Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. Konomi Takeshi does. I'm merely playing with them for the moment.

A/N: And we're done. See, I finish something every now and then!

It's really too bad this is a rewrite so I couldn't change the end result... I really loved writing Nanjirou here.

Sons of a Samurai

Epilogue

Will

Setting down the phone, Nanjirou sighed. He had told Ryoga he would do something, but actually accomplishing that was not exactly as easy. He'd pulled some strings, most of them connected to Banji, to get the kid's home number. It had been frighteningly easy when he'd told he wanted to pull a prank on the old hag Ryuuzaki and needed the kid's help. But then, Banji had always been frightening in some manner or another. Now he'd made his call and... well. The voice at the other end had been vaguely familiar. The name had been even more so, when he'd asked for her maiden name instead of the married name. Maybe his sons weren't exactly as far off in their silly speculations as he'd thought... certainly, the woman had recognized his name as well. Kind of a big indicator, that. In any case, he'd gotten things moving. Hopefully it was in the right direction.

Much though he was a bastard, he sincerely did hope he wasn't just about to drag yet another kid deeper into his big, dirty mess of a life. Not that said mess was going to drag on all that long, anymore.

He knew Ryoma was starting to suspect something. Of course, even if the boy had asked him, he wouldn't have admitted anything. It wasn't like he could, anyway. Not to Ryoma. Not to his little boy.

He supposed it was kind of unfair, keeping such a big secret from the boy for so long. But then, what else could he have done about it? What could he have said? "Oh, by the way, son, you know the way I've trained you pretty much since crib so you'd be a better player than me some day? Well, afraid that's going to happen pretty soon, but not because you're reaching your peak, it's because I'm going to die on you." Yeah, right, that would go down so very well. He could already see Ryoma jumping with glee at such joyous news.

He heard sounds from the front door. "...Old man?" Well, speak of the devil. He made some non-committal grunt in response to let the boy know exactly where in the house he was hiding. "You know where Ryoga is?"

"Who knows?" he shouted back. Ryoga had gone somewhere while he had been on the phone; he'd said something about where he was going but Nanjirou hadn't really been paying that much attention. "And what kind of time this is to get home?"

"Get bent, it's not even that late." Ryoma walked into the living room. "And you're kinda supposed to know where your kids are, especially if you consider this too late for me to come home."

"Well, Ryoga's older than you. He's a big boy already. It's not like he's going to fall into a ditch while playing with a boat or something." If only that were the biggest concern he had for his sons. The world was such a rotten place nowadays, with all kind of murderers and criminals and people like himself lurking at every corner. Too bad he couldn't just lock both boys at an indoor tennis court and be done with it.

"Nah, he only got swept into the sea once while playing on a boat, instead." Ryoma shook his head. "You're really a useless father, you know."

"I know," he replied cheerfully, without any hint of shame in his voice. He really should have taken up acting, instead. Or maybe learnt to actually show his shame, instead. Not sure what good it would have done to him, though. "And you're disrespectful and bratty, so it all evens out, see? That reminds me, I think Ryoga went to that little store you always bought candy from when we still lived here. Said he wanted some oranges and wasn't going to let the hour stop him." He shook his head. "I just hope he can find his way there... Silly boy and his obsessions."

"You just said he's a big boy, isn't he?" There was a momentary silence. Nanjirou didn't exactly feel like breaking it. "...Oi, old man." Ryoma looked at him seriously. "Play with me."

"I don't want to," Nanjirou whined, slouching deeper in his very comfy armchair. "I just ate and everything. Ask your brother to play with you when he gets home."

"I bet you didn't 'just eat,' you're just being lazy," Ryoma snapped. "You'd probably already eaten long before I got home." Well, at least his food had been gone from its container by then. "Get up and out."

"It's too dark outside by now." A lame excuse, but still. He had to try, didn't he?

"That's why you got the court lights." ...Damn, true.

"You're so cruel, boy," sighed Nanjirou, throwing his hands up in the air. "If I die from stomach cramps because you forced me to play right after a meal, it'll be on your conscience!"

"Yeah, well, never stopped you before." Ryoma frowned. No good. Ryoma frowning was never good, most definitely not when he was frowning at Nanjirou himself.

"Yeah, yeah... just give me a moment to collect my frail old bones." Shaking his head, he walked outside after Ryoma, only pausing to snatch a racquet by the door. It was one of his old ones; apparently Nanako-chan hadn't even gotten rid of it. The tension was probably all wrong, but, well, it would do. Not like his choice of a racquet had ever made that much of a difference while playing against Ryoma, anyway.

It didn't make any difference this time, either. He could have had the best racquet in the world and it wouldn't have helped him. He'd known Ryoma had gotten better in the last few months during which they hadn't really played any serious matches against each other, but he hadn't expected it to be this much. It was all he could do to just keep the boy from completely pulverizing him.

