LAST TIME ON FWX (!)...

	Somebody polished the floor. `Bout damn time.

...but in less important matters...

	Kouto challenged Seki to a rematch. In the meanwhile, Terebi  
Natsumi showed up and revealed herself to be a former servant of the 
late Morticus and apparently vital to the characterization of Kotaro. 
Let's be honest, she caused the run on flesh-pink oil paints. Anywho, 
it seems she slipped Kouto an amulet containing the essence of 
Morticus, turning him into the super-charged Corpsuto. 

	Seki beat him. He wouldn't be much of a protagonist if he didn't.

	So, Natsumi herself jumped in to finish Seki off. Seki called 
on the power of THE BED to defeat her and was shocked when Natsumi 
summoned A BED of equal and opposite power. Things would've been grim 
for Seki, if Sun Futon hadn't stepped in at the last minute to save 
him. Sun, afterwards, gave Seki a telegram from Queen Radiance, which 
just happened to hold some vital exposition.

	Let's be frank. Why are there all these high-level fighters 
around who care greatly about the fate of the world and yet leave it 
all up to the student with a fraction of their strength and knowledge?

	I blame the prime minister. Really, I do.

				 ***	 ***	 ***

				FURNITURE WARRIORS
				X PLUS SIGMA TURBO
				THALLIUM BATTLE 2002

A limited term started sired by Brian Stricklin and continued in this 
part by Nicholas Callahan, who will crash and burn when he leaves a 
catholic school environment.

(The Furniture Warriors concept is copyright-right of Nihana-san, 
obviously. If I even thought of claiming it was mine, may I never look 
at another Papillon Rose screenshot again...Don't hold me to that.)

				 ***	 ***	 ***

Chapter 12

The Crowded Living Room Floor

	-or-

From Bed to Worse

				***	***	***

The early morning rays shifted into Room 1-A during a fine, Saturday 
morning. The girl sat in the teacher's chair, stock-still. The dawning 
light from the windows blazed against her form, concealing her details 
in thick shadow.

	"Where should I begin?" She looked around the empty room, waiting 
for a reply.

	"You mentioned a classmate of yours, Seki." The PA hummed. "Talk 
about Seki."

	The girl laughed softly into her lap. "What's to be said about 
him? He's Seki. Possibly the greatest man to ever walk the halls of 
Hiroto High. Smart, noble, built like a tiger...Half the girls on 
campus want him. What's so special about me?"

	"But you haven't tried anything?"

	"I should. I know I really should. But..." The chair descended 
into the floor, taking the girl with it. "It's Yashiko. She's always 
with him, always chasing away anybody who tries anything. And she's his 
sister, for God's sake! She doesn't even have the right!"

	"Is this about Yashiko or Seki?"

	The shaft went on and on, into the dark. "Yashiko, maybe. I like 
her. I'm friends with her. But, when you get down to it, she's so 
bossy, so possessive. It's like she doesn't want anybody else to be 
happy. She's got so much charm and grace and all I've got is Oki..."

	There was a loud sigh from the PA. The voice on the other side 
sounded annoyed. "Okay, when did an Oki enter this scenario?"

	"He's my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend." The girl's head snapped up. 
"He's the worst thing in my life. He seems so fun and excited most of 
them, but when it comes to him and video games...Sometimes, at the 
arcade, I feel like I'm not even there. I don't want to waste my 
heart being second best to tokens and wide screens. I just want a boy 
like...Seki. Is that wanting too much?"

	"Look to the right, please." The girl did so, with predictable 
results. Which would be why she didn't hear Akai mumble not-so-under 
his breath. "Honestly, this is all I have to work with? The next one's 
probably going to whine about a dead cat..." 

				*	*	*

Benma stuffed a final few homework papers into his briefcase. The gates 
of Hiroto High passed over him, bringing an official end to Saturday 
classes. Now the afternoon was his to rest or train or study or...join 
Ijima in some extra-curricular planning.

	"I should challenge him next?"

	"Kotaro took it on himself to bargain with this Natsumi. He might 
just be too stupid be to trusted." Ijima was already pulling the tie 
off her uniform. "Besides, Natsumi got into the arena using Kotaro's 
broach. Technically, she used his turn."

	"But so soon...I feel uneasy about it, considering his power last 
time." Benma kept a straight face as Ijima loosened her shirt, just a 
little bit. His uniform was still complete and intact.

	"I apologize for it now. You're a sacrificial lamb." Ijima 
shrugged. "We're not going to beat this bed unless we learn more about 
it. So far, it's only manifested in combat. Each duel with Seki 
shakes up a little bit about it. I'm asking you to take a 
calculated risk."

	Benma grunted. "I'll do it. But I hope you know what you're 
doing. We don't know how much long we have until the Blessing of the 
Rosewood Bride appears, and we may not have that many chances to take 
her from Seki."

	"More than self-evident, Benma." Ijima turned on her cell phone. 
"I'm going to talk with Kouto. He might be able to suggest some 
options."

				*	*	*

The sky scrappers of the city loomed over Seki. The young man marveled 
that man would raise such structures. Especially considering how garish 
they looked. No sense of dignity or restraint or even imagination. It 
was like a giant metallic weed had sprung up in the sky. He commented 
on this to Yashiko.

	"That's so deep, big brother!" Her voice went off right next to 
his ear.

	Seki shut out the looks from his fellow pedestrians. He had been 
getting them ever since he left the house. And all over school. And 
ever since he had begun his trip through the city. And his exchange 
parents didn't seem so forgiving, either, although a bit understanding.

	"Thank you...little sister..." He replied listlessly. He adjusted 
the strap over his shoulder and wondered for the umpteenth time how to 
undo the knot located over his breastbone. Assuming he was mistaken and 
it wasn't covered in sealing wax.

	Yashiko giggled and tried to make herself comfortable. Quite a 
task, since she had tied herself to Seki with leather straps during the 
night. Made Seki's morning shower interesting, that did. Heck, it made 
changing his clothes something to see. To be fair, though, she was 
dutifully carrying his chair. 

	A passing businessman stopped to stare. "Um..."

	"Little sister, please explain to the gentleman why you're 
riding on my back." Seki rubbed the bridge of his nose.

	Yashiko nodded seriously. "Well, you see, sir, a little while ago 
I almost lost my big brother! Twice! First, the student president of 
our school got possessed by the soul of our former teacher and tried to 
kill Seki! Then, this bathing house attendant of a psycho, who was 
obviously stuffing them, showed and ranted about Seki finding a woman 
to satisfy his needs and also tried to kill him, using a devil bed! So, 
I've realized, life is precious and time is short and I may be not able 
to appreciate my big brother as much as he deserves by merely being 
with him when circumstance permits. I've resolved to be with him at all 
times, to watch over his beautiful soul and his muscular virginity!" 
She finished off with a victory sign that did nothing to reassure the 
sane.

