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Copyright 2001 by Brian Randall.

The day started as most days had, light seeping in through the windows, and alerting him that it was time to awaken. It wasn't that he was a light sleeper, as much as the fact that he was restless. He came home late, left early, and spent as little time in dealing with his father as he could manage.

The one friend he had would meet him at the gate of the school on the days he chose to attend, and then stand together and watch the other students as they entered.

His name was Gen'e Kenkyou. He was sixteen years old, nearly seventeen, with his hair in unruly short spikes, slicked back in defiance of tradition. His stocky frame was something less than burly, but still very well muscled. Scorning the uniform of the school, he was dressed in loose fitting street-clothes. A pair of baggy white canvas pants, and a jacket, though beneath that he wore nothing more than a strip of cloth wrapped over his abdomen, like a bandage.

He had seen the style in a movie, and knew that it was more appropriate for a bygone era, but people who saw him approaching generally took it to mean that he was strong enough to dress as he pleased, and not care what other people thought. Which worked, in the end, and made him look all the more imposing. He was tallish, if not truly tall, but his build and presence allowed him to tower over people like a small giant.

Sighing softly, he slumped back against a concrete wall near the sign that said, 'Hikami Gakuen Senior High School.' The ground beneath his feet was covered with sparse growths of grass, gone brittle and yellow for the season, shielded from most of the rains by the very wall he was leaning against. His eyes wandered down the street, flicking across the assorted students in uniform, the one small copse of trees across the street, and further up the hill, towards the neighborhood where his house sat.

A vicious yawn was knuckled back, and he forced himself to pay attention to his companion, whose perpetual speech had been tuned out momentarily. Kanten Kayuu, a scrawny and somewhat gangly boy. He might have been taller than Kenkyou, if he were to strand up straight, but Kenkyou was uncertain, and didn't really care to ask. He nodded after concluding some point of speech that Kenkyou hadn't really listened to, and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose in an authoritarian manner. "Don't you agree?" he asked suddenly.

Kenkyou grunted in a noncommittal manner, not really caring. Kayuu seemed to not care much either, turning to peer at the groups of students drifting past along with Kenkyou. "We're probably going to be late to class if we don't hurry," Kayuu noted.

Snorting, Kenkyou shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Anyway, what do you want to do after school?"

Kenkyou frowned, considering, then shrugged. He would decide when class got out.

Kayuu rolled his eyes. "You can never decide," he muttered. "Unless it's to go to the Meiji Restoration Museum."

The larger boy sighed at that. He enjoyed the history, even if he couldn't quite understand his father's idea of what a code of honor should be. It took him to a time where men were respected for strength, for bravery… for being heroes, he supposed. "They're closed Tuesdays," he told Kayuu.

Kayuu sighed, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah…" The two fell into a rare companionable silence, normal for Kenkyou, but not the typically very talkative Kayuu.

The crowds of students thinned, the few students that were still passing coming in all out runs to catch the gate before the bell rang. Kenkyou sighed, and lurched away from the wall, shambling forward slowly to get to class.

From behind him, he heard frantically tramping feet, and a shrill cry of, "I'm going to be late! I'm going to be late! Excuse me!" He felt something slam into his back -- heavily, and frowned darkly. Turning slowly, for maximum effect, he saw a girl, recoiling from the collision with him. Her schoolbag dropped, and her notes and homework scattered everywhere. His frown faded as she wobbled unsteadily for a moment, then fell straight down onto her rump, sniffling. "I'm going to be late!" she wailed.

Any anger that had built up washed away -- the girl had just made a mistake. A simply, clumsy mistake. And to judge by the way she was breathing, the flush on her face, and the tired look about her eyes, wasn't a very good runner, anyway. And the collision; that was a good clue, too.

Sighing, he knelt, swiftly gathering her papers, and handing them to her. Her tears stopped, and she blinked at them in surprise, looking up at him curiously. Her face was petite, and pale, like a china doll with a blush. Long, straight, black hair flowed down her back, tied neatly into a pair of braids. Her wide, innocent eyes still shimmered from the tears she had shed, making her look vulnerable.

Kenkyou hid a frown as she demurely looked away, putting her notes and books back in her bag. "Th… thank you," she managed, still staring at the ground. He had never really noticed people in general before; none of them seemed to stand out, except Kayuu.

