Pairing: Kan/Kyuu
Synopsis: Kyuu's POV on the Episode 4 match. Did Kanbei and Kyuuzou have a previous association???

Warnings:
- Kyuuzou is male and is not trying to be a woman, but his perspective falls into an ambiguous gender space. So if the idea of "third gender" Kyuuzou bothers anyone, be warned - it's only going to get 'worse' in later chapters.

- Mention of female OCs - but none of them are even remotely interested in men.

- Characters may express some prejudices by making broad generalizations about certain groups of people.

Disclaimers:
- The opinions expressed by Kyuuzou or any other character are NOT intended to reflect the writer's opinions.

I do not own Kyuuzou, Kanbei or any of the characters from Gonzo's S7. Am not making a profit off this fic.

OCs: The people Kyuuzou refers to as his 'sisters' are not his legal sisters. They are his Sensei's older students. None of the female OCs in this fic will be involved with men, so there will be no het to be concerned about. The women only serve to fill in Kyuuzou's background and motivations.

I set out to look for the leader of that ragtag band of unemployed samurai who had been giving my colleagues so much trouble. My incompetent bunch of co-workers probably could have done a half-decent job if they set their minds to it, but the problem with people is they don't try hard enough.

I dropped by the band's hideout but couldn't find their leader. So I decided to try my luck by following that little samurai and the peasant girl with the needlessly exposed belly button (I still wonder why she doesn't catch a chill when the rest of us are bundled up in layers and layers). I could not see what Ukyo saw in her, but just the same, I was planning to kill her after I was done killing the samurai. It would be better for her that way.

Just as expected, the kids led me right to their leader, an unkempt middle-aged samurai badly in need of a haircut. I stayed out of sight but the samurai sensed me before he saw me. This was no common foe. The day might just turn out to be interesting.

Since the older man had already called me out, I decided to make my flashy entrance and intimidate him a little bit. I took the shortcut down that flight of 70 stairs and made my impressive landing, something I'm sure the ojisan cannot do even if his life depended on it. The dark samurai introduced himself as Shimada Kanbei and then asked for my name. I didn't even know why I bothered to tell him. He'd be dead soon enough. But maybe I shouldn't have given him the impression I was willing to entertain idle conversation, for the next thing he said was, "It seems you're a samurai so I was hoping to have a chat with you."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Just what sort of lame pickup line was that? I was not there to make small talk, so I decided to let my blades do the rest of the talking. Told him to draw his sword but he still would not give up trying to chat me up.

"You are indeed a samurai," he continued. Whatever. It is so like the typical arrogant male to presume to tell people they barely know who or what they really are. My social classification is an ambiguous issue, but that was none of his business anyway.

My second sister Mizuho had always told me that I was better than other men. That I was special - purer, higher, smarter. That because I was untainted, I had the potential to reach the heights of mastery in the warrior arts, a level that 'common men' can never achieve. She said the superior potential of my kind was recorded in the wisdom of the ancients. I once wondered if Mizu really believed what she said, or if she was just being kind. But so far, no 'common man' had been able to prove my sister wrong. This over-the-hill ojisan in need of a shave, a bath and a good shampoo would be no different. I would walk away from this fight with my clothes still smelling fresh and my hair still unruffled.

The long-haired samurai had finally drawn his sword, so I wasted no time in launching my attack. I was doing well, or so I thought. The older man was taller and had a longer reach, but I was younger, swifter and more agile. I had slain much bigger opponents before. I closed in for the kill but he was better than I expected. Before I realized it, we were stuck in a deadlock - I had my sword at his throat but I felt his blade against my skin. I knew I had cut him but at the same time, that warm redness was trickling down my neck. Good thing I was wearing a black turtleneck, and not white. I wondered, just for a brief moment, if I'd live to go home and do laundry. Then I dismissed the thought. He was the one who was going to die today. And he was the one with the laundry problem since he was wearing what I guessed to be that off-white color the mail-order catalog describes as cream, ecru, light tan, beige, or whatever. For a split second, I had the crazy thought as to whether other people think of 'Spray n Wash' just before they die. But then this Shimada Kanbei had probably never even heard of laundry stain remover, looking at him.

We were both contemplating our next move. If I put more pressure on his neck, he could certainly do the same to mine. I was closer to him than I had ever been, and I took a good look at his face for the first time. With a start, I realized I was almost half certain this Shimada Kanbei was him - the man I saw 15 years ago. The man in my memory was much younger, wore no beard, had shorter hair, but all that could have changed in the long years since that day. The fact that his name is Shimada was almost too coincidental. For a moment, I stared at his face, unsure if I was trying to remember or trying to forget.

The unkempt samurai must have noticed me studying him, and like the typical egotistic male, he misunderstood my intent and assumed I was checking him out. He leaned in towards me with an inappropriately dreamy expression and made that outrageous remark that I won't even dignify by repeating. Just as I recoiled in revulsion, the pressure on my neck eased unexpectedly. That cunning creature had taken the opportunity to retract his blade and slip the crossbar of his sword between my blade and his neck. Sparks literally flew between us as metal scraped against metal. He forced my blade away from his face in one swift circular motion while he sidestepped to close in on my right. All this while, he was gazing into my eyes in a manner that was nothing short of suggestive. The nerve! I dove, parrying his back-handed strike with my right sword and then throwing him two parting slashes as I spun away from him into a side flip. My blades missed him as he rolled out of the way. But his counterstrike failed to touch me too.

While the older warrior scrambled to his feet, I made a beautiful landing a few meters away, putting a bearable distance between us. Much as I reveled in my superior agility, I recognized that not only was my opponent physically stronger than I was, I had underestimated his skill level. I needed to attack with greater speed, and then move out of his range.