	The businessman gaped a little bit more, then ran like the wind. 
Some things you just can't take.

	Yashiko blinked. "I think it makes perfect sense."

	"Yes, little sister." Seki crossed the street, checking the 
street sign. "Yes, you do."

	"So..." Yashiko leaned her head against the back of Seki's neck. 
"What sweet little coffee house are we going to?"

	"We aren't going to a coffee house."

	"The arcade?"

	"Sorry, not today."

	"...the junk shop?"

	Seki paused and scratched his head. "Do you think Master Kaede 
would be at the junk shop?"

	Yashiko deflated. "Him again. Come on, big brother. He hasn't 
ruined our day yet. Why bring him in now?"

	"We haven't seem him all day." Seki turned to look at her, 
forgetting himself. His chair got an early drunk in the forehead. He 
corrected himself as Yashiko apologized to the man. "He didn't say he 
was going anywhere and even if he should miss training, he should have 
been in class. I'm worried about him."

	"What?!" Yashiko flustered. "You're dragging your darling sister 
around on a potentially dangerous hunt for that bum?!"

	"I tried to cut you lose. You destroyed the hacksaw with my 
chair." With very good technique, he reflected. Could it be all the 
Desk Girl manga?

	Yashiko blushed, in an unrehearsed way. Before she could rejoin, 
a cry came from nearby. "Seki! Seki of the Tibetan Furniture Dojo! Over 
here!"

	Seki looked down the sidewalk. Sun Futon came jogging through the 
crowd, futon in tow. He came up besides Seki, giving him a hearty slap 
on the back. Yashiko yelped. "You never thanked me properly for saving 
your life, you know. I can't imagine Oakcraft would be training such 
disrespectful furniture warriors."

	Seki looked around nervously. He couldn't help but notice the 
speed with which people gave him and his companions breathing room. "I 
apologize, Lord Futon. A great many things were occupying my mind at 
the time. Thank you for your aid."

	The immortal laughed magnanimously. "Think nothing of it! I was 
just teasing. Come, please. I'm gathering supplies for my return trip 
and I could use the conversation. If you will do me the honor, of 
course."

	"Not right now, I'm afraid." Seki held up his hands. "My teacher, 
Master Kaede, has gone missing. I must search for him, in case--"

	"If this is the man who trains you, Seki, what good would you do 
against something that could overpower him?" Futon smiled and placed a 
guiding hand on Seki's back. "But trust me, I assure you, Kaede will be 
just fine. You needn't worry. We've crossed paths twice before, Kaede 
and I. He bounces back from anything, that guy."

	"Is that Seki's hand?" A certain girl growled.

	"Um...no."

	Yashiko tightened her grip on Seki's chair. "Then take it off."

				*	*	*

The Mysterious Psychic Chick swirled her tea. The non-diary creamer 
faded away into the murky depths, leaving a rich brown tint to the 
mixture. The open-air cafe was a relaxing place to catch up on her 
paperwork. Before her was a pile of forms and reports as thick as her 
thumb. When she had first gotten into the destiny business, she never 
dreamed that it could get so complicated. If it weren't a slow day, 
then she'd probably be at the office with at least five times as many 
dead trees in front of her.

	"We need to talk." Of course, things could get complicated.

	The Psychic One looked up at the angry faces of Ichiro and Nizo.
 Now, if only she could remember which was which... "Can I help you, 
gentlemen?"

	"Screw the polite bit." Ichiro, for the sake of argument, pulled 
out the chair across from her. "This is business."

	Nizo took a flanking position behind her, still standing up. 
"We've got issue with the operation."

	She continued to go through her paper work. "This is a battle for 
the fate of the world, with little clear information and a teensy moral 
compass. You can hardly expect everything to be cut and dry."

	Ichiro glared at her. "You know that's not why we're here. Hey, 
Ichiro, what are we supposed to be?"

	So, she had guessed wrong. "If I had to guess, I'd say we're 
expositional, Nizo."

	"That's funny." Nizo tipped his head to the side. "When was the 
last time you answered somebody's question, Ichiro?"

	"Gee, I think I was called on in science class..."

	"I get the point." She sipped her tea. "But I don't see what I 
can do about it."

	"You signed us to this gig!" Nizo pounded his hand on the table. 
"You're contractually obligated to provide us with work!"

	"As I see the situation, you haven't been keeping up with your 
workload." She shifted through her papers, not looking him in the eye. 
"Seki's needed information several times over and you just weren't 
there. A bit of commitment to the job is required, I believe."

	Ichiro grumbled. "Oh, yeah, we're supposed to magically pop up 
whenever that happens."

	Nizo waved his arms at her. "You're the one who can see the 
future! Advanced warning now and then is just polite!"

	"Fine, fine, you think you've gotten shafted?" She brushed the 
hair from her eyes and looked at him. "Then you go get that union of 
yours and set a court date. I doubt there's a judge in the land who 
will rule for you, though. Now, unless you want to be guilty of public 
harassment, give me some quiet time."

	Nizo stood up. The two boys stalked away. They didn't say 
anything more, beyond the bird Ichiro flipped her. She idly paged 
through her documents. Then, noticing something, she called after them. 
"Watch out for the Lancer, by the way."

	This left the two boys in confusion. That is, until age twenty-
seven, when Nizo almost got hit by a Mitsubishi Lancer and narrowly 
avoided it by remembering those words. Which sucks, because he would've 
met Mitsuko and her twin sister in rehab.

				*	*	*

"Hello, doctor." The cell glowed a bloody red as sunlight filtered 
through the bird-flesh curtains. The patient crouched in the corner, 
smiling to himself. The doctor felt his skin crawl. Taking a deep 
breath, he checked for the attendants out of the corner of his eyes and 
walked through the door.

	"You wanted to speak with me."

	"Yes, doctor. We have great things to discuss, you and I." The 
patient looked up at the air, following an invisible something. "I want 
one more interview with you, doctor, to set some things straight. Right 
now. It is very important that you oblige me in this."

	"Why is that?"

	"Because I am quite confident that when all is revealed, you will 
gladly declare me sane."

	The doctor swallowed hard. "I'll try to set an appointment up. 
I'm glad to see you want to make progress, but-"

	The patient tapped his eyelid. "You didn't hear me doctor. I said 
now."

	"I'm afraid I have to make my rounds and..."

	"You have no prior appointments. This I know. Come now, I have no 
record of biting." For the first time, the patient looked at him. 
"Aren't you the least bit curious?"

	"Fine." The doctor steeled himself. He motioned to the 
attendants, two fine strong men he could trust. The three of them 
entered the cell. One shut the door behind them. "What is it you want 
to talk about?"

	The patient went back to the invisible something. "Furniture."