He extended a hand towards her, and she blinked in confusion before placing her hand in his, confused. Standing swiftly, he lifted her to her feet with a minimum of effort, leaving her flustered and wide-eyed. He smirked, shrugging wordlessly.

"Th… thank you again," she stammered, eyes frantically darting to the ground again. "I… I need to get to class," she began, nervously. He nodded, gesturing to the school, and she trotted towards the still open gates, casting backward glances towards him occasionally.

"Hmm," Kenkyou mused.

Kayuu raised an eyebrow. "What was that all about?" he asked.


Saika bowed her head, staring at her shoes intently, as the teacher lectured her, standing before the class, "Nakamura-san, the school has a very strict policy about tardiness, and as your sensei, I can not allow--"

He cut off, and the very quiet whispers from the back of the room fell silent, as the door opened, painfully slowly, drawing the attention of everyone in the classroom instantly. It could not have been more disruptive if the hinges had been rusty, squealing affairs, and the person opening the door were to shout defiantly about his lateness. But no, he let his actions speak for him, taking a full 6 ticks of the second-hand on the clock over the door to open it, and another three to stride into the room. He held the door open a moment, allowing someone to scurry in behind him, but whoever it was, attention was riveted on the boy, dressed as he was, not in uniform at all. He swiveled his head around slowly, carefully.

Every movement the boy made seemed designed to show how careful and cautious he was, suggesting that he was even larger and more powerful than he looked. Saika felt her knees wobble uncertainly. He was the same boy she had run into earlier that morning, and he had seemed so much less… imposing, then. She swallowed, feeling somehow that she was looking up at him, and up, and up, and up. And yet, when she tried to pretend he wasn't so imposing, he was a bit taller than she was, as much as his presence made it seem.

The teacher flicked his gaze across the students for a moment, then to the boy. "Nice of you to join us today, Gen'e-san," he muttered.

Saika stared at the boy. Gen'e was his name? Gen'e just nodded once, not even looking at the teacher, and plodded to an empty desk, where he sat down, hunching over as though he had a hard time fitting in the thing.

Thoroughly flustered, the teacher grumbled, "Take your seat, Nakamura-san."

Saika bowed her head, saying, "Yes, Sensei!" unsteadily. Before she took her seat, she glanced back at Gen'e uncertainly. Who was that boy? How did he change so much from before the class? It made no sense… She sighed brokenly, fishing her homework from her bag. She would just have to ask him later.


The lunch bell rang loudly, startling the teacher out of his lecture. He blinked at the clock for a moment, frowning, then shrugged, and folded up his notes and books, clearing out of the room.

Once the teacher was gone, all pretences of study were abandoned, and the students turned to their banter, friendly jibes, and whispered gossip. Saika didn't know the other students well enough to approach any of them, though she was more than a little hurt that none of them thought it was worth their time to approach her, either.

She turned in her seat to look at the imposing boy, but he was reclining in his chair, arms crossed behind his head, as though he couldn't care less what other people thought. Saika smiled at that, thinking it must be a wonderful thing to know what you were supposed to do in a social situation, or better, not need to even worry about it. If only she could be as self-assured as he could.

Gathering her courage, and remembering that she owed him an apology for the morning anyway, she approached him nervously. "Excuse me," she said softly, when he made no move to react, his eyes closed. One eye opened lazily, studying her for a moment, then the other, and both blinked at her.

He remained silent, and she wondered if she were doing something wrong. "I, um, that is, Gen'e-san, I wanted to apologize."

Again, his eyes blinked, and he shrugged disinterestedly, as though the matter meant nothing to him. Swallowing nervously, she bowed to him, eyes clenched shut. "I'm sorry, Gen'e-san! Please forgive me."

There was an extended moment of silence, while she struggled with herself. If only she understood better, and knew how people were supposed to react. But then, the longer she thought about it, the more she came to think that he wasn't exactly a 'normal' person. She straightened suddenly, at a careful touch on her shoulder. Gen'e lowered his hand, shaking his head and smirking. "It's okay," he said after a moment. "Just be careful."

Nodding, she stepped away, turning too quickly, and caught the edge of her skirt on the hook built-into the desks for hanging bags. Gen'e had no bag, so her hem caught, sending her sprawling across the floor, but leaving her skirt thankfully intact. The laughter of the class rang out, sending waves of humiliation crashing through her. She looked up fearfully at Gen'e, to see if he was laughing at her, but he wasn't; he was simply looking at her with an expression of confusion on his face.

