All characters are copyrighted by someone else who has much more money than I.

                                One Day

        At home I sit, doing nothing but sit.  What else can I do?  What
can I do but lie?  Here at home, here is the only refuge from my plight, my
refuge from my past.  From my present.  Why do I lie?  Why do anything I
do; could be an answer I guess, I mean, I lie, I cheat, I try to steal, all
in the name of a promise.  I don't really steal, I just try to break up a
happy couple in order to get them to love each other more.
        From my understanding, when they're at their common home, they're
at each other all the time, verbally poking each other's eyes out, and
physically trying to harm the other.  But at school, at the battlefield,
they team together, albeit grudgingly, to battle a common foe.  Me.  That
was part of my deal, part of my promise.  My promise to uphold honour, to
continue in a great tradition.
        My sister and I were sitting at home, watching an American movie,
starring George Clooney.  It was the title that caught my eye as I was
channel surfing on our large TV.  If any one else were to hear that I
channel surfed, or that my sister and I watched things together like a
normal family, they would look at you strangely and try to have you
committed.  The movie was called 'One Fine Day', and it was about how two
people's lives changed in the course of one day.  We were interested
because we could relate to that idea very easily.    Could 1 day really
change a persons life?  I knew the answer to that, and I allowed myself to
remember that day.
        It was one of the few days were we had nothing to do, and I was at
school, studying with that girl, the sister to one of the members of that
couple.  She and I were reading about math, it was, oh ten years ago at
least, and then a man showed up behind me.  I didn't hear him, nor did I
see him, a pretty impressive trick considering the training I'd had in the
Family art.  Behind him was my sister, who was a little upset at being
drawn away from her friends.  It was lunch hour, and most of the age groups
had separated to their little cliqu�s by then, and were very tight.
        He looked down and said, in a calm voice, I'm a descendant.  Do you
understand?  At first it didn't register, I looked at my sister, and back
at the man.  And all at once it hit me.  My heart started to beat faster
and faster, my skin started to sweat, and I'm sure everyone present saw my
face start to take on an interesting hue.  I looked at my sister, and she
understood too.  My lunchmate looked from face to face, trying to
understand what had happened in front of her, and then she caught on that
it was family business, and excused herself.
        Please, come with me; the man had said.  I got my first good look
at him.  Broad, muscular chest, large arms, calluses on his hands that
looked like they were made of steel and not flesh, his eyes were deeply
sunk into his head, and his whole body seemed to radiate power.  This gave
credence to his claim of being a descendant, as he looked like he had spent
his life in the martial arts.  He asked if there was any place where we
could discuss this in private.  Numbly, I nodded yes.  I still couldn't
belive it, him a decendant!  I had thought that they were only stories,
tales to be passed from parent to child, along with the arts, but it turned
out to be true.
        We led him to an isolated room where no people would see us.  He
sat down, although he seemed to tense up, even in such a relaxed position.
He gave the feeling that he could jump up from his sitting position and
cause great bodily harm to anyone he chose.  He closed his eyes, and took a
deep breath.  My father made a promise, the man said, to a friend.  He
promised that one day our lines would be joined.  Actually, this promise
was made many generations ago, but he found that family, and swore that the
promise would be fulfilled in 5 generations.  Now that promise has fallen
on my shoulders, and I need your help to keep it.  I invoke the promise
your ancestor made to mine.  I need your help.  He looked at us for a few
seconds longer, and then got up, appearing to not move a muscle in the
process.  It wasn't until we got home that day that I understood the
gravity of the situation.  I was going to have to make some very hard
choices very soon, and there was no margin for error.  To this day, I
question the choice I made.  Was it right?
        And the rest is, so they say, history.  The movie ended.  I
realised that I missed the whole thing, I saw nothing.  Well, actually, I
saw the whole thing, but none of it registered.  I looked at my sister, and
she looked back.  Then she realised what I had done, and doubled over
laughing, clutching her ribs in her mirth.  It wasn't the maniacal laughter
that she had practiced so meticulously, but a normal, human, laugh.  I
couldn't help but join it, it was that infectious.  It really kicked into
high gear when she was laughing so hard that she fell off the couch.
        But could that really happen?  One day that changes everything?
Yes, one day can.  I look at my watch, and confirm it to a wall clock.  I
was late, for I had scripted out what would happen this evening like I
