Hi!

Here's the revised and slightly re-written version of chapter 1 that 
I posted about a month ago.

I'd like to thank everyone who sent comments!  I'd especially like
to thank Becky Sarver, Bastian, and Theo Mintesnot. for providing
C&C and offering to be my pre-readers.  And to Miko for finally
reading the outdated version of chapter 1.  Maybe in the next few
months he'll get around to reading the version I used. =^_^=

Chapter 2 is coming soon, parts of it are being pre-read and
re-written as you read this.

Chapter 1 is by no means final, so if any of you want to point out
mistakes and bad prose, by all means tell me!  My goal is to
improve, and I can't do that without your help.

Also, thanks to everyone on the FFML that's writing original anime
fics!

~Sky
--
tabris@sprynet.com
Web site being relocated...

"Never sweat the petty things, or is it never pet the sweaty
things?"




Bless The Gutter
Chapter One: second draft
6.19.99-7.8.99
By Sky Rigdon
copyright 1999


     A low slung silver sports car with rental plates screeched to a
halt at the curb.  The loud bass thumps ceased as the engine cut
off.  The door flung open and a young, blond haired man wearing a
camel hair suit stepped out; his unbuttoned suit jacket caught the
cold wind and whipped sharply out to his sides.  He pushed his
sunglasses up on his bony nose and smirked.  Carefully, he closed
the car door and wiped the door handle with the cuff of his jacket
sleeve until he could see the dark gray clouds reflected in the
chrome.  Then he reached into the back seat and pulled out a medium
sized snake-skin suitcase and placed it on the sidewalk beside him.

     The man fumbled about in his jacket pocket for some change and
slowly counted it out, moving and rearranging the coins in his palm.

"Yahata!"  He paused for a second, a lop-sided frown on his face.
"At least I think so."

     He quickly made his way to the pay phone at the corner.  He
passed by a scruffy-looking teenager, who couldn't have been more
than 15 years old.  She wore baggy pants with a multitude of
patchwork pockets, sewn haphazardly down the sides of each leg.  Her
T-shirt was two sizes too big, the sleeves reaching down to her
elbows.  It had as many dirt stains as her pants had pockets.  She
was cute, if not a bit raggedy, but that simply added to her
cuteness.  He thought about offering the girl a ride in his car, but
he knew he didn't have time.  Master Nakao was waiting.

     The man entered the phone booth and looked at the price
listing.  There were complicated kanji characters followed by yen
symbols.  "Oh man, this could mean anything," he said, and started
punching coins into the phone until he ran out.  The line rang
several times before it was picked up.

"Moshi, Percy-kun," a feminine voice answered sweetly.

"Yeah, hi.  I got the stuff you wanted.  Some really strange shit if
you ask me...  And the owner wasn't too willing to let go of them if
you know what I mean."

"It doesn't matter.  Where are you now?"

"I'm at the corner of two nameless streets.  There's a restaurant at
the corner here, it's called..." He squinted his eyes at the sign.
"Ji-go-ku Tabe-masu.  I think."

"Perfect.  Stay put, I'll meet you there.  I'm counting on you.
Don't let me down, they're very important to..."

     Percy looked over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of the street
girl, who was busy ogling his car.  Sweet!  She digs the car, he
thought to himself.  He could hear the voice on the other end
talking, but he wasn't listening.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it.  I'll see you there."

     He hung up the phone without a second thought and straightened
his suit.  He stepped out of the booth and tiptoed up behind the
girl.  She was running her fingers over the cloth lined front seat.
Her hair was a light red with pink highlights, tied back in a thick,
matted ponytail that frayed from top to bottom.  Percy licked his
lips as he touched her on the shoulder.

"Eeiiya!"  The girl screeched.  She whipped around, slapping her
hands down on the car door.  She slowly looked up to meet the man's
eyes.

"Sorry to startle you, miss," he said.

"I wasn't doing anything," the girl squeaked.  "Promise!  I was only
looking."

     Percy smiled and put his hands on the roof of the car, trapping
the girl between his arms.  The girl's face flushed a bright red,
much brighter than her hair.  She looked down to the street.

"I've never seen such an expensive car before."

"If you like, I can take you for a ride.  I know a really nice bath
house nearby, maybe we could check in for the night."

     The girl looked up at him, her eyes large and soft.  She
sighed.