Saika sniffled, trying to resist breaking into tears -- she had made another mistake, and people were laughing at her again! She simply couldn't understand how she was supposed to act, what she was supposed to do, and how she should behave, and her natural clumsiness didn't help matters at all.

Gen'e cleared his throat loudly, once, and glared around the classroom. The laughter stopped instantly.

Saika climbed to her feet slowly, her face red with embarrassment, but the students were quiet, no longer laughing at her. She glanced back at him again, as he watched her, curiously, not contemptuously, as the other students sometimes did, and completely without pity in his gaze. Was that respect? She wished she could be sure, but her heart skipped a beat when she thought about it. 'Th… thank you, Gen'e-san."

He just nodded again, settling back and closing his eyes.


Kayuu trundled down the street, while Kenkyou followed just behind him, strolling in a long, rolling gait. He had been quiet for a while, thinking about the day. Kenkyou didn't talk to people much at all, except when there was a fight, and to women almost never.

That he had deigned to speak with a mere schoolgirl daunted Kayuu. He had always thought that he was the only one who could speak to Kenkyou, except maybe his father. And Kenkyou seldom listened when his father spoke, as far as Kayuu knew.

Cocking his head to one side, he eyed his friend, ambling along, stopping at the street corner to wait for the light to change. Sighing uneasily, and trying not to stare at Kenkyou too long, he turned his attention to the area. The municipal library was across the street, rows of high cylinders gleaming in the sunlight. Except that they were closed on the same days as the Meiji Restoration Museum.

Kayuu grimaced. What was that girl to Kenkyou, anyway? Probably nothing, but at the same time, she could be a risk. What if she distracted him, seduced him away? Kayuu shivered at the thought.

He had never considered it before, and he wasn't entirely prepared to deal with the thought, but… did the idea of losing Kenkyou mean that much to him? He swallowed suddenly, stuck by the idea, and its implications. Time to think of that later, or better yet, not at all. "So," he began. "Want to go to the park today?"

'The park' was a short distance away, five minutes by bus, a little longer by foot. Kenkyou seemed to disdain the bus, though Kayuu was reasonably sure that Kenkyou had money enough, and more. He simply preferred the activity of walking. Or any exercise, probably.


Kenkyou paused at the edge of the park, which, more than his home, he considered to be 'his'. His home was where his father lived, and where Kenkyou slept, some days ate. The park was where Kenkyou practiced, sat among the trees, listened to Kayuu, and watched the people. Some nights in the summer he would even sleep in the park, partially to irritate his father, but mostly because he enjoyed the greenery much more than the dead grass near his school.

On the days when he skipped class, he would loiter in the park, or the museum. The museum staff knew him well enough that they no longer had a guard follow him to make sure he wouldn't steal or break things. It was also one of the few places where he felt he could truly relax.

Which was why he found the presence of three ruffians squatting on what was known among gangs and gang-wannabes as, 'his territory,' an annoyance. Two shorter boys, and one taller boy with the standard leather jacket, outrageous Jerry-curl slicked and oiled to perfection. The taller one would be their leader, obviously.

Kayuu simply melted back into the scrub bushes, where there were popular hiding places for the more ecchi-minded individuals stalked young lovers. Much as Kenkyou had an ability to make himself be seen, Kayuu had a knack for the opposite. The toughs looked up from where they were tossing a pair of dice, standing as Kenkyou approached.

Kenkyou said nothing, merely crossing his arms over his chest dourly.

The representative of the group swaggered towards Kenkyou, and placed his hands on his hips, taking a wide stance. "Who do you think you are?" he asked. Jerking a thumb towards himself, he declared, "We're the Tetsujin Gurentai." His gaze flickered across Kenkyou's open jacket, then upwards, to his impassive face. "Are you here to join us?"

Smiling slowly, Kenkyou cocked his head to one side, as though her were considering. After waiting long enough for the leader of the Tetsujin Gurentai to shift his feet anxiously, he straightened, looking him evenly in the eye. "No," he stated gravely. "This is my turf. And I think I want you to leave."

