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Business as Usual	By : laurabryannan Category: +S to Z > Samurai Champloo Views: 5366 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Samurai Champloo, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Business as Usual, II
by
Laura Bryannan

The president of Takeda Delivery climbed the
seven flights of stairs to the loft space of the ex factory that
housed his company. There was a freight elevator, which was great for
the kids and their bikes, but it was one of his many self-imposed
disciplines that he always took the stairs. And today, the repetitive
movement helped still his mind and burn off the adreneline kicked up
by his interaction with the businessman.

Opening the door, he
was greeted by the typical chorus. “Sensei!” “Jin-sama!”
“Hey Boss!” The small army of young people working for
him had other, more lucrative, ways of earning a living. In this part
of Okinawa, the gangs lured most—drugs and crime always seemed
to pay better than honest work. But there were some who sought his
type of internship instead. It pleased him to offer it, and the
community supported him because he did.

At age ten, you could
try. If you did your job well, you got more work, more
responsibility, and rose from intern/gofer to messenger status. And
if you continued to prove yourself, you could learn other jobs in the
company—running the website, creating advertising, answering
the phones and scheduling runners, keeping the books and paying the
bills. These kinds of skills were taught if you showed the interest
and the aptitude. Many rose to the occasion. The president expected
excellence from his employees and received it most of the time.

His
office was sectioned off from the rest of the space by a few
makeshift partitions. As he entered, his VP raised his head and
smiled expectently. While the president was the only named officer in
his corporation, his second had been with him from the beginning.
Terminally competent and a skilled multi-tasker, he was the chief
reason Takeda Delivery ran like well-oiled machine. The president
nodded and prepared for the onslaught.

“So, how'd it
go?” his VP asked.

“We didn't get the account.”

“What?!? Impossible. You land every account you set out
to get. What happened?”

“I changed my mind and
didn't pitch the deal.”

“What?!? Jin, we're
talking Okinawa Development here. What do you mean you changed your
mind?”

The boss wasn't looking himself, so he was
genuinely concerned.

“It's very simple. I no longer
want the account. Please drop the matter.”

“But
that's crazy. I don't get it.”

The president of Takeda
Delivery sighed inwardly. His second was his best friend and a worthy
comrade-at-arms, but he was young, idealistic and like a dog with a
new bone in terms of his tenacity. He knew he was going to have to
leave the room to end the seige, and started toward the door.

“Jin,
we need that account. What the hell happened?”

He
turned back, his eyes weary. “I asked you to drop it, Yuki.
Please honor my request.”

-------------------------

The businessman picked up the phone
and punched in the number on Messenger Boy's business card. He knew
he should have his secretary do it—make it look more official
and all—but he found the norms of corporate behavior as
constricting as the tie he put on every morning. He wanted to make
the call himself and feel the situation out.

“Takeda
Delivery,” a young voice sing-songed.

“Takeda Jin,
please.”

“Uh, he's not here. Wait a
sec....YUKI-SAAAAMAAAA!” The businessman cringed as his
eardrum was assulted. He heard footsteps running near, and then a
deeper voice.

“Nari-kun, no yelling...the hold button,
remember?” Some shuffling and then finally, “Um, sorry
about that. Can I help you?”

“Takeda-san,
please.”

“He's not here right now, but I'm the
head of operations, Hojo Yukimaru. What can I do for you?”

The businessman thought for a moment, then took a chance.
“I'm Ryu-san from Okinawa Development. Your boss left today
before we could set up a time to meet. Do you keep his schedule? I'd
like to finalize a contract tonight.” He held his
breath.

“Okinawa Development? Oh yeah, we'd definitely
be interested in that.” Hojo-san sounded certain. “Tonight
sounds good. When and where? He'll show.”

“Does
he eat seafood?” the businessman asked.

“Yes he
does.”

“I'll see him at Helios then, at eight.
Ryu Mugen's table.” Helios was one of the most exclusive
restaurants in the city. Hopefully the guy owned a suit. If he didn't
it would be interesting to see what he showed up in.

“That's
great. Thanks so much!” enthused Hojo-san. He heard some
commotion in the background, and then Messenger Boy's voice. A hand
obviously came around the mouthpiece of the phone, but the
businessman could hear well enough.

“It's Okinawa
Development! You're meeting with them tonight.”

“No
I am not. Cancel it.

“But Jin, we could really use this
account.”

“Cancel it, Yuki...now!”

“Nope.”

There was some shuffling, and the
president of Takeda Delivery got on the line. “Hello?”

The businessman hit OFF, and laughed out loud. Being a
successful gambling man, he placed a bet with himself. Of course, he
won.

-------------------------

Takeda Jin followed the maitre d'
to Ryu-san's table uncertain whether his heart was pounding out of
excitement or anger. He hated how the man upset him. And he wasn't
sure if he was ever going to forgive Yuki for arranging the
meeting and refusing to cancel it. As he walked up to the table, the
offensive man gave him a frank appraisal and nodded in appreciation
as they shook hands.

“Brooks Brothers,” Ryu-san
observed. “Wasn't sure if you owned a suit.”

And
yet you set the meeting up here anyway, shithead, Takeda-san
thought. “I dislike Italian design,” he responded, giving
his companion's Armani a withering glance.

Ryu-san refused to
rise to the bait. “Well, I'm Mugen. Can I call you Jin?”
he asked.

“No.”

Ryu-san rolled his eyes,
but pressed on. Passing a business card across the table, he
continued, “This is our Operations Manager, Takahashi-san.
She's expecting to hear from you. She'll give you the low-down and
then pass you along to Purchasing. And now that that's handled, what
do you want to drink?” He waved the server over to their table.

“Guinness please,” Ryu-san told her.

“Glenlivet,
neat.” said Takeda-san.

Ryu-san's eyebrows raised.
“How'd you get a taste for scotch?”

“The
same way you got a taste for Guinness, I imagine. And, it's not
scotch. Whiskey.”

“Scottish whiskey,”
Ryu-san insisted.

This time Takeda-san rolled his eyes, then
they glared at each other for a while.

Dinner conversation,
if you could call it that, continued in a similar vein. Had anyone
been listening, they would have heard achievements in verbal sparring
and oneupsmanship unparalleled in the history of human interaction.

Unfortunately, at a crucial moment Takeda-san became
distracted. A flash of steel gleamed in Ryu-san's tongue as he made a
particularly strident point, and a certain part of Takeda-san's body
lept at the sight. He promptly forgot what he was about to say and
inwardly cursed.

“How can you eat with that thing in
your tongue?” he spat, changing the subject to cover
himself.

Ryu-san looked thoughtful for a moment, then grinned
impishly. “I'm told I eat better beacause of it.”

Takeda-san
felt his body flush with heat and cursed himself again. Why did
this...creature have such an effect on him? He hated feeling so out
of control.

By the time they finished dessert he was certain
he had never loathed anyone as much as he loathed Ryu-san, while
simultaneously indulging fantasies of the guy screaming as he pounded
his ass into oblivion.

“Why did you insist on this
meeting?”

“My skills are in options trading,”
Ryu-san told him. “Knowing when a commodity is gonna rise or
fall. And I predict you're...gonna rise.” He ran his tongue
across his upper teeth and Takeda-san did rise, in his pants
and out of his chair.

"Thank you for the account,"
he said, walking away from the table with Ryu-san's laughter ringing
in his ears. If he could make it to his car before the guy settled
the bill, maybe he could escape...

to be continued
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Business as Usual