"Gomen nasai, gaijin-sama.  My mother is waiting for me.  She's very
ill, I can't leave her alone for too long."  With that the girl
pushed him away.  His suit jacket once more caught the wind.  She
stumbled a bit and took off running.  Percy patted down his jacket
and looked around.  A few people were watching.  He blushed, as he
realized they were snickering.  Once he regained his composure, he
looked down the street where the girl had run.  She was nowhere in
sight.

"Oh well," he huffed.  "She was a cutie though.  She would have been
fun."

     He brushed back his short blond hair and reached down to pick
up his suitcase.  His hand swished about but grabbed nothing.

     He looked down.  His suitcase was gone.

"What the...."

     He looked to both sides of him, in the car, and then to the
street.  An old lady was still snickering at him.

"What?  What's so damned funny?"

     The old lady covered her mouth and pointed down the street.  He
looked in that direction and noticed a small black object on the
sidewalk about 20 yards away.  He reached into his jacket pocket and
felt around.

"My wallet," he shouted.  He replayed the girl pushing him away in
his mind.  Once, twice, three times.  His face flushed with anger.

"That little bitch!"

     Percy ran down the street, passing his wallet.  He reached the
corner and looked about wildly.  The girl was nowhere to be seen.
He sank to the ground and put his hands over his head.  The dark
clouds seemed even darker.  The wind blew about his wallet on the
sidewalk behind him.

    He whimpered.  "I'm dead."


*     *     *


     Miwaku ran with all her might.  She could feel her spirit
soaring as she clutched the heavy suitcase in her hand.  The
alleyways, crowded back-streets and markets would surely cover her
tracks as she made her way to her usual hiding spot: a cramped
alleyway nestled between two run down restaurants.  Her stomach was
grumbling.  She could scrounge some food while she was hiding out.

     Miwaku rounded the corner and peered into the alleyway.  No one
was around.  The setup was perfect.  There was a large dumpster near
the end of the alley.  She lifted the top and took a look inside.
On the top of the heap was a half-eaten meat bun that was still
warm.

     "Lucky!"

     She sat down beside the dumpster and thumbed through the cash
from the gaijin's wallet, 1600 yen in all.  That was easily worth a
good bowl of ramen.  She pocketed the money and took a bite of meat
bun.

     A sudden gust of wind blew through the alley, picking up
discarded papers and smells from the local venders and restaurants.
Miwaku's stomach growled.  She took another bite.  Half a meat bun
would have to do for now.

     Miwaku put the suitcase in her lap and turned it over from end
to end.  It was some kind of reptile skin, she thought.  She never
knew much about snakes and lizards, only that they were worth more
as shoes and cases.  She examined the lock.  It was a simple
mechanism, one she used to picking.  She pulled a pin from her hair
and straightened it out.  The pin had been bent out of shape and
back again so often, it was on the verge of breaking.  She carefully
slid it into the lock, twisting and turning it until she heard the
right combination of clicks.  The case opened and inside was a lumpy
package wrapped in plain brown paper tied with string.  The package
was crumpled and smelled like rotten eggs.  She wrinkled her nose in
disgust.  The smell was almost overpowering.  She untied the string
and cautiously opened layer after layer of paper.  Miwaku squinted
her eyes, she wasn't sure if she believed what she had in her lap.

"Human Arms," she whispered.  "Bhuddha's fat ass, the things people
put down on the street...  Arms!"

     She looked over the arms, three in all.  They were brown and
wrinkled, like year old prunes.  Bracelets and rings adorned each.
The jewelry appeared to be made of gold.  It was dull and faded, but
still strangely beautiful.  Miwaku tentatively touched one of the
arms, half expecting it to re-animate and start to strangle her,
just like in the horror manga she read.  It was dry and dusty to the
touch, as if it rubbed off on her finger.  They were coated with a
light dusting of powder.  Miwaku sniffed of her finger and sneezed.

     Miwaku cracked her knuckles and carefully removed one of the
bracelets.  It was a thick, gold band that formed a broken circle.
There was strange writing all around it, and a very stylized flame
with wings, one black, one white in the middle.  It was pretty.
This she would keep for herself.  She could sell the case to just
about any of the street buyers.  But the arms?  Who would want to
buy arms?

     "Kusanagi!"

     Kusanagi was a strange old man with an equally strange junk
shop.

"He'd love 'em."

