Appitizer

Until something better... enjoy the first bit of a little story that is actually a spin off of one of my longer stories... most of you probably havent read the longer one, but this should still more or less make sense... PS everyone go watch X-men Last Stand... freaking awsome...

Bruises

-even the best had to suck once-

Part the First

I laughed, sitting amongst the toys, games, wrapping paper and emptied boxes of a wonderful Christmas. After my mother had died several years ago, my father August had taken to loving me twice as hard, and he likes to prove it by buying me mountains of gifts during times like this. The fact that he was the most respected karate instructor in all of Europe insured the capitol to keep this obsession alive, as well as making his forty-year old frame as muscular and fit as a much younger man; only the steely gray hair gave an indication as to his actual age. I looked up at my beloved father and smiled, watching him smile back, arm obviously holding something behind his thick back.

“What is it daddy?” I cried, holding up my arms expectantly, bright blue eyes shinning.
“You’re going to turn eight this year, Hitomi,” he began, smile becoming slightly more serious, “the time has come for you to start training… here, I had this made for you…”
taking the hidden gift from behind his back, father handed me the folds of white cloth. It was a karate suit, made from the finest cloth. I took in an awed gasp, handling the suit with an almost reverent air.
“Turn it around,” father said, gesturing for me to look at the back of the jacket. I did so, and found the white cloth had a image sewed into the back in deep black. It was a eagle, just like the one that adorned father’s; the emblem of his school, and our family.

Latter that night, I drifted off to sleep with my new doll clutched in my arms. My new toys, and old ones, were scattered all over the floor, as well as the new dresses, headbands, and other clothing…. Cleaning has never been my strong suit. However, despite this reckless abandon, my new suit had been hung with meticulous care. Father thought I was old and mature enough to begin the journey of a life time! The few short weeks until the full time students returned to their dojo on the outskirts of the Black Forest seemed much too long to wait… a whole new life awaited me!

But I had no idea just how long the journey would be…


…By the time I had earned my orange belt I was getting the idea. At twelve, I had made fairly decent progress, but it was still frustrating that I was so far from the top. In all honesty, I knew I wasn’t very good… I knew all the forms and practice routines, but my actual fighting lacked something… I personally suspected that “something” was talent.
“Hitomi! Focus!” I heard Hans bark, bringing my thoughts back to the dojo and the training exercise my class of orange belts were performing. Hans was one of father’s best students, a third degree black belt, and a full time instructor at the school. Swinging my hand with the ten other students lined around me, I called off the movements of the exercise with them. About half-way through the exercise, father came in to observe the lesson. He often comes in like this, to keep both his students and instructors on their toes. Proceeding to the head of the room, he fell into stance alongside Hans and joined the routine, no one missing a beat. The practice was nearly over when one of the students came running into the room, breathing heavily.
“Sensei,” he cried between ragged gasps, “hurry to the north edge of the grounds by the forest! A stranger is hurt!”
The students gasped, and I glanced out the door. It would have to be something serious in order drag father away from his lessons. We would learn soon enough.

Father and Hans left to see what the trouble was, strictly telling me to stay in the dojo… which naturally meant I had to follow at a distance. The commotion seemed to be at the far northern edge of the grounds, where the school actually melded into the Black Forest. Several students and instructors were gathered around what looked to be a crumpled form on the ground. Curiosity outweighing my fear of punishment, I darted in wanting a closer look.

It was a man on the ground, though he was beaten nearly past the point of human recognition. He was wearing odd, tight, red pants, though his feet were bare and there was no shirt to cover the deep bruises, cuts, and marks over his torso. His hair was straight and long, though it was hard to see its brownish color through the blood that coated it. He was unconscious, and it looked as though he had dragged his broken body through the forest to our dojo through some kind of immense inner will to survive, then blacked out from pain and blood loss. The whole scene was so odd, but perhaps the oddest thing were the large leather cuffs on his wrists that each had a short length of broken chain hanging from them.
“Get a stretcher,” father ordered the surrounding students, “and make my guest room ready for someone. Find Rudolf Stulz as well!” he added, as the crowd dispersed to do his bidding. A dojo as large as father’s had to keep several high quality physicians.

In a second, it was just father and I watching the young man. Father had yet to notice I was there, as he was inspecting the battered man closely. He became aware of me when I knelt next to him though, surprise flashing across his clear grey eyes. I think he was going to reprehend me, when the crumpled man moaned slightly. Reaching out, father placed a restraining hand on the man’s shoulder.
“Be still… help is coming…”
“Epsilon…” the man breathed, shuddering, eyes still squeezed shut and the words being torn out between ragged breaths, “leave… hunted…..”
Father’s looked became more concerned, and he moved a hand to the man’s forehead.
“Gah, he’s burning up… what’s you’re name, boy?”
“Don’t… rem…. ber…” he gasped out, then slumped back into unconsciousness.

