on her. Wary that the ninja would start some sort of trouble.

“Tell me. Is there a place where I can sink my teeth into a big, juicy burger? Oooh! And fries cooked in hot bubbling grease served with tangy ketchup! Yum!” Ibuki clasped her hands together and licked her lips. Makoto sighs, “There’s no reason we should be eating that type of food. It doesn’t exactly fit into a martial artist’s diet.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ibuki stopped in her tracks, “I survived on nothing but ramen noodles and blueberry muffins for years and still beat your ass.”

Makoto grumbled then elbowed Ibuki’s side, “Tch. Ya just got lucky. Next time we fight I’ll be more wise to yer tricks.” A few steps later, Makoto spun around with a competitive glare, “Since ya want junk food so bad. I know just the place. Ya gotta beat me there first!” Makoto then exploded into a full on sprint down the street then around the corner, “Seriously? Does everything have to be a competition to her...Wait up!”

The already exhausted Ibuki wasn’t much of a match for Makoto’s bottomless well of endurance. Within seconds the scruffy haired girl was already out of eyesight. Ibuki took this time to redirect to her own methods. She took to the rooftops and jumped from building to building while Makoto dashed along the sidewalks. “Almost there,” Makoto looked back to not see Ibuki trailing behind, “Guess she gave up. Goes to show-“

Suddenly, Makoto felt the impact of what she quickly deduced as another person. They tumbled along the ground for a split second before Makoto jumped to her feet and rushed towards the person she ran into, “Oh no! Yer aren’t hurt are ya? I’m so sorry! ...Elena?”

The white haired woman stood up, not dressed in the hospital garb they first met her in, but more casual attire; A white shirt, red pants, and black shoes, “Hello, Makoto. Funny bumping into you this evening. I was starting to wonder when I’d see you again.” Elena’s warm, charming smile let Makoto know she’s okay.

A voice from above joined the conversation, “We can’t let ourselves end up in the hospital everyday.” Elena looked up to see Ibuki sitting on a nearby rooftop. She jumped down and shook hands with Elena, “Good to see that you healed up nicely. I had no idea you were so nimble.”

“What can I say? I’m full of surprises.” Elena and Ibuki shared a laugh while Makoto examined the Kenyan woman closer. She experienced a similar curiosity akin to when she first laid eyes on Ibuki. The muscled shoulders, defined biceps and forearms, and a sprinkle of battle scars visible along the exposed skin, “I knew it! Ya fight too don’t ya?”

Elena threw her hands behind her head with a bashful smile, “You’ve got such good eyes on you. I do like to fight as a way of meeting new people. I’ve made so many friends doing so.”

Makoto proudly stuck her hands to her sides, “Let me guess. Your style is capoeira.”

Elena’s eyes widened by surprise, “So observant! How did you know?”

“I’ve got a way of figuring these things out,” she cracked her neck, “I can’t wait to see this!” Makoto shot her finger forward, “Elena, I challenge you to show me your mo-”, Elena scooped up Makoto from underneath her arms leaving her feet dangling in the air and examined her closely in return, “You look all roughed up. You should heal up before we fight.”

“Besides, Mako. We’re supposed to be getting dinner, remember?” Added Ibuki, “Wanna join us, Elena?”

Elena returned Ibuki’s smile, “I’d love to!”

“Put me down!” grumbled Makoto.

After their unexpected encounter, Makoto took the lead and guided them to the diner that specialized in the junk food Ibuki craved. Ibuki’s meal was everything she hoped for, delicious, simple, and satisfying. Elena and Makoto received their meals positively as well. Much to Ibuki’s happiness that Makoto didn’t raise a stink the entire time like she feared.

“Welp, that was fun,” Makoto stretched her arms, “But I’m beat. Let’s go home.” Ibuki, quick to protest, grabbed Makoto by the shoulder, “What?! We can’t go home yet. The night’s still young and there’s another place I really wanna go. C’mon.” Makoto sighed in defeat. Elena joined Ibuki in happily skipping to their next destination.

Rattlesnake, run by none other than Kenjiro Tsuda, is the destination. The bar itself was sparsely populated that night. Just a group of elder worker’s chatting amongst themselves in the corner and one other person reclined in a seat with their eyes glued to the television.

“Makoto! Not in a million years did I expect to see you in here!” Kenjiro’s enthusiasm about Makoto’s presence made her blush, “I-It’s not my idea. I was just following along with them. That’s all.” He chuckled, “Relax. There’s nothing to be ashamed of here. It’s a bar, a place of honorable business. Let me make good on my promise and let the first round be on the house.”

Kenjiro served them three shot glasses filled with grapefruit sake.Makoto and Ibuki finished their shots as soon as they received them while Elena sipped on hers. Makoto took notice, “Yer taking yer sweet time with that.” Elena tilted her head, “Oh? Is that a challenge?” Confidence surged through Makoto forcing a cocky smile on her lips, “Obviously. Wouldn’t be hard to drink ya under the table.” Elena smiled once again, firmly patting her new friend on the shoulder, “You’re on.”

While Makoto and Elena headed over to the bar, Ibuki looked amongst the near vacant scenery of the place. Paintings and photos of what she could assume were longtime regulars, personal vacation photos, and other such nonsense. By the television, Ibuki spotted a familiar head of hair sticking from the chair, “So this is what you do when you’re not stumbling around the farmer’s market.”

“Eh? Ibuki?” Yuta turned around appearing surprised and a little offended by the comment.