     She hastily wrapped the package back up and tied it loosely,
stuffing the package back in the case.  She put the bracelet on.  It
was a nice fit, but it was too obvious on her wrist.  When she
brought the case to Kusanagi, he would know instantly what it was.
He was a sharp old man.  She took it off her wrist and slipped off
her slipper.  The bracelet fit nicely around her ankle, and it was
completely covered by her pants.  Perfect, she thought.

      Miwaku made her way to Kusanagi's shop with three new arms and
a song in her heart.


*     *     *


      A lithe, russet-furred cat slinked along the front counter,
lightly stepping over the cash register and stopping short of a
snake-skin suitcase.  It stank, but it was her kind of stink; a
heavenly aroma that hinted of things to gnaw on or bat around.  Her
tail swished, it was assessing the task at hand.  She leaned forward
and rubbed her muzzle over the corner of the case.

"Not so close, Ira-Ira."  An old man shooed the cat away.  Ira-Ira
indignantly sauntered just out of reach and flopped down on her
side.

"So where did you find this?"  The old man's voice was low and
thick.  The words stumbled out of his mouth with the abandonment of
old age.

"I lifted it from a perverted gaijin at the Jigoku Oishi-Oishi a few
hours ago."

     Miwaku whirled around, her arms flowing in rhythm with voice.
"You should have seen me, I was incredible.  I played it sweet and
shy.  He never knew what hit him."

     Old man Kusanagi laughed.  "I'd expect nothing less from you."
He extended a hand in gesture and Miwaku took it.  The old man led
her to a musty vinyl chair.  The upholstery was faded and peeling
off in large patches.  She feel back into the chair playfully, her
legs and arms splayed.  Kusanagi walked back to the counter and
looked over the case, poking and prodding for defects.

"Nice case.  Good condition."

"Uh-hmmm."

     Kusanagi wrinkled his nose.  "Why's it stink like that?"

"Ahhh...  Well, that's why I brought it straight to you in such a
hurry."

     The old man opened the case.  There was a long silence.
Slowly, a smile crept over his face.

"Buddha's balls, girl.  You brought me mummified arms."

     Miwaku blushed.  "Does Buddha really have balls?"

"'Fraid so sweetie, and they're as large as his belly."

"How do you know?"

     The old man smiled wryly.  "When you're as old as I am, you get
to know these things."

"Uh-huh."

     The cat stood at attention, stretching herself as best she
could to see over the suitcase lid.  Her tail crooked in a question
mark.  Kusanagi lifted one of the arms up to a light.

"Oh dear.  This is interesting."  He eyed Miwaku suspiciously.
"This isn't the sort of thing you knick with ease.  It's bad news,
I'm thinking."

"Yeah, I kinda figured so, being body parts and all.  I figured
you'd want first crack at them."

     Kusanagi examined the jewelry and scratched his chin.  He
looked to his cat.  She pawed at the arm, ears back.

"Oh, I want them alright."  Kusanagi furrowed his brow.  "These look
awfully familiar."

     The old man tapped his fingers on the counter.  He put the arm
down and walked around to Miwaku.  He carefully kneeled down in
front of her.  His aged bones creaked and popped, barely supporting
what little weight he lad left.

"Miwaku-chan.  You know I look after you like one of my own."  He
placed his hands on her knees.  "You mean a lot to me, so I want you
to listen good."

     Miwaku shrunk back into the chair.  She had never seen Kusanagi
so serious, unless he had been drinking.

"You seem to find these kinds of curio with alarming regularity."

     That clenched it, Miwaku thought.  Kusanagi never used big
words.  This was serious.  She looked away from him.

"I want you stay with me for a little while.  I don't know how long.
At least until I can learn more about these arms.  I have a feeling
that gaijin you knicked 'em from is very dangerous.  I'd hate to
think what he would do to you if he found you."

     Miwaku had found some strange things in her time on the
streets, religious idols, strange jewelry, but never mummified arms
in a suitcase.  The gravity of it finally began to sink in.  Maybe
this was more than simply weird.

"I can take care of myself.  I..."

"No you can't!"  The old man barked.  "Not this time, I don't want
you out on the street tonight.  These arms are bad news, and I don't
want you to get caught up in it."

      Miwaku trembled.  He never yelled at her before.

"Caught up in what," she asked meekly.

     The old man could feel her trembling.  He patted her on the
knees and smiled.

"I'm sorry, Miwaku.  I just need you to do what I ask, okay?  It's
very important."

     Miwaku sighed.

"Good girl."