Neither of them was really keeping count of the score anyway, they never had, though usually it was because it was so obvious that Ryoma was losing and now it was almost the opposite. At the end of it they were both lying on the court, looking up to the darkening sky, and much though he hated to admit it Nanjirou was the one breathing harder.

He didn't even notice the soft steps until Ryoma was standing right above him. "...Oi, old man."

"Hm?" He somehow managed a grin as he looked up at his son. "Come to mock your fallen father? So arrogant, you young people nowadays..."

"Old man." Ryoma went down on one knee next to him, looking at him seriously. "...What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" Nanjirou echoed with what he hoped was a suitably cheerful tone. "Why don't you tell me? It certainly seems you and Ryoga usually have the answer." He shook his head, tsk-ing a bit. "The young of today, absolutely no respect to the elderly..."

"...I'm serious." Slowly, Ryoma sat down on the court, legs crossed at ankles. "A match like that shouldn't make you even break a sweat."

"I told you I didn't want to play," Nanjirou replied. "I'm tired and I've just eaten. First you push me so far and then tell me I can't even be tired for it? Such a cruel son I've brought to this world... I'll never forgive myself for this transgression!"

"Stop being dramatic and answer me, old man." Ryoma's tone was more serious than usual. This was the tone he had used when he'd asked his father if he was sure Karupin would come back home safe and sound when the cat had first wandered off. Nanjirou hadn't been able to answer him then, either... or when he had asked the same about Ryoga. The boy always had the most difficult questions, didn't he? Silly boy...

"...You know," he said after a moment of silence, looking up to the sky, "it's really great to be in Japan again." Ryoma opened his mouth, probably to protest at his apparently not answering the question, but Nanjirou raised his hand to silence him. "But you know," he continued, "this might be my last time."

Now, Ryoma's eyes flew wide. Well. He'd known he shouldn't say it. This would only lead to a disaster.

"...What do you mean?" There, that was exactly what he had expected. That vulnerable tone that followed the serious one. He didn't like this tone of voice at all, not coming from his son. He didn't know how to handle it. "Old man..." Well, he supposed a tennis match would have been an appropriate approach, but it wasn't like he could do that now, could he? Not while lying breathless on the court. Damn it. Damn his ill and frail body for betraying him.

"You're a good boy, you know," Nanjirou said. Why, yes, he was avoiding the subject. "A bit bratty, yes, but a good boy anyway. Amazingly good, considering it was me who raised you. You could probably very well handle yourself here in Japan with Ryoga looking after you." He paused. "You probably will, when you move here." It was a good plan, after all, if Ryoma really wanted to be in Japan. Just… not one he wanted to see happening just yet.

"Stop playing around, old man!" Ryoma protested. "What the Hell's wrong with you?"

"Many things," he replied, his tone light. It was easier to keep this light. Easier for him, certainly, and hopefully easier for Ryoma. Neither of them was exactly big on all that introspection and mourning stuff. Better handle things in the most practical fashion possible. "I'm a pervert and a bastard and a liar, and, yes, a cheater. And as it so happens..." he hesitated. Even if he was playing it almost as a joke, it still wasn't easy to say aloud. Not to Ryoma. Not to his little boy. "I also have leukaemia."

Ryoma set his racquet on the ground very, very slowly. "...Old man..."

"Not the kind you usually see in TV or something, you know, the one that can be cured and all. I've got the slow type, have had for a few years. There's usually not much treatment done until the end part; it's not really all that vicious. At best, people die of old age before they die of it." He shook his head. "No such luck for me. It's advanced pretty rapidly now all of a sudden. Not much they can do to stop it."

"...How long?" He could almost see Ryoma swallowing, except he wasn't looking at his son. He supposed it was enough that he knew about it, anyway. So predictable. He certainly hoped Ryoma wasn't getting this predictable on the courts or he'd be in

"Best guess? Maybe a year." Finally, Nanjirou turned his gaze at Ryoma. "I wasn't saying you couldn't come to Japan just to be cruel, you know. What little treatment there's to do, I've been getting in America... and, well, didn't exactly want you to be on the other side of an ocean while I'm dying." Perhaps he wasn't the best of fathers, but that didn't mean he didn't care about his sons at all. And yes, he was selfish enough to want to keep at least his younger little darling close to himself as long as he could. Ryoga was already slipping from his grasp, had been for years… but at least Ryoma was still his little son, however quickly he was growing out of it.

Ryoma didn't say anything now, just looked at him. It made Nanjirou feel really uneasy. Ryoma was supposed to always have something to say to him, even if it was just calling him an idiot.

