“Another violent clashing between the Squeaky and Hush gangs last night.” A voice from the nearby car radio said. “Accused of clowning around the wrong neighborhood, a low-ranking member of the Hush gang found themselves with their back to an invisible box as a tiny car pulled up and out poured over twenty Squeakers. The Squeakers escaped before the police could arrive, who found the Husher painted to the floor in eight different colors and with size twenty-four shoes glued to their feet. Traumatized by the incident, the Husher was only able to mime the attack to investigators. They will be in an invisible bed for at least two months, but are expected to make a full recovery.”

The light turned green, and Hanabi broke into a sprint across the crosswalk, panting softly as she rounded a corner, and recited the directions in her head. Just a turn on Aged Oaks street, run two blocks, take a left…

The little cafe on the street corner had an outdoor sitting area, with a wooden canopy that vines crawled around, over, and under, providing a spot of green for the diners to enjoy. It smelled heavily of baking bread and coffee, and despite such an aggravating morning, Hanabi’s stomach growled.

She climbed up the steps and looked around slowly before approaching the door, but a voice rang out as she grabbed the handle.

“Ms. Hanaya! Over here!”

Hanabi looked over to see the black-suited, black-haired man sitting at a small table, and with an anxious swallow, Hanabi walked over.

“Hey.” She said with a small wave. “Thanks for meeting with me out of the… blue…?” She looked over curiously at the second person sitting down next to Rudolph Reffe, her eyes widening in surprise as she recognized the cigarette smoking black woman with the freshly shaven jaw, and the big fake boobs hidden underneath an incredibly fancy blue dress.

“I am more than happy to accommodate you, miss Hanaya.” Rudolph smiled, standing to pull her chair out for her to sit. “We haven’t ordered yet, so take your time making your selections. This,” he gestured to the grinning woman blowing a puff of sour-smelling smoke out of the corner of her lips, “is my associate, Rubi Ruthless.”

“Oh, Rudy, hon, we’ve met.” Rubi flipped some of her bright, orange hair over her shoulder, her voice as deep and smoky as Hanabi remembered.

“It’s nice to see you again, Rubi-chan.” Hanabi smiled, still a bit put off by the woman’s strong chin and broad shoulders in those gorgeous clothes.

“You as well, hon. Y’know, Rubi was kickin’ herself that she di’n’t find out more about you!” Rubi feigned annoyance with herself. “I was thinkin’ on the ride away ‘shoot, Rubi, you coulda asked her her routine!’ And baby, lemme tell you, seein’ those big, pretty arms of yours had me hittin’ the weights at the gym!”

Hanabi smiled despite her awkwardness. “I’m glad! Exercise is important.”

“Oh, you’s tellin’ me, honey. Didja enjoy your time at the Huang He Healing Center?” Rubi asked.

The remarkably contrasting woman sat and listened as Hanabi told her all about her visit and the resulting fights, blinking her long, black eyelashes as she did.

Three big mugs were set on the table, Rudolph taking his coffee black, Rubi taking a caramel macchiato, and Hanabi sipped at a mocha latte between bites of the cafe’s home-baked bread.

“Baby, you must get yourself in trouble wherever you go.” Rubi noted with a grin.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Hanabi chuckled.

“Well, lemme just tell you, honey, you’s making the right decision here; the Reffe clan specializes in managed trouble.” Rubi glanced over at Rudolph, who set his mug down with a nod.

“As I said over the phone, the Reffe clan is responsible for keeping its participating combatants in top form, including providing protection against outside forces; particularly rival clans.” He said, taking out a familiar set of papers to set in front of Hanabi. “All my other promises are still on the line as well; that is why I’ve asked Miss Ruthless to meet with us.”

Hanabi picked up the first paper to try and at least read the contract before signing it, but the legalese had her cross-eyed by the first period. She cleared her head by giving Rubi an awkward smile.

“How are you going to help?” She asked the woman.

Rubi pursed her painted lips and bridged her fingers in front of her face, her cigarette holder stuck way out to her left to let the smoke drift off into the open air. “Well sugar, Rubi Ruthless is a very important lady in showbiz. I’m on the board of directors for the B&C Syndication Network, and I’ve worked with the Reffe clan for a few years now. I’m part of the broadcasting team that shows the tournament to the whole damn world, and I am authorized to maybe get you a few more deals with other networks.”

