Early May, Tokyo 1877

        Yahiko raised his bamboo sword to the sky.  Shattered boards lay
all around him, broken to bits.  Once again, the evil plots of the Board
Gumi had been defeated.  "Fly like a butterfly, sting like a bee...that's
me!"

        "Hey, I needed those boards to fix some damage from the last time
Sanosuke got drunk!"  Kaoru began to chase Yahiko around the yard, doing
more damage to the dojo along the way.

        Sanosuke sauntered in.  "Hey!  Where's Kenshin?"

        "He's dressing up in my clothing again," Kaoru said, then laughed
as Sanosuke's eyes bulged.  "He's in the kitchen, cooking dinner."

        "Good," Sanosuke said.  "I got thrown out of the restaurant
again."

        "Why?" Kaoru asked.

        "Probably because he owes the owner more than the amount of
Japan's National Debt," Yahiko said.  "Because he's a deadbeat.  Because
he NEVER pays for his food.  Because..."

        "I am not a deadbeat!  I have a sense of rythym!"  Sanosuke
protested.  "I'll pay her later when I have money."

        "About the same time that the Earth falls into the sun."

        Sanosuke snorted and headed into the kitchen.  Kenshin was hard at
work cooking tofu and some fried vegetables.  "When's dinner?"  Sanosuke
asked.

        "This is lunch."

        "Even better."

        The two young munchkins of the house ran in crying, then clung to
Kenshin's leg like suckerfish.  "Kenshin-nee-chan, I had a nightmare!"
the older one said.

        "Me too," the younger one shouted.

        He knealt, hugged them, and patted their heads.  "Now, now, it was
just a bad dream.  What was it?"

        "A sunken city of basalt where the angles were all wrong!"

        "Wrong?"  Sanosuke asked.  "How can an angle be wrong?"

        "It was all wet!" the younger one said.  "Fishies and seaweed
everywhere!  And no candy! EVER!"

        Kenshin tensed, then forced a smile onto his face.  "It was just a
bad dream."  He gave each of them a piece of candy.  "See.  There's still
candy.  Want to help me cook?"

        "Sure!"  He soon put them to work, then went and stared out the
window.  It had begun again, just like in the Bakumatsu.  He was out
there, in all his iridescent green glory.  The one being Kenshin had never
been able to defeat.

        He had thought the war with the Outer Gumi was over when the stars
had changed and the Bakumatsu had ended.  They had fled back into their
holes, and a new era of peace and prosperity had begun.  But now, it was
beginning again.  

        Now where did I leave those Elder signs, he asked himself.
        
*************

The Call of Kyoto
A Kenshin/Cthulhu Parody
A John Biles/Mike Loader Production

*************

        Aoshi put down the book he had been reading.  It was all so clear
now.  He took his sword and began to smash the Chia Pets he had been
growing one by one.  I never should have listened to that peddlar who
tried to convince me this would make the Oniwa Banshu be remembered as the
greatest warriors.

        No, the book had shown him the true path.  Once he had summoned
the Great Old Ones and handed humanity over to them to be destroyed as was
laid out in The Little Big Book of Cthulhu, then EVERYONE would know the
Oniwa Banshu were the greatest warriors.  Then, they would be able to
rest.

        Or at least, they would have more company in the afterworld.

***********

        Shishio Makoto was not a happy camper.

        Being covered with incredibly painful burns will do that 
to you. This, however, was not the reason for his displeasure. 
Nor, for once, was it the fault of that annoying mosquito who 
seemed to view Shishio as his own personal bloodbank. No, this was 
serious.

        He sat and brooded for a bit. It didn't help, although he 
looked awfully cool doing so.

        "Hoji."

        "I live to serve, Master. Do your nose follicles require 
trimming?"

        "Bring Soujiro to me immediately."

        "Yes, Master. I shall bring you, the greatest man of the 
Meiji era, Soujiro, and thus help you usher in a new age. Surely 
I am not worth licking your boots."

