The Hundred Item List

Thunder Dragons

By Leishe

Aoshi stopped by to admire the stone statuettes and sculptures that were positioned outside the modest, low-roofed cottage which hung onto the edge of a sagging cliff by the side of the road. He looked closely at the smooth, marbled face of a shepherd carved out in stone. Expert craftsmanship, it was, but with the simple, fine-tuned quality of a humble outdoorsman. The man smirked a little, his gaze dropping on the small white flowers that were suspended from the edge of the roof.

"Hello sir."

A voice. Light, melodious, one that reminded him of…butterflies. Aoshi turned around to face the speaker, with no intention of returning the greeting. An eyebrow arched, the man fixated his eyes on her face, and grunted his usual pleasantry.

"Hn."

The woman smiled cheerfully. A little bit too cheerfully. She looked the newcomer from top to bottom, taking him in with wide, bright eyes. Somewhere in the pit of his stomach, the former okashira began to feel stiffly uncomfortable. Her arm swung up towards the cottage in one graceful motion. The wind seemed to agree. With one mighty breath it suddenly tunneled towards her, blowing her skirt up. The woman let out a small shriek and attempted to flatten her dress. Aoshi stared blankly with his trademark indifference.

"W-would you like to come and have a look at my brother's wares?"

Aoshi's stone-cold glare flitted from her lightly tanned face, framed by locks of wavy, black hair, to the array of stationary figures, chiseled out from rock, standing in front of the cottage somewhat expectantly. He was about to hesitate, about to leave and be on his way towards the capital city…towards home and breakfasts and old friends…

"…Aa." Much to his surprise and chagrin, the man felt himself nod once, stiffly, and enter.

Perhaps, one side trip wouldn't hurt.

The young woman's smile softened, and her brown eyes lit up. She followed behind him with soft, thudding footsteps and fingers at her back, entwined in each other. It was dark beyond the door. Everything was distinctly wooden and herbal. Inside, he bent down awkwardly, as not to bump his head on the low ceiling. There was a small stone pig inside that happened to catch his attention.

Aoshi sensed her come up behind him. He scrutinized the small stone pig some more, with a somewhat disapproving look. The young woman bent over him, her long locks barely brushing against the rough, worn-out collar of his leather trenchcoat. He felt her smile at him.

"My name is Ayasi." She said.

This time, he responded deliberately.

"Shinomori Aoshi."

And then they met eyes.

Outside, a single snowflake drifted lightly through the air, and landed on the brown, dry leaves. Horse's hooves sounded in the distance, as mist shrouded the mountains beyond.

.0o0.

Misao woke up. She was breathing rapidly, deeply, and for some reason, even if it was cold outside, she was sweating all over. Blinking, the world slowly came into focus around her, and the young woman let out a sigh, rubbing her moist arms. Her breath was shaky, and it was clear that something had unsettled her.

"Misao? Misaoooo-chaann…"

The loud albeit muffled voice of Omasu came from behind the rice paper doors of her room. Outside, Misao could hear the sounds of breakfast cooking, while other voices talked to each other quietly. Her eyes darted to the wooden frames. Two knocks sounded.

"Misao?"

She let herself down on the futon once again, shivering a little. Her feet dug into the warmth of the soft cloth blankets, and the young woman closed her eyes halfway, letting her sight blur once more. During her return to the subconscious, Aoshi-sama's face appeared again, and this time, there was no pretty girl laughing beside him. This time, he was looking down at her with his cool, flashing eyes that held dark emotion. This time, all was well.

Misao's damp lips parted, her hand lay beside her head, partly curled into a fist. A deep, relaxed breath shuddered out of her body, and her eyelids settled down comfortably.

.0o0.

The sun was not hot that day, because it was covered by clouds. Despite the obvious oncoming of the colder, latter months of the year, a curious humidity hung in the air, making everything that was cold sticky, and what was crumbly, moist. The market was as it always was. Milling with crowds of people, haggling, buying, glancing curiously up at the scowling sky, and smelling like day-old produce. It was all very familiar.

