TEN YEARS AGO
THE YEAR AGE ELEVEN THOUSAND, ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-FOUR
1 Hour after Koma's Arrival.
MA-TE GAIDEN
Ma-Te was excited! He was gonna score, that was for sure! No way that he wasn't, look at those pichi pichi girls who were fawning over him at this club he had been invited to, look at the way they smiled at him. He knew it was a good idea to morph a mustache, it made him look sophisticated, he'd have to try to grow one naturally for later.
A mix of techno, punk, disco, and traditional instrumental music mixed together in the club as Ma-Te and these girls and this delicious booze. Who knew they had Mango Sake? They had called it Sake, right? Said it was imported from Southern Islands and expensive, but he didn't care, he was a prince. He had all kinds of money!
Ma-te was excited! How would the clan look down on him when he came back a conquering warrior, who had partied for two weeks in the city proper and who had finally gotten laid? There wouldn't be a oink of dissent on his coolness in the whole hallow, except from one of his snooty sisters, but what did he care? They were practically nuns and unlike him they hadn't been cursed with taking after the pig features of his grandfather.
A few people danced on the dance floor, but it was still mid-day, so it wasn't many. Mostly older workers and girls that worked at the building. Until there was a screech and a shout of, “Hide me, a damned countryside cowboy samurai is after me, and all I did was take his wallet, boss!”
Ma-Te watched as the friendly owner of the building made a signal to a few of his more muscular male workers and bouncers and then ushered the thief behind the bar. “You'll be paying me 75% of the cut of whatever's in his wallet for the pain you've caused this organization and establishment, you got that Chibi Shibi? No hush up, we'll deal with the bumpkin.”
It wasn't as if a samurai was actually a threat to anyone in the city anyways, unless they were affiliated with one of the Duke's or were very skilled in and of themselves. Who cared if they carried a Daisho at their belt, or a revolver in their holster? The Council had long since ruled that Katana, and swords of all types, as well as fire arms and blades over 5 inches had to be peace bonded unless you were at some job that required them. And some yokel wouldn't be working, so not a threat. Alarmed that there was going to be some fight interrupting the groove at the club and his chances to score, Ma-Te had focused on the scene for a moment, but then common sense made him shrug it off. They'd deal with the samurai and it wouldn't even interrupt the pitch of the beat the DJ was playing.
Minutes passed, the dancing and conversations picked back up. Ma-Te was just about ready to lay his head on one of these gal's shoulders when the door gingerly opened a crack. What could be said on the other side couldn't be heard, but then the room's invasion by the daylight of the city outside was over. Ma'te took another sip of his hard cider, tried to flash his smile at the Pinkette among the girls.
BOOOOOOOOOOM. The Heavy wood and steel door of the joint slammed onto the pricey tile of the dance floor. The bouncer that manned it soon followed, unconscious and landed with precision as if someone had tele-kinetically put a cherry on a sundae, and he was the cherry.
Ma-Te's eyes floated to the scene, as did the girls who had previously been fawning over him. They didn't even laugh at his clever joke about the Namekian and the Lime. Was there an android out there, or a battering ram? What could have sent a bouncer the size of a gorilla- flying through the air after a door that was over a ton?
In came a man, no – no way some scrub dressed like that, even with their wild and long hair, with a patched kimono and without a bit of stubble, with a baby face and one sword at his belt was a man, this was a boy. He was silent, confident, and moved with the tenseness of a mountain cat on the hunt. Those Temple Lions that people heard of.
“Recently I had an electronic money wallet stolen from me and a wad of a sizable amount of Zeni taken from me in the same action while I was slurping on Yakisoba. It was by a diminutive youth who many would mistake for a girl on first glance. I followed him here. Have you seen him?”
One of the other bouncers stepped forward, cracking their knuckles. “And what if we did? You the one that did that to Big Meji and to our door? You know who you dealing with? What's your name so we know what to put on your tomb stone.”
“My name? Hm... Koma. That's K-o-m-a. The Son of Swing. And I'm sorry, I should have introduced myself before asking my question. Now I have, and I can say that you can take the price of the door out of the cost my Clan will be charging you for my time. I'm not a cheap retainer.”
“Some scrappy scrub like you? I don't know who you are, Koma with a K and a o and a m an' an a, but your clan don't scare us and you're about to get the shit beat out of you by the Third Bay Tuna Gang.”
Ma-Te grimaced, suddenly the low riding hover cars and motorcycles with the huge fins and the fish motifs made more sense. Were these guys one of the many Yakuza clan in this place? … Were these girls working girls under the employ of these Yakuza? He scooted in his seat slightly.
“Ha, no way. Third bay Tuna's? Only way this would be funnier if you were the Sunny Bay Salmon.”
The group moved closer to him, tensing against him and some clearly showed baseball bats, metal brooms, switch blades, and worse in their hands.
“I am Koma of the Bear Clan. The Taicho of our Rikurogumi, our Mercenary Clan.” He tensed, as if about to draw his sword despite it's peace bond.
“Even if you could untie it before we were on you, that's seriously illegal without the proper clearance, 'Taicho', so don't try unless you want this to be a government sanctioned murder.”
Koma threw the sword forward, still in its scabbard, and hit the nearest of the group in the head with its hilt pommel.
Then he dropped the sword, threw himself forward to land on his off-hand, the right, and then threw himself in a spin onto the dance floor.
“Let's see if you guys can handle the classic dance. Maybe after I've beaten your Kyuudai black and blue you'll give up the thief.”
Ma-Te could barely keep up with what was happening, or the way this scrawny looking country boy that looked like a laundry pole suddenly cleaning the human equivalent of the dirty laundy by beating it black and blue. It took real focus, the kind that made him not even notice accidentally pushing one of the girls, as this fellow jumped in the bat swung at him and then slid his knee into the face of the one who swung it. As he watched the fellow stop switchblade swipe at him by hammering the pointer middle finger at its knuckle and sending the switch blade into the roof. Spins, kicks, and when the manager of the establishment tried to make a run for it the rural warrior threw one of the establishment's chairs right at his back and sent him crumpling to the ground.
“So, manager-san. Where is my wallet bracelet and wallet?” something about the way he said it made Chibi Shibi shiver behind the bar, but despite that the manager didn't budge. If he lost face here, how would he ever run the third bay Tunas? How would they ever climb the ladders to a proper crime organization or the eventual goal of being part of the 'commission' that helped run parts of the city for the Ducal Council?
The bumpkin began to bend his arm backward at the knee, dropping one of his knees on the manager's back.
“Last chance to tell me before I help myself to my fee from the till when I finish with your subordinate who picked wrong mark.” the bristling barbarian from the countryside threatened.
“Shibi's behind the fuggin' bar. Mercy, mercy, mercy!”
The samurai got off the manager's back and headed towards the bar.
“Come'on, thief. I knew you were there even before your weak ass kyuudai ratted you out. Give me back my money. Now.”
Chibi Shibi shakily slapped the wad of cash and the bracelet, before also slapping the contents of the cash register down too.
Koma took one bill, a 1Z Bill, at that, from the cash register stack and slapped the rest down on the counter. “That's for the workers, the medical bills of those disrespectful idiots, and the rest. My payment for the delightful dance they provided.”
He looked over the bar and soon noticed a Mango Sake. He took that too, and headed towards the door.
He didn't look back, or even put up his guard as he went, picking up his sheathed Katana and putting it in his obi before strutting out the door.
Ma-Te had just found something way more interesting to follow than some random floozies with whom he might score. This guy was like a Flint Creepwest character, the famous Samurai movie actor, come alive.
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