#widzzicicles

The Two Mitsus - Buddy Cop Story

(or Mitsun: Impossible)

Mitsunari sat a table in a crowded tea house, holding a book in his hands. A bowl of steamed vegetables and a cup of tea sat on the table in front of him. Neither had been touched yet. The young waitress had come by a couple of times to see if he wanted them reheated, but he never acknowledged her, instead keeping his eyes solely on his book.

Mitsuhide entered the tea house. He didn’t seem to notice Mitsunari as he leisurely made his way towards a table where two scruffy men sat. He smoothly slid into the seat opposite them and gave them a crescent of a smile. The three of them began speaking in low voices.

Two or three minutes after Mitsuhide’s arrival, Mitsunari stood up, tucked the book under his arm, and balanced the bowl in one hand and his tea cup in the other. He passed by Mitsuhide’s table on his way towards the front entrance. He suddenly stumbled and the cup flew out of his hands, spilling tea all over the feet of one of the scruffy men.

“Oh! Oh no. I’m sorry, sir. Here, let me clean that up!” Mitsunari exclaimed. As he bent towards the edge of the table, a scrap of paper fell out of his kimono sleeve onto Mitsuhide’s lap.

Crouching under the table, Mitsunari dabbed at the man’s toes and sandals.

“Stop that!” He growled angrily, adding in a low mutter, “Th-that tickles.”

The young waitress had rushed over when she heard the tea cup clatter on the wooden floor. She bent down to pick it up, then asked Mitsunari “Do you want a refill, sir?”

He stood up and replied “No, thank you. I don’t want any more tea. But I think I will finish these vegetables outside where the lighting is better for reading. And I apologize for making a mess.” He flashed his angelic smile at her.

The waitress’s lips curved upwards in an involuntary response to Mitsunari’s own dazzling smile. She shook her head in a dazed manner and said, “Don’t worry. Please come back any time.  Please. Come back. Any time. Please. Come. Back…” Her words repeated and drifted off as she stared dreamily at him.

Mitsuhide softly cleared his throat, fighting the temptation to roll his eyes.

Mitsunari bowed to the waitress, saying “I’m sorry” once more before heading outside. He sat down on a bench, balanced the bowl on his lap, and opened his book again.

About twenty minutes later much of the dining crowd exited the tea house, including the two men Mitsuhide had been talking with. Mitsunari had been picking through his bowl of vegetables when he suddenly discovered a big chunk of carrot in his chopsticks. He flung it away. The carrot splattered the back of one of the scruffy men.

He turned around, frowning at Mitsunari. “Did you just throw food at me?” he growled.

Mitsunari was peering into his bowl, but looked up when the man spoke to him. “Oh! Did that hit you? I apologize, sir. It was a carrot.”

The man took a step menacingly towards Mitsunari. “So?!”

Mitsunari looked innocently at the man. “Well, you see, I don’t like carrots. I wanted it far away from me. I hope it didn’t hurt.”

The man’s expression went from angry to bewildered. “Wha …? Hurt?” He huffed with annoyance, returned to his friend and they walked down the road.

As Mitsunari turned his head from the men to glance across the street, he saw a flash of indigo go in the same direction of the two men and then disappear from view. Mitsunari gave a little sigh of relief.

A moment later Mitsuhide came out of the tea house, pausing just long enough beside the bench for Mitsunari to pick up his book and stand up. They strolled through the village towards the castle.

After a while, Mitsunari broke the silence. “Everything you suspected was correct. They were planning on double-crossing you today after they collected your information.”

Mitsuhide gave a curt nod. “And thanks to you, I could play my part to alleviate any suspicion they had of me knowing their plan. ”

A grin broke out on Mitsunari’s face. “You’re very welcome, Lord Mitsuhide.”

“When I saw you had your head in a book, I was worried you hadn’t been paying attention to their conversation.” Mitsuhide muttered in a bored tone.

Flipping the book open in front of them, Mitsunari showed him blank page after blank page, then said “Quite right, quite right. If this had been a real book, I most likely would have been absorbed in it. So I brought a blank journal instead.” Tucking the book back under his arm, he asked brightly, “So when is the next mission?”

Mitsuhide didn’t miss a beat in replying. “I’m never using you again. Not after those theatrics.”

The happy grin turned into a smirk “Oh?” Mitsunari cast a calculating side-glance at Mitsuhide. “You mean … the spilled tea?”

“Yes.” Mitsuhide said as dryly as possible, trying to keep the interest out of his eyes as he noticed Mitsunari’s unfamiliar expression.

Mitsunari dug a small glass vial from his sash and handed it to Mitsuhide, saying “I spilled that tea so I could have an excuse to get close enough to their feet in order to apply this oil to their sandals. This will enable Ranmaru to track them through the woods and over long distances. And it also allowed me to pass you the note warning you not to accept their invitation to the  massage parlor just now. They have a group of thugs waiting to kill you there.”

Mitsuhide rolled the vial between his smooth fingers, and raised his eyebrow skeptically. “I would not have gone with them anyway.” He tucked the vial into his sash. “But I appreciate the tip-off.”

They walked on in silence a few more minutes before Mitsuhide said in mild annoyance. “And what was that with the carrot? Why did you even order them if you hate them? Your little stunt could have ruined the plan.”

Mitsunari didn’t look remorseful or perturbed. Instead, that appraising look had once more entered his eyes and a slight smirk played at his lips again. “When I saw how crowded the tea house was, I made sure to order them to have on hand. I was worried that if our marks had left inside the crowd, Ranmaru wouldn’t know which men to tail. It was a precautionary measure. One that ended up being necessary, I might add.”

Mitsuhide stifled a “tch” before asking “But why did it have to be carrots? You could have thrown any vegetable at him.”

“Oh no,” replied Mitsunari in complete sincerity. “I despise carrots. I wanted the performance to feel as true as possible. And throwing any other food would have been wasteful.”

Mitsuhide was silent, his face briefly showing surprise – an uncommon expression for him.  Another minute passed before he said “I had no idea Ranmaru gave you this oil beforehand.”

“He didn’t. I formulated it based on a few things I had read.” Mitsunari replied simply.

A look of appreciation flashed in Mitsuhide’s eyes before his usual fox-like look returned to them. “What would it take to have you concoct another batch of this oil?”

Mitsunari replied with a small tinge of self-satisfaction, “I delivered a small crate to both Ranmaru and your man Kyubei earlier this morning.”

A nod was all the reply Mitsuhide gave as they made their way back to the castle. As they passed under the gate and were about to go their separate ways, Mitsuhide said “I don’t like surprises. So … no surprises next time.” He turned away to go up the castle steps.

Mitsunari grinned at Mitsuhide’s retreating back. “You mean there will be a next time, my lord? I get to be used on another mission?”