Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 A long time ago, I wrote a story.  In another timeline, this is an
alternate version where Genevive was never born.  Much less fled to Japan
to experiment on Hiroshimaru, and make them into Futanari for the sex
tourism industry.  With her personal bodyguard, and his weapon of choice, a
Shirisaya Wakisashi.  This is the same Hiroshimaru, but a different blade.
Taken from hir father's collection, fitted for storage/travel overseas to
get hir treatment for hir intersex condition.  I accidentally deleted the
original, and decided not to rewrite it.

   AFAIK, there is no actual Japanese slang for Hiroshimaru, however it may
have been just a middleschool tease they made up specifically for hir.  I
made it up, it's a joke, because I like multilingual puns.  Trigger
Warning: Cultural Appropriation: Otaku.  If UR1, you're almost guaranteed
to be insulted by this, unless you're too ignorant to get it.

   ;

   Nihon (hf NS)

   "Hey," I looked up, "Nice hat."

   "You like it?" She grinned, and pinched the edge, all the way around.

   "Yes." Nod, "You no have this, in physical education."

   "Yeah, well I stashed it in my locker, so it doesn't get crushed, in
class?"

   "It is." What is word.  "How you say?"

   "Butch?"

   Shake my head, "What is, this, mean?"

   "Like a guy."

   "Oh yes, this!" Nodding excitedly, "I want to learn, this." She is the
most like a guy, as she says.

   "To be butch?"

   "Yes, in Hamamatsu, I had no need.  Or no." Blinking, this is difficult.
"I know not the word, in Enlis?" I did not know, now here, I can not talk
to boys about it.  They will not tell me how.

   "Well, what does Ordo mean?"

   "I know not this word."

   "You just said, you had no need, Ordo."

   "Oh no."

   "Oh, your accent, I'm still learning to understand it.  You have to
admit, it's pretty thick."

   "I can not hear it."

   "Oh," she thought, "I suppose not." She pointed, "There they are."

   On the field, "Hiroshimaru."

   "Hidoshima?" Nod, "Like the city."

   "Yes."

   "They dropped the second atom bomb."

   "No, that is Nagasaki."

   "No, actually, that was the third.  The first was a test drop.  They'll
teach that in History here."

   "Yes, after the war, there is." I did the cloud, and spread it out
sprinkling my fingers.  "Atome'?"

   "Radiation?  Fallout."

   "Yes, and then there is children.  Born, different."

   "Oh, so Hedoshimaru means Mutant."

   "Yes!  Your Japanese.  You say it, very well."

   "Hedoshimaru."

   "Yes.  I tell my friend, in school.  They call me this, 'Hiroshimaru.'
Then in Tokyo they say Fukishimaru." Now, I have not heard this before, "I
go there, for the doctors, and they send me to here."

   "To America."

   "Yes."

   "Because you're a mutant."

   "Yes."

   "Cool."

   ;

   Mira

   "So," pinch my nose, and look up.  "You don't want to talk about this,
with them?" Still doing pullups, but gymnastic pullups.  I don't know, you
swing your legs, she's showing her how to swing them up to the bar.  I
never could do that, I stopped trying, but it's like the Cartwheel, only
for swinging over the Horizontal bar.  "Well, let's go over here, have a
seat.  Okay, so you want to be butch, because you're Hedoshimaru."

   By the way, Love Japanese now.  Really a beautiful language, especially
the sound that's not quite a D, and people mispronounce like Tokyo.  2
syllables: To'Kyo.  Not To Ke Yo, you see an E in there, anywhere?  Then
WHY THE FUCK DO YOU PRONOUNCE IT!?

   So anyway, "I'm guessing that has something to do with your mutation."

   "Yes, I am a boy."

   I blinked.  "Now, when you say boy, I mean.  I seen you naked."

   "A boy inside.  Outside is why I was name a gilr, and I am in the gilr
room, but the doctor say, I am a boy."

   "So, transexual."

   "Oh, I do no have sex."

   "At all."

   "I can not."

   "Why not?"

   "It is no.  The doctor say, it will be, some time."

   "Your penis."

   "Yes."

   "Is inside, like a Futanari?"

   "What is this?"

   "Oh, come on." Remember, "Wait, you got a phone?"

   "Yes," she got it back out.

   "Look it up."

   "Oh!" Cartoons.  Japanese cartoons, I just figured, being Japanese, and
all.  Then again, they have a lot of stuff in Japanese cartoons, so.  Maybe
it's just obscure there?

   "Nuhafu."

   "Newhalf."

   "Yes." She pointed, "This." The Americanified Japanified ingrish word,
like Waifu.  She pointed to the Japanese characters.  "Nu Hafu." Somewhere
between calligraphy, and Heiroglyphics, I'm never gonna learn how to read.

   "Or Futanari."

   "I did not know." She played a video, tilted her head.  Or an Animated
Gif looks like, of an impossible penis bursting out of a cartoon cunt,
anonymous censor stripes redacting both, and everything.  "They have this."

   "Like that." She blushed!

   "I hope!"

   "Hahaha!" She laughed with me too.  Or he, I guess, I don't fucking
know, we'll figure it out.

   "Guwevi dosays."

   "What that?"

   "Same thing.  In espanis."

   "Espaņol."

   "Espang;"

   "Yol."

   "Espangyol." Nodding.

   "Good."

   ;

   Gym

   "Girls?" I stood, behind the door.  "Is there anybody in here?"

   No answer, so it swung shut.  Slowly, behind him, so I could step to the
side, and follow him to the back.  To the shower room, where he always
started first, carefully padding in my socks.

   'ihihihn!' Muffled giggles, bouncing back between the lockers, from the
shower stalls.

   "Who's back there?"