        "I don't wear boots."

        "I am not worth licking your nonexistent boots which you 
do not wear, Master. I am overwhelmed by the privilege of 
serving such a bootless man of destiny."

        "Your groveling never ceases to impress me, Hoji," 
Shishio said wearily. "Now show in Soujiro. Quietly."

        The administrator and flunky extraordinaire bowed and 
soundlessly genuflected his way out. Shishio sighed, rolled his 
eyes, and shifted his pose from absently brooding to 
meditatively brooding. He glanced in the nearby mirror to 
ensure he looked both cool and ominous - which he did - and 
then waited for Soujiro.

        He didn't have to wait long.

        "Shishio-san!"

        "Good morning, Soujiro," Shishio said, then blinked and 
eyed the massive bloodsoaked sack the young killer had 
dragged in behind him. "Kill someone recently?"

        "Haha, no," Soujiro sheepishly said. "Yumi-san told me 
that I needed to stop being such a freak of nature, so I'm trying 
to take her advice."

        "By dragging around a large bloadsoaked sack?" Shishio 
asked curiously. "Have I missed a new fashion trend?"

        "Yumi-san said that I'm still a boy, and that every boy 
should have a puppy."

        "I see."

        "So I decided that I would get a puppy."

        "Very commendable, if not entirely consistent with your 
usual philosophy."

        Soujiro smiled apologetically. "Maa, that's the trouble, 
Shishio-san. They're all so weak. The strong survive, the weak 
die."

        "And you found this out by..."

        "Bashing their heads against a rock."

        "Hence the sack."

        "I didn't want to litter." 

        "Well, there certainly is one less litter left in the 
world."

        "Haha! That's funny, Shishio-san."

        "I think you're probably just wasting reasonably good 
puppies and valuable time, Soujiro. You don't strike me as the 
pet-owner type. Remember when I left you to take care of the 
base's plants?"

        "They were weak, Shishio-san. They keeled over and died 
after just a little bit of hydrochloric acid in their soil."

        Shishio sighed. He supposed he had only himself to blame 
for pushing the boy's conditioning to such an extreme. Soujiro 
was almost normal compared to the rest of the Jupon Gatana, 
which admittedly wasn't saying much. You didn't have to be a 
deformed psychotic to join the Ten Swords, but it helped.

        "There is a great disturbance in the Force," he intoned. 
"We have a new enemy. The Outer Gumi has returned."

        Soujiro blinked. "The Outer Gumi, Shishio-san?"

        "An ancient evil from beyond the stars, twisted beyond 
mortal comprehension."

        The Tenken laughed, "Oh, well, they can't be..."

        "They make us look ordinary and boring."

        "Maa, that's bad."

        "Yes," Shishio said. "I fought many battles with them in 
Kyoto. Sometimes I was forced to withdraw. They are strong 
beyond imagining."

        "Goody!" Soujiro exclaimed, clapping his hands. "I was 
getting bored. So they worked for the Tokugawa government?"

        "Actually, I think they worked for the Ishin, at least in 
theory. In practice they just attacked everyone they felt like."

        "What did they want, Shishio-san?"

        "What they still want. To drown humanity in a sea of 
blood, fire, death, rage, and hatred."

        "They want to bring back the Bakumatsu?"

        "Well, not quite _that_ bad."

        "Oh. Whew."

        Shishio nodded. "Still, what they want is bad enough. I 
will not let them turn Japan into an ashheap populated by 
burnt corpses. That's _my_ job. How can I conquer and ravage 
this country if the earth has been reduced to a charred 
cinder?"

        "Well, Shishio-san, it _would_ save a lot of effort."

        "It also wouldn't be much fun. No, we shall either absorb 
the Outer Gumi or destroy them. Summon the Jupon Gatana."

        "Yes, Shishio-san. Shishio-san?"

        "Yes?"

        "Aren't there any puppies around that have more durable 
skulls?"