	There was a pause. One of the attendants scoffed, with little 
volume. "Excuse me?"

	"Don't you think furniture makes for an interesting question? 
Historically speaking?" The patient had a genuine look of shock. 
"Consider it. Thinking humans didn't apply abstract logic on a wide 
scale until a little bit before the Hellenocentric period. Before then, 
the majority of all human thought revolved around the manipulation of 
knowledge gained through real experience and the analysis of 
experimental data. A furry animal didn't freeze when you did. What if 
you wore the fur? A falling rock killed your best friend. What could it 
do to a tiger? And so and so forth, down through the centuries, 
building slowly into the pre-Grecian civilizations. Humanity defined 
its environment by its tactile capabilities."

	"And furniture?"

	"What in natural experience could ever relate to furniture? Sure, 
you can argue than someone experimented with rocks at some point. But 
lamps? Rugs? The bed frame? Let's be honest. These aren't naturally 
occurring advancements."

	"You sound as if you have a solution to this."

	"Ever astute, doctor. You qualifications are well deserved." The 
patient stretched lazily. "Panspermia. Someone gave early humanity 
furniture."

	The doctor twisted his brow. Quickly, he pulled open his notebook 
and scribbled down the statement, paraphrased. This was important 
information. They never before considered that this man was having 
paranoid delusions.

	"What, no feedback, doctor?" The patient grinned.

	"You're trying to teach me. Record is the process of learning."

	"Oh, I'll miss you doctor! You really are a clever  
conversationalist." The patient scrambled up, settling into a cross-
legged position. The three mental workers took a step back. "Don't 
think this is the end of the lesson. I have one more scenario for you, 
a real ball-buster.

	"What if someone came to this conclusion earlier? Someone who 
already had a certain qualifying knowledge of the properties of 
furniture? Some clever little scientist who thought he could make 
something of it? This would be quite dangerous. He'd exploring things 
he didn't truly understand with only a limited theoretical knowledge of 
them. If only one of his assumptions was wrong, the whole thing could 
get quite messy. An assumption such as, for instance, that whatever he 
found would be a passive presence."

	The doctor continued to quietly take notes. The two attendants 
looked on silently. The patient shook his head sadly. He voice turned 
into a frozen tundra. "This really means nothing to you, does it? Well, 
I tell you what it means. That oh so generous educator, that mysterious 
presence behind furniture, took offence at the presumptions of its 
students. A great deal of offense."

	The last statement hung heavy in the air. One of the attendants 
noticed something. "Hey, where'd the curtains go?"

	The man fell against the door with a wet smack. The patient, 
having covered the ten feet between them, twirled the bone pole in his 
hands with expert grace. The second attendant stumbled back, blinded by 
a snap of the "cloth". The larger man started to reorient himself and 
the pole cracked the side of his head. The doctor paled at the sight of 
his two defenders out cold on the floor.

	The patient laid the curtains across his shoulder with 
professionalism. "I don't we ever had a formal introduction, doctor. 
What's your name?"

	The psychiatrist blubbered. "N-Nemuro. I'm D-Doctor Nemuro."

	"It's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Nemuro." The maniac bowed. 
"I'm your armchair's granddaddy."

	The doctor knew he had nowhere to run, but he made the attempt 
anyway. With a flick of the wrist, the former patient lassoed a length 
of bird-flesh around the poor man's neck. Yanking the healer against 
the wall, he pressed the end of the pole into Nemuro's neck.

	"Now, my dear Nemuro, you remember there was something I'd hoped 
you would declare?"

				*	*	*

The city stretched out before Benma. He leaned on the railing, 
breathing in the wind currents. He didn't feel like fulfilling Ijima's 
mission, not right now. With everything happening so fast, he thought 
he deserved some time for reflection. Rushing into things was for 
liquor store robberies and shotgun weddings, his master once told him. 
The warrior who understands himself will take time to meditate on each 
and every battle, those that have come and those that will come.

	Also, his master had added, it doesn't hurt to do this while 
posing dramatically on a rooftop.

	"You're down there, Seki." Benma looked across the districts of 
Tokyo. "You're down there with all the teeming masses, the same masses 
from whom the rest of us aimed to rise above. What's so different about 
you, eh? What new facet of the Way do you represent?" He rubbed his 
chin. "Before you came, we never imagined that the Way was so widely 
practiced in the world. Now you have shown us that it has its origins 
from a time long before our families' feud. You are a curiosity here,  
summoning the Bed, defending the honor of the Rosewood Bride. If I 
didn't know better, I'd swear you were an emotionally well-balanced 
individual."

	The large boy looked up into the sky, then chuckled. "A duelist 
who doesn't have some mind-bendingly obtuse motivation. That's a laugh. 
So what is your-"

	"You're down there, Seki." Benma blinked. His mind doubled-back 
over its records, to make sure it hadn't restarted its soliloquy. The 
answer coming back said he hadn't and a more overstressed lobe pointed 
out petulantly that the speaker had a different voice all together. 
Looking to his right, Benma saw a girl leaning against the railing, 
staring off into the city. She was skinny and small, with a dark blue 
hair that fell down her shoulders and light green eyes that 
impersonated cold emeralds. She was dressed in a black and purple 
variant of the Hiroto uniform, with daffodil patterns liberally sown 
into the design.

	"Excuse me, miss..." He had, by all rights, been there first.

	The girl ignored him. "For so long, you've been kept from girls 
like me. But now...now, with the power of the Rosewood Bride, I'll make 
a fair world! A world where girls like me have a chance! It may hurt 
for an instant, Seki, an instant more than you deserve, but we'll both 
be so much happier when it's over."

	"Right..." Benma assured himself that he never sounded that 
hammy. "Are you done yet?"

	The girl jumped in surprise. Benma watched with disinterest as 
she slipped over the edge and scrambled back via a narrow hold on the 
guardrail. She glared that the boy. "What are you doing here?"

	"Talking a lot more sense than you." He muttered.

	"Huh?" The girl hadn't quite caught it. "You're on the student 
council, aren't you? Benma...that's your name."

	Benma crossed his arms. "And you are you?"

	"I am the avenging angel of background characters everywhere! The 
girl who won't stand to be in the scenery anymore!" The girl laughed 
haughtily. "You are in the soon-to-be-great presence of-"

	"You're down there, Seki." The words were barely whispered, but 
they overpowered the girl's speech and most of the local noise 
pollution single-handedly. The same way a ton of bricks might overpower 
your foot.

	Benma and the girl face-faulted. Benma shook his head sadly and 
stood up with as much dignity as he could muster. The girl, on the 
other hand, leapt to her feet and pointed angrily to the voice's 
source, the top of a nearby antenna. "Hey, that's stealing my line!"

	Benma lifted an eyebrow. "Your line?"