"They're gone."

Nibori Mamoru shuffled up behind his sister, who was standing in front of the new lottery that had been established just a few days ago. The little boy peeked at her face. Komachi was wearing a forlorn expression, similar to the one when Taro had taken away her favorite doll. Mamoru's eyes traveled to the lottery itself. It was a clean place, clearly with a bit of western influence. The lottery was not unfamiliar to children such as they, but it was clear that that was not what Komachi was sniffling about.

"Who?" he asked.

"Aburakoji-ojisan and family."

Mamoru paused to scratch an itch that was coming on quite nicely at the back of his head. After a minute of this, he answered.

"You mean Hiroko-san? Those Aburakojis?"

Komachi nodded, burying a sniffle under an ill-executed cough. The young boy glanced down at the little girl, and there was bit of pride in his eyes. Maybe she would not be such a helpless weak woman after all. He looked up, and noticed that the sky was clouding again. Mamoru let out a sigh inside himself. Clouding skies. So troublesome. Gently he put his hand on Komachi's shoulder, pushing her forward.

"Come on. Kaasan needs us to help with fixing dinner."

Sullenly, the girl nodded, turning around to walk back to the house with her brother beside her. Their footsteps grew fainter with each passing step, and the wind grew colder behind them. The old trees rustled, grumbling ill-naturedly amongst themselves. The coming of Autumn was old news already. They were practically in the middle of it. Dry leaves fell from the highest branches, landing softly on the hardened dirt surface, in front of what used to be the Aburakoji sword shop.

A raven flew up to a tree and began watching. Mamoru let himself look back, but only for a few moments. He sighed and quickened his pace. And then he let himself vanish.

.0o0.

"Aaaaaaa, aaaaa!"

"Shh, shhh, come down my love...come on, you can do it…come down now…"

Hiroko was sure that she looked ridiculous, coaxing a child from a tree. But he was there, sitting on the lowest branch, yet out of her reach, like a little monkey. Her young son clung onto the trunk with his chubby little hands, and his mouth wide open. The complete set of white, pearly teeth were glinting in the afternoon sun, and his screaming filled the air. The woman sighed in frustration, ready to claw at something. Her brows knotted together, and at the same time, her dear old father strutted out of their new house.

"Ichiro!" he snapped, rubbing his back irritably, "Get down at once, you rotten little maggot!"

Hiroko's brows rose in indignant alarm, and her mouth opened to retort sharply. And then a small cry sounded from the branch above her, and the next thing she knew, the young boy was in her arms, grapping at the comb which bound her hair together tightly. Ichiro's mouth was quivering with sobs, and there were tearstains on his fat round cheeks.

Shinichi came hobbling to them, grumbling. The woman narrowed her eyes at her father, but did not say anything. The Aburakoji patriarch regarded her with rolling eyes. They both looked at the wailing boy, and for a moment, eyes softened and guards were let down.

"Sometimes that brat needs a break from all your sweet spoiling. A hard shove on the swing, my father once said. Ichiro has to be a man!" the old man declared.

Hiroko stroked her son's back. "A man he may have to be, but not yet. Not yet…" she muttered.

.0o0.

Soujiro noticed it that day. The way things seemed to move in invisible deliberation, as if strings were attached to whatever movement happened. He watched, pondering silently, the graceful, patterned motions of Okon as she nibbled on her breakfast, periodically reaching for her cup to take a short drink. Her hair brushed against her eyes, and she swiped at it. Omasu was walking, back and forth, back and forth. Rearranging the dishes, putting some more, and taking some away.

Okina was finished and had gone to the temple to meditate. He took the shogi board with him, and also, Soujiro's promise to play later that afternoon. But then the rurouni doubted that he would be able to keep it. Kuro was still there, eating his breakfast with thin, jerky movements, with his long arms moving here and then there, and his jaw chewing on the rice and fish. Shiro was washing dishes, because Omasu had told him so. And Misao wasn't there yet…

"Pass the fish Seta-san. Please."