   They came out, I could hear the curtains scrape from their hiding
places. Not see them, around his broad back.

   "Peekaboo!"

   "Get dressed," he turned, and stopped.  Looked down at my top, pulled
across, and belted, his eyes went wide, turning to see the plain wooden
handle, tucked in at my hip.

   My father, finally showed me.  This, to start, my hand already coming
up, thumb out to grip the plain clear varnished wood, and gently pull with
my fingers.

   Slowly, so he could watch the steel edge, slowly draw out.  Backing up,
his hands crossing between us defensively, even as they came up behind him.

   "Hold him." Mira, the other two girls appearing over his shoulders, and
pulling back his arms, but her strong hands holding his neck, and his
mouth.

   The tip of the Wakisashi cleared the lip of the saya, and I turned it,
in the air, to rest it on his shoulder.  Instead of quickly catching the
edge, and drawing it across the throat.  "Don't move."

   He looked down, in my eyes, and I nodded, seriously.

   "You have, another shirt here." I slipped the tip under the strap of his
tank top.  "Like this, yes?"

   "Mhm!" He nodded.

   "Good." I flipped the blade, and pulled it out, to fall severed, and
expose his nipple.  "Hold still." The tip came back, to brush his shoulder,
and slip the back edge under the other side.  He held his breath.

   She promised to show me what to use it for.

   SHINK!

   "Let's go." They dragged him back, into the showers.

   She told me that we would be a man.  To make an example of, but he is a
bad man.  A bad example for the boys in his class.

   The other boys, but not like me.

   It was up to the girls, to teach him a lesson.  For me to learn, what it
is to be a man.

   "On your knees."

   I just had to hold his attention, but I pulled the knot in my sash.  To
let my top swing open, and he looked down at my flat chest.

   "I will not need this either.  For this." I held up the saya, sideways,
and carefully slipped the tip back in the opening.  "Will we?"

   "Nnoh!" He shivered.

   "Good." I bowed, and let it hang, at my side, to shrug out of the sleeve
of my top, then switched hands to let it fall to the damp tiles.

   ;

   Futon

   "Huh!" It is just a dream.  A fantasy, but my fantasy.  Of course I
would not, even smuggle my blade into school, in my backpack.  Much less
use it to threaten our coach, in the shower, for Her fantasy.

   "Hm!" I guess she is living it right now.  If not in jail, in Juvie
Jail. Training School, like a prep school for bad girls, criminals but she
does get to say her favorite line.

   "What are you in for?"

   "Rape."

   Her little joke, she is not convicted of that.  Nor manslaughter, though
I believe them that he deserved it.

   She confessed, and made him confess, because she wishes to be in there.
Belongs in there, with the criminals, to rape.

   That is what she is in for.  To rape, only girls who deserve it.  I
know, it is wrong, and I will never be a man like that, but I dream.

   I drempt of it, and this is okay, as long as no body gets hurt.  "Huh!"
It is early, and not yet light, but I can feel it.  A little, still too
little, but it will take time.  It is hard, tiny as it is, I can pinch it
out, but not yet long enough to pull the skin out, without it slipping. 
"Nh!" Back in, but I will.  It will grow enough, it will just take more
time.

   She loved this, even before I start the prescription, to grow faster. 
Stronger, my voice cracks, but it is to slow.  Not long enough, so I must
pinch it.  "Nh!' Again, "Nh nh nhn!" And again.  "Huh huh huh!" Catch my
breath.

   It is to hard, so I must lick my fingers, and do it, like a girl. 
Shamefully, I am not yet boy enough, and yet not girl enough to moisten. 
Lower, I feel down, between the hairy folds, so the wrinkles stretch out,
and spread them.  "Hng!"

   Like a girl, outside.  As a baby, the doctors took 1 look and were
fooled.  They do not even circumcise in Japan, nor look to close.  Just a
glance, "It's a girl," they guessed.

   Wrong.

   "Hih, uh.  Huh!" Grunt, deeper, don't giggle like a Kogal, with her
short skirt, and loose socks, bunched around her ankles, and a herro kiddy
backpack.  A sucker, or a binky.

   "Hihn!"

   I could, get a girl like that.  There are many here, I know one, who is
Korean, and she is.  I believe, she looks.  Interested in me, because i am
Japanese, but not a girl.  They still think of me as a girl, and treat me
like that when I am not a girl, but i slip my fingertips aside, for another
to slip in between with them, and run the longest up the edge.

   The pale squiggly line up the middle, like a scar, you can not see with
the sides of my empty scrotum bunched together, so they still look like a
girls.  But then it sticks up, in a web for me to pinch, and slip the
longest up between them.  Feel the spit, still slick, but beginning to dry,
tacky, and my fingertips are rough from gripping the wood.

   The handle, of my sword.  And the saya in the other hand.  Instead of
this pitiful tiny thing, like an eraser, worn down to almost a cone, but I
feel the line.  The edge, stretch from my fingers pulling ti tight.  Push
it up, and tickle the sensitive spot where it splits, the spongey head, and
even the tiny hole embedded in it.

   "Nh, huh!" A little drop.  Greasy, not like my spit, nor the thinner
drops to well up, and pop out in twitches.  Pulsing like blood when it
cums. Soon, I can feel it, edging closer as my pinching rough callouses
brush the edges on the side, curving together like a rooftop, and the
longest one, rubbing the tiny damp greasy hole faster, and faster, and,
"HhHhHhH huh huh uh un!" Swallow, "Gl, huh!" Relax, and shiver.

   It came, wetting my fingertips, and soaking them.  Slip them down to
wipe it, flattening out my scrotum, and the curls sticking to it.