	The speaker didn't notice. Despite standing in the open on a 
sunny day, darkness covered his frame. It was a cool trick, if you pull 
it off. "For so long, you've spread your evil. I was so blind. I even 
taught you. But now I see what kind of monster you are. And I will 
purify this world of monsters. Today, Seki, you will know defeat and 
destruction!" The figure paused. "And, what the heck, might as well 
take the Rosewood Bride. I mean, she'll be there and all..."

	"No one hurts Seki while I'm around! Reveal yourself!" The girl 
was red in the face now. Benma turned his back on both of them and 
looked back over the city.

	The figure jumped down to the concrete. The shadows dispersed, 
leaving Mr. Kaede exposed to the world. He chuckled suspiciously. The 
effect, of course, was emphasized by his glassy eyes, his rumpled 
clothes, and his forehead, which had "well-meaning evil" stamped on it 
in kanji. "You don't know what you're talking about, girl. You don't 
know what I've seen...Oh, what I've seen..."

	"Don't talk to me like that!" The girl waved her hands 
threateningly. "I'm not a nobody, not anymore! I'm-"

	"Stop." Benma turned to look at them both. "I am Benma Mitsumaru 
of the Hiroto High student council. The duels are ours. They started 
that way and in that fashion they ought to end. I, for one, am tired of 
all this outside interference." His carpet, rolled into a tube, 
appeared in his hands. He leveled the end of it between him.

	Kaede grunted. He held his arm out and a teacher's desk  
materialized there, the bulk of it balanced on his shoulder.

	The girl "hmph"ed and produced the most outlandish hunk of metal, 
glass, and plastic Benma ever saw. A banner on the top announced it was 
"Dance Dance Revolution: 7th Konami Remix".

	"Seki is my opponent today, no one else's." Benma adjusted his 
grip. "You will not prove me wrong."


				*	*	*

The owner of the corner store was a very respectable, dignified old 
man. He had seen a lot in his life, felt many a pain, known many a 
blessing. His features were weathered with the winds of time, the sand 
of experience laying in his folds and wrinkles. Like some shrine 
statue, he was a reminder to all why elders should be revered.

	Which explains why, when he told them to do so very pointedly, 
Seki and Sun Futon checked their furniture at the door. Yes, that 
explains away the little details of the scene quite nicely.

	"You ever try this stuff, Seki?" Sun Futon pulled a bottle of 
peach juice from the freezer. "It's not half bad."

	"No, Lord Futon, I haven't. Now, you said that you had met-" Seki 
was cut off by Futon's raised hand.

	The immortal pulled two more bottles from the freezer and pressed 
them into Seki's hands. "Here, you really ought to try it. It's on me."

	Yashiko motioned for Seki to hand hers back. "Sorry, but that 
brands too sweet for me."

	Futon took the bottle back from Seki, who looked like a puppy 
caught in a flood. "At least the lady knows what she likes."

	"My lord," Seki blurted the question before he got cut off again. 
"You said you met Master Kaede twice before? How?"

	"Kaede, Kaede..." Futon tapped his chin. "Well, the first time, 
we journeyed together to far off Lost Land of Yid. There, we battled 
the Shadow Dragon of Nith for seven days and eight nights. The contest 
was of such ferocity that it leveled one of the mountains of G'nakl and 
dug the Trenches of Nitha'ka. In the end, we smote the beast down and 
cast its mangled carcass into the Fjord of Yourg. And so we claimed the 
eternal gratitude of the people there."

	There was a pause. Seki blinked. "And the second time?"

	Futon waved nervously. "Oh, we just sorta...ran into each other."

	"Where?" Seki asked with genuine curiosity.

	"...VD clinic..."

	Seki felt Yashiko choke down a laugh. "VD clinic? I have never 
heard of this place. Is it a dojo?"

	"So-o-o-o-o, Seki..." Futon became very interested in a shelf of 
yeast. "I'm sure you have more on your mind then my comings and 
goings."

	Yashiko cackled. Sun Futon glared at her.

	"There is one thing that troubles me, Lord." Seki waved politely 
to the suspicious gaze of the owner. "The Bed...you said you knew this 
thing. You said you had split it, in fact. What did you mean, Lord 
Futon? What manner of thing is this bed?"

	
	"Ah, The Bed." Futon's eyes brightened. "Now there is an object 
of true mystery! If a thousand wise men could discuss it for a thousand 
years, they would be just as confused at the end as they were in the 
beginning. Truly, one of the great wonders of the world."

	Sun Futon nodded sagely, smiling to himself. There was a moment 
of silence until, Yashiko, eyebrow cocked, leaned over Seki's shoulder 
to ask him. "So, you going to tell us or what?"

	"Oh, what? Sorry." Futon rubbed the back of his head. "I just had 
a moment of contemplative smugness, there. Do forgive me. The Bed. Yes, 
The Bed." Sun Futon raised a finger and exhaled a quiet breath. 
Glittering motes of dust danced in golden bars of sunlight as a serene 
atmosphere settled over the convenience mart. The owner opened a  
newspaper.

	"It would be an extremely dangerous for me to tell you all I 
truly know about the bed. I gained such knowledge through many years of 
study and meditation and as such, it is tempered with discipline and 
understanding. If I simply told you, then you would misunderstand and 
thus you would misuse. Such a mistake could bring untold disaster on 
this world, beyond anything in your nightmares.

	"Think of it this way. The power of The Bed flows from the same 
source that so many furniture warriors tap. It is the same power that 
allows a furniture warrior to summon his weapon from Furniture Space."

	This didn't make a lick of sense to Yashiko. But Seki absorbed it 
with almost a religious ecstasy. "Then...it is a channel to the source 
of Furniture Space? A medium through it?" He had heard of such things, 
in the legends and folklore of the Big Tibetan Furniture Dojo. The same 
legends and folklore that involved monks finding the secret to inner 
peace, then destroying some demon is a big, flashy action sequence.

	"No, no, no!" Futon shook his head maniacally. "See, I've already 
told you too much! You mustn't ever think of it take way! The Bed...It 
is not simply something within Furniture Space. Without The Bed, there 
would be no Furniture Space. And without Furniture Space, there would 
be no bed. They are two parts of the same unified whole, part of 
something even greater."

	Seki boggled. "I don't quite understand. I saw it exit from 
Furniture Space. I felt the presence of a connection between Furniture 
Space and the human world, the same as when any other furniture warrior 
summons his weapon. How can it exist within something that exists in 
the same act of being with it?"

	"This is what I mean. You're mind isn't ready." Futon rubbed his 
forehead. "Perhaps it will enlighten you, if I answer your other 
question. About the time I split it.

	"In this century, The Bed appeared on the human plane. With 
unspeakable rage, it ravaged all around it. It destroyed without 
reason, without strategy. I gathered with the other seven immortal 
furniture warriors to face the threat. All we could determine about it 
was that it was overcome with grief and anger. It wanted to annihilate 
humanity."