The boy stepped back, grimacing. "Fine. Boys, deal with him." He raised his chin, smirking, and narrowing his eyes. "This idiot is beneath the Tetsujin Kumichou's time."

Kenkyou raised an eyebrow, as he shifted his stance, dropping one hand to his chest, palm upwards, and the other near his chin, either able to move in a great defensive range. His feet were placed carefully, lowering his center of gravity and making him nearly impossible to topple. Kumichou? The boy considered himself to be on a level with the yakuza?

The pair of thugs glanced at each other, then shrugged, and charged at once. Kenkyou swiveled effortlessly past the first, swinging his arm downward sharply and slamming it into the back of the first charging thug. He was sent sprawling on the ground, grunting loudly, only to be muffled as his mouth was filled with lawn and dirt.

The second thug backpedaled, reconsidering, and danced around Kenkyou cautiously, as the larger boy slowly, dramatically, raised his arm to its previous position, not even deigning to look at the fallen thug. His foot lashed out suddenly at Kenkyou's, and Kenkyou elected to forgo dodging, allowing the thug to crack his foot sharply against the much more solid boy's braced leg.

He danced back, hobbling and in pain, and Kenkyou strode forward, shoving him with a single decisive palm strike that knocked him back a full meter into the scrub bushes. He choked and gasped, the wind knocked out of him, and Kenkyou again ignored him, turning to look as someone shouted, "Gen'e-san! Look out!"


Saika had gotten lost on her way home again, woefully unfamiliar with the bus routes, and finally spotted a familiar landmark after nearly an hour of being to embarrassed to tell the driver. She had disembarked, feigning more confidence than she felt. But she wouldn't let it get her down, even if it _was_ a setback, and a long walk, and she wasn't very well equipped for long walks, as easily as she tired, and as often as she fell over.

She had stopped in a park to catch her breath for a moment, when she heard the sounds of a scuffle -- and further cautious investigation showed the boy, Gen'e, being attacked by a trio of ruffians. Her hands had flown to her mouth, and her eyes had widened instantly. She had never seen anything truly violent, not even on television, and the event shocked her to no end.

But Gen'e was able to effortlessly knock two of the boys to the ground, not watching the third. When she saw the glint of metal, cold and sharp, her first thought was of the needles that the doctors had always inflicted upon her in her illness, and her momentary dumbness was erased, "Gen'e-san! Look out!"

He jerked around to look at her, surprised, and the other boy lashed out with the glinting bit of steel, scoring a hit across Gen'e's face. The larger boy spun instantly, seeming less to move, and more to simply have changed from one position to the other, with no transition. One hand wrapped tightly about his assailant's wrist, the one bearing the steel, and tightened until Saika could hear the alarming creak of grating bone even from where she stood. The assailant loosed a muted whimper, and dropped the weapon.

Gen'e spun his arm, launching the attacker into a forced somersault, slamming him forcefully into the ground, and pinning him there with his knee. Gen'e leaned close to the other boy, breathing heavily, and allowing a few stray droplets of blood to fall from his face onto the attacker's. In a deep, angry, grating tone, he announced, "This is my turf. Stay away."

Not yet done, he stood, gathering the weapon -- a box-cutter, Saika recognized dimly, distantly, as the entire scene began to become diffuse and unreal to her. He sheathed the blade carefully, and slowly, deliberately, folded the weapon in half with both hands, throwing it at his attacker's feet disdainfully. "Never try that again."

Finished with the gang for the time, Gen'e turned towards her, and walked forwards purposefully, not quickly, but purposefully, and she was able to see the gash across his face, running from below one eye for a few centimeters, towards his jaw. Thick, red blood oozed from it slowly, and Saika was aware of her world growing dark, as she fainted.


Kenkyou grimaced, as the girl collapsed, eyes rolling into the back of her head. He managed to reach her in time to keep her from landing roughly, and laid her carefully on the ground near her book bag, as Kayuu wormed his way free of the underbrush. "What's she doing here?" Kayuu asked, confused.

Shrugging in response, Kenkyou turned to watch the fallen thugs collect themselves and hobble away. Hopefully never to return. He glowered at them when they looked back, not willing to let them see him tending his cut. Once they had vanished, he unwound a long section of the bindings he habitually wore, and pressed them against the wound. Kayuu winced at the blood. "Are you okay, Kenkyou?"

