Sometimes I wonder just what kind of a life I lead.  I never really gave
it much thought until today.  I can't believe Ami's a widow now, and with
a daughter no less.  Poor Yukiko won't know about her father.  I was
always close to Ami, and now I feel just as close to Yuki-chan.  It hurt
so much to see her cry like that.  Yukiko and Ami deserve better than
that, they deserve a lot better.  If I have anything to say about it,
they'll never feel that kind of pain again.
I swear this to you both.
-Excerpt from Genjuro Furimashita's log book.


"Life is like a box of chocolates.  You never know what you're gonna get."
-Forrest Gump
"I hate chocolate."
-Genjuro Furimashita


	Genjuro woke to the sounds of birds chirping faintly in the
background, a gentle breeze rustling his hair, and the loud droning of a
garbage truck.  He groaned and pulled the covers over his head.  Even
though the aroma of breakfast and coffee filled his nose, making his
stomach growl slightly, the warmth of the covers was more alluring.
	"Otousan, it's time for breakfast!  Wake up!" a voice called.
	Genjuro groaned again as the covers were pulled back.  A hand
gently shook him.
	"Otousan, it's time for breakfast!  It's going to get cold if you
don't wake up!" Yukiko insisted.
	Genjuro squirmed back towards the covers.
	"It's a weekend for me," he mumbled.
	"But it's Friday!  I have school and you have to go to work!"
	Genjuro tried to ignore her.
	"Okaasan is going to be really angry if you don't wake up."
	"Big deal.  Your mother's not going to do anything," he mumbled.
	Yukiko gave a cute 'harrumph' and turned to leave.  Genjuro heard
her take a few hesitant steps before stopping.
	"Otousan, is this a gun?!"
	Genjuro shot out of bed, wide awake and unceremoniously dumped the
gun he'd been cleaning the night before into a drawer and slammed it shut.
	"Otousan!" Yukiko exclaimed, and quickly turned away, her hands
over her eyes.
	Genjuro looked at himself, realized he was clad only in his boxer
shorts and quickly ushered his niece out the door.
	"Thanks to you, I'm awake now," he growled in mock anger.  "Get
going!"
	"Hurry up or breakfast will get cold!"
	Genjuro sighed and closed his door.  He was getting too old for
this business.  It was time his sister and her daughter got their own
apartment.  He'd spent the past few weeks searching for one that they
liked, but both insisted on getting one after Ami got a job.  Neither
liked to freeload in the first place, and to have Genjuro pay for them was
out of the question.
	He walked into the western-style bathroom and quickly took a hot
shower.  He looked at himself in the mirror as he combed his hair, a
slight air of disapproval on his face.
	Still no facial hair, he mused.  I'm twenty-seven and I have no
facial hair.
	Genjuro scoffed at his reflection and quickly dressed, throwing on
a white mock turtleneck shirt and a black suit.  He hastily grabbed a pair
of black socks and made his way to the kitchen.  The odor of frying eggs
and bacon assaulted his sense of smell, making his mouth water and stomach
growl loudly.  As he sat down and picked up the morning paper, his niece
put a mug of coffee in front of him.
	"Ohaiyo-gozaimasu, otousan," she said, giving him a quick peck on
the cheek.  
	"Arigatou," Genjuro replied as he picked up the mug of coffee and
carefully sipped at the hot liquid.
	She sat down across the table from him, setting down a small plate
of eggs, toast, and bacon for herself.  The girl frowned in a cute way as
she brushed a stray lock of long brown hair from her face, tucking it
behind an ear gracefully.  She pulled slightly on a red ribbon that bound
her long brown hair into a ponytail, tightening the small bow there.
Large, soft brown eyes stared at him for a moment before she began
speaking again.
	"What are you doing today?" she asked politely.
	"Nothing much.  Just business as usual," Genjuro replied vaguely.
	"You never tell me what you do?  Is it for the government?"
	"You can say that," Genjuro replied with a smile.
	"Yuki-chan, how many times do I have to tell you not to bother
your uncle like that?" a voice admonished from the kitchen.
	"But it so fun to watch otousan squirm like that, Okaasan!  I
think it's funny," she giggled.
	"Hurry and finish your breakfast, you don't want to be late for
school, do you?" Genjuro asked paternally.
	Yukiko shook her head with a smile and proceeded to devour her
breakfast with vigor.  Genjuro watched with a smile and shook his head as
his niece nearly inhaled her breakfast, grabbed a waiting bento box from
the kitchen and ran out the door.
	"Yuki-chan, your book-bag!" the girl's mother shouted from the
kitchen.
	Yukiko scurried into the apartment with an embarrassed grin and
grabbed her bag door before waving and disappearing again.
	"Ohaiyo, otouto," Ami said brightly as she exited the kitchen
carrying a plate of hot food.