	"Why have I not heard of this before?" Seki queried

	Futon chuckled. "Certain things must be kept secret, because they 
provoke questions that humanity is not ready to ask. We eight fought it 
in secret and took oaths from all others not to speak of it. The 
existence of this battle is a fact known only to the highest masters 
of The Way."

	Yashiko noticed the shopkeeper. She began to say something, but 
decided Sun Futon wouldn't appreciate it.

	Seki felt a chill up his back. "How did you win?"

	"We used all our powers and enchantments to seal its power away 
by dividing it between two opposing natures. We created a bed of light 
and a bed of dark, that its power would forever be divided in contest 
with itself. Evidence now suggests this relationship is not as static 
as we had hoped."

	"Then...this Bed..." It was a lot for Seki to take in. "I didn't 
summon it."

	Futon shook his head. "But you did. Just not in the way you 
think."

				*	*	*

"Roo-maan-tiic deeitoo!"

	Lumi-chan. Like you couldn't figure it out.

	The walking/sprinting/bouncing battery happily zipped around 
Yashiko's room in what was becoming a ritual with her. Clothing sailed 
through the air as Yashiko's closet burst open to reveal its contents. 
Make-up rose and fell like it had a mind of its own, clicking harshly 
wherever it happened to land. The floor shook dangerously close to its 
harmonic frequency.

	"Wai! Roo-maan-tiic deeitoo! Aaa-iii-suu ku-rii-mu-uuu! Roo-maan-
tiic deeitoo with aaa-iii-suu ku-rii-mu-uuu! And the pretty lady, too! 
Wai wai wai wai wa-"

	Lumi-chan froze in mid-air, along with the several objects her 
presence had brought up with her. The camera revolved around her as she 
hung suspend in the multiple acts of putting on a blouse, putting on 
eyeliner, choosing a pair of shoes, doing her hair in a pig-tail, and 
dispatching an evil and yet very much random demon ninja commando with 
a light bulb grenade.

	Then the director stopped being a SFX whore and set the camera 
speed back to normal. However, everyone knew he would repeat the 
effect ad nauseum in the sequel. Lumi-chan continued on her business.

	"-i wai wai wai wa~~~~i!"

	The girl screeched to a halt as she yanked open the underwear 
drawer in search of the special panties Yashiko-oneesan had told her 
about during Lumi-chan's tutoring. Silky somethings and edible other 
things flew by when suddenly Lumi-chan just plain old stopped. 

	It was a pair of plain white panties, slightly unflattering if 
anything. It instantly clicked in Lumi-chan's head that they probably 
belonged to Vanity-oneesan. The dark skinned girl would probably want 
them back. With panties in hand, Lumi-chan bounded off towards the last 
known position of Seki's bride, the bathroom, from which the sounds of 
a bath resounded.

	"Vanity-oneesan!" Lumi-chan didn't have to kick down the door. It 
just wanted to live. "I found these in Yashiko-oneesan's drawers 
and I thought they might be yours and you would want them back and so 
here you go and...and...and...You're not Vanity-oneesan."

	A girl stood up from the furo. Her skin was so deathly pale that 
veins could be seen through it. Her equally snowy hair was flat and 
placid, sticking sullenly to the side of her head. Cold, unfeeling eyes 
stared out at Lumi-chan from behind a face carved for a memorial stone. 
Alien writing covered her from head to toe, a demonic script of symbols 
and pictograms, tattooed into her flesh. She parted her lips and all 
that emerged was a weak, pleading breath. 

	"Ano..." Lumi said the first thing that came to mind.

	The girl stepped out of the water, dripping as she went. She 
reached down to the side of the furo and picked up a jar of brown 
liquid with a brush sticking out of the top. She lifted the brush and 
squashed it into her forehead, letting the hazel mixture run down her 
face. The mysterious potion raced down her form, expanding and 
stretching, until a rich coat of it covered every inch of her. 

	Then, where there had been a strange albino girl, there stood 
Vanity, fresh from the tub.

	"Ano..." Lumi repeated her sentiments.

	Vanity sauntered over and took Lumi by the shoulder. She rubbed 
her warm skin to Lumi's cheek. She hungrily smelled Lumi's hair. She 
whispered in Lumi's ear. "It is the varnish of my soul. Please do not 
tell anyone, for Seki's sake."

	Slowly, gently, she took her panties from Lumi. The red-haired 
girl spun around slowly, instinctually, automatically. Vanity held the 
panties to her chest, bunching them into a white nebula. "You will keep 
a secret for your older sister, yes?"

	Lumi-chan blinked.

				*	*	*

Benma's arms shook as he swung his rug into Kaede's desk. The teacher 
fought to keep his parry as Benma pressed his strength into continuing 
the attack. The two of them stood there, trying to find the leverage to 
make a blow that would count. The steel-threaded rug grated against the 
hardwood desk.

	"Dance Dance Hammer!"
	
	Above them both, the mysterious girl leapt up. She heaved her DDR 
machine over head, holding it by the support bars. The two men slid 
out of the way as she brought it down bottom first between them both. 
The ground shook with the impact.

	The girl spun to face Benma and rushed forward, game in hand. He 
counter-attacked with his rug, striking with a series of quick chopping 
swipes. But the girl stayed behind her weapon, making all attempts to 
find a target futile. Benma retreated as the DDR machine came at him. 
The black-clad girl tipped her machine over, catching Benma's rug and 
trapping it between the roof and the screen.

	But just as the girl's advantage appeared, Kaede came rushing in 
behind her desk-first. The girl pulled up her machine and savagely 
plowed its bottom into the front of Kaede's desk. Kaede jumped back 
from the impact, then readied his desk again. Both she and Kaede dipped 
in and out, feinting and testing for an opening.

	"Carpet Lance!"

	A rug sailed over the girl's head. It speared Kaede full in the 
face, knocking him backward over his center of gravity. Before the 
girl could realize the threat, Benma reached over her shoulder and 
grabbed the falling rug. He sidestepped past her and delivered a 
powerful swing to her midsection. She flew off her feet and tumbled 
back into the guard railing. 

	Benma didn't risk a look back at her. He brought his rug back 
into the ready position and took a guarded stance. Kaede rolled back to 
his feet, pulling his desk up with him by the edge. 

	"Desk Drill!"
	
Yelling at the top of his lungs, he twisted the desk around and 
let it loose towards Benma. The rug warrior caught the corkscrewing 
desk with the middle of his rug. The rug bent in as it absorbed the 
blow, then snapped back to the straight roll as Benma tossed the desk 
back at Kaede.