“Like who?”

“You know the Food Network?”

“I don’t watch TV.”

Rubi blinked her big black eyes slowly, staring at the young lady in failing comprehension. “Well no wonder you got time to work out! Anyways, hon, I’m told you’re quite the chef, and we’re banking a lot on this deal turning out fruitful. Rudy wants to get you on TV, in front of a camera, so we can sell your cooking to the world.”

“But… why?” Hanabi asked, setting the contract down as she felt a surge of discomfort well up within her. “I’m just being asked to fight. I’m signing up because I need help. Why do you want to show people my cooking, too?”

Rubi and Rudy’s eyes met, and then they glanced back with a pair of small grins. “Just trust us, Ms. Hanaya, we have a lot of confidence in this. Besides, aren’t you interested in what it can bring you?” Rudolph asked.

Rubi chortled. “Money, honey! You’ll be set to take the world once all this is over! Not to mention, and Rubi’s just saying this as an admirer herself, methinks Hanabi Hanaya may end up being a popular name! Don’t that sound good, hun? Money and fame!”

Despite their encouraging looks and words, the both of them were puzzled at Hanabi’s little frown. Hanabi seemed to mull the information over in her head, at least. “I don’t know. I’ve never cared a lot about… either of those things, really.”

“Really?” Rubi asked, sounding more fascinated than surprised. “Most spicy-hot young ladies I know are chomping at the bit to get their names big and their wallets fat! You don’t think you could do with any money?”

“Well, I always thought I’d take over my dad’s restaurant…”

Which was burnt to a crisp right now…

“But is that what you want, love?” Rubi pressured with a raised eyebrow.

“I-I guess, yeah. I always wanted to just cook, it’s the most fun I have.” Hanabi said with a small, defensive smile. “Like I said, I don’t watch TV, I don’t really care to be out there.”

Rubi took a drag from her cigarette, reminding Hanabi of Bernard a little too much, but Rubi exhaled the cloud away from anybody nearby, smacked her red lips, and hummed. “Hana, honey, where do you see yourself in twenty years?”

“In a kitchen?” Hanabi answered with her brows creased in confusion.

“How big of a kitchen?”

“Pretty big?”

“And with lots of mouths to feed?” Rubi asked. Hanabi gave a confirming nod. “Family or customers?”

“I… didn’t really think about that. Whoever, really.”

“You want important people to come eat your food?”

Hanabi thought about it… once this was all sorted out, she still wanted aunt Shisui and uncle Sarutobi to come…

“Yeah. I mean, anyone, really, I just want people to like my food.”

“Are you planning to give it away?” Rubi continued.

“Give what away?”

“The food you make.”

“I mean, I don’t want it to be too pricey.”

“So how’re you going to pay for your ingredients?”

At that, Hanabi paused.

“How do you plan to keep the electricity on for the lights and ovens?” Rubi asked calmly. “Or the gas for the stove? Or keep the fridge chilly, and the freezer frozen? You gotta pay people for that.”

“I-I mean, I know that, but…”

Rubi puffed on her cigarette again, and breathed the smoke out through her nostrils. “The world runs on money, honey. Whether you’re Rubi gettin’ her nails done at the salon, or you’re the fire department puttin’ gas in their trucks, you need to pay people. People pay you to make the food, you pay the producers to send it raw to ya, right?”

Hanabi meekly nodded.

“So you get it, yeah? It’s nice to have a simple dream, but even a simple job needs to make and pay money.” Rubi stuck a finger onto the contract, and lowered her voice to a calm tone. “I am offering you a start-up that most people would kill for. My partner here is tryin’a offer you protection. We’re both givin’ ya fame. You just need to put your best effort into this, and we will get you that big ol’ kitchen and plenty o’ mouths to feed.”

Hanabi thought about it for a few moments longer, eventually taking the contract. “Am I allowed to make a request before I sign?”

“Of course, miss Hanaya.” Rudolph grinned.

Hanabi took a deep breath. She didn’t know if this was asking too much, she didn’t know if this was impolite, but it had to be asked. For her father’s sake.

“I want to meet Master Wangui.” Hanabi said firmly, nearly making Rudolph blanche, and Rubi began to cough. “I know this is about him finding an apprentice. I’m not going to ask him any favors, but he met with Shisui Asai recently, and I need to find her.”