Soujiro put the cup to his mouth. He drank the cold, clean water and replaced the cup on the table, putting his chopsticks to one side. Omasu took them, and Soujiro thought about how boring and routine everything seemed to be. His blue eyes scanned the room and saw nothing but wood and people. A hand suddenly flew to his side, searching for something that wasn't there.

It's a reversed one now, someone said, and you aren't a killer anymore. A feeling of shame rushed through him, and the sudden desire for his old weapon and his old title dissipated. But not completely. Mentally, he cursed, wishing for the maddening equilibrium of that morning to go away and never return…

Footsteps thudded, and then she appeared in the dining room. Wearing the usual yukata, with a slight trace of rings around her eyes, and a bit of dryness at her mouth. Soujiro studied her for a moment, and then she began to walk to the table.

Thud, drag. Thud, drag. Another pattern, Soujiro thought irritably.

Misao reached for a pair of chopsticks and went out of her way to glare him good morning.

"Good morning Maki-uh-Misao-ch—er, san."

"Hn," she grumbled, reaching to push her bangs from her face. Yawning, the young woman got a rice bowl from the other side of the table.

He tried to get ahold of the teapot and their hands brushed against each other unexpectedly. A panicked look from her green eyes, and she drew her hand back sharply. Okon and Omasu and Kuro looked up with surprise, noting the sudden movement.

"What's wrong, Misao?"

And he, Soujiro, merely poured some tea into his half-empty cup while bearing the glares the girl beside him was sending. Misao grabbed at her chopsticks savagely, and began wolfing down her meal, muttering "ninja missions" in between bites. Soujiro kept drinking, and a smile made its way inside of him.

Gone were the sleepy repetions and the horrible, rhythmic patterns. The thick blanket of silence that enveloped them all during breakfast was banished with a single gesture from Misao. Blue eyes took her in critically, wondering why she was the only one that could summon this storm of uncertainty…of imperfection.

Of color.

Soujiro stood up and thanked Omasu and Okon for the meal, like he always did. And then he disappeared out the dining room, to take a walk around the nearby streets. Misao eyed him grumpily, still eating her food.

His skin is abnormal, the young woman thought. Why is it that whenever I touch him, mine tingles?

.0o0.

Two running feet whirled past Soujiro as he strolled down the sparsely populated streets. He turned around to catch a glimpse of a pair of children vanishing behind a corner of fruit stalls. On a whim, the young man changed directions, following them. Instinct told him that it would lead to something interesting. Soujiro rounded the corner soon enough, and voices reached his ears.

"They're huge."

"Monsters, Sayuri-san. Only the foreigners can touch them."

"Oh!"

"Hmph. I saw one of those when I was younger…I think it was sixty or seventy years ago…"

"Agh, cut it old man. Your stories are boring."

"Watch your mouth you little maggot! May that beast bite your head of someday."

"Tch."

A crowd of people were gathered in front of one of the apartments in the residential area of Kyoto. The door to the apartment was half open, and two men were standing on either side, watching something in front of them with hawk's glares. A fat man in front of Soujiro turned to him, all of a sudden. He jabbed a thumb in the direction of the men.

"D'you know what they're so riled up about, young man?" he asked. Soujiro shook his head. He couldn't see past the numerous heads that were clouding over the object of interest. The fat man nodded. "Lizards," he said, lisping a little. "The foreign man is called Mr. Yates. He owns the creatures."

He didn't do well in masking his interest. "…lizards?"

The fat man nodded, but he had no chin, so… "Yes. Yates-san calls them Komodo. They're from Indonesia."

Komodo. Indonesia…?

These words were unusual to Soujiro's ears. He nodded and the crowd grew even larger as another group of people joined the throng. A group of gaunt, solemn-looking men appeared behind Soujiro and the fat man. They seemed to have keen interest in seeing the lizards, judging from their excited, whispered tones. But their eyes betrayed their true motives.

One of the men tapped the fat man on his shoulder.

