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Here we go again. The second chapter of "Golden Eyes" is done! I know that some of you were waiting for Last Shreds, and I promise that it's coming. I haven't recently been able to get into the right mood to write it (plus I'm stuck at a plot hole that I didn't notice until now) and thanks to certain people who have had the sheer, poisonous gall to post unfairly funny messages on the list, I will continue to be incapable of assuming the proper somber and depressing mood. So, in keeping with the strange sense of gaiety (I hope) that seems to be pervading the list, here's "Golden Eyes" chapter 2. Enjoy!

Golden Eyes and Dirty Blond Hair
Part 2: System Flushing
A Rurouni Kenshin fanfiction
by Dr. Panda [drpanda@crosswinds.net]

here we go again…
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standard disclaimers apply. Don't sue me. Please?************************************************************************
**Mild Japanese and English PROFANITY (but only from one character)**

The hot sun beat down mercilessly on the head of the walking man. Slowly, he shook his long red-hair around him to cool him off. He was alone, as he had been for many years. Painfully, he continued his walk up the beaten path in the center of the forest. As he walked, his mind wandered. He reflected on the events of past years, a lifetime ago by anyone's count, and wondered, time and again, what he had become. Hesitatingly, he forced himself to stop next to a nearby pool and reluctantly looked into the water. Short and thin, he nevertheless exerted a kind of dark aura that encouraged others to leave him alone. It wasn't the kind of power that told those around him to their faces that this small, unassuming man was dangerous. It was more of a cold, small feeling of unease which made men shudder without quite knowing why. In any case, no one was unhappy to see him go.

As much as he wanted to rest his tired feet, as much as he yearned to lie down beneath a large tree and go to sleep forever, he knew that he couldn't. However much he wanted for it all to end, one duty remained: he had to let someone know and understand what he had found. But first he had to confront one person.

Almost with no warning, a small hut came into view, rickety and broken down. Before it sat a man, calmly drinking from a bottle. While the walking man exuded an air of imperceptible danger, the sitting man intimidated by his own massive size and obvious strength of body, will, and character.

Without a word of greeting, the walking man came to a stop before the sitting one. For several seconds, neither spoke.

"Let's say rather that I know the real reason why you have come." The sitting man had not moved, but his voice was tinged with amusement. He swallowed some of his drink.
"Really? How extraordinary." This time, the short man's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"That thought admittedly did cross my mind, pupil of mine, but it was clear that it wasn't that you wanted." The man shrugged. "At least, not yet."

The tall man swallowed some of his drink. Neither one spoke for nearly a minute.
"Would it be too much to ask you to stop drinking for a moment and put that bottle down?" the shorter man, the pupil, finally asked, now visibly annoyed.

Neither one spoke. The forest around them was quiet, save for the bubbling, sucking sound of liquid passing from the mouth of the bottle to the mouth of the man drinking from it.

Frustrated, he yanked the bottle away from his companion, in the process spraying them both with liquid.
He choked in disbelief.

"This…this…this is water!" he strangled out, staring at the sitting form next to him.

"Well, what did you expect, my foolish pupil? 200-proof alcohol?" the tall man began to chuckle to himself.

The pupil took several minutes to gather himself, then sat down next to his teacher. Taking off the sword at his waist, he laid it in front of him.

Two men strode confidently through the swinging doors of George Maekawa's gym "The Right Fit ". Actually, only one of them, who was both very tall and slim with black slicked-back hair, strode through confidently. The second, much younger man, shorter but still tall, with spiky, broom-like dirty blond hair, tried to do the same but wasn't paying attention and got whacked on the head for his trouble by the back-swinging door. Swearing in monotone, gripping his head and groaning, the man half-walked, half-limped, after his partner, who had not stopped, turned around, or even deigned to notice the encounter.

Muttering under his breath, the shorter man ran to catch up with his companion, who had just nonchalantly walked into the men's room.

"Will you wait up?" complained the shortest, out of breath, as he ran through the men's room door after the first man. "You whacked my head with that door and then you expect me to keep up with you?" His companion didn't say anything. Frustrated by the lack of response, the smaller man jumped in front of the taller, trying unsuccessfully to get the man to look at him.