   "HhuhuhH!" Swirl them around a little, and catch my breath.  "Whew!"
Blink.  Awake now.  I can start my day.  Get up, and pull the covers tight
over the matt.

   "Smt, smock!" After I suck off my fingers, and pick up the cloth to dry
them.  Wipe it between my legs, and fold it up, so I don't leave dirty
fingerprints on the silk.  Pulled it tight, the fluff, and spread the
pillow.  Perfect in the middle, then go wash up completely.

   Take off my sleep robe, like a kimono, only ties, instead of belted. 
Close the door, and look at my body.  For growth, feel my arms, and my
chest, but it is too slow.  Not enough to see, over night, but day after
day.  I am crowing stronger.  Is that a new hair?  Around my nipple, yes. A
stubble, but a new one, and it is harder, and darker than ever before. 
"Huh!" Rubbery, and sensitive from my morning climax, on my rough
callouses. Flick it, and get in the tub.  Kneel, and run the water.  Bow to
cup it, and slash it up.  Between my legs, then more to get under my arms.
Soap the sponge, and squeeze it until the bubbles lather out, and wash
them. The hairs under my arms, are few, but I have them.  Then down the
front, the neat beard, and lower.

   Over my tiny little thing, soft, and shrunken back.  Shyly, but I make
sure to get every fold below it.  Before going back, further, to the truly
dirty place, and wipe that well as well.  Dunk, and squeeze the sponge out,
then stop the water.  It is deep enough to sit down, and rinse it off. 
Then slip down, carefully holding the sides to lay back.  Flap my arms like
wings so the water splashes, and gushes under them, then feel them to make
sure they are squeeky clean.

   No residue, between my legs either, so I get out.  Dry carefully, and
open the cabinet for my medicine.  Squirt it in the cap, to apply under my
arms, then down the front, Wipe the rest into my hairs, with my urethra
fully hidden.  Shrunken in, so that the Virogel (r) doesn't enter.

   I should not, risk it.  Ask my doctor, it could go wrong, cause
infections, which is why it's designed to apply like deodorant.  Under the
arms, where there are no openings, but this puts it where I need it the
most.

   The girls can see it, the hairs under my arms, but if I am going to be a
man some day, I need to grow down there, too.

   Looking in the mirror, I check the chart.  The Prader Scale, I think I
am close to Stage one.  I will have to ask my doctor, when I see him, but
better wash my hands, and go do my morning practice.  Iado, first. 
Discipline, to draw the sword before I learn to cut with it.  Slip it back
in the Saya.  Shirisaya, and short, the Wakasahi before I can handle the
full sword.  With full fittings, my father wrapping it with slik, to bind
down the ray skin, the wood to hold the Tsuba.  The handguard, and
replacing it in the red laquered saya.  Shiny as an apple, I feel it's hard
smooth surface, but then take the plain wooden one.  My sword to tuck in my
belt, and caryy out to the patio.

   Bow, and "Kyai ha!"

   The door slides open behind me.

   "Good." He holds up his, pulling out his belt, and slipping the shiny
red lacquered saya down across his hip.

   Bow.  "Good morning." Pinching the back edge against the top of mine,
without looking.  He kneels, on the boards, and settles it at his side.

   I go, down to my knees, and bow, all the way to the ground.

   "Kohei." A nod.

   "Sensei." I bow.

   "Let us begin..."

   ;

   {If you care, you can Google Renaissance Port Angeles, and click on the
Street View.  Scroll to the left, and you can see the building next to it.
While you're at it, there's beautiful pictures of Webster Park, and the
view from the Patio.  In fact, if you can afford to travel, go there.  It's
well worth the trip.}

   Renaissance

   "Hot tea?" I pulled the strainer off of the glass, and set it down.

   "Yes." These glasses, look glass, but are hollow plastic.  So, the tea
stays hot, and the glass stays cool.  I sip it.  "Hm."

   "Why do you drink hot tea, on a hot day?"

   "It is the way, I learned to drink tea." I set it down.

   "They have good tea here."

   "Yes," I agree, "Very."

   "You are, Hideo's."

   "Yes, he is my father." He did not ask.  "How do you now his name?"

   Just met him," he sat back, "He's in there with my mother."

   I looked, at his hair, "Yes." I saw the resemblance.  In the nose as
well.

   He pointed.  "What's that say?" At my shirt.

   I pointed, "Do ro ro." Across the top.  He looked up, at my hair, then
back down.

   "That him?" Pointed.

   "No, that is Hyakkimaru." I turned, and showed him the back.  "That's
Dororo." Hooking my thumb over my shoulder.

   "Oh, cool." I sat back, picked up my tea.  "Is that an anime?"

   "It was.  A cartoon in the 60s.  My father showed me it."

   "So, How come it says Dororo for him?"

   "Hyakkimaru?  He is the star.  It is about him, but it is called Dororo
because she is in love with him."

   "Let me see the back, again?" I turned, and leaned over.  "Sorry, it's
just the way they draw, kids." I sat back, and saw him shrug.  "I guess,
it's hard to tell, sometimes."

   He did not ask, but he looked at me again.

   "Well, she dresses as a boy, to travel with him.  He is a Ronin."

   "Oh, I heard of them." he nodded, "Like the 27 Ronin?"

   I blink, shake my head.  "It is.  No, they were 47, Ronin.  Where do you
hear, from this?"

   "Well, the movie.  Ronin?"

   "I have not seen it."

   "How old are you?" He looked down, and his face warmed, in shame. 
"Sorry, if that's rude."

   "I do not mind.  I am 14."

   "Oh, me too."

   "Yes?"

   "So, a.  Boy, like you.  Um."

   "Okay," I look around, "Is all right, you are confused?  By the way I
look?"