"...Oi, don't look like I just kicked your cat or something," he said, finally pushing himself up to sit on the ground, too. "It's life, you know? People are born, with or without fathers, and other people die, with or without sons. Don't worry your little head too much with it."

"How can you say that?" Ryoma snapped, and Nanjirou could have sworn he saw tears in the boy's eyes. Huh. Weird. Sometimes he could have sworn the boy didn't even know how to cry, anymore. "You -- you're dying! How can you tell me not to worry?"

"Because worrying won't do a damn thing for me, maybe?" Nanjirou shrugged. "There's nothing I or anyone else can do about it. With some luck, the treatments will give me more time. With really bad luck, I'll be gone before you know it." He patted the boy's head because the cap was in the way of ruffling his hair. "You'll live, boy. I know you will."

"...But you won't." Ryoma looked awfully young, now. Sometimes it was so easy to forget he was really just thirteen years old. "Old man... what am I supposed to do?"

"What I've always told you to do." Nanjirou paused. "Well, no. What I've always told you to do is to play tennis. What I told you to do at least often enough for Ryoga to remember it." He chuckled. That boy was another weird kid... but then, they were both his, weren't they. "Tennis is a big dream that opens up to a bigger world..." His lips curled a bit. "You go and find a big dream, too."

"...Way to get all philosophical on me. Stupid." Ryoma wiped his eyes almost angrily. "Seriously. What are we going to do?"

"Seriously? We stay here and watch the nationals," Nanjirou replied quite simply. "And, just to placate Ryoga, I'll find out for sure if the Dan kid is mine or not. Need to know who to write down on my will, after all." Ryoma grimaced again, but Nanjirou smirked at him. "I told you, don't look like that... then we'll go back to America, I'll put my affairs in order, enjoy some more warmth... and when I'm not weighing down on your narrow little shoulders anymore, you can move back to Japan with Ryoga." He paused. "I suppose the Dan kid can move in with you, too, if he really is mine and he wants to. It's really Ryoga's call, though. I'm leaving the house to him." And the one in America to Ryoma. Maybe he should buy a new house, just in case Dan did turn out to be his. Heh. House-shopping would certainly be one viable way of passing his time now that he couldn't just play tennis whenever he wished. Damn his ailing body.

"How can you just make everything into a joke?" Ryoma asked quietly, angrily. "Don't you take everything seriously?"

"Boy... I take everything seriously." Nanjirou winked at him. "Everything… and nothing. Makes living that much easier, you know?" He finally pushed himself up to his feet, stretching. "It's getting kind of chilly… wonder if Ryoga's back with those oranges yet."

"I got back a while ago, actually." The sudden voice startled them both. Turning to look, they saw Ryoga standing at the edge of the court. "Catch." He tossed two orange objects towards them, one to each. Nanjirou's catch was more a reflex than anything. At least he wasn't holding his racquet anymore, or he might have just as well hit it. It was small and round and coming at him through the air, after all… It was safe in his hand now, though, and from the corner of his eye he could see Ryoma hadn't done anything untoward to his own fruit, either.

"…How long have you been there?" Though he wasn't sure if that really mattered, anyway. He hadn't said anything Ryoga hadn't known already.

"Long enough." Ryoga eyed them both a bit warily even as he raised the last orange he was holding, bringing it up to his mouth. "…About time you told him." He shrugged. "Should have told me sooner, too."

"Hard to do when you're never home," scoffed Nanjirou. "…For what you care, I managed to contact Dan's mother."

"And?" Ryoga raised his eyebrows. Such an annoying habit, really.

"…It's still not out of the realm of possibility." Nanjirou sighed at the tiny smirk, then frowned. "How many times do I have to tell you not to eat the damn peels?" Honestly. He'd been lecturing about that since the first time Ryoga had managed to get an orange down from a tree all by himself. As Nanjirou remembered, he'd skinned his knee in the process. At least back then, the kids had been somewhat cute. But then, back then they had actually classified as kids, not… young men. Even Ryoma was soon going to be taller than him. Where was this world going to?

"Gee, I dunno. Probably until I finally decide to listen to you." Ryoga licked a drop of orange juice from his lips. So messy, really. Where had the boy learned such manners from? …Him, most probably, but at least Nanjirou didn't bite right through the peel so he still reserved the right to judge. Besides, didn't fathers always have the right to judge their sons?

"Oh, come on. We all know I won't live long enough for that." Nanjirou started to peel his orange, then paused as he noticed both his sons staring at him with almost forlorn expressions. "…What? I'm not allowed to say anything about life anymore?" He hadn't even meant to refer to his condition, honestly. It was merely a joke about just how well his sons listened to him, ie. not at all if they only could help it.