“Just so you know I don’t “stumble” around places. I search for intel. Which reminds me, I got some information you’d like to know.” Yuta gestured towards the back of the bar, “Follow me.” Ibuki followed Yuta up a set of stairs into a hallway with several doors on each side, “Now I know what you’re thinking. But don’t let it fool you. The rooms are more spacious than you’d think.”

Yuta proudly flung the door open to show the extent of his words. Ibuki reflected merely a miniscule fraction of his enthusiasm, immediately unimpressed by the state of the room, “It’s certainly bigger than a broom closet”, she remarked. Upon stepping in the space of the room went down to one-third of its size, “I know it looks rough, but check this out!” Yuta gestured over to the kitchen area which just had a small sink and a microwave, “My kitchen sink has a stainless steel backsplash!” Ibuki pursed her lips. The walls and ceiling were a stale white and lacked any personality except for the large painting of a fisherman on a boat hung next to the window, “Gee, how did you manage to snatch up this little slice of heaven?”

“Kenjiro is letting me live here rent free as long as I work for him,” He winked, “Yup, I’ve got things all figured out...for now anyways.”

Ibuki stretched and sat down on the futon, “So what’s the intel you got?” Yuta turned around with a smile of showmanship, “Check. This. Out.” He moved the painting from the wall to reveal an entire cork board with pictures and red string connecting details to one another. Astonished, Ibuki drew herself in closer, taking in the put together effort Yuta has made for quite some time, “Woah. Look at you, Mr. Resourceful.”

He happily wagged his finger, “I’ve got a bead on another person who lived in our clan. They’re somewhere in Metro City.”

“Metro City...that’s far,” Ibuki blinked, “Any closer leads?”

“None really come to mind. I’ll keep looking though. I won’t give up until we’re ALL back together.” Yuta proudly smiled. Ibuki shared the same sentiment, “Once we get connected with everyone we can take revenge against the Geki.” Yuta’s smile faded, “R-revenge? Ibuki, I know this is the last thing you want to hear, but I think we should let it go.”

“Yuta,” Ibuki threw her arms in the air, “Those people murdered our clan. Our brother and sisters...our family. And you just want to let it go?” He sat back and crossed his arms. His foot tapped on the ground in agitation, “It’s been so long since the attack has happened. They’ve probably grown in numbers while we’ve...existed. Besides, I can barely remember the last time we did some real ninjutsu training. The best I can do is stay in shape.”

Ibuki slapped the sides of her thighs in frustration, “There has to be something we can do! Do you have anything on the leader at least?” Yuta shook his head, his brow furrowed, “The only thing I can think of from that night would be the symbol on their clothing.” He pulled open a nearby drawer and handed Ibuki a crude drawing of the symbool.

“Drew it straight from memory. Look familiar enough?” He asked. Ibuki analyzed the drawing closer. Aside from a few minor details, it was impressively spot on. “The best that we can do is to survive. After we connect with the others. That may be it. But you’re thinking about possibly five of us going against a whole clan of assassins?” warned Yuta. Ibuki sighed, “It won’t have to be a whole clan. Just the top dog.”

“Taking down the top dog means killing the top dog. Murder.” Yuta emphasized.

“Don’t you think I know that?! He needs to pay for what he did!” she executed her sentence with a foot stomp that shook the floor.

“Ibuki...”, not ever in her life had she seen someone so disappointed in her. While they were trained in the deadly art of Ninjutsu they were always instructed that taking another life would be a last resort. Often resulting in lifelong psychological issues.

“Here. Take a copy of the symbol,” Yuta said, hardly making eye contact with his friend, “Keep yourself out of trouble, ok?” Ibuki turned towards the door somberly, “No promises.”

Back down at the bar, Ibuki found the place emptier than when she entered. The four old men were which only left Elena sitting by her lonesome. “There you are!” The sight of Elena's friendly smile did little to lift Ibuki’s spirits, “We were worried you ran off.” Ibuki slipped Yuta’s drawing into her pocket, “Sorry about that. Just catching up with an old friend. Where’s Makoto?”

“Right *hic* here...” From the floor, Makoto wrapped her arms around the barstool and held on for dear life. “She challenged me to a drinking contest,” Elena answered, ”As you can see the winner is still standing.” Makoto shot up to her feet, stumbled forward, and wrapped her arms around Elena’s waist for support, “Ya gotta feel ‘er hair, it feelsssh nice.”

“Please do not touch my hair again.” Elena gently barked.

As much as Ibuki enjoyed the sight before her, the sour mood she was in needed to come to an end, “If it’s all the same to you guys. I’m ready to call it a night.” Elena nodded and carried Makoto out of the bar.

“Be sure she gets plenty of water,” advised Elena before splitting off to go home.

Ibuki and the inebriated Makoto went their own way through town. Throughout, Ibuki’s stature didn’t have it’s relaxed nature. She was slightly hunched over as if there was a weight pressed down on her shoulders. Makoto stumbled in front of her friend then came to a stop, “Oi! What’s with the serious look? I thought we were having fun tonight,” Makoto’s slurred speech clashed with her Tosan accent. Regardless, Ibuki still understood what she said, but didn't answer. She continued to walk on.

“No wait!” Makoto sloppily jumped in front of Ibuki. Makoto’s eyes were barely able to keep focus on Ibuki before drifting off elsewhere, “Ya were in a good mood until ya went with that guy. Did he do something to you cause I’ll-“.

“It’s nothing...” Ibuki flatly stated. She grabbed Makoto by the shoulders, spun her around, and gave her a firm shove, “Now let’s get home. You really need to get some water.”