   "I think it's the hair."

   "And my flat chest.  Yes.  I am a boy, however, I am, not like you." I
think, "Or other boys."

   "How so?"

   "Well, it is a long story, and a private one." I picked up my tea.  "I
can not tell you, out here for it is to public."

   "Oh, we can go next door." He pointed, and I looked back.  At barrels,
between the patio, and a yard filled with pebbles.  Almost to the cliff,
though there is some grass at the edge, and vines curling over.  No rail,
or glass, as with this patio, the table up against it.  "I live over
there." He put down his watch, "And mom'll be busy with your dad for a
while."

   It is strange, I have never seen him, my father accept a massage from a
European woman before.  "Okay," I took another sip, "Let me finish my tea."

   "I'm Scott."

   "Nihon." I felt his hand, and he shook it.

   "Nice to meet you, Nihon."

   "And you as well." I turned back to my tea, and finished it.

   ;

   Hiroshimaru

   My father, drove me out to the country.  A farm, where they grow rice,
and gathered up the straw.  "Yes, this will be fine."

   The farmer looked, doubtful?

   "What's it for?"

   Father stopped, pulling it through his fist, and over the nail of his
thumb.

   "Tatami."

   "What's that?"

   "In English?" I bowed, to get his attention, so he looked over. 
"Faggots."

   "Now, look here."

   "Hihihm, it is, a joke." Shook my head, "He does not know.  This word
means a bundle of sticks, or straw, bound together as for to start a fire?"

   "So?"

   "No, it is a mat, like a."

   "Rug," I nodded, "For the floor." Or to roll up, and practice cutting.
As with an arm, or a throat.

   "Well, we just burn it anyway, so how much will you need?"

   "Hay!" I turn.  A boy, standing at the steps.  Down, I stopped listen to
my father bargain with his father.  I bet, to look at him.  He has the same
look, only younger, and in a teeshirt.  "Your from Japan, huh?"

   "Yes." Bow.  Short, little more than a nod, with my shoulders held
rigid. Politely, though it could be taken as disrespect, if he would know,
the meaning.  "You may call me Hiro."

   She is right, better to take that, and wear it with pride than be
insulted by it.  She is gone now, to Training School, for her crimes.

   "You know Karate, Hido?"

   I'm impressed, he says it like Honey Lemon.  The skinny blond Waifu from
his Big Hero 6 Teeshirt.  Holding up 2 fingers, her knees almost together,
next to Baymax, holding a sucker.

   "Never met him."

   "Who?"

   "Never mind.  This is your basement?" I look down.

   "Yeah, you want to come in?"

   Over his shoulder, he turned, looked back.

   "Sure." I may be able to show him a thing or two.

   She also told me what to look for.  In a man, his hat is a dead
giveaway, but the Waifu cartoon face, smiling from the front of his
teeshirt marks him as a particular type of Nerd.

   In a word: Otaku, or wannabe Otaku.  One who does not know, the real
culture he means to emulate.  A tryhard.  "Is that an Xbox?"

   In his safe place, his man cave, under his parents house.

   "You want to play a game?"

   "Dark Souls 3?" I look back, from his collection.  Turn, "Is that an
Estoc?"

   "You played it?"

   "I may have." This one.  This asshole, does not even know where that
game is From.

   "I have a Katana."

   "Of course you do." Of course it is a "Piece of shit." I withdrew just
enough of the cheap sheet metal blade to see the laughable attempt at a
tempering line, the satin polished chrome plating, flaking off from the
badly beaten edge.  He doesn't even try to reshapren and repolish it, take
care of it, even if it is not worth the effort.  Worthless, feel the
terrible weave of ribbon around the grip, and the badly pebbled plastic
wrap underneath with my thumb nail.  Slip it back to the chunky, badly
painted tsuba, and threw it on his bed.  "Let me see that Estoc."

   "Okay," he reached up, to pull it down from the wall.  I set the
"Katana" back on the kake', and flipped the tanto over.  Set it on the top,
where it belongs, edge up, as it is supposed to be.

   "You know how to use it?" I took the Wakasashi instead, tucked it in my
belt.

   "A little, you want to go out and play?"

   "Ladys first," I bowed, at the waist, sweeping my left hand back to the
door, and my right up, over to hook my thumb over the Tsuba.

   "Hahah!" He just ran up the steps.  Guys like that, don't know enough to
be insulted.

   I let go, pulled the knot on my belt, and tucked the tails back in,
following him up the steps.  My father, gathering the straw, while the
farmer holds it.  In a bale, "I practice over here."

   He dropped the Saya.  I know not the word, in, French?  Yes, I believe
Estoc is French, but know not the word they use for Saya.

   He stepped back, 2 handed, and pointed it, in Stance.  "Hup!" Stepped
in, pretty good form if I am any to judge, but I recognize it.  Shield
Splitter, I have no shield, but the edgeless blade bent, stuck in the end
of a log he had set up instead.

   Just like his shirt, the stupid hat, it tells me what I need to know.  I
nod, while he puts his foot up to kick the log off of his tip.

   Everything he knows, he learned from video games.

   Bow.  "Ready?"

   "En guarde."

   He telegraphs, I don't.  Hold it in Stance, just rest my hand on the
saya like a gunfighter, and hook my thumb quick, with a side-step.

   He stepped in, two handed, just like in the game, and I sidestepped the
first poke.  Again, he steps in, to poke the other way.  Again, just like
in the game.  What you get for showing off.

   My father, showed me this.  I didn't learn it from the Sword Master,
kiting it off the cliff to get his Uchigatana.  It is a slash, but I use it
as a Parry, left to right, as his second poke comes in, the opposite of the
game.  I step in, as if to follow through with a stab, but he pulls the
blade across, to stop me.  2 handed, instead of halfswords, as he should.
Instead, I uppercut, right in front of his nose, and knock that stupid hat
off with the tip.