Rudolph stared at her in uncertainty, and she wondered if she had asked too much… but then he gave a small nod. “I will see what I can do, but… that is all I can promise.”

Hanabi nodded and glanced back down at the contract, staring at it intently. “Mr. Reffe?” She suddenly asked, peeking over the paper, getting a curious look through his sunglasses. “Err… my dad always told me to never sign a contract without knowing what’s in it. Can you, like… break it down for me?”

Rudolph looked mildly surprised by the question, but nodded, moving his chair closer to read along with Hanabi.

Thirty minutes before noon, the contract had Hanabi’s name on it, and a drop of her blood to seal the deal.

Hanabi hustled along South Pier Bay, periodically throwing a glance over her shoulder to see if anybody was tailing her.

The crash of the waves against the stone pier brought a sense of urgency to each step she took. She was agitated; she hadn’t been this agitated since a classmate she’d had in junior high started paying some of the older kids to attack her out of some perceived revenge.

She didn’t remember what she did, but she was a lot less controlled about things back then.

She huffed and puffed as she ran by the main pier, and saw a hand wave her way as one of the dock workers stepped out of a forklift to walk over.

“Hana, baby, there you are!” John called out, walking up to the edge of the sidewalk with a concerned look in his eye. “Goro’s was closed this mornin’, me and Ron had to go grab some sandwiches from the shop down the street!”

“Goro’s is closed?” Hanabi asked with raised brows. “Ah, crap, I hope the old man isn’t getting lazy in there…”

“Who’s to say, honey.” John shrugged, and held out a small, blue packet of, as far as Hanabi could tell, cookies. “Go make sure the old man’s outta bed, eh? And here, Oreos on me, I ain’t gunna eat ‘em.”

“Thanks John.” Hanabi smiled at him. “If we’re opened up by lunch, I’ll sneak a little extra on your plate.” She winked.

“I ‘preciate it, sweetie, I’ll see you then!”

The two waved each other off, and Hanabi continued her sprint.

Goro’s was only a five minute walk from the pier, so it should have taken no time for her to arrive at the storefront, but she had to stop and slow herself, panting as she glanced around.

It was right close by, right? It had to have been, she went to the pier every morning to exercise, so she couldn’t have gone too far…

She backed up a few steps and turned around, staring back up her shoulder down the street towards the pier, which looked about half a mile away… she did pass it! She turned her head to look down the row of buildings, trying to spot something familiar like a… sign or… something…

Her brow tightened; she knew what the restaurant looked like, she’d had a photo in her belongings from her dad! It had… a sign. An awning, maybe? It had a sliding door, all Japanese style, so…

Hanabi retraced her steps, staring at the building fronts with a tightened frown. Fishing store, boating store, postal store, gym… Goro’s was to the right of the gym, sandwiched on the other side by some unmarked, uninhabited building that was for rent.

She glanced between the gym and the building-for-rent, and nearly jumped out of her skin as, without warning, she saw a bright blue awning underneath a sign: ‘Goro’s Four Bowls of Fire.’

How… how had she…?

She scratched her head, but opened the door, only to be immediately hit by the heavy smell of incense.

Burning jimson weed filled the air, curling Hanabi’s nostrils as she stared at the old man decorating the length of wall by the door with Japanese seals.

“Mr. Goro!” Hanabi said in a small panic, but he seemed unconcerned as he hung a seal up on the wall with her name on it. “M-Mr. Goro? What’s going on?” She asked, trying to remain calm as the old man slapped a hand down on the table.

He fixed her with a disapproving look, his lips curling up in a sneer. “You leave without a word and have the nuts to ask me what’s going on? Hmph! The audacity of you young people always surprises me.”

Hanabi wanted to pull her hair out… “Goro, sir, I’m having a really freaky day. What’s going on?!”

“You wanna know what the hell I’m up to?” He asked, walking over to a table and sitting down. There was a pair of bowls set up with steamed rice piled inside, and a pair of plates with grilled strips of fish, as well as a few sauce bottles. “Then sit. Eat.”

“Am… am I in trouble?” Hanabi asked in a softer tone.

After a moment of thought, Goro shook his head. “Girl, ever since you arrived, you’ve been one major pain in my butt. Openin’ the shop early, makin’ me get outta bed to cook, bringin’ in sweaty sea rats to stink up the place, runnin’ off in the middle of the day to get inta fights, and now you show up here lookin’ half-starved.”

