[center][color=#cc6666][h2]Arthur Howell[/h2][/color][/center]
[hr][@Octo]
[hr]

[color=#cc6666][i]"Mata ne!"[/i][/color]

I call out, waving behind me as I push open the door facing the street. The old man futher back calls something out in response, but with the sound of the city outside mingling with the noise made by those working within, I'm unable to clearly hear what he says. Not that it was likely anything important—a "see you tomorrow" or "have a nice day" or something like that, if I had to guess. He's been very welcoming so far, putting up with me dropping in every day to train for a bit.

That's the benefit of having world-wide connections, I guess. One of the trainers at the boxing gym back home is friends with the guy that runs this one here in Sako, so I was able to avoid most of the awkward questions and introductions and all that came with walking into a new gym. They'd even had someone ready to spar with me.

Now out in the muggy summertime air, I shrug, trying to adjust the pack on my shoulders a little bit, before wiping at my forehead.

[color=#cc6666]"Ugh, sweaty."[/color] That's what I get for not showering at the gym. Of course, this way I could get away with still having my hands wrapped up, jogging back to where I was staying. Not long after I'd landed in Osaka, some unsightly bruises started to show up on the back of my right hand. They'd been a bit annoying to hide, and while they didn't hurt—even scratching or poking them directly didn't do anything—I've only been getting more and more concerned by them.

I really ought to see a doctor if these don't go away soon.

(I've already said that to myself three times now.)

Shaking my head, I start jogging along. The ryokan where I'm staying is about three or four miles from the gym, a bit past the far end of the city to the southeast. It's a good distance to keep the cardio up, especially coming this direction, where it's uphill. Sure, I might already be tired from running [i]down[/i] here in the morning and then checking out the city and boxing the rest of the day, but I'm not trying to set any speed records here. Just a jog.

Left, right, left, right. In and out.

My stomach grumbles as I jog past a small street stall that's already started cooking food, even though it's only the middle of the afternoon. I know if I detour down the alley it's in there'll be a few more that are starting up the same as it—Sako doesn't really have much of a night life unlike the larger cities, and not as many businesses running quite as late, so these vendors have to start up earlier than usual if they hope to make anything before the weekend—but I can't really do that right now. I'm all sweaty, for starters, and on top of that, the owner of the ryokan is expecting me to show for dinner like I have been, and I [i]really[/i] don't want to insult him or his business by showing up late and messy.

But, something else catches my eye.

Was that a flash of red hair, on a [i]really[/i] tall woman?

Weird. This isn't much of a tourist town, but I remember seeing what I [i]thought[/i] was a girl with platinum blonde hair wandering down around the shōtengai a day or two ago as well. And maybe a couple of other foreigners? Of course, there's also an old Jesuit mission church on the edge of town, and there's a few universities associated with the church overall in Japan. Maybe some of them are students coming out just to see some of the old churches?

Maybe I ought to go to it soon. It might be interesting, and I might get to talk to some of these other non-Japanese I see floating around.

I try to peer down the side street where I saw the redhead, but it's no use. With another shrug, I start jogging again.

[hr]

Even at the relaxed pace, it doesn't take me long to get back to the inn. Walking through the grounds, I'm still delighted at how lucky I was to find a place like this—it's not a normal ryokan, with the various rooms all as part of one building. Apparently, back before Sako had really grown into much of a city, there were a few smaller villages spaced out around the general area, and the cluster of houses that had made up one of them had been bought all together and turned into a sort of decentralized inn, complete with modern power, bathrooms, and baths pulling from a nearby onsen.

Not that I was going for a bath today—maybe if I was just relaxing, but I still had to be ready in time for dinner, so it was the shower I chose this time. Hands unwrapped, clothes set aside, just washing the sweat off of me.

My hand itches.

[i]Really[/i] itches. Why does it itch so much?

I look down at the back of my right hand, where the bruising I'd noticed before has...

Changed?

[color=#cc6666]"What? How in Hell..."[/color]

I [i]definitely[/i] need to see a doctor, but I'm not sure if it's because I'm imagining things or because the bruising is some weird rash instead. I now have an unfathomable geometric pattern stamped on the back of hand and wrist. It almost looks like it was dyed there with henna, but I [i]know[/i] I didn't go and do that. Was I bitten by something? Did I scratch it and get some sort of parasite? Maybe that's what this is, some weird parastic infection. Gross, but not impossible to deal—

The air inside the house pops, like it was suddenly compressed or displaced, and I hear a few things falling over in the main room. I shake my hair out a bit, turning off the shower, and wrap a towel around my waist before I step out to see what's going on. My [i]best[/i] guess is that a storm might be starting up outside, and a gust of wind blew something into one of the sliding doors, but that wouldn't really explain anything falling over, unless I'd left a window open...

I peek my head around the corner, and immediately duck back, my heart set to racing. Definitely not the wind.

There's someone in my room!

I peek again. They haven't noticed me.

They look to be my size, fiddling with the handkerchief I'd picked up when I spent a bit of time in Germany before coming to Japan. They've got some sort of...robe or cape draped around their shoulders—

That's weird.

—and they've got shining blonde hair. Another visitor, maybe, who got turned around and walked into the wrong house?

But I [i]know[/i] I didn't hear the doors sliding open. I'm sure of it.

[color=#cc6666]"Hey, are you staying at this ryokan too?"[/color] I ask, and as soon as they turn at the sound of my voice, I'm glad that I've only got my head peaking around the corner. Maybe if it was another man I wouldn't be quite as embarrassed at the thought, but a woman in the room, while I'm just out of the shower and not even properly dressed...

I don't think I'd ever be able to look on the memory without cringing. I [i]really[/i] should have pulled on the nemaki.

[color=#cc6666]"Look, you speak English, right?"[/color] I certainly hoped she did. It'd be bad if she only knew French and Japanese, or German and Japanese, or something like that. [i]I[/i] don't know enough Japanese to get by in that sort of situation, let alone any other language. [color=#cc6666]"You've got the wrong house, dude. Didn't you hear the shower going and get a clue from that?"[/color]