	The furniture warriors pulled back and took stock of each other. 
With a flourish, Benma unfurled his rug. Kaede raised an eyebrow and 
tipped the front of his desk to the ground. Benma enjoyed a breath, 
then came at Kaede again. His rug swished from side to side as he 
snapped its edges at Kaede's vitals. Kaede retreated before the  
assault, waving his desk from side to side as a block.

	Suddenly, Benma pounced forward, gliding over the ground. Huffing 
with the effort, he swung his rug forward. The foremost tip of it 
bounced off Kaede's forehead. His head snapped back from the blow and 
his eyes clenched shut from the shock. Benma stopped himself with a 
planted foot and weaved his rug under the desk, wrapping it around 
Kaede's leg. Bracing the rug on his elbow, Benma gave it one quick jerk 
downward.

	"Threading disability!"

	Kaede inhaled sharply as his leg popped from its joint.

	Benma pulled his rug free and jumped back from the disabled 
Kaede. He let his still unrolled rug rest on the ground as he looked at 
his next opponent. The girl from The Black Daffodil looked back at him 
wearily, leaning on the DDR machine. Benma tightened his face and 
charged, rug flying through the air.

	The girl grabbed a support bar and used it as a horse, lifting 
herself away from Benma's attacks. The machine's shell rang where 
Benma's rug snapped against it. Muttering an incantation, the girl fell 
off the bars and put her foot down on the dance pad.

	"Flash Blow!"

	There was a blinding burst of dazzling colors. Benma stumbled 
back, holding his eyes and snapping wildly in a panic. The rug went 
taunt. Fearing the girl had caught it, Benma pulled it back with all 
his strength. And, unaware that the girl had tied his rug to one of the 
support bars, pulled the entire DDR machine at himself.

	"And I call that one Distraction Suicide."

	The girl pulled the DDR machine back into Furniture Space with a 
wave of her hand. She daintily stepped over the unconscious Benma and 
smiled wolfishly at Kaede, who still held his leg in pain. She broke 
into a sprint, followed by a series of forward flips. Then, just as she 
was on top of him, she vaulted into the air. She gestured again and the 
DDR machine reappeared, the very top of it in her hand. She came down 
towards Kaede, bottom first.

	"Dance Dance Driver!"

	Kaede gave his leg on mighty push and hissed as it popped back 
into joint. Pulling his desk around behind him, he rolled over the top  
and slipped under it. He braced his shoulders on the underside and 
tossed it up to meet the DDR machine. 

	"Rising...Desk...Counter!"

The machine bounced off with a sharp crack that Kaede felt in his 
ankles. Thee girl landed a few yards into front of him, bringing the 
DDR machine down in front of her. Behind Kaede, Benma came around, 
groaning as he rose to his feet. Kaede risked a quick glance at his 
desk.

	There was a long gash along the top of the desk, right where the 
game machine at hit it. Kaede slipped hand under it into the support 
beam.

	The Black Daffodil warrior shifted into an Angry Goose stance, 
laying her hands on the back of her DDR machine. Her breathing was 
labored.

	Benma rolled his carpet back into a tube. He had to lean on it.

	Somebody said a naughty word in English. They probably didn't 
know what it meant.

				*	*	*

The IV drip made an annoying sound. It was silent, but he could hear 
what wasn't there. There was a constant "blip, blip, blip" in his 
mind as he watched it. So continuous, so loud, so there...

	He knew he shouldn't have been hearing this. He knew it was a 
sign of insanity. But he had sampled the mind of a dead man, let that 
man's instincts and memories flow with his own. The dead noticed things 
that living men didn't even acknowledge. And now his mind had been 
opened to those many, many aspects of life that he never saw before. He 
couldn't imagine life without them now. It was almost...beautiful.

	Like Ijima. He could smell the ki seethe around her, a heavy 
miasma of ozone and heat. He could see her spotlight hovering over her 
shoulder, in that place not really there, like an obedient dog. He 
could hear her heart labor under all its hidden pain.

	"My, you do look the mess." The girl picked up the clipboard at 
the edge of his bed. "Displaced spinal discs, broken ribs, broken 
limbs, severe concussions, heavy internal bleeding...Why aren't you 
dead?"

	I know what death is now, Ijima. He couldn't talk, it hurt to 
talk, but he could think. The former teacher, he told me all about it. 
I know what death is and I know all its little loopholes.

	"Silent today, bandage boy? I don't blame you." Ijima replaced 
the clipboard. She had carried a heavy bag in with her. Now she put it 
down on the floor. "After all the melodrama, it was pretty anti-
climatic, what happened to you. You must be absolutely boiling with 
rage."

	Rage, but no boiling. The dead know how rage must be used, all 
the proper manners of its employment. And I am the living dead. First, 
I want to see what can be seen of Seki with these new eyes of mine.

	"Whatever. Do you know how creepy you look? Just lying in 
traction, all silent and peaceful. Especially since I know what's going 
through your mind..."

	You have no idea.

	"I need information, Kouto. I need to know how you got in contact 
with the Dark Warriors. Did you meet a representative? Did you visit 
any sort of base?"

	Ask away. See how talkative I am.

	"I can see how talkative you are. You probably don't want to hold 
a conversation. I plan to motivate you." Ijima reached into her bag. 
She pulled out a head of cabbage. "I've heard things about you, Kouto."

	Under all his restraints, all the bandages and wires, all the 
pins and resolution, Kouto squeaked.

	"See? You're more garrulous already." Ijima carefully placed the 
cabbage on Kouto's chest. The would-be prophet tried to shake it off, 
with little success.

	"Dark Warriors. Where can I find them, Kouto?" 

	The former student president stared at the cabbage in terror. A 
few pathetic mewling sounds came out. Sweat beaded on his face.

	"Not enough motivation?" Ijima pulled a jar from her bag, 
containing two all-too-familiar specimens. "I also brought the 
butterflies."

	Shite, all of Kouto thought.

				*	*	*
A battleship gray Buick pulled up in front of the Arkaham Home for the 
Socially Unadjusted and Reality Impaired. Andy emerged from within, 
then spun butt-first over the front hood. His imported custom Armani 
suit proudly displayed the stain of this effort, causing the End of the 
Rug to wonder if he ought to try that again. After swiping some of the 
dirt off with his hand, he concluded there was nothing for it and took 
out a pair of mirrored sunglasses. It was time to look way cool.

	Arkaham Home burned. Fire blazed from the windows on at least 
three floors and seemed to be edging out. Even from the outside, Andy 
could hear screams and shouts, calls for help and prayers to any god 
around. Undercutting these were the faint sounds of riot, of violence 
too terrible to go unnoticed, punctuated with the very occasional 
gunshot. It grew and bulged, this sound, moving closer and closer to 
Andy as it approached the outer walls.

	Andy checked his watch and made some quick calculations. He knew 
that this man wasn't the kind to play around, no matter how he might 
act. It wasn't in his nature.