   He is trained, to expect a reposte, after a parry.  Did not stand up,
locked in the animation, but might as well have.  I step back long before
he has a chance to recover, and counter-attack.  "Hey!" He looked back. 
"That's my favorite hat!"

   "Is that a fedora, or a trilby?"

   "Now it's ruined!" He wined.

   "Why do you wear it?"

   "It's stylish?"

   "You wear it, with your raincoat, yes?"

   "When it's raining."

   Summer day.  It rains here, most of the months of the year, but not
these.

   "With a popped collar?" I made the motion, careful not to catch the edge
on my earlobe.  The notched edge.  "Oh," I held it up.  "Sorry." Showed
him, and pulled the saya out, to slip the tip back in the opening.

   He shrugged, "You can keep it.  I never use it anyway." I already have
one.  A real one.

   "How old are you, anyway?"

   "23?"

   "Don't you think that's a little old to play with swords, and cosplay as
Stranger Danger?"

   "Well, don't you think it's a little weird for a girl to play ninja
with."

   I took a step, and stopped.

   "Ngh!" He stepped back, but I followed, holding the notch to his throat,
but he backed into the end of the log.  Set up, like a sawhorse, he dropped
it, and put his hands up.  "NhHhn!" He whimpered, and shut his eyes.  His
throat bounced as he swallowed, shivering.

   "I do not.  Play.  Ninja."

   "Oh, okay!  Damn, man!" I didn't even look down, just pinched the back
edge, and felt it back to the tip.  Tipped it up to slip back into the saya
to the tsuba at my hip.  Bowed.  "You really are a Ninja?"

   "No," I turned my back.  "I am Hiroshimaru."

   My father, put up the tailgate, and closed the window on the bale.

   "Ready to go?"

   "Yes, I payed the man.  What was that for?" In Japanese.

   "For Honor.  He insulted me, my family, and our entire culture." I got
in.  Pulled the saya out of my belt, and held it out the door.  Dropped it,
and pulled it shut.

   "What did he say?"

   "Nothing, he just presumed what he knows nothing about.  He is a Weabu."

   He asked, so I told him all about it.  As he drove me home, to make
tatami, and roll them up.

   To practice cutting, so my true training could begin.

   ;

   Nihon'

   "Huh!" I felt the dowel, and let my grip slip, except in my thumb, and
first finger.  To follow through, then come around.  "Hya!" Chopped lower,
catching it before it fell.

   Pulled off the dowel, on the bottom, since there is not enough length to
cut fully through, but I slipped it back between my fingers, then tilted it
up to return it to the saya.  Bowed, and picked it up.

   My father, bowed, and tilted.  To the side so his leg could come up in a
kneel, then another graceful step forward, and accept it.

   I let my arms hang, careful to breath shallow, slow, then deep, and stop
just before my lungs were full to let it back out, silently, without my
hands shaking.

   "Hm." He nodded.  Turning it to show my first cut, spiral around to
slash out to the tip.  Spread it with his thumbs to show the notch in the
pine.  As if I had cut down to the bone, he bowed, and I returned it. 
Respectfully, he carried it over, and let it fall in the bin at his side.
Picked up another, and handed it to me.

   I carefully set it on the post, to stand on the dowel, and stepped back.
Excited, but careful not to show it, in case he looked back, he is not so
serious.  Normally, but this is not my father.  He is my Sensei, stepping
back, and reaching up to the tsuba at his hip.

   Whock, whHick whock!

   Slashing up, diagonally backhand, then flipping the tip back, catching
the base of the silk wrap over rayskin to return and catch it, falling from
where the top was cleanly slashed off, and bisecting it, then following
through to spin back around his shoulder, and chop the diagonal top off of
the still standing bottom half, to fall open, and roll apart on the ground.

   The blade slipped back, edge up between his fingertips, and thumb, over
the fully laquered saya of his full fitted Katana, before it tilted up, and
returned home.  Mid bow, he straightened up, turned, and I returned his
bow.

   "COOL!"

   "Huh!" I looked up, at the top of the fence.

   "We done?"

   "I will clean up." Today, "So you may go play with your friend." Bow, I
returned, and pulled the saya out on my way back, to put it up.

   Scott, he's learning, because he is respectful.  He asks, listens, and
admits when he is wrong.  "What do you want to play?"

   It is Wednesday, "How was Akido?" Last night, he has practice on
Tuesdays.

   "Oh, they showed me this new technique." He stepped back, in stance.

   "You want to spar." I bowed.  Or nodded, started to bow, and stopped, to
nod.

   "Yeah," he nodded, so I struck.  "Huh!" Stepped out, knife hand, but he
sidestepped, blocked easily anticipating it.

   I'm getting predictable, but we spar all the time, so i snapped back
before he caught it, and sidestepped to smack his elbow, halting his
backhand.

   Stepping back out of reach, and rocking back on my leg, the other
straight out, he circled around, so I bent forward, turning my back leg to
follow him around in horse stance.

   "Ha!" I parried, batting his feint a side, and stepped back, tucking my
knuckles back to jab up under his arm.

   "Uh!" he caught it, shifting back with the strike, to soak up some of
the impact, but his arm came down, and around, wrapping mine before I could
withdraw, so I had to bend over.  Twist, and roll, shoulder first, before
he lockid it in behind me, but instead of going down, I planted my hand in
the grass, kicked off, and grabbed His wrist.

   "Fuck." He jumped, hit my hip to knock me over, before I could lock both
legs around his arm, and throw him, then his shoulder on my back.

