That blasted girl was more interested in exploring this freakshow of a city than doing any actual work…

Goro didn’t know why he put up with anybody short of the mailman these days.

Still, she kept the place clean…

He ran one boney finger along the grill and pouted. Not a speck of uncleanliness to be found; everything was in its place, and she’d even put the ribs to marinate in the fridge, and some rice to chill overnight.

Goro grumbled and snarled to himself as he started pulling ingredients out to cook some breakfast for himself and maybe get some of those dirty dock workers in to get him some damn money. Not that he could shake it like Hanabi when she was fishing for tips…

Shameless! Utterly, utterly shameless! If he was that girl’s father…

… actually, knowing Iwata he would have clapped her back and laughed about it. Iwata was a businessman too, and everybody who was anybody knew a little flirting paid out.

He huffed to himself, and in grabbing a bowl from the cabinet, paused as he eyed the glass jars lining the top shelf. Hm… he had a craving for kimchi. The hottest kimchi he could make.

It would take a little while for it to pickle properly, but ooooh once it was!

Actually, that would be a good recipe to teach Hanabi: Goro’s Burning Breath Kimchi! It made for a good snack and a good souvenir! Just keep out of reach of children and pets.

She could appreciate the heat, she was one of the only people who appreciated spice to a similar level… maybe even beyond. Crazy girl, she was going to burn her whole tongue out of her head one day and compliment the chef that did it…

Hmm, how could he turn it into a lesson? It was too easy to just take her aside and show her the recipe, he needed to show her why his kimchi was superior! Did that brat even know how to make proper kimchi?! Ugh! What was Iwata teaching her?!

Oooh, she’d come bustling in bragging about how she knew how to make proper Hanaya kimchi, and then Goro would sweep her tongue out from under her with one bite! Hah! That’d show her that the Hanaya weren’t the end-all, be-all chefs!

Goro tittered to himself as he grilled up some vegetables and meat, and cracked an egg into a pan. Did he want to use his personal spices today or just go with store-bought sriracha…? Eeeeh, he was feeling lazy, and a little Mexican at that!

He’d need to send the girl out to pick up some limes for him when she bothered to get her lazy ass back!

Goro huffed, but any further pouting was interrupted by the jangle of the restaurant’s bell.

“Eh?!” He craned his head towards the sitting area with a glower. “If ya can’t read, I’m closed right now! And I don’t got change for no vagrants!”

Standing at the doorway was a young man dressed like he was on his way to kendo practice. Goro’s eyes narrowed; the do and hakama both looked high quality, the only thing the black-haired, Japanese youth was missing was the kote and the kendo sword itself.

{Pardon my intrusion, but, are you Ohno-dono?} The boy asked. He was a shockingly handsome young fella, with a clean and sharp face, a button-like nose, and big, inquisitive black eyes. His black hair was a little long for a boy’s, hanging straight down to his jawbone.

His smile was friendly, and charming, only making Goro more suspicious; he already had one weirdly attractive protege, he sure as shit didn’t need another.

“Speak English, brat!” Goro snapped, narrowing his big eyes in annoyance. The boy’s friendly exterior was momentarily shattered, blinking in surprise at Goro’s tone. “You’ll make my other customers suspicious chatterin’ away like that!”

The boy looked around at the empty, dark restaurant, and tentatively refocused on Goro. {I—I do not see any other—}

“EH?!” Goro interrupted. “Am I hearing lip, boy?!”

The young man stared at him, dumbfounded, his eyes glancing around like he was trying to find a giggling camera man somewhere in the darkness. Goro took the opportunity to lean against a table, carefully hiding a woman’s hair clip resting on top.

“I-I’m apologies, Master Ohno, I speak better our home speech than the English of American.”

Goro sighed thickly, and fluidly switched. {Fine, have it your way. I am Ohno Goro, yes.} He swept his hand off the table and held both hands behind his back.

{Ah, excellent!] The youthful young man said with a smile. {It is an honor to be in your presence, Ohno-dono—}

{Goro-sama will do fine, boy.} Goro all but growled, once again putting the young man on the back foot.

{But Ohno-dono, as the would be leader of—}

{I’m about to lead the back of my hand across your face, boy, if you keep disrespecting my wishes!} Goro all but spat, waving his right hand threateningly.

{Err—}

{You damn kids never listen to your elders!} Goro huffed, stepping forward to dig a finger into the young man’s chest, his other slipping the hair clip into his pocket while the boy was recoiling. {Always gotta do things your way! At my age, you learn to be flexible! Politeness don’t matter when you’ve lived this many years! Now say it!}

{Uh…} The boy all but whimpered under the old man’s assaulting attitude.