     Kusanagi stood and walked toward the back room.  Ira Ira jumped
down from the counter and followed after him.

"We'll go to the public baths, my treat."

      Once behind the curtain that separated the store front from
his home, Ira Ira jumped up on the endtable, ears perked.

      The cat whispered, "Do you really think they're dangerous?"

"Yep."

"Are you sure?  They smell awfully good."

"Did you get a good look at the jewelry?"

"Hai.  I've seen the writing before.  Some kind of Tibetan magic I
think.  But it's not human magic - too powerful."

"Well, it's definitely not any magic that's practiced around here.
They shouldn't even be in Japan.  I think I know someone who can
help."

     "Can I have one?"

     Kusanagi gave the cat a stern look.  "No!"

     Ira Ira sighed.



      Miwaku waited patiently for Kusanagi to return.  She fiddled
with a little figurine of Buddha that she kept in her pants pocket.
He was a dull red color, well worn on his tummy.

"It seems that you always know what to do when I get into trouble."

     She tossed it up in the air and let in fall to the ground.  It
landed face up.  Miwaku sighed in relief.

"Alright then, I'll stay.  I guess it wouldn't be so bad to take a
hot bath.  It doesn't feel right.  I dunno."

     She looked out the window.  The wind was picking up.  Dark
clouds were moving in.  The slightest of sprinkles had started.
Miwaku sighed heavily.

"And I won't be out in that."

      Miwaku felt something stick-like touch her shoulder.  She
looked up saw a shriviled up hand.

"Eiiiyaaaa!" she shreaked, nearly jumping out of her skin.

      Miwaku bolted into a large standing lamp, the metal brim
catching her squarely between the eyes.  She fell to the floor in a
crumpled heap.  Kusanagi slapped his knee with the dismembered hand.

"Kaw, that was rich!  Did you see her face Ira-chan?"

Kusanagi turned to see Ira-Ira happily gnawing on the little finger,
ears back and tail twitching.

"Ira-Ira!" Kusanagi barked.

     The cat looked up.  "What?!?" she exclaimed.  "I wasn't trying
to eat it!"


*     *     *


     Nakao opened her robe and let it slip over her shoulders.
Percy gulped, his eyes the size of dish pans.  He tried to look away
but his eyes didn't didn't obey him.  The robe fell to the floor at
her slender ankles, which were painted with twisting reddish black
spires.

     A single lamp sitting in the middle of the floor cast
flickering shadows over Nakao's body.  Her own shadow stretched from
the floor, to the wall and up onto the ceiling.  She clapped her
hands twice and held her arms in front of her, one wrist turned up,
the other down.

     Percy stepped back until his back hit the wall.  He always
hated this magic stuff, it gave him the willies.

     Nakao's head slumped forward and she kneeled on the floor, just
in front of the lamp.  Tendrils of light and shadow grew thick, as
if in a gaseous state.  Percy squinted in the darkness that was
creeping in from the skirts of the room.  Everything around him
changed.  The wall he leaned against bowed slightly inward, then
snapped out, pushing him down.

     Nakao mumbled to herself.  Percy couldn't make out what she was
saying.  There was a bright flash and a ring fell to the ground in
front of Nakao.  She picked it up and rolled it over in her fingers.
Everything was normal in the room again.  The light was normal.  The
walls were distorted.

"It's not often I bestow gifts to humans."  She gestured to Percy.
He stood up and walked to her side.

"This will help you get my artifacts back."

     Nakao handed him the ring and reached for her robe.  "I trust
you won't fail."

     Percy nodded quickly, but said nothing.  He was busy looking at
Nakao's naked body.  She smiled sweetly at Percy.  "Because if you
do, you'll be my next batch of ritual pigment."



*     *     *



     Miwaku awoke in a strange bed.  But the smell of musty books
and Kusanagi's shop still filled her nostrils.  She could hear
voices, she thought, but she was no longer in the store front.  She
surveyed the area.  A few charts and paintings were tacked to the
wall.  A single Chinese lantern hung from the ceiling in the corner.
It's light was dull and yellowed, like the paper it was made with.

     Miwaku rubbed her head.  "Oh, man."  There was a bruise on her
forehead, right on her brow.  It was sensitive to the touch and made
her eyes water.

     Just outside, she could hear voices.  Kusanagi's she thought,
but a feminine voice as well, almost like two different women.
Miwaku slowly sat up and straightened her shirt.  Her shoes were at
the side of the bed.  She left them on the floor and crept to the
curtain that acted as a door to the room.