   "Wugh!" I had to let go, or have my arm pulled ground my legs, and I
heard him hit behind me, before I rolled quickly away.

   His leg slapped down, right before his heel, almost trapped my head, and
actually caught my cheek, and nose with his toes.

   "Ngh!"

   "Sorry!" He sat up, but I covered it, felt it, and gently wiggled to
feel if it was broken.  Squeezed one side.  "SNH!" The other, "HNS!" And
shook my head.  Wiped my lip, "Is it bleeding?"

   "I don't think so." I looked up, and he leaned in to turn his head. 
"No, I think you're good."

   "Okay, good." I got up, and offered my hand.

   "Hehah!"

   Stupid.  I hit my shoulder, and rolled out, but just slapped down to the
hip, because he pinned my shoulder down before I could lift it again.

   "Okay!" I tapped out, "You win!" Hit him, "Cheater!"

   "Hahaha!" he helped me up.  Rubbing my shoulder.  "There's no such thing
as a fair fight."

   "I know!" I told him that.

   In a real fight, you can not trust the guy trying to beat you to have
honor.  Honor is a myth, from video games.  It does not exist any more, if
it ever truly is.

   "Do not train for the dojo,"

   He bowed.  "Kohei."

   "Kohei," I returned.

   Yeah, he is white, but his mother knows Ashiatsu.  From Japan, she went
there to learn it.  He did not grow up there, but that is where he started
training, all so.

   He never asked me about Karate.  Of course I do not know any Karate, I
have never even been to Okinawa.

   He has, but I know a little Iado.  That is why we are both Kohei, we
both learn from each other.

   ;

   Scott

   I met him at mom's work.  Her father came in for a massage, and she's
the most qualified at Ashiatzu in town, so he looked doubtful.  But then,
he agreed that she knew what she was doing.  I would think, after 17 years
of practicing it.  She learned in Okinawa, and I was born there, though I
would not call myself Japanese.  It's offensive, I am American, He is
Japanese.

   Hiro, short for Hiroshimaru, his real name Nihonsu means Sake.  He hates
it, so he says Nihon, or Hiroshimaru, if you are not his friend.  He does
not have many friends, but I feel honored for him to call me one.  I went
out to the deck to cut across to the back yard.  We live in the apartments
next door, but he was sitting there.

   His hair, blowing in the breeze, watching people run down on the
shoreline trail.  He had it tied up, lose, and frizzed out.  As well as his
bangs, so that they puff out in front, and shade his eyes.

   I don't remember what I said.  It was awkward, I went through most of
the FAQs, but I guessed who his father was.  "I like your hair," it's cool.
He teases it out, to split ends so that it frizzes up like that, instead of
hang down, over his face, and the gusts blew it up, gently.

   Like Hyakkimaru, I don't remember the cartoon.  Or the comic books,
probably because they made it in the 60s, but there's a Live Action movie,
that's really low budget, and a video game I had to get a Play Station from
the pawn shop to play.

   Not really his hero, any more than Dororo, but I understand why he likes
it.  For one thing, Dororo is a girl, who poses as a boy, to travel with
him.  Hyakkimaru, took a little more explaining, but the next day I went
over to his house, and watched him practice cutting.

   With a sword, now let me tell you that Iado is not a Martial Art like
Karate, or Aikido.  My mother let me take Aikido, because I was bullied,
and it's not really an offensive style.  You avoid conflict, and try to
resolve it without hurting them.  My best advice is to throw them, and run.
That's what I do, because I don't want to hurt anyone, I want to keep them
from hurting me.  That's my style.

   Hideo, her father, told me that Iado is more of a practice in
Discipline. Well, that's the exact word he uses, it's a Discipline.  Sounds
more like Tai Chi, except for a Katana instead of a straight Chinese sword,
but it emphasizes control.  Form, balance, and is really more like
Meditation than self defense.  However, he taught Nihon it, for self
defense.

   Same reason as me, he gets bullied, because everyone treated him as a
girl, and that pisses him off.  So, he got in a lot of fights, the hormones
sure don't help, and I can sympathize with that, because I went through it
naturally.

   Oh yeah, and we're both 14, but because of the hormones, he had to wait,
then start late, when he came here, and the doctors to decide how to apply
it.  Virone {Totally made up synthetic Androgen} topical application, since
his balls don't make enough.  Also, they think his absorption of it was
blocked, though he lacks the specific gene I forget the name of, they can't
tell because if it was, then it happened 10 years ago before he was
diagnosed.

   There's still no official diagnosis, somehow it's more similar to some
Dominican kids they call Guevedoces, but really, they just don't know.  A
unique case, so far, so they're learning as he grows.  Has to go down to
Seattle twice a month for checkups, but Hideo likes it here, and he stayed.
He is retired, a Steel broker for Toyota Tsusho.  He drives a Toyota out of
Keiretzu loyalty, but Toyota Tyushu isn't the same company.  They are
holdings of the same company, and the steel in his car is likely from one
of his traing deals, but it's likely he worked for Toyota, because they're
the biggest corporation in Japan.  Here they're just a car company, but
there, they deal with everything, from computers to airplanes, to well. 
Everything.

   "It worth the drive." His accent is much worse.  He grew up before
English was common all over Japan, so it is hard for people to understand.
Unless they learned Japanese very young, as I have.  "I saw this coast,
from the ship when we came through, and when we were in Seattle, we came up
here to see it, until we found a place.  We love it here."

   I have been to Seattle.  It's not that bad, but I agree, I like it much
better in Port Angeles.  If anything, I'd move across the Straight to
Victoria, and become Canadian, because America is trying real hard to suck
recently.  Ever since Obama, I don't blame him, I blame Congress for their
racist backlash against him, and the rest of America that decided that
Goldfinger sounded like a better idea than electing a Socialist Jew, or a
Woman for president.

