Iori Yagami was calm. This surprised the man more than anything; for there had been a time when he wanted nothing more than to see the man he faced dead at his feet, dead from wounds Iori himself effected. He could scarcely believe that he could stand less than twenty feet from Kyo Kusanagi and not be beating him to death. The opportunity was there. Nobody was around.
And yet Iori was, voluntarily, doing nothing. He continued to stand still and regard the other man with a neutral look, an appraising look.
To Iori Yagami, Kusanagi looked not much different. He looked older, which he was, but the basic appearance had not changed. He was still just as muscular as he’d been almost twenty years before; Iori could see no evidence that Kyo had let himself go to seed. He had been a powerful young man years ago, and now he was in the prime of his life, still formidable. Looking at the man’s ki signature, he found it was larger and yet more tightly focused. The only thing that seemed different was the curious air of maturity and...wisdom, he supposed...that the other man now seemed to exude. By all appearances, Kusanagi would not be less of a fighter and less of a challenge than before; if anything, he was probably a better fighter and would present a superior challenge.
It was a curious synchronicity that Kyo Kusanagi’s thoughts were along almost exactly the same lines.
All good silence must eventually be ended by sound.
It was Iori Yagami who spoke first. “You look well, Kusanagi.” He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Time seems to have been kind.”
Kyo just smiled. “Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “Much the same could be said about you.” He blinked twice. “I had felt your presence in the back of my mind since yesterday, and I knew you were in the area. I’m surprised that it took you this long to seek me out.”
He suppressed a grin. “But you are here now, and that is what’s important, isn’t it?”
Iori nodded. “Yes, it is.”
Kyo’s smile vanished. “You seem not to be quite the same man as the last time we met, but just so we are clear: I will not allow you to kill me on my own property.”
Iori chuckled. “Could you stop me, if I chose to?”
Kyo nodded. “I would, even at the cost of my own life.”
The chuckle became a full laugh. “That equals the same thing then. Whether I kill you or you die preventing me from killing you, either way, you would be dead.”
Kyo nodded again. “True, but the means are different.”
Iori nodded. “And so they are. Perhaps that is everything.”
Silence reigned for a few more minutes.
Iori then shook his head. “In any case, I am not here to kill you, much as I might have liked to, in old times.” He looked around. “Is this your property?”
Kyo nodded. “Yes: my house and my dojo. It’s not a mansion, but it’s home.”
Yagami breathed deeply. “You’ve changed, Kusanagi.”
Kyo nodded, his eyes a bit downcast. “I’ve tried to. I’m not proud of the way I was, or of many of the things I did. The dojo is one small way of making reparations. Teaching students to live and fight honorably...that is the world I try to embrace.” His eyes flickered briefly.
Just then their conversation was interrupted.
“When’s the next class, Papa?” It was a soprano voice. Iori searched for the source. He found it at a window on the house’s second floor. A girl was leaning out the window.
Kyo’s voice was stern in reply. “Eight p.m., girl! You know how Mondays work!”
The girl’s voice snapped, “Fine! Whatever!” She then noticed Iori. “Oh, hello there!” She jumped out the window and landed effortlessly on two feet. Standing straight, she bowed low. This had interesting effects on her clothes, Iori noticed. He then averted his eyes.
The girl laughed. Kyo scowled. “Girl, go back to your room and put something decent on! That’s not an outfit to greet company in!”
The girl laughed more. “Papa, this is what I always wear!”
Kyo’s scowl deepened. “That’s beside the point! And don’t argue with me!”
The girl stuck out her tongue. Iori watched this conversation with a look of amusement.
She was obviously Kyo’s daughter, he thought. She was about 5’2 or 5'3, he decided, and perhaps between 100 and 110 pounds. She looked about 15 or 16 years old. Her hair was a very dark brown, almost black, but not quite. Her eyes were a steely gray, quite unlike her father's, even with a similar color. Perhaps it was the coldness in them, a coldness he would never expect a Kusanagi's eyes to hold. The laughter on her face and in her voice did not reach her eyes.
Iori decided to break his silence. “Your daughter, Kusanagi?”
Kyo nodded resignedly. “Yes. Benten Kusanagi: fifteen, ninth grade, and the best fighter in Furinkan Junior High.” He shook his head and scowled again. “And a royal pain in the ass besides.”
The girl blew him a raspberry, just before effortlessly jumping back through her open window.
Iori raised an eyebrow, but passed it off as a minor feat. “So who’s her mother?”
Kyo shrugged. "Just someone I dated for a while. She's gone now.”