"Excuse me…are those really dragons?"

The fat man looked pleased at another chance to explain. "Yes. They are owned by a man named Mr. Ya—"

Suddenly, Soujiro smiled. It was the chilly, empty smile again, and one of the newly-arrived men shot a furtive glance at the other. The young wanderer did not miss this action of his; he was two steps ahead of them, as usual. Soujiro turned to the fat man, bowing a little. "I'm afraid I must go now, Mr—"

"Kanzaki."

Soujiro started. He looked up with surprise. "K-kanzaki?" It was a common name around here, but still…

"Yes." The fat man smiled. "I'm a teacher here. I trust you know the Nibori siblings, Mamoru and Kodachi? They told me a great deal about you…"

A flash of running feet and laughing children appeared in his head. Soujiro remembered them, but that was not the point. So…this Kanzaki knew him. How much had the children told? But then he was a teacher, so he had to be a trustworthy man…

"Kanzaki?" one of the men behind them asked. The teacher smiled and nodded. "Hai." The man returned his smile.

"Do you, by any chance, have a brother in the north?"

The question caught him off-guard. "W-why, yes." The fat man answered. "Yes. Saburo Kanzaki…" He paused, "I haven't heard from him in a long while. Do you—" he began, "—do you know him?"

The man smiled again, in a manner which made Soujiro narrow his eyes and rest a hand inconspicuously on the handle of his sword. He knew Saburo Kanzaki, and consequently, remembered him quite well. The servant in the forest. The Christian in the forest. That man's faith was so strong that it made Soujiro question his own…

"We're friends of Saburo-kun." The man said. "He…is a worker with a most interesting way of life…"

Soujiro froze and then masked it easily. And inside, his mind was screaming. They found out. They found out about Kanzaki. And now they were going to kill him. His first instinct was to leave for the Yasuda compound right away. It would take him three days…less if he traveled quickly. He would need supplies and money for the trip…

He thought of the Aoiya. And then he thought of Misao.

.0o0.

The list was tucked in the side of her sash, like it always was, and this time, she was lying down by the river again, except on the other side, where there was a small green meadow. The dragonflies were hovering above, gliding with the weak breeze, like the lazy creatures that they were. Misao's eyes were closed, and on her face were peace and sleep, and rest.

Omasu hurried up the grass, trying to be as fast and quiet as she could. Being a ninja, it was a piece of cake, and besides, Misao the thick-skulled ninja girl was the soundest sleeper in the entire city of Kyoto. The woman smiled faintly as she crept up on the napping girl. Her eyes crinkled in mischief, as they spotted the small, tightly wound scroll protruding out of the deep blue sash that was tied around her waist.

"Hee…" said Omasu, gently picking the list from Misao's side. This was easy. Almost too easy. With a giggle of satisfaction bubbling inside her, the woman tucked the list into her own sash, and sashayed down to the dirt path not far from the meadow, smiling.

"Misao…now is your time to be recognized as Kyoto's number one bachelorette!"

.0o0.

When Misao woke up, it was late afternoon. She yawned, rubbed her eyes and stretched her arms, and then hopped up to take a lazy stroll around the parts of the city that she was more familiar with. The young woman rubbed at her backside absently, and took a quick glance at the clouds that were covering the faint glowing yellow-ness of the sun. Misao sighed and kept walking.

.0o0.

Soujiro was walking at a brisk pace, through the milling people, and through the various stalls and booths and wagons full of fruits and flowers and stuff. His breath came in a little quicker than normal, and his hand seemed to linger on the hilt of his sword from time to time.

Kanzaki. Dead. Dead. Dead.

It was all in his mind, in his brain, swimming. Why did they find out? How? The old servant wasn't the most careful person in the world, and Soujiro had met him only once. What, really, was his obligation to this stranger in the forest? They had exchanged words and names, but little else. Who cared if the man died? Christianity was taboo here. Everyone knew that.