{Say what I toldja to call me!}

He may as well have asked the boy to eat a live lizard with the expression he gave, but after swallowing his uncertainty, the boy bowed low. {M-my apologies, Goro-sama. I did not mean any disrespect.}

Goro let the boy keep his head hung low for a while longer, swiftly casting his eyes around the restaurant, but spotting nothing out of the ordinary. {Good, straighten up. Now what the hell do you want, boy?}

The boy stood straight, ran his hands down his hakama to straighten it, and cleared his throat. {Ohn—Goro-sama, my apologies! My name is Asai Kyosuke, heir to—}

{Shisui’s son.} Goro interrupted flatly, making Kyosuke blink, even relaxing in surprise. {Hard to not know who you are. The Swinging Swan or somethin’ like that?}

{The Dancing Crane!} Kyosuke corrected with a smile. {You have no idea how pleased I am that you know of me! My father, Jo-dono, has told me a great many stories of the ancient Ohno clan, and how you in particular—}

{WHAT I AM, BOY,} In an instant, Goro was seething, his teeth grit, staring through thin slits between his eyelids as Kyosuke instinctively recoiled, {is a chef. The Ohno clan was killed by Nobunaga.}

Swiftly, Kyosuke tried to add, {At the hands of the Hanay—}

{Don’t correct me!} Goro growled. {Whatever’s left of my blasted family can rot at the bottom of the oni’s belly for all I care. ‘Master’ this, ‘dono’ that, none of that matters to me.}

{Goro-sama, I may have a way for you to redeem yourself in the eyes of the remaining Ohno clan.} Kyosuke said swiftly, clearly exasperated with the old man’s attitude.

{Well lord have mercy!} Goro groaned, stumbling back a few steps. {I’ll get the respect of seven people with their heads still stuck in the sand!}

{And the Asai and Jo as well.} Kyosuke pressured. Before Goro could snap, Kyosuke held a hand up to stop him, and continued. {Goro-dono, if you assist me in my quest, I already have my father’s and mother’s words that they will assist in the relief of your exile. You can come home, and the clans of Japan will greet you with open arms!}

Goro’s expression remained flat, but he went quiet as he stared young Kyosuke over. He couldn’t have been out of highschool yet, but he was rapidly accelerating towards unmistakable manhood, and here he was talking about being on a quest for the clans.

What an ass.

Goro remembered being that young and that full of ambition and self-grandeur…

{What do you need me for?} Goro asked in a gravelly tone, and Kyosuke beamed.

{The time of reckoning has come, Goro-sama.} The boy said, arms wide, all smiles. {The dishonor and suffering our clans have suffered shall be amended; yesterday, today, and days to come, the Hanaya clan shall be culled to the last and consigned to the same fate they once visited upon us!}

Goro neither looked surprised, disgusted, nor excited, merely… the same level of passive annoyance he normally wore. That, combined with his contemptuous silence, made the boy’s aggrandizing posture slowly wilt.

{Y-you understand what I mean, Goro-sama?}

{You plan to kill the Hanaya.}

{Yes—!}

{From the withered old man to the freshest babe?} Goro asked, leaning forward to stare the boy in the eye, making him shrink back a step.

Kyosuke didn’t seem to comprehend the question, just as Goro suspected, but slowly he nodded his head. {We’ll… we’ll have our vengeance. The mercy they spared us shall be spared in return; that is to say, none. With your help we can find the last of them! Rumor has it that the daughter of Hundred-Seasonings Iwata arrived in this city not long ago, and once she is dealt with, the loose ends in America will be tied up!}

{Hmph.} Goro grunted, turning his eyes away slowly. {‘Dealt with,’ you mean killed?}

Kyosuke paused, but nodded firmly. {Only if I must. I have been tasked with hunting her down myself and bringing her back to Japan. None can escape the Asai’s long-due revenge.}

{And what do you need my help for, boy?} Goro grunted. {Wouldn’t I just be taking your glory and honor and whatever by butting my wrinkled ass in?}

{Far from it.} Kyosuke smiled, thumping his chest with his fist. {I had heard the Ohno clan’s heir was forced to flee to America, living in dishonorable squalor after your brother accused you of betrayal. I looked into the case, and believe that you were never guilty in the first place!}

Goro blinked his froggish eyes slowly. {Uh huh…?}

{If I can both bring back my quarry, and redeem a dishonored son of a brother clan, why, the tale of the Dancing Crane will only beam all the brighter!}

It was Goro that was shocked silent, straightening up a little as if he might have misheard Kyosuke. {How… noble of you?}

Kyosuke grinned all the more. {So what do you say, Ohno-sama? Will you help me? Help me make the Hanaya pay for the blood they spilled?!}

Goro considered Kyosuke for a few seconds longer, then hung his head. {It would restore my honor, you say?}

{Yes, Goro-sama.}

{And let me come back home, you say?}

{Just so, Goro-sama!}

Goro turned his head away to stare at the empty, dark tables of his restaurant. The two story building he had built using the money he’d earned working the backs of woefully ill-equipped kitchens in his youth, that had always been small and lacking in helping hands…

It was his life. His home. But it wasn’t what he grew up with, it wasn’t the extravagance of the Ohno clan’s compound hidden in the shadows of Mt. Fuji, and instead of a sprawling garden of whispering grass, he had a busy pier-side street overlooking the boat-filled ocean.

He felt a pang of nostalgia and loneliness deep in his heart, and his shoulders sagged.

{What do you want me to do, boy?} He asked in a softer voice.

{Keep your eyes peeled, Goro-sama.} Kyosuke begged, holding out a slip of paper with a phone number on it. {I am told Iwata’s daughter craves spice like her old man. She will inevitably come here, and when she does, call me. I will only be minutes.}

Goro took the slip of paper and pocketed it, nodding.

Kyosuke left not long after, grinning to himself as Goro watched after him drearily.

He slowly made his way back to the kitchen to check on the glass jars and vegetables he’d left out, and huffed a little.

He needed something hotter than kimchi right now…