	"Ohaiyo, oneesan."
	She gracefully placed a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front
of Genjuro.  It was arranged in a slightly less haphazardly way than
Yukiko's breakfast.
	"Aren't you going to eat, Ami?" Genjuro asked as his sister sat
across from him sans breakfast.
	Ami smiled gently.
	"I already ate.  I woke up earlier than you as usual," she said
with a soft laugh.
	Genjuro smiled at his sister as she mimicked her daughter's
movements, brushing a stray lock of her long brown hair back behind an
ear.  She reached behind her to untie the apron strings and place the
apron on the chair next to her.  Ami straightened the white sweater she
wore and brushed a few stray crumbs of toast from her jeans.  She picked
up her cup of tea from the table and delicately took a sip of the liquid
before sighing and placing back on the table.  Genjuro chuckled inwardly.
	Like mother, like daughter, he thought.  They were so strikingly
similar, the two of them.  The hair, the eyes, the complexion, virtually
everything down to the cute button nose.  The only real remnant of her
father that Yukiko possessed was his constant energy.  Everything she did
was at full strength and top speed, as if Yukiko was constantly set in
overdrive.
	"I'm sorry that Yuki-chan was bothering you about your job again,"
Ami said.
	Genjuro waved a hand and set down the morning paper.
	"It's nothing," he said with a smile.  "I'd be curious too.  Here
she is, living in a fairly large condominium in a Tokyo high-rise and she
has no idea how I pay for it.  It's only natural she ask what I do."
	"Are you ever going to tell her?"
	"That I'm yakuza?  No," Genjuro said quietly.  "I think it'd break
her heart.  It's already tough enough that she calls me her father.  I
don't want to hurt her if I can help it."
	"I've been meaning to talk to her about that, you know."
	"What?" Genjuro asked curiously.
	"That she calls you 'otousan.'  I don't think that's right," Ami
said, trying to change the subject.
	"She knows we're not married, and she understands completely that
we're brother and sister.  I don't see what the problem is.  I don't mind
really," Genjuro replied with a hearty chuckle.  "It actually feels pretty
good."
	Ami smiled.
	"You're so good to her.  After David died, it was like she really
lost a big part of her.  She was too young for that sort of thing.  It
really changed things when you said that you'd be her father."
	"I do what I should for my family."
	Ami laughed.
	"Really?  You spoil her rotten and still teach her to be kind and
compassionate.  Sometimes I wonder if you're really yakuza."
	"Just because I don't have parts of my fingers missing doesn't
mean I'm not yakuza.  I might not act like yakuza here, but it's all
business when the time comes.  I try to make a very clear distinction."
	Ami frowned.
	"You've never told me if you've killed anyone before, Genjuro.
Have you?" she asked.
	Genjuro sighed.  This was a very sensitive point for him.  It came
up infrequently, but when it did, he knew he was walking on eggshells.
	"Never."
	"You swear to that?"
	Genjuro nodded.
	"I've only had to defend myself.  I've never gone out and killed
anyone in cold blood.  I despise that.  You should know that Ami."
	"I'm sorry, it's just that I get so worried about you when you
leave.  I get anxious that you're going to be sent to do something stupid
and then never come back again."
	"I promise that will never happen."
	"I really wish you'd get out of this business.  I really don't
like it, Genjuro.  You had the marks in school to be a successful
businessman.  What happened?"
	"I just didn't feel like it, you know.  I can't explain it,"
Genjuro replied with a sigh.
	"I apologize.  I didn't mean to-"
	"Don't apologize, Ami.  I know that it worries you, and I'm trying
to do the best I can.  It's tough to just leave the business.  They don't
like it."
	Ami nodded.
	"I'll be in a position to do what I feel like soon enough.  The
boss wants to move some operations to Nerima; and if I do well, he might
let me take care of the business there.  If that happens then you won't
have to worry anymore."
	"I hope so."
	"Don't worry about me, Ami.  You should worry about Yuki-chan's
performance in school instead."
	"She's doing fine, Genjuro.  It would help her if you weren't so
inquisitive about what she was doing in school all the time.  It makes her
nervous," Ami said with a gentle laugh.  She looked at her brother and
sighed.  "What am I going to do about you, niichan?  What would okaasan
think?"
	"If she saw the money I was making-" Genjuro replied with a
chuckle.
	"That's not funny," Ami admonsihed, cutting him off.  "So where is
your assignment now?"
	"I can't tell you, Ami," Genjuro sighed.
	Ami simply stared at him.
	"Look, we've been over this before," Genjuro pleaded.
	Ami continued to stare sternly, as a sister - like a mother
concerned for her family.  Genjuro closed his eyes and pryed that nothing
would come of him telling her.