     Beyond the front counter of the store front was Kusanagi, his
cat was on a display table next too him.  They were both looking off
to the side.  She could hear the woman's voice more clearly from the
threshold.  It was carefully calculated and had a light trill.  An
old woman's voice, she thought, but it lacked the proper pomp and
traditional ettiquete she was used to from the old women around
town.

     Miwaku lifted the curtain enough to slip through slinked behind
the counter.  The cat looked over at her, it seemed to smile at her
when she realized it saw her.  She ducked lower and listened.

"I don't recognize the script.  Maybe it's foreign?"

"That's what Ira-Ira thought.  Indian maybe."

     Ira-Ira shrugged and mewed.  Kusanagi immediately looked toward
the back room.  "Mi-chan, you there?"

     Miwaku gasped.  She was caught.  She stood up from behind the
counter and bowed.

"Gomen nasai!"

Kusanagi laughed.  "That's alright girl.  Come on in."

     Miwaku walked around the counter.  Sitting in a chair next to
Kusanagi was on old lady wearing a light blue kinmono with a cloud
and crane pattern.  It must have been expensive, Miwaku thought.  It
shimmered in the dim lighting like Silk.  Her hair was mostly gray
with a few remaining black strands.  The lady couldn't be more than
60 or 70 years old.  Younger than Kusanagi at best.

"Good to see you're finally awake," he said softly.

"That was a dirty trick, old man.  You trying to kill me?"

     Kusanagi laughed.  "Sorry to scare you so.  I didn't think you
would knock yourself out.  Anyway, this is Priestess Kugi, of the
Shinzen Temple.  She's a very close friend of mine.  I trained in
the arts with her husband."

"Konbanwa," she said with a slight trill in her voice.

     Miwaku smiled wanly.  "Kon'."  She scratched her head.

"You must be Miwaku."

     Miwaku took a long bow, hanging her head as low as she could.

     Kugi patted Miwaku on the head and laughed.

"I've been looking forward to meeting you."

     Miwaku straightened up and gave Kugi a puzzled look.  "You
have?"  She looked to Kusanagi.  He smiled.

"Hai, hai.  Kusanagi has talked about you for years.  I was simply
waiting to see if what he said was true."

"If what was true?"

"Not to worry.  I'll explain everything."

     Priestess Kugi looked Miwaku up and down.

"But for now I can see you need a good bath."



     The girl's side of the public bath was nearly deserted, only a
handful of old ladies, minding to themselves.  A few of the faucets
dripped in asynchronise rhythm.  Kugi filled a small tub with hot
water and dipped her bar of soap into it.  She lathered it up and
then motioned for Miwaku to join her.  Miwaku sat down on the foot
stool with her back to the old woman.  She crossed her arms as the
old woman started to scrub her back.

"Is this necessary?"

"You have to be clean or you'll get horrible diseases and your skin
will rot off."

Miwaku winced.  "Not that, I mean do you have to bathe me?  I'm
fifteen years old for Buhdah's sake?"

"Yes, it's necessary."

"Whatever."  Miwaku huffed.

     Kugi scrubbed Miwaku's back for a several minutes, mumbling to
herself about being young and stupid.  She couldn't make out every
word.  Without warning Kugi dumped the tub of water on Miwaku's
head.

"Hey!" Miwaku shouted.  "You're pretty rude for an old lady."

     Kugi laughed.  She took a comb from her tub of bath supplies
and began to pick out the knots from Miwaku's matted hair.

"You know, you'll have very pretty hair when we get it cleaned up.
I don't know how you stood it this long."

"It's not like I had a choice you know."

"Hai, hai.  You've lived on the streets all your life?"

"Not always.  I grew up in an orphanage in Kyushuu.  I ran away
about ten years ago and eventually ended up here."

"Why Tokyo?"

"I don't know.  It's so big.  I thought I could find something here
for me.  Just a feeling, you know?"

"So you lasted for ten years on the streets?"

"Yeah, it's not that bad, really."  Miwaku's thoughts drifted.  In
reality, being on the streets was not what she thought it would be
-- it was tough.  Her situation seemed to weigh heavier on her
lately than it had in the past.  She was developing into a young
woman and the people she knew were starting to treat her different.
She didn't like it.

"Where is all this going?"