"Well, you've got to allow us some adjustment," Ryoga pointed out. "It's not every day you hear your father's going to die."

"You didn't hear it today, though, so shoo." Though Ryoga probably did have a point. He supposed he certainly wouldn't have been joking if he'd heard one of his sons was about to die… and besides, he'd already had years to get used to the thought. They'd had no warning whatsoever. "…It's not like I'm going to drop dead on you right now, though."

"We know that much," Ryoma snapped. "But eventually, you're going to."

"Everyone's going to die eventually, boy." Nanjirou shook his head. "Worry not, though… I'll be sure to warn you beforehand if I suddenly decide to go for the acute euthanasia option."

"Acute euthanasia option?" Ryoga echoed. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well…" Nanjirou found a smirk creeping onto his face once again. "If worse comes to worst, someone will have to tell Rinko that I've got a son who's younger than Ryoma…" That would certainly be close to a suicide. She'd forgiven him for a lot, but…

"Hey, at least I'd get to be the big brother for once." There. There it was, finally, peeking through Ryoma's still remaining tears. The true and tried Echizen survival strategy of bad jokes and sarcasm. At least his sons would pull through, even if he didn't.

Somehow, the thought was reassuring.

(S)

The letter was found some time after Nanjirou's death, while they were going through his things. There was no seal on it, no official signatures, yet there was no mistaking its authenticity. Certainly nobody questioned it upon reading it.

"To those whom it may concern,

Yes, Ryoma, even you, even if you aren't actually literally concerned,

To all of you, I would like to say sorry, and thank you.

Rinko, thank you for putting up with me all these years, and sorry for all the heartbreak I've caused. You're the best woman in the world. I should know; I've probably slept with most of them.

Ryoga, thank you for always being ready to put me back in my place. More often than not, I've needed it. I'm sorry for making your childhood such a pain you had to get away from me. You may not believe me, but while you were gone, not a day passed that I didn't worry about you. I'm glad to see you growing into such a fine young man even despite my influence. I still say you should finish school, though.

Ryoma, thank you for working so hard on realizing my dream, whether or not it was truly your dream as well. I'm sorry you never got to defeat me at my highest. I'm sure that would have been a glorious match, one to be retold for the ages. Guess you'll just have to go on and kick ass without me. Know that I'll be cheering for you, whether you want it or not.

Taichi… thank you for forgiving me. I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, but however selfish this makes me, I refuse to call you a mistake despite whatever pain I might have caused you and your mother. For all that, I apologize, deep from my heart. I'm glad I got to know you. I trust you to keep Ryoma on his toes on the court one day. (Though I still don't like that Akutsu boy. I really thought he was going to kill me when he found out. Put a leash on him for me, would you? In the non-dirty sense, please. Unless you really want to, in which case you have my blessing. You can't be more perverted than me, in any case.)

I'm a bastard, I admit it. I've done a lot of bad things in my life, and at one point or another, I've hurt just about everyone I hold dear. And for all my sins, life has chosen to reward me with not one, but three fine sons, and the most beautiful, charming, forgiving wife to ever grace the Earth with her glorious presence. Life may not be fair, but for my part, I find no cause to complain about the end result. Maybe the end came sooner than for most, but that's what you get for living fast.

I'm not good with the philosophical stuff, or so Ryoma tells me, so I'll just tell you to live full, and live well. Learn from my mistakes, but don't repeat them. (Unless you just can't resist, in which case, at least try to be careful. And Rinko, don't glare at me like that. It's not appropriate to be angry at the dead.)

I'm not much of a role model, as you all know, so my final piece of advice will be from someone much wiser (and bustier) than myself. So, as Ryuuzaki Sumire once said – go give them Hell. (And find your big dreams, while you are at it.)

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm curious to see what kind of a bounce I can get from a cloud.

Nanjirou Echizen
The Samurai"

His actual will had been safe with his personal attorney, much more precise and adherent to general propriety, detailing very clearly just how the rather considerable wealth he had gathered during his professional career was to be divided between his wife and his all three sons. However, none of them held it quite as dear as this little letter from beyond the grave.

However, as neither the will nor the letter could indisputably point any one of the three boys as the only successor of the name of the Samurai, there was still some dispute left among them. As the subject came up Ryoga immediately claimed it was naturally his, by right of being oldest, Ryoma said it was his, as Nanjirou had trained him the longest and the closest, and before Dan could even get a single word out Akutsu had already pointed out for him that he was the only one of them who was actually Japanese and thus in any way deserving of the name of Samurai.

As they finally decided to settle the argument through tennis, somewhere, surely, Nanjirou was smiling. And making popcorn.

His sons were standing on the stage, now, and heading towards the greatest of stages, the one on which he had stood once before. He was now the audience.

And was it ever a great show.