He never did remember it, even after we nursed him back to health. He never remembered how he had come to be dressed or why he had been beaten and left for dead in the Black Forest either. No past, no present, and no future, is what he would jokingly say, but he would soon become the most important person in my life…


After we cleaned up the man, we found out he was barely a man at all; probably around eighteen by my father’s estimate. It wasn’t the only thing about him that seemed paradoxical. He was obviously from northern Japan, though he had spoke German with absolutely no trace of accent. His hair was straight, framing his pointed feature, but it was far to fair, as was his skin, to be Japanese. I asked father if he might be only half Japanese, and he only shrugged. The stranger’s features and build looked too much like an actual full-blooded inhabitant of the Rising Sun for that…

We had cleaned off what we could, and Dr. Stulz had wrapped many places in long white linen. Miraculously, the man seemed to have no broken bones, though the doctor was worried about internal bleeding. I spent most of my spare time in the stranger’s room, sponge bathing him, forcing food down him, cleaning him, changing bandages… I couldn’t help but wonder what he’d be like when he awoke. His bruises and cuts were healing, but there were traces of older wounds on his body, as though the stranger was accustom to vicious surroundings, and there was an old shaped “E” burned into his back just above the waist. When he finally came around two days later, father sent me out of the room so he could talk with the man. I guess he didn’t want me to hear the story until he had decided it was appropriate for my young ears. This naturally meant I had hide at the door, trying to listen to every word. The stranger couldn’t remember much, just hazy images and thoughts, which I think frustrated father some. He remembered a searing pain in his back… laying in a room with someone washing him… something like being submerged in tube of green fluid… then pain, fighting and dragging himself to our dojo. After that everything had gone black until he awoke.

“So you don’t remember your name then, or where you are from?” my father asked after the stranger had related most of his prior memory.
“Nothing… I only remember what I have told you now.” His voice was smooth, calm and low. I thought it fit well with his handsome, yet subdued features. I heard father snort.
“You said something about Epsilon, and you have the letter branded onto your back… does that help?”
There was a pause, as though the man were struggling to put together broken pieces of stained glass.
“No… I am sorry, I cannot find anything in my mind…” he almost sighed, “but I am sorry to have brought my burden to you… I will leave tonight.”
“You can barely sit propped in the bed. No one who seeks shelter at my dojo is turned away, even if they know nothing of themselves… you can rest here until your strength, and hopefully you memory, return.”
“I thank you, kind sir… but I have one more favor to ask…”
“And that is?”
“There is someone hiding at the door… I believe it is the girl who has helped tend me. Do not hold her disobedience on my account against her.” I might have been imagining it, but I could have sworn I heard a smile in his words. I tensed as I heard father snort, then mutter something under his breath.
“Hitomi? If you’re hiding there you can come in…”
Swallowing, I pushed the door open and stepped into the guest room.

Father was standing by the bed, the stranger propped up, lounging back on the headboard. A bandage wrapped around his head, another around his chest… it looked as though staying even half upright was painful for the young man.
“My daughter, Hitomi…” Father said, gesturing towards me. He paused, obviously wondering how he was supposed to explain the banged man struggling to stay upright.
“I think we should call you Ein!” I exclaimed, waving a hand at him, “It matches the E on your back and it kinda sounds like that Eipsi-thingy…”
“Epsilon,” Ein said chuckling softly, “and that works for me… at least, until I come up with something better.”


It was me who took charge of feeding and helping Ein for the next few days. Dr. Stulz was certain that the battered young man would be bed ridden for weeks, but after just three days, Ein asked if I would help him outside for fresh air. At first I thought it would be unwise, but Ein and I were already developing quite a bond, and I wanted to do something to brighten his otherwise dreary existence. He was always so calm and unassuming, that it was easy for most people in the dojo to forget that life confined to a bed was probably frustrating for someone like Ein.
“I’m about to do my kata in the garden… I could help you out and you could watch…”
“I’d like that,” he responded with his slight smile.

Ein is about five foot ten, and even after his ordeal was fairly powerful in build, so it was not the easiest thing for a twelve year old girl to help him out of the bed and out to the garden. Somehow we managed though, and as Ein settled himself with a grateful sigh, I jumped down into the garden. The closest garden had been the small square-ish one that was built in the middle of one of the large training rooms. Ein lounged one the wooden floor of the room, near the ledge that dropped to the ground and garden where I began my routine. He was half laying on his side, propping himself up on his right arm and watching my movement with great interest. After about thirty minuets of practice routines I looked back to him. He was staring intently at me, that slight smile pulling at his mouth, light brown eyes missing the sadness usually hidden behind them.
“Karate?” he more stated then asked.
“Okinawian style…” I responded, nodding.
“It seemed familiar for some reason… could you do it again?”
I was already a bit tired from my first run through, but watching me, Ein had obviously forgotten the trouble that normally pressed him down. I felt a tug of pity for him and started it again. I was helping my new friend forget his troubles, but little did I know at the time how I was doing so. He had found my movements familiar, but he was watching me closer then that.

I didn’t know it, but I was teaching Ein karate…