"Well, I'm glad you asked."  Kugi ran her fingers through Miwaku's
hair until she found a rat's nest and carefully began to pick it
out.  "I am the Priestess of the Shinzen Temple.  Have you heard of
it?"

"Yeah, I think so.  That's the weird temple where they have the
Drinking Well Festival.  Weird place, it's kinda scary.  I've only
been to the festival once."

"Weird, ne?"  Kugi tugged extra hard on a clump of hair.

"Hey," Miwaku yelped.  "Okay, okay, that's just what everyone says.
And it doesn't look like any other Temple I've ever scene."

     Priestess Kugi frowned as she picked over the rest of Miwaku's
hair.  "Well, Mi-chan.  I don't know how much of your hair I can
salvage, but most of it's going to have to be cut off."

"What!  You can't cut my hair!"

"Gomen nasai.  It's so damaged.  Most of it can't even be
straightened out."

     Kugi rubbed Miwaku's shoulders.  "Don't worry, it'll look
really pretty when I'm done, you'll see.  I'll leave it as long as I
can.  You should have enough to braid it and no one will ever know
how much was lost."

"Oh man.  Today started out so well, and it turned to shit just
because of one stupid suitcase."

"You know what they say -- what goes around comes around."

     Miwaku shook her head, she slouched her shoulders forward
guiltily.

"I'm getting tired."

     Kugi hugged her close.  Miwaku blushed.

"Everything will work out exactly as it was meant to."

     Miwaku shifted about uncomfortably, but the Priestess wouldn't
let go.

"Why don't you come live with me?  Consider it an adoption."

     Miwaku twisted around to look at the old woman, she wasn't
unattractive, even in spite of her age.  Her body was taut, her skin
was like fine tissue paper, very different from the other old ladies
Miwaku had seen.  The Priestess had a warm smile.

     Miwaku felt lightheaded.  Clumps of wet hair clung to her face
and lips.  She started to speak, but nothing came out.  Her eyes
felt as though they were liquid.  Miwaku turned away, she could feel
a single tear roll down her cheek.

     She hated crying, it was a sign of weakness.  Showing weakness
made you a target on the streets.  All her life she prided herself
on being strong and tough.  No matter what was thrown at her, she
could overcome it.  But Priestesses Kugi was disarming -- strangely
inviting, as if it were okay to be weak in her presence.  Another
tear rolled down her cheek, followed by another.  Miwaku finally
gave in and hugged her back.  She squeezed the Priestess tightly.

"Do you think I'm in danger, like Kusanagi says?"

"I honestly don't know, but I like you, and that's all I need to
know right now."


*     *     *


     Ira Ira yawned and kneaded the cushion of the high back chair
she had picked to sleep in.  She turned around three times and made
herself comfortable.  Kusunagi thumbed through a large tome.

"This book talks of a demon goddess with 12 arms.  She decimated
half of Tibet and what would now be the Chinese border over 1000
years ago."

"So we're screwed," Ira Ira yawned.

"I don't think so.  As long as all the arms aren't gathered in one
place we're safe.  There's a picture of a bracelet here.  It has a
small flame with wings outstretched on it.  Supposedly, "A fallen
angel of light & dark" will resurrect her.  At least according to
this."

     Kusanagi marked his place with a shred of cloth and closed the
book.  "I'm too tired for readin'."  He blew out the flame in his
oil reading lamp and walked toward his bedroom.

     Ira Ira waited for the light to dim in the bed room.  She got
up and sauntered to the case.  The arms were tucked in, neatly
folded.  The case was left open.   She looked over the arms
hungrily.

"Now, where were we my sweets?"

     She poked her head into the case and tugged at one of the
fingers.  It gave a little bit and she tugged harder.  Finally the
finger seperated from the hand.  Ira Ira stumbled back and hunched
down, finger in her mouth.  Uh oh, she thought to herself.  She
glanced around to see if the old man was around.  He was still
moving about in his room.



     Kusanagi patted down his bed and shook out the covers.  A
large, white feather drifted up.  He plucked it from the air.  It
was new and clean.  It seemed that every time Miwaku was around, he
would find one.  He put the feather in a small wooven basket that
was filled was filled with them.

"So, Mi-chan, where do you get these things," he said to himself.

     He blew the light out in his lamp and settled in for the night.
He heard a small noise in the store front, like glass breaking.

"Damn cat," he whispered.  He was too tired to get up and clean it
up, it could wait until morning.



End, chapter one