	Andy stepped to the left. The front walls of one of the burning 
floors shattered outward. Rumbled spilled out where the furniture 
master had been standing. With this came two benches, three chairs, and 
a gurney. Just as Andy would expect from this particular warrior.

	The one-man riot stepped out from the new doorway. Flames 
wreathed his slender, effeminate form. He glared down at Andy as he 
tossed aside the struggling orderly in his hand. Without any sign of 
thought, he walked off the edge and landed on the ground. Feet first, 
to his credit.

	Andy leaned to see past the burning mound cement. "Anything 
broken?"

	"Just my ankles." The man popped up, cheerfully smiling. "I can 
ignore it for now."
	
	Andy adjusted his sleeve. "Good to hear. You're trying to play my 
game."

	"It's our game. You've been spoiled by my years indisposed." The 
man adjusted his collar. This emphasized the blood on his hospital 
issue clothes.

	"And now you're back, with your own little cadre of duelists." 
Andy sighed. "How trite of you. What have you told these dark  
warriors?"

	The man grinned. "Everything."

	"You fool!" Andy's face contorted in rage. "You absolute fool! 
You've compromised everything! What if they get to Vanity?"

	"You brought yours in with deceit. I recruited mine with 
honesty." The man bowed condescendingly to Andy. "Mine believe they can 
re-establish the Ottoman Empire. What good do your duelists think they 
can accomplish?"

	Andy clenched his fists. "I will claim you."

	"You took the words right out of my mouth."

	"You're very industrious. And very clever. I'll give you that. 
But Seki is mine. His heart has proven irresistible to you. I doubt 
your sentai show rejects can tap my power so completely." Andy 
tightened his tie. The glare from the flames fell from his glasses. The 
mirrored shades showcased the spitting image of the Hiroto High 
chairman.

	The double shrugged. "Perhaps. Now, if you could do a favor for 
family, I really need to get to a hospital. My shoe is filling with 
blood and-"

	"Huff it." Andy turned his back and headed for the car. "I've got 
a date."

	"Fair enough, fair enough." The man nodded. He gave Andy's back a 
wide wave. "Then a good day to you, Dark Side of the Bed!"

	Andy acknowledged with a flick of his wrist. "A good day to you, 
Light Side of the Bed."

				*	*	*

Somebody had to move soon. They all knew it. You had maybe a split 
second before exhaustion settled in and your muscles betrayed you. You 
had to keep moving, unless you wanted your body to cool down and give 
up. Somebody had to move soon.

	The girl did it. With a flounce, she fell out of the Angry Goose 
stance and swung over the top of her DDR machine. She brought herself 
down on the front of it, one foot on each dance pad, crouching below 
the screen. She made the sign of the serpent.

	"Furniture Special Technique! Afro Nova Barrage!"

	Light and confusion followed. Flashing arrows and swirling colors 
poured out of the screen. They consumed the roof and drowned out the 
sun itself. When it faded, the girl stood up, confident.

	Kaede lay on the ground, spread eagle. His pupils were impossibly 
wide and froth bubbled over his mouth. The occasional twitch indicated 
he was alive. Satisfied that he was down for the count, she turned to 
look at Benma. She frowned.

	Benma sat contently on the ground with his rug over his head.

	"Preschool Style Counter. Like it?"

	Realizing what had happened, the girl spun and raced back to her 
machine. Benma already had sprung to his feet, rolling his carpet for 
battle. As the girl dove behind the game machine, Benma delivered a 
powerful overhead blow to the top of it. The metal contraption tipped 
over on its mistress. She struggled to push it back up.

	Swinging from the side, Benma drove a sharp kidney shot home. The 
girl crumbled under the blow, letting the DDR machine slide down on 
Benma's side. Safe for the time being as Benma started around to meet 
her, the girl took a deep breath and grabbed hold of the machine. She 
heaved it around towards Benma, sweeping him from the side. The larger 
warrior braced himself against the contraption, trying to divert its 
path.

	The screen flashed again, a short burst that startled Benma. As 
his gaze recovered, the girl pushed the machine with renewed vigor. In 
one smooth motion, she sent Benma through the guardrail and over the 
edge. Then, not noticing her own momentum, she followed suit.

	"Carpet Parachute!"

	Benma unwrapped his rug and caught its edges. Air filled it and 
the fabric square ballooned out. Saved by his impromptu, the large boy 
drifted down to the street. Touching the ground, he checked for his 
opponent and found her in a nearby crater. She let the game machine 
take all the impact and neither of them was any worse for the wear.

	The rug rolled back to battle-ready. Benma stared at the girl in 
confusion. "Shouldn't one of us be dead?"

	"Yes." The girl tugged the DDR machine from the crater. "One of 
us should be dead."

	Arcade platform met rug yet again. As the girl went on the 
attack, it was all Benma could do to beat the contraption away from 
him. He was weak now, both from activity and pain. He couldn't begin to 
understand how this girl could still have so much left in her. His rug 
went back and forth, up and down, as he parried her strikes one after 
another.

	He could feel it before it happened. A slight inconsistency along 
the tube. A tiny dent at just the right place. By the time he realized 
it, he was already in the middle of another parry. At contact, his rug 
bent in on itself and heavy metal plowed into Benma's side.

	He wasn't shaking that one off.


	Kaede stood up. Patterns danced past his eyes and he tried to 
shake them off. A migraine built up from the after effects of that 
girl's attack. He was impressed. But he wouldn't let that deter him. 
Seki had to be stopped.

	Staggering, he made his way over to the guardrail. There was a 
clear hole through the railing, suggesting where his two opponents had 
gone. He took a second to shake off the last wave of dizziness and 
looked over the edge.

	Below him, Benma hit the ground. That girl was winning. The boy 
would not be getting up again for a long while. But the girl moved in 
for the kill, none-the-less. He could sense a deep coldness in her, an 
emptiness were her humanity should have been. 

	Hmmmm, he thought to himself. At this distance up, I could get 
some good speed.

	With a wave, his desk reappeared. The air billowed back from him 
as he pressed his vital forces into it.


	The girl brought the DDR game down on Benma's stomach. The boy 
contorted with pain, feeling the full weight of the machine.

	"You tried to keep me from Seki." Up and down. "That's not very 
nice of you." Up and down. "I hate you. I hate your whole kind." Up and 
down. "The system spoiled you. The whole system spoiled you!" Up and 
down and something broke. 

	She laid the machine down by his head. Crouching down, the girl 
cradled Benma's chin. "We're the new system, me and my kind. We're the 
system that deserves it."

	Benma gazed into her eyes. He saw how little there was in them. 
"You're...completely...insane..."

	The girl glared. "Insanity is measured by the standards of the 
majority. But yes, I am."

	"Look...up..."

	"Wha?" The girl tilted her head back, towards the sky. "What in 
the wor-"

	"Furniture Special Attack! Pedagogue Torpedo!"