   At least he's a white man, right?  Well, no, if he also happens to be a
Supervillian, and have mob connections to the KGB?  I really don't think
that being white, and male really makes up for that.  He sexually harasses
his own daughter on international television, and somehow gets votes on a
Family values ticket.  He talks tough on Immigration, against Refugees, and
that somehow covers up the anchor babies he has with his Eastern European
Male Order Brides.  Both of them.

   I don't know, I'm running off on a tangent.  I'm sorry, but it just
pisses me off, you know?

   ;

   Gamer

   I'll show him.  He just got mad, because I called him a girl, but look
at his shitty Japanese steel.  My sword cut it, my best sword, even though
it doesn't have an edge, he tried to cut it, but just left a nick in the
blade.

   There's your superior Japanese steel.

   "Hey, Nihon!" I caught up.  Hung my sword back on my shoulder.  "Huh,
huh!" Caught my breath.

   "Huh." He stopped, relaxed with his squinty eyes.  "How did you find
me?"

   "Hahaha, like it was hard." My dad told me where the straw was going,
"Your dad told my dad, and he told me." I shifted the crossguard on my
shoulder.  "Besides, you're the only Nip in Port Angeles who's a
swordsman." I saw his stupid wrecked ponytail, and bangs from the Ferry. 
He ran, but I caught up, on the jogging trail.  "I wasn't stalking you."

   "I do no carry a sword."

   "Well, too bad." I pulled it down, and out of my belt.  "I demand a
rematch." I been practicing, even got to go up to Victoria, and take HEMA.

   He bowed, "Honorberdool duel.  You have a second?"

   "What?"

   "A second." He rolled his eyes, so they went wide enough to see the
folds in his lids, under the anime hair, and shook his head.  "You know, a
second.  For da duel."

   "Yeah?  You aren't going to gang up on me, you coward.  Fight me."

   "A coward threatens an unarmed man with a sword.  At leash allow me to
return home, for mine."

   "Fine, where you live?" I tucked it back in my belt.  Careful not to
poke myself in the hip with the sharp tip.

   "Follow me," he nodded, and turned his back.  I looked around, people
were watching me.  Of course, because I carried a sword, but this is an
open carry state.  Still, can't just run him through, right here on the
sidewalk, in front of everyone.  Open carry doesn't mean a gun, it doesn't
have to be a gun.  Good, a gun doesn't take any skill.  That won't prove
anything.  "You smoke?"

   I pulled out a joint.

   "No."

   "More for me." Another thing legal, in Washington.  Great state, but a
town like this.  Right by the ferry, I take it up to practice HEMA, but it
attracts too many foreigners.  Cocky little boys, think they're hot shit,
just because there Japanese.  Well, not with me here, to defend my country,
from immigrants.

   "Whew!"

   "This way," he turned away from the sea, and I put it out.  Can't hold
it in, and climb up the asphalt path to his neighborhood.  "You are not a
very good stalker, if you do not know where I live." Around a rock shaped
like a Seal, kicking back on more rocks.

   "Taunting me now?" I laughed.  "I'm not a stalker, fag.  You cheated, I
wasn't ready." Now I am.  "What're you looking at?"

   She just shook her head, and kept pushing her stroller.  I looked back,
watched her ass swing back, and forth in those Yoga Pants, grinned.

   "I'm not a fag, like you." I nodded.

   He nodded too, tight lipped.  Good, I don't want to hear it.  "Where do
you live, fucking Mexico?"

   "No, there." He pointed, up the hill, but there was ivy, and brambles,
twisted up with honeysuckle all the way up.  "So, we must go around.  Be
patient."

   I better save the rest of the joint, to celebrate kicking his ass.  I
can get more from the dispensory over by the Old Victorian Hotel.  Yellow,
like his skin.

   I thought he was a girl, Asians all look like weak little girls, and
he's no exception.  Doesn't mean I'm gay, I don't want to fuck him, just
stab him, and kick his weak body off of my blade.  "Yeah!"

   "Up here." He reached up, and pulled a string.  Over the gate, I looked
down, the trail we took, winding back down to the park.  "You need to catch
your breath."

   "No?"

   "I need to get my sword.  Wait here."

   He kicked off his flip-flops, and went in the patio door.  In his socks,
what kind of loser doesn't know better than to wear socks with flipflops?
Cheep wood ones too, can't even afford decent ones, but while he's in
there, I pull out my sword to warm up.

   I know how he beat me.  He knows my moves, from the game but I know some
new moves.  I'll show him, I'm full of surprises, and he's weak.  He came
right back.

   "Uh!" I shook my head.  "You copying me?"

   With an Estoc.  A little nip boy with an Estoc, even he knows that
European steel is superior.

   "Yes," he bowed.  "The reach, and balance is.  A different way to fight,
and I will not waste my good edge on your sword."

   He had a bunch of rolled up straw, hacked up in frustration in a bin. 
Rice straw, from my farm, so that's what he uses it for.

   "You'll find," I stepped back, "I am a tougher adversary then your straw
men." In Stance, brought it up 2 handed, to point at him, pommel by my
shoulder, Ochs from Leichtenhaur.  Just like before, I think I'll fein a
Lunge, so.

   SKSH!

   "Uh!"

   He poked me in the hip!

   "Touche' Un."

   "Grh!"

   SKRK!

   "Oh!"

   "Touche', deux."

   "Huh, huh huh!"

   "You need a break?" He stepped back, and let his guard down.  In front
of his leg.  "Go on," he nodded, "Catch your breath." Just out of reach,
but he was a fool to lower his guard.