Then that Kanbei fellow came up with another lame pickup line about seeking some highly skilled samurai for an 'unspecified purpose'. Euuw. Would he never stop trying?!! "Er, Mr Shimada," I mentally suggested, "Maybe you should try the personal ads?"

Next thing he did was proposition me about joining up with him to fight the Nobuseri. I wasn't going to buy into his game this time. I flew at him with full intention of ending things there and then. I was surprised at my own fury. No opponent had ever succeeded in making me angry; they were too insignificant. Sensei told us never to get angry, because it gives a clearer-thinking enemy a weakness to exploit. But I didn't care at that moment. "This man is going down!!! Now!!!"

I came down on him with a flying leap but he intercepted my right blade with his sword and my left with his scabbard. For a moment, I was suspended in mid-air. He was supporting my whole weight on his arms. Force-against-force, many fighters could potentially have dominated me but it had never been an issue because my speed and vastly superior technique always more than made up for any differential in physical strength - until now.

My Sensei had told us, "If a small hundred pound woman uses her whole weight against a bigger man's hand or finger, guess what is going to give way? The hundred pounds, or the hand?" The only option I had now was to use my entire body weight as leverage against the taller man. I swung my knees up and kicked him in the hand and chest, launching off him. This sent him flying a few yards back to the foot of a nearby storage shed full of metal poles.

All right, all right, don't give me the "It's against the samurai code of honor to kick someone" lecture. I don't take the rigid principles of samurai honor as seriously as some of those other guys, notably the infamously inflexible Tessai. Just because I'm quiet does not mean I'm deadpan serious all the time. One has to be flexible if one wants to survive. That's what my seniors taught me. Even Big Sister Haruko, the only one of us who was born a samurai, said. "Your first priority is to kick the guy's a."

Anyway, I counterattacked that annoying Kanbei, slashing my way through the barrage of metal poles he was flinging at me. He was desperate, and on the defensive. Good. This was how things should be. I chased right up to him. But he vaulted out of my way onto the beam of the shed using one of the metal poles. As I looked up at him, he tried to cut me off using the pole as a weapon.

"Length is not everything! I'll cut him down to size!" I thought. With two clean strokes I sliced through a lower beam and one of the pillars of the building. I did not have to go up there to chase him because I could bring him to my level.

As the building came crashing down, my enemy was forced to rejoin me on the ground. We found each other amidst the flying dust and crossed swords again. It was then he seized me by the hand. No opponent had ever gotten this close before, and no man had ever laid hands on me! I would have pulled away, but his grip was like iron. He spoke into my ear, breathing heavily.

"I can't defeat you, but before you kill me, there is something I have to finish no matter what."

I froze. I've heard someone say something like this before, but she wasn't saying to it me. She was saying it to him, possibly the same man who now stood beside me. The dreaded memories forced their way into my consciousness, and against my will, I began to shudder. I bit my lip and stilled my shivers through sheer force of will, hoping my opponent had not noticed.

"If you'd excuse me," the old samurai continued. "Please let me go."

Then he loosened his grip, sliding his fingers across the back of my hand and over my wrist with deliberate slowness before letting go of me. I was too stunned at that moment to even feel outraged. Then as reality sank in, my blood pressure shot through the roof. I was now utterly convinced that Shimada Kanbei fully intended to molest me with his every move!

Shimada stepped ahead of me and said without even looking back, "You're called Kyuuzou, aren't you?"

The coward! After he had molested me, he didn't even dare to look me in the eye! He continued talking, "You'll have to wait until I destroy the Nobuseri before we fight again. Please wait for me until then."

Ask me to wait for him? That brazen creature! If he is who I think he might be, he has no right to...

But then the annoying samurai added, "... or would you strike me down right now?"

Right now? That wasn't a bad idea. I considered it. Sure, slashing someone in the back isn't the most honorable thing to do, but then sexually harassing one's opponent isn't an honorable thing either, last time I checked. If I cut him down where he stood, we would be quite even. But if I killed him now, I would never know if he was that samurai ...

I didn't get to make my decision that day, for a badly-designed fool of a robot jumped down on us, prematurely announcing his presence by shouting, "Danger, Kanbei!" I had anticipated him anyway, because I saw his reflection in the blade of my katana before he leaped at me from behind with his oversized sword. I struck his weapon out of his hand with my left blade, and was about to cleave the mecha in half with my right blade when Kanbei knocked my sword out of my hand. I swear this guy is more than aggravating! That he would condescend to disarm when he could have moved to maim or kill shows that he does not take me seriously enough! I will make him regret this! He is exactly the kind of irritating creature my sisters refer to as the 'typical male'!

I had enough 'fun' for the day. It seems this Kanbei's strategy is to make his opponents drop dead from anger when he cannot beat them fair and square! I had no desire to put up with his annoying presence for one second longer, so I took off. Well, that ojisan lucked out this time. I'll settle this when I'm less pissed off and can fight with a clear head.

- Kyuuzou is, in a way, color blind. That is why he is guessing at the color of Kanbei's clothes. He has not always been 'color blind,' so he can mentally perform a color correction based on past experience. For the reasons behind his color blindness, see companion fic Unforgiven.

- The 'untainted' (celibate) male warrior as superior in skill and power to other men is a recurring motif in Chinese martial arts fiction. Eunuchs, monks, and other (heterosexually) celibate men are over-represented among super-warrior characters. Kyuuzou can be read to fit the androgynous (or gay) martial artist/cold blooded killer stereotype found in East Asian martial arts film and other fiction. Such men are set apart from other men both by their deadliness and by their gender ambiguity/sexual orientation, some examples being Yurimaru of Ninja Scroll, Dongfang of The East is Red, and Bijoumaru of Azumi, just to name a few.