	"I'm going to Nerima Ward," Genjuro finally relented.
	"Nerima?!" his sister asked in shock.  "Do you know what they call
that place?  Do you?"
	"Yes, I-"
	"They call that place the Little Devil's Den!" Ami interrupted.
"You could get yourself killed there!  Do you know how many fights break
out there daily?  Do you?"
	"Ami, I'll be oka-" Genjuro tried to reassure her.
	"And what do you think you can do against a thousand martial
artists, Genjuro?  They say the best of the best live there.  What are you
going to do about it?  I know for a fact you can't fight like martial
artist, let alone actually fight a martial artist," Ami said, concern
evident in her voice.
	"I've got my gun, okay?  I'll have my gun handy," Genjuro replied
quietly, his eyes closed.
	"Will you?  Will you really be okay out there?" she asked.  
	"I'll be fine, Ami.  I always end up okay."

	Genjuro stared out the windshield of the BMW, staring at a
kissaten.  It was a fairly old one, having been around since Genjuro first
joined the yakuza years ago.  He idly wondering how long it would take for
the foreign men to arrive.  Things were becoming slow, and for unknown
reasons their boss, Osamu Murashima, wanted to buy information.  It was
slightly odd at a time when things were running so smoothly, but on the
other hand, nobody wanted to question Osamu's decision.  He was the boss,
after all, and as the oyabun, he gave the orders.
	"Want a candy-bar, Genjuro?"
	Genjuro looked to the driver's seat at his assigned partner.
	"No thanks."
	"They're really good," his partner said amicably, taking a bite
out of one.  "You sure?"
	"I hate chocolate," Genjuro replied.
	"Oh well.  That's too bad."
	"Is everyone else outside?" Genjuro asked.
	His partner nodded.
	"Everything's ready, Genjuro.  We just wait for them to come and
then it's smooth sailing from there."

	Ranma slowly made his way to school, rubbing his jaw.  The punch
didn't hurt, he'd gotten used to that.  It was always the food that really
got him.  His stomach growled for emphasis.
	"Oh man," he muttered.  "Couldn't she wait 'til I had somethin' in
my gut first?"
	He started counting on his fingers, tallying up the events of the
morning.
	"Lessee, I woke up to that tomboy's breakfast," he muttered to
himself.  "An' she even fed Ryouga some of that stuff," he chuckled.  He
tallied another finger,  "an' then the girls came by," he continued,
shuddering slightly.  Then things really got wild.  The usual formalities
were exchanged, of course, and Akane had hit him.  Again.  Ranma closed
his eyes and smiled at the memory.  At least the day hadn't been a
disaster.  He'd gotten clear of the fight between the girls once it
started, so things could have been that bad.  Ranma closed his eyes and
strolled the last half-block to school, whistling a happy tune.  To top it
all off, he wasn't late to school while, as far as he knew, the girls were
still arguing or fighting.  Today was going to be a good day, as far as he
was concerned. 
	"Ranma!  Prepare to die!" shouted a familiar voice.
	Ranma stopped and sighed.  Things were really going so well before
this started, he decided.
	"Whaddaya want now, Ryouga?"
	Ryouga skidded to a halt in front of him, breathing hard.
	"I thought it'd take you longer to find me," Ranma quipped with a
smile.
	"I followed Akane here," he spat.
	"So what'd I do this time, P-chan?" Ranma asked.
	"Because of you, Akane's in tears, you've dishonored her by not
eating what she made for you-"
	"Hey man, nobody wants to eat her food, not even her old man!"
Ranma interrupted hotly.
	"But she fed it to me!" Ryouga screamed.
	"I thought you wanted her to do stuff like that?" Ranma asked,
slightly surprised.
	"Until now!  I thought I'd never stop gagging!"
	"It's not my fault she wanted to prove something!" Ranma huffed.
	"If you'd eaten it, I wouldn't have had to!" Ryouga shouted.
	"Better keep it quiet, Ryouga.  You want Akane to hear you, hmmm?"
Ranma taunted.
	"I've had enough of this!" Ryouga bellowed.  "I'm sick of your
attitude!  C'mon and take your punishment!" Ryouga replied angrily.
	
	Genjuro leaned against the side of the wall by the door of the
kissaten, watching the transaction take place.  He coughed and subtly
patted the inside of his suit, checking to make sure his gun was there.
The HK Mk23 was still in the holster, ready for use.  He didn't know why
he brought it, only that he felt this was going to help him today.  If
anything happened, the HK SOCOM pistol was going to stop any problems.  As
it was, he didn't think he'd need it.  Seven men were sitting at various
tables in the kissaten while Genjuro stood by his partner.  The manager of
the kissaten watched the deal from behind the counter.  Genjuro stared at
the man for a second, trying to place the unfamiliar face, but decided
that he was one of their men.  The oyabun would have picked a spot where
they would have had support.  He finally eyed the six foreigners seated
towards the rear of the caf in the back.  Three at the trading table,
three around them.