"Excuse me…" a man pushed past, and Soujiro glanced sharply at his face. He was one of the bystanders who were there to see the lizards. The one who had talked about Kanzaki… Blue eyes narrowed. Soujiro did not like the look of the man's face nor the sound of his voice. There was something going on, and whatever happened, the wanderer swore himself that he would not fall into a trap…

Two small bodies rammed into his legs, and Soujiro stumbled.

"Er…sorry, mister…" A boy got up, holding his head, and his sister shook her hair back into place. Her eyes widened at the sight of Soujiro, and then he realized that he recognized both of the children.

"…ma…moru, isn't it?"

The boy bowed, eyes on his sword. "Seta-san!"

Soujiro nodded briefly, and smiled at them. He didn't have time for this. The siblings walked past without another word, and so the young man made his way towards the Aoiya. The crowds were getting thicker, he noted, and the people were flowing in the opposite direction, towards the Komodo dragons. He raised his eyes to the cloudy sky.

Another body crushed against his, and the wanderer started in surprise.

"Get off, baka!"

He blinked. He knew that voice.

"Misao-san?"

Gripping her shoulders, he looked at her, and she stared at him with startled green eyes. She blinked as well, before glaring at him and wrenching away from his grasp. Her braid swung behind her, against her back, and the crowd pushed savagely, forcing her to stumble into him in one awkward jerk. Misao nevertheless retained her defiant gaze.

"Soujiro. What're you doing here….why?"

He flashed another of his smiles, "Don't give me that, idiot!" Misao snapped. "Okon's been wondering where you w—"

In a gesture quite uncalled for, the young man suddenly stopped smiling, and caught the girl's hand, pulling her into a quick hug. Misao's eyes widened and she looked up at him with a bewildered expression. She didn't know how to pull away, and no words seemed to be able to come out of her mouth…

"S-Sou…"

Soujiro looked at her with warmth in his usually expressionless blue eyes. Misao felt her breath hitch, and realized immediately that she was not used to seeing him like this. He took her hand and whispered something in her ear,

"Goodbye."

And he disappeared into the crowd.

It had happened too fast. She tried to comprehend, forcing her mind to keep up with what had spun past too quickly. Misao turned back wildly, searching for him amongst the rush of nameless faces. The wanderer was nowhere to be seen, and the people walked forth, catching her in their wake. Nevertheless, she shouted, calling for someone who wasn't there anymore.

"SOU!" She shouted, "Where are you going!" Her eyes were pleading, now, searching.

And as expected, no one answered her.

.0o0.

"There he is."

"Watch him, boys. No good to displease Takeshi on our first mission."

"Tch. Don't be so hot over it, Bunkei. He's just a kid."

"Yeah."

"A crazy kid. And filthy rich."

"Crazy isn't even half of it. The guy's a madman."

"Hey, look! Where'd he go?"

"Who?"

"Seta!"

"What do you mean where'd he go? He's right there."

"Where?"

"…there. By the rock."

"…no he isn't."

"But he was there a moment ago!"

"…"

"You think it's true, then?"

"…what?"

"That Seta's a god?"

"I dunno, but if he really does have the speed that they say he possesses, then Takeshi's gonna have a hell of a fun time, won't he?"

"Whatever you say, Bunkei. You're the leader, after all…"

The men looked at each other uncertainly, and then at the winding roads ahead of them, which pierced into the mountainside. They were tired, dirty, and very, very alert. The journey from the Yasuda compound had spent them, but after catching sight of the prey that their master had valued so, adrenaline began to flow in their veins.

The man named Bunkei shoved a stick into the ground, and nodded at the group. He was not going to fail Lord Takeshi.

"Come on, men. He couldn't have gone far."

.0o0.

Notes.

Hi. Late update? Yes. Reason? School. Why? School. Long-ish chapter this time around, and I really hope to work on the next one a bit faster. :-) As always, thank you, readers, for the encouraging responses! You guys know how to keep an author writing. :-) SouMi is vaguely vague at this stage, but I shall see what I can do.

Comments and stuff are very much appreciated. Ciao!

Leishe