He suddenly raised his head to look up at Iori, directly in the eyes. “We need to talk, Yagami. I mean seriously talk. It’s time to bury the past, in the past, for good. Come in, please. We can discuss this situation, try to come to an agreement, and you can tell me all about what you’ve been up to for twenty years.”
Kyo walked back to the house, leaving the door open.
Iori looked around. He felt the flicker of a very familiar aura. “Come on out, Ranma. I know you’re here.”
His son emerged from behind a parked car. “Who is he?” His expression was, predictably, neutral. His ki, though, seemed to betray it.
Iori shook his head. “Why don’t you come with me, into his house, and you’ll find out for yourself?”
Ranma grunted. “Whatever.”
Iori walked into the house, with his son following behind him.
~_~
Kyo was already sitting at the main table in the living room by the time Iori and Ranma walked in. He motioned for Iori to sit down. When he saw Ranma, he raised an eyebrow.
Iori shrugged. “That’s my son. He followed me, apparently.”
Kyo nodded. “What’s his name?”
Ranma spoke for himself. “Ranma.”
Kyo nodded again. He turned away for a moment. In an annoyed tone, he shouted “Benten! We have company! Get your butt down here! And wear something decent!” He turned back to his guests and shook his head. “Girls.”
Iori chuckled lightly.
About five minutes later Benten had made her way to the table. She was wearing a white cotton bathrobe that stretched past her knees; however with the way the neckline plunged it was plain that she wore nothing underneath.
Her father shook his head disgustedly but did not comment. Benten just smirked. Iori and Ranma made no reaction.
As if remembering something, Iori eyed Benten critically. The girl was in good condition, it appeared; her ki was strong. Kyo had proclaimed her to be her school’s best fighter. He wondered just how far that stretched.
He held up his right hand and concentrated absently. Purple fire burst into being and surrounded his hand. After a few seconds he extinguished the flame, and saw that he had Benten’s attention.
He decided to capitalize on that. “Girl, your father can make fire like that, except red. Can you?”
She smirked, and held up her own right hand. Crimson light flashed, and suddenly her hand was covered by fire. Iori watched without comment as she kept the flame in existence for over a minute, seemingly without effort. Judging by the ki flow he’d sensed, she was indeed quite powerful with her own clan’s ki gift.
Looking over at Kyo, Iori saw that the man was smiling warmly. “Never doubt, Yagami. Never doubt.”
Iori nodded, and said nothing more on the subject.
After a while, someone said, “So how do we bury the past in the past?” Another question was later asked, “Are you head of your clan?” Later came, “Is that public enough?” And later still, “What do we do about those who don’t support it?”
All this was discussed at the empty table. The teenagers remained silent while their respective parents attempted to find a way to intern centuries of grief.
After a while, Iori and Ranma left, Iori satisfied that something had been worked out.
~_~
It made national news Wednesday, and was known around the world within the week. Kyo had written a letter to a major Tokyo newspaper, which was printed on the very first page. Part of the letter had included the statement Iori had given him.
It read: Kyo Kusanagi, head of the Kusanagi clan, writes today to deliver a formal apology to all past, present, and future members of the Yagami clan, formerly the Yasakani clan; additionally extending the apology to all past, present, and future members of the Yata clan. His ancestor, more than a thousand years ago, took full credit for the defeat of Orochi, the war god. The Kusanagi clansman in question had been involved in the defeat and sealing of Orochi, but he had not been alone in such. Members of the Yasakani (now Yagami) clan and Yata clan had also been instrumental. Without the participation of all, it would not have occurred. Kyo Kusanagi, head of Clan Kusanagi, extends this formal apology to all past, present, and future members of clans Yagami (Yasakani) and Yata for his own ancestor’s graceless actions.
Kyo Kusanagi further extends apologies to all past, present, and future members of Yagami clan for Kusanagi clan’s involvement in the blood feud that has decimated both clans in prior centuries. He pledges that the aforementioned feud is over and done.
Kyo Kusanagi hopes that in the unfolding of future time, mutual antipathy may be forgot.
Iori’s statement read as follows: Iori Yagami, head of the Yagami clan, finds this formal apology to be just and due, and accepts it completely and without malice or resentment. Iori Yagami further agrees to the immediate termination of blood feud; and to the cessation of malignant feelings towards all past, present, and future members of the Kusanagi clan.
~_~
The statements were written in extremely formal Japanese, and signed also. And evidently, as far as formalities were concerned, that was that.
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(Posted Tue, 16 Mar 2004 02:09)
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