	"I've got this bad feeling," Genjuro's partner muttered.
	"Then go see what's wrong," Genjuro replied.
	His partner moved towards one of the tables to talk to another
yakuza.  The foreigners looked tense.  Some of the younger yakuza looked
anxious as well.  Genjuro looked at the foreigners and their briefcases.
They looked out of place with the chained attach cases on their wrists.
It made Genjuro a bit uneasy, but not wholly nervous.  He was familiar
with hidden guns.  Something gnawed at his stomach, but he couldn't place
it.  He figured it was indigestion from his breakfast.
	"It's a double-cross!" one of the yakuza shouted as he suddenly
pulled back from the table, drawing his gun.  The foreigners looked in the
briefcase in shock, the documents splattered with purple ink.
	"What the hell-" shouted another yakuza.
	"What were you trying to pull?"
	"It was an accident!  We had no idea-" one of the foreign men
replied quickly.  "This was not our do-"
	A gunshot cut off all replies.  People nearby screamed as the
gunshot echoed into the street.  The yakuza and foreigners overturned
tables and chairs, ducking behind them for cover.  The yakuza behind the
counter calmly ducked behind it.
	"Damn!  They've got trigger-happy thugs," Genjuro hissed.  He
frantically pushed a table over and hid behind it for protection, pulling
a mask over his face.  He guessed it would be over in little more than a
few seconds.  There were six foreigners, but there were ten of his
associates in the room as far as he knew, and everyone had guns with them.
The odds were definitely in their favor.  Genjuro surveyed the scene only
to see the manager level a gun at his head.  Genjuro ducked under another
table in surprise as the shot blew a hole in the table.
	"What th-" Genjuro mumbled before another bullet took out the leg
of the table he was hiding behind.  Genjuro fired a quick burst of bullets
at the barkeeper and then rolled out and into a crouch, catching the
manager off guard.  Genjuro put the man's head in his sights.
	"Goodnight, you son of a bi-" he started to say.
	Suddenly, the wall exploded, and then everything went to hell.
Genjuro flew back a foot and rolled behind another table.  He peeked out
from around the table to see two boys coughing amidst the debris and dust.
Everyone was stunned by the huge explosion, and an enveloping silence
lasted for a minute before shots were fired again.  The two boys realized,
with obvious results, that they were in a lot of trouble.  Genjuro took
the opportunity to put down a foreigner shooting at him and looked around
for the manager.  The two boys tried to use the confusion to get away,
ducking and weaving behind chairs and rubble.
	"What the hell is this shit?!" his partner yelled.
	"Like I would know!" Genjuro yelled back.
	The two continued to make their escape, until one was accidentally
shot in the leg.  The injured boy roared out in pain, clutching his calf,
and falling to the ground.  Genjuro turned to look and saw the manager,
crouching behind a chunk of the wall.  Genjuro took aim, there would be no
escape for the manager now.
	Before Genjuro could pull the trigger, a hand crashed down on the
gun, destroying the shot.  Genjuro angrily turned to shoot his assailant,
only to run face to face into one of the boys he'd seen crash through the
wall.  The boy looked down into Genjuro's narrowed eyes as Genjuro stared
coldly at the younger man's grimace.  The boy's face was pale, and for a
second, time seemed to stop for Genjuro.  The boy's ponytail wavered in
the breeze slightly as they stared at each other.
	"Who the hell are you?!" Genjuro finally yelled, bringing up his
gun.
	There wasn't a response as the boy kicked Genjuro in the chest,
sending him sprawling into the door and through the glass.  Genjuro
scrambled for his gun and aimed, but saw him disappear around the corner,
dragging his friend.  A foreigner suddenly blocked his view, and Genjuro
pumped three rounds into him and scurried backwards toward the street.  He
saw his partner scramble out towards the door, only to fall as a bullet
pierced his back.  Genjuro crawled forward through the shattered glass,
searching his dead partner's coat for the keys to the car when automatic
gunfire filled the air.  
	"Shit!" Genjuro hissed to himself as he grabbed the keys and
rolled away into the street.  "What have I gotten into?" he muttered
anxiously as he scrambled back to the BMW.  For the life of him, Genjuro
couldn't figure out what was going on.  First a double-cross, then the
guns coming out so suddenly.  It was all too confusing for him.  Something
smelled fishy, but Genjuro didn't have time to mull over it.  Time was a
critical commodity now.  If any word got back to the boss before he could
explain, things would be bad, very bad.  Things had taken a dramatic turn
for the worse already, and he feared for his sister and niece's lives.  As
he painfully sped home, the face of the boy burned itself into his memory.