"I mean, okay, so I screwed up that bar thing a bit, y'know, broke some bottles, wrecked the furniture, and nearly burned the place down. That's no reason to make me go one-on-one with heavy glass door, Saitou!" Saitou, finally acknowledging the other's presence, replied, "Chou, it has nothing to do with the bar. You actually handled it pretty well." Chou muttered a curse, stopped, paused, did a double-take, and then whipped around to stare at his partner.

"I did?" Chou felt his heart-beat speed up as it caught up with him that his perfectionist, emotionless, but professional partner had deigned to say he had done well. Heck, that Saitou had even said something was incredible!

Saitou watched his junior partner's chest puff up in pride, and then dropped the bombshell. "Except for that cork thing at the end, as well as setting fire to the place accidentally, you did okay." Chou winced, his chest and pride deflating.

"There's nothing wrong with flamboyance," Saitou continued levelly, "but these have to be done with a certain style and rhythm. You have the style, somewhat, but your rhythm leaves a bit to be desired." Stung, Chou felt his heart sag as his cruel-hearted compatriot next to him mercilessly cut his self-esteem to unrecognizable tatters.

"Now come on," ordered Saitou, "we have a report to make." He started to turn away from his charge, but then turned back. "You're writing it." Chou moaned. Despondently, passionately, letting Saitou know just how acute the personal pain he had suffered through the other's heartless ministrations, Chou sulkily strode into one of the stalls, dejectedly flushed one of toilets, yanked the paper roll off of its holder and tossed it over his shoulder, down the hole in mid-flush, where it was sucked down, gurgling.

"It's the other one over there." Sighing continually, Saitou walked into the stall he was indicating, flushed the toilet and jiggled the paper holder. A mirror slid aside, revealing a door in the wall. Chou's jaw dropped.

Sanosuke Sagara, right-hand man to Sekihoutai oya-bun Souzo Sagara, and recently a spy punching bag, walked dejectedly through the backstreets of Little Tokyo. It was early morning, the sun just starting to show over the buildings. Despite the beautiful morning light, Sanosuke didn't look up. Barely aware of his surroundings, he walked where his feet took him, automatically avoiding piles of garbage and empty street stalls.

To put it mildly, Sanosuke was having a bad day. First, there had been that bit with Sekihara at the Akabeko Club. Sobered now, he was the first to admit that he had totally gone past the line.

"Kuso…" He was shaken, disgusted, and ashamed. He had actually been trying to hurt Sekihara! Hurt, as in like, that way! What kind of scum was he that he could let himself do stuff like that?! Oh, he knew the excuses. He was drunk and angry. What a brilliant excuse that was! Driven by remorse, Sanosuke, didn't look where he was going and tripped over a broken broom lying on the sidewalk.

That brought to mind something else, that blond-haired man. What was his name? Oh, yeah, Chou Katanagari. "Chou the Sword Collector"? Briefly he reflected back, remembering all the swords that the man had carried. Good name. Sanosuke wondered briefly why he didn't hate the guy. You tend not to like the people you get into a knock-down-drag-out fight with. Going back over his recollections of the fight, Sanosuke remembered the pride in the man's voice, his face, as he introduced himself. He knew that feeling. The feeling that you were the best of the best no matter what anyone said. The man's ferocious anger at being made out as less then what he thought he was. Sanosuke could relate to that to. He recalled the man's determination to beat the odds, as well as his disappointment at realizing that the odds weren't quite stacked the way he wanted them…against him.

One moment, he said to himself. Let me get this straight. He paused for a moment. You think that I'm not angry at that broomhead because I consider him a kindred spirit?!!

Sanosuke slapped his forehead in self-disgust. What am I thinking?! Indignant anger brought up one last image: that tall man whose face looked like the skin had been stretched on too tight, the unholy bastard with the golden eyes. That kuso-yaro had abused him, beat the crap out him in fact, and then had the nerve to ask questions? What was up with that?

Perplexed and angry, Sanosuke looked up and found himself outside a grimy, abandoned warehouse. He smiled. Grimy, maybe, but abandoned? Definitely not.