Hanabi blinked. “I-I had breakfast—”

“It’s nearly lunchtime. Ya have lunch in ya?”

She touched her stomach with a blink. It was still a knot of stress, but she knew she would be hungry by now if things were normal. It was important to eat even if your body wasn’t hungry, she needed that fuel… so she slowly slid into the seat across from her master, and picked up her koi-dragon chopsticks.

“Itadakimasu.” She mumbled, picking at the pieces of fish to layer over her rice, and absent-mindedly adding some spicy sriracha and soy sauce.

Goro did the same, barely looking up at her as he ate. The smell of incense was still heavy, even coloring the flavor of the food, but Goro didn’t seem to complain, and Hanabi decided not to either.

She was still weirded out by… everything today, but the cantankerous old man was quiet right now, and feeding her…

Right, she was being fed. She needed to try and enjoy the simple flavors of fish and soy on rice, but her mind kept racing past the flavors to what she needed to do. What she needed to say.

The grilled fish unfortunately had to wait, and Hanabi desperately wished it didn’t have to…

“Mr. Goro…” She said, glancing over at the wall covered in spirit tags, particularly the one with her name on it. “The Asai clan is after me.”

Goro paused mid-bite, and swallowed after only a meager amount of chewing. “This soon, huh?” He said in a low, croaky voice. “They always said they’d get their revenge someday. You’d think a few hundred years’d cool ‘em off.”

Hanabi frowned, but nodded. “There’s… a bounty on my head.”

“A bounty, eh?” Goro’s eyes flicked right up at her. “For money?”

She swallowed thickly. “Forty-million yen, alive.”

“Forty—” Goro dropped his chopsticks and stood up in shock, “forty-million yen?! Hoo, what?! What did you do, girl?!”

Hanabi raised her hands, turning pale. “I don’t know, sir! They… that’s the price they set. That’s how much they think I’m worth!”

“Shit, girl, forty-million yen can change somebody’s life!”

“I know!” She swallowed thickly. “I know. And… I know you like money.” She lowered her gaze to the table, sitting stiffly, swelling her muscles in case… “I wanted you to know, as my caretaker and as my teacher. But now I need to know something, sir.”

Goro stared at her, blinking his big eyes slowly. “Yeah, miss lottery ticket?”

“Am I safe here?” She asked in a soft voice, looking up at him with a pleading expression. “I don’t want to be a bounty, or a fighter, or anything, but I need to find out what’s going on with my clan, and I… I can’t let anyone get in the way of that. Not even you.”

Goro stared at Hanabi for a long, long time, barely blinking as he evaluated her. He ran a hand down his pointed beard as he regarded her, a small smile crossing his face that caught Hanabi off-guard with how… uncharacteristically pleasant it looked.

“Heh.” Goro closed his eyes and slumped his shoulders. {You are your father’s daughter, Hana-chan. He said nearly the same thing to me once, and because I let him go, you’re here.}

Hanabi gave the old man a confused frown, and he shook his head. {A-ano… Goro-sensei…?}

{I promised your father I’d look after you.} Goro said calmly. {And I will. I owe Hanaya Iwata an old debt.}

Hanabi lowered her head, staring at the man, hoping he’d clarify what he’d just said, but then he shrugged.

{Whatever the case, put those worries to rest.} And with that, he took a bite of his rice, and almost immediately switched to English. “Now grab a tag and write your shithead friend’s name on it; Aila or whatever it was, and stick it to the wall.”

Hanabi blinked as Goro pointed to the small stack of paper and painting supplies nearby, and awkwardly grabbed both to obey in her best calligraphy.

“We ain’t openin’ the shop today.” Goro said sternly, Hanabi only briefly glancing up as she tried to keep the katakana as neat and pretty as possible. “Today’s gunna be about cookin’. Soon as we’re done here we’re gunna head down to the supermarket, ‘n we’re grabbin’ ingredients for kimchi!”

“Kimchi?” Hanabi repeated curiously.

“You ain’t a parrot, girl!” Goro snapped, glaring at her. “Ya heard me the first time! We’re makin’ kimchi! And I want enough of it ta last me ‘til winter! So I hope those muscles ain’t just for show, ‘cuz we haulin’ back some of the good stuff!”

Hanabi couldn’t help but smile a little. She still had a lot on her plate, but… damnit, there was cooking to be done!