        "If there are, I'm sure I don't know where they're being 
kept. Most dog lovers don't breed their pets to have their heads 
pounded against sharp rocks."

        "How strange."

        "Indeed. Make sure you get rid of the failed candidates 
before they start to smell."

        Soujiro left. Shishio returned to brooding.

        How would his predecessor take the news of their 
return, he wondered? Probably not very well. The Battousai 
had fought them in the past, but Shishio suspected that he 
wasn't as resistant to the special budo of the Outer Gumi, the 
'Starry Wisdom Wave' that broke men's minds. It drove lesser 
men insane. But not Shishio Makoto! Instead their feeble budo 
had only made him see his true destiny - to RULE THE WORLD! 
WAHAHAHA! WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

        "Neh, Soujiro," Yumi asked as the young killer started to 
dig a hole in the garden. "What's Shishio-sama laughing about? 
This makes ten straight minutes."

        "Oh, Shishio-san's just happy that someone else is trying 
to destroy the world," Soujiro said happily, tossing more earth 
out of the hole. "It's always nice to find someone who shares 
your interests."

        "Oh. I thought he might have found that upside-down 
five-koku airmail print."

        "No. I don't think he's likely to. They're very rare."

        Although Shishio Makoto's intent to subjugate Japan was 
fairly well documented for posterity, his passion for rare 
stamps is often overlooked. He doted on his collection, and 
was continually in search of the legendary five-koku airmail 
Happy Seagull upside-down error issued from the Okinawa post 
office two days before it burned down. It would probably never 
be found, so he had also set himself the more realistic and 
attainable goal of conquering the world.

        Soujiro heaved the sack of pulped puppies into the hole. 
"Yumi-san, I don't suppose we have any more?"

        "No."

        "Oh well."

**************


	Sagara Sanosuke was doing what he did best. Freeloading.

  	Not that he would ever refer to it as such. He was an invited 
houseguest. A boon companion. Someone to run the occasional errand, help
out around the house, tell your troubles to, and incidentally consume as
much food as humanly possible.

  	It was a tough job, but someone had to do it.

  	At the moment, his duty was to guard the dojo. Sano took this very
seriously. He took it very seriously while lounging in the dining area
with a plate of food and a bowl of sake. No-one would get by him, no sir.
  
	A knock sounded at the door. He scowled, belched, brushed a few 
scraps of rice from his jacket, and walked to the door.
  
	He opened it, and blinked.
  
	"Hello," said the peddlar on the doorstep, bowing cheerfully. "Is 
the master of the house at home?"
  
	"No," Sano answered, a thin current of unease running down his 
spine. There was something wrong here.
  
	"That's too bad," the peddlar said, his glowing red eyes flaring 
like dying suns. "I am a poor humble spice merchant, selling my meager
wares from door to door, and certainly not anyone interested in the
Hitokiri Battousai. My interest was purely in selling condiments. Is the
lady of the house home, then?"
  
	"No, Kaoru's out too," Sano said. Some of his suspicion was eased 
by the thought of new cooking supplies. "What sorta stuff you got?"
  
	"Cinnamon, ginger, allspice, ambrosia, curry power, the powder of 
Ibn Gazhi, cloves... my inventory is most complete," the peddlar said
smoothly, his inch-long fangs somehow not biting a hole in his tongue.
"May I come in? I can lay out my wares for display."
  
	"Sure," Sano said. The sense of unease grew stronger. What was it 
that disturbed him about this man? He stepped back, and examined the
peddlar, his eyes passing over the perfectly normal spice-seller's
clothing, narrow, red-glowing eyes, angular face, powerful build, and
jet-black skin the shade of the center of a black hole at midnight.
Something didn't compute.
  
	"Let me help ya with that pack," he said.
  
	The spice merchant started to hand it to him, and Sano realized at once
what had been bothering him. His hand lashed out to grab the basalt palm
of the peddler.
  
	"Hey," he snarled. "These are sword calluses on your hand!"