It was here that the Sekihoutai made its headquarters. Here was the Man, Souzo Sagara himself. Sanosuke laughed evilly. And now, with Souzo Sagara at their head, the Sekihoutai would rule the world!

Chou looked up at the speaker, the long hair, the tight fitting clothes, the breathtaking beauty, and above all the smiling expression, and felt his jaw collapse and his eyes pop out.

"Tae? Oh, no," laughed the girl before him, "I'm not Tae. Tae is my twin sister. I'm Sae Sekihara. Yoroshiku ne."

"Of course I did. I make it my business to know everything. Haven't you figured that out yet?" Saitou calmly pulled out another cigarette. As he lifted his lighter, the rising flames were intercepted by a thin jetstream of water. Chou started. Saitou, on the other hand, never one to lose his cool, much to Chou's annoyance, calmly turned to face the young, blond female would-be cigarette assassin who held him, and his lighter, at point-blank range with a water pistol.

"Excuse me, sir," she sang out in a voice which was only mock-serious, and in fact arch and teasing. "There is no smoking in this facility."

Saitou didn't miss a beat. Chou wondered darkly if it was even possible to frighten this guy. "I wasn't smoking it, Sammie. I was just holding it, that's all." Chou groaned. Saitou showed no sign he had heard.

"We just got some more confirmation on this 'Bandaged Leader'", said Sae, "whoever he is…" Sammie, a slim, attractive blond, added her own reports.

"He, assuming it's a he, is extremely reclusive. All of the higher-ups and underlings that we managed to round-up got their orders from higher-up underlings." She frowned. "It sounds like a standard pyramid organization system."

"Just one tiny little thing," he pleaded in a tiny, wheedling voice. Chou paused, looked around. They were all looking at him. So far so good.

"I understand that this is an important discussion that cannot be put off at all. I believe now that I can comprehend the rigors and difficulties in running this organization. However, I have just one small question," he continued. They were still looking at him. He paused, took a deep breath.

"The men's room is over there, second door on the right," said Saitou calmly gesturing nonchalantly over his shoulder out a door at the far end of the room. Chou actually felt his face fault.

"That," he said as quietly and politely as possible, "was not what I was going to say."

"Really?" Saitou actually had the gall to look surprised. "Well, what did you expect me to think, with you going on about 'not be able to put off' and 'the rigors and difficulties', hmm?" Sae and Sammie tittered behind their hands.

Chou's fists clenched as he grated, "No, what I have to say is of an equally earthshaking importance."

Sae and Sammie were having to hold their hands over their mouths to avoid bursting into hysterical laughter.

"Fine. Now remember, like I said, about how it's really important that we go after this Bandaged guy, yadayadayada…"

The room was silent. All of a sudden, Chou wished that none of them were looking at him any more. Sammie and Sae were twin pictures of incredulous disbelief, and Saitou…well, Chou had never seen anyone who could convey more disgust without the slightest amount of facial expression.

"I believe I can help you with that." Tinkling laughter wafted over his shoulder.

Chou spun around and gaped at the person who entered the room through the door behind him. Her presence suddenly overpowered the entire room, sweeeping through like the coming of some divine incarnation.

"You can call me Miss Tokio." Quite possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life smiled at him, and beckoned him towards the door.

"We do?" Chou gulped. Who was this? She seemed to fill the whole room, despite the fact that she looked like he could lift her with one hand. He had an extremely bad feeling that he had managed to utterly embarrass himself in front of someone really important. Desperately, he tried to think up a way out of it.

"Does it have to be now?" he asked in a small voice. What was Saitou smiling about? The woman gave him a once-over, smiled almost to herself. Chou was beginning to feel incredibly self-conscious. Slowly she put her hand to his check. Her fingers were warm. Chou hoped that neither Sammie or Sae saw him flush. The mystery woman put her lips to his ear. He felt his heart begin to pound, his hands started to tremble, every hair on his neck was standing up straight as spears, and blood was roaring in his ears-

"No, let's wait until tomorrow." Dismissing him with a shake of her head, she turned around and walked out the door.

Deep below the gym and hidden facility, inside one of the many interworked waterpipes that connected the facility to the city waterworks pressure began to build. Only slowly, very slowly. After all, there was nothing blocking it, except a sodden toilet paper roll.