Kenkyou waved a hand dismissively, pointing to the girl as she roused herself. Nakamura, if he remembered correctly. She sat up slowly, paling at the sight of Kenkyou's blood, but he waved a hand dismissively. "I've had worse," he rumbled softly, crouching to inspect her and make sure she wasn't hurt.

Nakamura swallowed nervously. "What… what happened?"

Kenkyou raised his eyebrows slowly. Was she that naive? He shrugged, standing, and jerked his head to Kayuu.

Once prompted, Kayuu explained the situation, "Oh, well, you see, this park is Kenkyou's turf, and they thought they could move in on it. We were just defending our territory."

Kenkyou glanced at Kayuu, saying nothing. He had done all the work, not Kayuu, but then… they were friends, after all. Not really a gang, just friends. Nakamura's eyes widened regardless. "You're in a gang?" she squeaked worriedly, snatching up her bag and clutching it to her chest like a shield.

Snorting, Kenkyou shook his head, extending a hand towards the girl again. She stared between it and his face worriedly, like a wild animal being offered food. Nervously, as though she was afraid that he'd take the hand away, she reached out to grasp his hand. His hand nearly completely engulfed hers, and he gave a gentle but steady pull, bringing Nakamura to her feet. "Better?" he asked.

She nodded wordlessly, just staring at him in a profound mix of respect and confusion, and a little fear, as well.

Kenkyou nodded at Kayuu. "Let's walk her home."

Kayuu grimaced, but nodded, muttering, "Yeah, those Tetsujin might be around. This is bad area, you know." He waggled a finger at Kayuu warningly, "You shouldn't come here if you can help it."

Kenkyou rolled his eyes silently. The area was not bad at all; mothers brought their children to the park to play most days. Perhaps Kayuu was simply trying to put up a front of false bravado to impress the girl, or something. He dismissed it, gesturing that Nakamura should lead the way.

Face flushed, she nodded, and began walking.


Saika resisted the urge to stare at Gen'e. Whoever he was, he seemed largely unconcerned with the wound on his face, though he kept the cloth pressed against the wound on his face. What kind of person was he, she wondered, to fight so roughly, and be so nice?

Books and television had taught her that people who were strong like that were usually bullies, or worse. And yet he was offering to walk her home, making sure she was safe. She was prone to fainting and dizzy spells, so Gen'e's offer meant a lot to her. It meant that she didn't have to worry about collapsing on the street and being left there, or worse.

She shivered at that thought, reminded of the ruffians that she was supposed to know of, and the one that she did. He seemed vastly different from anything she had read about. Maybe… maybe he would be her friend. A hopeful smile bloomed on Saika's face at that thought.

When they reached the door to her home, Gen'e jerked his head in a nod, and turned to walk elsewhere. She grabbed his elbow, quickly dropping it when he spun to face her. "Um… Gen'e-san… thank you. Thank you for walking me home," she managed, not tripping over any of the words.

He smiled crookedly, somewhat amused, and winced as something in his face pulled, aggravating his cut. "No problem," he said, his smaller friend nodding quickly.

He began to turn away again, and she stopped him, trying to keep the pleading out of her voice. "Um," she began again. "Gen'e-san… I hope… I hope that we can… we can be friends," she stuttered out, staring at her feet and blushing violently. "If, that is… um… you don't mind…"

She heard a snort, though she couldn't see his face, and his rumbling voice answered, "Sure thing. I'll you at school tomorrow."

Raising her head, she watched him march away, his friend dogging his heels and talking quietly. "Wow," she whispered. "Gen'e-san is so nice…"


Kenkyou parted ways with Kayuu at the base of the hill that Kenkyou's father's house lay atop. He trudged up the hill slowly, thinking of medical supplies and the necessity of cleaning his wound before much longer. He would need something to clean it with, and then a bandage. Sighing, he shook his head, one hand still clapped to the side of his face.

At least the sight hadn't scared off the girl, even though she had fainted the first time she saw blood. His thoughts took a different shift after that. The girl. She wanted to be a friend, too. Kenkyou hadn't had many friends, excepting Kayuu.

What did one do with girls as friends? He grimaced, considering, and pulled his hand away from his face, taking the bloodied bandages as well. Gentle prodding showed that the wound had at least stopped bleeding. Shrugging, he tossed the soiled rag into a trashcan. The museum, he supposed, and then, hanging out, and talking. Or listen to Kayuu, more often than not.