scripted everything else.  I went up to my room, my eyes pausing for a
moment on the ancient door in the end of the hall, before I had to focus on
the job at hand.  I changed out of jeans and a muscle shirt, and donned a
kendo uniform.  Looking back for a moment, I suddely realised that I
probably looked really grubby in street clothes, but I don't care. Before I
left the house, I re-read the poetry chosen for tonight, and made sure that
it was appropriate.
        That night was to be the day when the couple, who was married
already, would be leaving for their honeymoon.  All the other women had
been dealt with, but I'm not sure how.  My sister was the easiest to deal
with, all we had to do was to manufacture records of her being taken to an
asylum and make her dissapear for a short while.  I feel...I don't know
what I feel, but I'm sure that the answer would soon make itself apparent
when it was ready.  I walked to the house, the house of joy.  Already the
party was in full swing, even after the last few hours.  When I knocked on
the door, everyone stopped what they were doing.
        I can understand that, for as far as they were concered, I was
still pining after 'the pig-tailed goddess'.  I looked around, from face to
face, and asked if I had perchance gotten to the wrong house, as I was
supposed to be attending a party.  The sister, my lunchmate of years gone
by, stepped forward and replied that the party was there, and I had not
gotten to the wrong place.  I couldn't take my eyes off her, she was that
mesmerising.  No wonder she was good at getting money, all she had to do
was look at you and you wanted to believe her.
        All through that night, there was laughing, dancing, karaoke,
telling of old jokes, me spouting poetry.  That was probably one of the
best nights of my life, and I'm so sad that my sister couldn't attend.  But
all through that night, I couldn't stop myself from thinking back to the
days following my meeting with the Descendant.  That was when my mother
killed herself.
        She was from a very long line of samurai, and she understood well
the code of bushido.  She knew that she had to kill herself in order to
satisfy honour, but I knew that she wouldn't be able to stand the thought
of her children ruining their lives just to make some people happy.  For
that, I forgive her.  My lunchmate saw me brooding like this, and I
mentally cursed myself for letting that slip out.  I looked her square in
the eye, and I could see the changes that the last few years made on her.
        Years?  Has it been that long?  I looked around the room, and
realised that we were no longer teens, but young adults.  The couple were
turning 20, and I couldn't believe that the years had passed so swiftly.
Where had they all gone?  What has happened to my life?  What have I done
to both our lives?  Maybe I should go join... nah, I wouldn't do that.
There was no one I could trust to keep lunch with my friend.  No one.  No
one, except my sister, who knew what I was really like, no one who knew
what kind of a person I was.  I looked over at the couple, laughing,
jabbing each other, turning red with embarrassing stories, and so on.  I
couldn't stand it, so I went outside.
        I stood there for who knows how long, and then she was there.  She
was much more than my lunchmate, and in the years had blossomed into one of
the most beatiful women I had ever seen.  Again, I cursed myself, but this
time for missing this.  I thought to myself, maybe I'll tell her now, tell
her what I'm really all about.  Tell her that I love her, now that I know
that I can love without lying...  But no, I can't do that.  My job still
isn't over.  So I went back inside.  There I saw him.
        It was the same man who visited me in school all those years ago,
admittedly he's older, but it's still the same.  He still looks like an
animal caged in a frail, human, body.  I looked at him, he looked back.  I
asked him a question with my eyes.  He paused.  He looked at the couple,
still having the time of their lives.  He looked at me.  He looked back at
the couple.  He looked at me again, and slowly, barely noticeably nodded.
I could feel the weight of a lifetime being taken from my chest.  I looked
back at my ex-lunchmate-turned best friend, and wondered.  I can't tell her
now, but in a few years?  Who knows?  I, and my sister, have completed our
task.
        It's time to go, and I leave last.  Before I do leave, though, I
burn every image, every face, into my mind.  I look at the sister, and make
a promise to myself.  I promised to someday soon meet her again, love her
like no other, and then marry her.  I will not go about this like I acted
about Akane and the 'pig-tailed one'.  I'll love her like a regular man.
On my way out, I take one long, last look at the descendant.  His nod told
me things that no book every could.  It meant that I had done the job.  It
meant that I had acted and lied very well.
        It also meant that my sister and I, were free.
        I took one last look at Genma Saotome, and smiled.
        The last look I ever remebered was the look of horror and shock on
everyone's face.  Someday, she'll know and understand.
end

Cory Holmes
gholmes@rodeo.sd27.bc.ca