   It came up so fast, though.

   ShKcht!

   "Ow!" I rubbed my forehead.  "Stop running around, and face me like a
man, if you can." Kiting me.

   "Owlright." He bowed, holding it all wrong, so that his thumbs were
together, with the crossguard between them.  "Oh, and touche' troi.  How
you say, come at me, bro."

   {If you're interested, google check out Francis Street Park, Port
Angeles, WA.  Just for context, on a bluff, overlooking that, address on
one side of Caroline Street.  I have 3 scenes to write, now.  It's
confusing me too, but the Deuxl, the love scene, and rewrite hir meeting a
decent guy at Renaissance Port Angeles.  Sorry?}

   ;

   Webster Park

   "I have to go." I squeeze my knees, so I do not have to say it.

   "Piss?"

   He knows, about my not being a boy.  Yet, closer every day, yet there
are things which are difficult.  So, we leave the trail for the northmost
corner.

   "I do not think I can make it to Swains." General store, it is right
there, but the door is all the way around the front, and then the restrooms
deep inside.  "Look out." He stands guard, so I can undo my pants, and lean
back in the tree.  It is hollow, however the trunk kept growing out, into
other trunks, it is a redwood, and it smells like Juniper.  A giant
juniper, though there are far larger, and older ones to the south. 
Sequoias, I can open my knees enough to pull up on my beard.  Feel it bulge
out, but I have Hypospadias.

   That is what my doctor called the hole I urinate out of being in the
bottom.  In stead of in front, so I must pull it out to expose it, and
relax, so it does not leak inside, for I have nothing for to wipe it with.

   "Hhuh!" I let it slip back in, some day I may just pull it out, and hold
it up, so it will point forward, and i will not have to pull my pants down.
Just open them up, but I button, and zip them.

   "Okay," Scott looks back, red in the face, but does not turn.  His hips,
he turns them away, when I walk around the front.  Covers them in front.

   "Do you have to go as well?"

   He shook his head.

   "You have an erection?"

   "Hiro!"

   "I am sorry, I do not mean to embarrass you, but if it makes you
uncomfortable, I can." I just make the sign, rather than say it.

   "Do a hand job?"

   "Would you like that?"

   "Would you?"

   "Of course.  You are my friend, and I am responsible for your erection,
am I not?"

   "Ngh!"

   "It is causing you pain?"

   "Nhm?" He shook his head.

   "It would be my pleasure to give you a hand job." I nodded, "I do not
have one, to play with.  You get to play with yourself, all of the time, so
I would love to."

   "Okay!" He undid his pants, "Jeeze!"

   "Oh!"

   "What?" He looks down.

   "Hihehah!  If it would not embarrass you further, might I say you have a
very nice penis?"

   "Nh!  Really?"

   "Yes, I would love to have one, like this some day.  It is very hard,
and straight."

   "Sh, nh, can you let me concentrate?"

   I nodded, so he closed his eyes.  I looked around, but no one was
nearby. I squatted down, to look closed, and reverse my grip to push the
skin up, instead of pull it out.

   "Hihn', uh, huhah!" I try not to giggle, but in the interest of getting
it done quickly, before some one comes.  "Ihihehah!"

   "Uh!" He thrust his hips, and I put my hand up to catch it.  "Huh! 
Yeah!"

   I licked my lips, a little drool leaked out, but it was my first.  Hand
job is what he calls it, but I have seen many a man on the internet do it,
and dreamed of it often.

   "Huh!" I nodded, "There." The swelling went down, so I let go.  "Snh?" I
smelled it, on my hands.  It smells just like mine, and tasted the same
too. Just touching it, with the tip of my tongue, so I stuck them in my
mouth, and sucked them off.

   "Hhmhmhm!"

   "Uh!  Gross!"

   "Mh, slip!" I got up, and followed him, but finished licking it off my
hands.  "Well, I have to do something with it." I like it too, but I can
tell he does not.

   "Well, thanks."

   "I think I will stop by Swains."

   "You got money?"

   "No to use the restroom."

   "Didn't you just go?"

   "Yes, but not for that.  You know, for.  To." I pinched in front of me,
and shook my fingertips.

   "Oh," He nodded, "Uh, Hiro?"

   "Uh huh?"

   "Would you rather go to my place?"

   "For that?"

   "Yeah, I don't know if you want to go in the restroom, or if maybe you
might be, more comfortable.  At home?"

   "I can hold it, until we go to your home." I nodded.

   "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to look, but.  Huh!  I did.  When you're
peeing."

   "It's all right, I do not mind." It gave me an opportunity to do that,
so "I am glad."

   "You are?"

   "Would you like to watch me?"

   "Yeah," he shrugged, "All right," but he smiled.

   "Is that why you asked if I wanted to go to your place?"

   "Yeah, maybe."

   "Would you like to have sex with me?"

   "I don't know.  Uh, you're a boy, right?"

   "In a way, yes.  However, if you are worried about the homosexuality of
the act, then I would understand.  If you would like to think of me as a
girl?"

   "Yeah," he laughed, and pushed me.  "Nerd."

   "Hehahuh!" I pushed him back.  "Wuss."

   "Oh yeah?" He took off, "Race you!"

   "Hey!" I chased him.

   ;

   {Sexy, right?  Well, character introduction.  INS if you care what Hiro
sees in him, but I do.  So, I had to crank out a decent guy real quick,
just to have a narrator to describe him physically.  You know by now
there's plenty of quick strokers right there, so find one.  There might be
some sexual action here when you get back.  I need to reshuffle some things
around, and also Plantasize the physical description of Nihon's genitalia.
I'm not avoiding it, but it's not worth doing wrong.  Bear with me...}