He shook his head, stopping at the top of the hill, to look at the peak of Sakurajima, visible across the bay from the road. The volcano had been dormant for years, but still looked impressive. Kenkyou crossed his arms over his chest, watching the ocean in the distance, though the harbor was hidden behind many of the low buildings in the downtown area. His school was visible at the bottom of the hill, and Saika's house wasn't terribly far away, either.

Nor was Kayuu's, for that matter. Taking a deep breath, he turned away, marching resolutely towards his father's house. There would doubtless by a confrontation once he arrived, but there wasn't really much choice in the matter.

The door was unlocked when he got there, and he kicked his shoes off in the entryway, tromping towards the bathroom. There was another first-aid kit in the dojo, which sat behind the house, but Kenkyou respected his father enough to not drag himself in, bloody and scarred, while his father was trying to teach a class.

He reached the bathroom without event, repeated shouts of, "Hi-YAH! Hi-YAH!" reaching him from the dojo. Shrugging, he grabbed a cloth and set about the task of cleaning the wound, first scrubbing it cautiously with soap, then rinsing the soap out, and finally, finding a bandage to cover it. Reopened from the scrubbing, the wound quickly bled enough to redden the square of gauze.

Dismissing it for the time, Kenkyou turned around, striding towards his room, only to find his father awaiting him in the hall. The elder Gen'e took only a moment to observe his son before making a wordless gesture. One that said, "Follow me."

Kenkyou did so, grimacing. He hated being lectured by his father, more so when he knew he deserved it. And Kenkyou did know better than to get involved in fights like the one he had. His father walked into the dojo, the last of the students already having departed, and turned to face him.

"Kenkyou," he said, gesturing to the floor, and seating himself. "Sit, Son, and let us talk."

Sour expression revealing his opinion of the affair, Kenkyou sank to a sitting position.

"My boy…" His father looked distant, seeing something far off in his mind's eye. "My boy, do you remember your first day of school?"

He shook his head, silently and sullenly.

"Ah," the elder Gen'e sighed. "That's too bad. I remember it clearly." He paused, collecting his thoughts momentarily. "You came home late, because you had gotten lost, and you had a black eye. I remember that. Mmm…" He shook his head, smiling fondly at the memory. "Do you remember what I asked you when you got home?"

"I remember," Kenkyou said, nodding. "You asked me that question every day I went to school…" he trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid. Because he had stopped going to school regularly. He attended when it suited him, and did well enough on tests that he would probably pass. But when he had stopped going to school, or even coming home every day, Kenji had stopped asking his son what he had learned.

"That's right, Son… now tell me, what did you learn today?"

Kenkyou shrugged uncomfortably. "How to solve quadratic trinomials. Why?"

Kenji's smile faded, and he shook his head. "Try again, Kenkyou."

He grimaced, rubbing irritably at the bandage on his cheek. What had he learned today? "I learned…" he trailed off, then shrugged. "I learned about getting distracted, I guess. And that I probably shouldn't. Is that good enough?"

Kenji raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What did you learn about fighting, Kenkyou? How did you get hurt?"

Grumbling, Kenkyou relayed the story as it happened, not bothering to explain that he was merely defending his territory, but that there had been a fight, and what had happened. And then, even though he didn't understand why, he told about walking Saika home. Done, and unused to speaking so much, he crossed his arms over his chest defiantly, awaiting his father's judgment.

Kenji was silent for a very long moment. The moment stretched, a slight breeze rustling leaves past the dojo's entrance. "Very well," he said after Kenkyou began to wonder if he had made a mistake. "I think you've learned something worthwhile today, Son." Kenji rose slowly, sighing.

Kenkyou cringed, awaiting the inevitable. Without fail, when he had angered his father, Kenji would say, "Apologize to your mother," and leave him in the shrine to do just that. Even if she weren't alive, he felt guilty when he had to apologize for his misdeeds.

But the words didn't come, until Kenji was at the entrance to the dojo. "Kenkyou… let's eat, and worry about the rest later." After another quiet moment, Kenji added, "And… tell your mother that your father is proud of you when you talk to her tonight."

 

End, episode One.


Author's notes: The Fifth section of the Get Your Own Damn Idea! project, "Frappe!" (found in part one).

{Episode 2}
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