	The desk, blazing with ki, instantly obscured her head and 
shoulders. The blow carried her off her feet and sent her sprawling 
across the ground, along with the DDR machine and the desk. It all 
finally came to a stop across the street, lying in a disjointed pile. 
Black smoke slithered by through the air and the girl's uniform was 
back to normal.

	Kaede landed where the girl had been standing. He made a big 
point of not breaking his ankles though, making him look so much 
cooler. He straightened up and nodded with satisfaction. "The battle is 
mine."

	It sunk into Benma that there was nothing else he could do. Or 
maybe that was his rib. "I...have you...for sixth...period..."

	"Oh? Yes, Benma!" Kaede snapped his fingers. "I just remembered. 
I found out there was a test you missed. I was wondering when you'd be 
free to make it up."

	An icy glare was Benma's response.

	"Look, I know how you feel. I'm really sorry about it." He patted 
Benma's arm with genuine concern. "But, you see..." His body went 
rigid. "...I hAvE tO dEsTrOy ThE hOrRoR..." He softened up again. 
"...you were just so dead-set on being in my way. I'll try to make it 
up to you, really, I will."

	"Sir..." Everything was starting to go hazy. "Why...Seki?"

	Kaede shook his head. "It's just too complicated...Yesterday, I 
saw him in a way never imagined before..." Jitters overtook him. 
"Television...cute...Hello! What have you got there?"

	Quietly, surely, Benma clenched his carpet. "Sir...I'm 
sorry...for your own good...furniture...pressure point..."

	"What was that?" Kaede bent over to hear. Benma's rug connected 
solidly with the side of the teacher's head. Pressure point is 
sometimes a very general term.

	Kaede stood up, rubbing the side of his head. "That's funny. I 
could swear my short-term memory for the last forty-eight hours just 
zonked out. Benma, what are you doing...Geez, what happened to you? 
What happened here, for that matter? Why am I here? Holy cow, what 
happened to her?!"

	Something very specific sunk in.

	"Who did that to my desk?!"

				*	*	*

It was late afternoon, now. The rush of recently freed high school 
students had died down. The city now basked in its usual hum of busy 
adults and happy families. The park was no exception, bouncing with the 
background sounds of every day life.

	Seki walked at a sedated pace. His mind raced with all he had 
just learned. Slowly, slowly, pieces slide into place, then quickly 
melted away into nothingness. Thoughts and hopes flitted back and forth 
in his mind like wild birds in heat.

	Yashiko hung loosely on his back, docilely enjoying yan-yan. 
Seki's chair swung around her neck.

	"It's a lot to take in." Sun Futon walked next to him, matching 
his pace. "I can remember the feeling myself, when I realized the path 
I had chosen. Ordinary men never feel worthy of great powers."

	"But why me?" Seki held his hand to his chest. "I am still a 
novice, less than ordinary. Why didn't The Bed come to Master Ikea? Or 
Queen Radiance or you? Or even Lumi? All of you are much worthier 
warriors than I."

	"Chance favors a prepared mind." Futon replied. "You had the 
chance and your mind was well primed."

	Seki shook his head. "I cannot believe that. When I took on the 
task of protecting Vanity, I only fulfilled the duties I had trained to 
take upon myself. With the Bed...I have been taken to a place my 
training never prepared me for. I'm just an ordinary student of 
Isujitsu."

	Sun Futon and Yashiko sweatdropped.

	"I can only offer you one piece of advice, Seki." Futon had just 
a bit of incredulity in his voice. "You studied for an ordinary world. 
But you do not live in an ordinary world. So, you must redefine the 
world you live in."

	"As ordinary?"

	"As what you are."

	"Argh..." Seki took a moment to pose angsty against a tree. 
Yashiko discretely took a Polaroid. "What should I do now? What should 
I do with this power the Bed gives me?"

	"Whatever you choose to do. That is how the world always works."

	Resolution took hold a Seki. "I see...then I will protect 
Vanity."

	Futon smiled softly. "I think that's what the Bed would want."

	Yashiko joined in with a frown. "What? You'll just go on with 
this dueling business for as long as you live? That's going to be quiet 
a life."

	"If I must," Seki clenched his fist. "Then I must!"

	"No, Seki, she's right." Futon held up his hand. "If you just 
continue with these duels, then you will never let Vanity be truly 
safe. Eventually, you will fail and you may not be able to regain her. 
Too many forces align against you to hope for business as usual."

	"What more can I do?" Seki asked.

	"The duels are what endanger Vanity." Futon mused. "For Vanity to 
be completely safe, then the duels must stop. Seki, you have to find a 
way to end the duels."

	"How do I do that, Lord Futon?"

	Sun Futon pointed to himself. "You're asking me? Come on. That 
would be way too convenient. I'm just theorizing here."

	"Well, you better not have any thoughts about dragging me into 
this." Yashiko pouted. "You can't just go in a fight with me in the way 
like this. I'm still angry with you for wanting to take me off on that 
Kaede hunt today."

	"Argh!" Seki lost it. "You're the one who tied yourself to me! I 
can't get you off! How can you just sit there and accuse me about it?! 
I can't believe it! Why?! Why?! Why?! Wh-"

	"Oh, you didn't purposely do that?" Futon interjected. "Why 
didn't you say so?"

	Seki shed a single tear.

	"Allow me to help." Grinning madly, Futon bowed. He drew out his 
futon behind him. "Behold the skills twenty lifetimes in the making!"

	The futon whistled back and forth past Seki. He could smell the 
mattress as it flew past his face. He was sure it hadn't touched him, 
yet, as Sun Futon pulled back...

	Seki stared in wonder as the straps fell apart. Yashiko tumbled 
to the ground with a clatter. "Lord Futon, that was amazing!"

	Futon flicked a stray lock from his eyes. "Am I not Sun Futon the 
Immortal? Such titles are not gained lightly. You will find my skills 
are perf-"

	Seki's shirt fell apart. A thin line of blood drew it across 
Seki's chest. His upper lip trembled.

	"Oh, wow, that looks bad." Sun Futon threw his futon into the 
air. Dust and leaves billowed out from under it as it hung above the 
ground. Chuckling like a cornered animal, Futon threw his supplies up 
and jumped on. "It's been great to see you, really it has. I have to 
get going now and I think I'll be really far away, like no zip code far 
away, so if you have something important you want to send me like a 
court order or an insurance bill, tough luck. Good luck with the whole 
Protect Vanity thing! Really, the best of luck to you!"

	There was a burst of air as the futon lifted off, flipping up 
skirts and stealing children's balloons for miles around. Yashiko 
chased after it, tucking her blouse down where the wind uprooted it. 
She shook her fist after the immortal.

	"You could at least apologize, you bum! Ooooh!" She stamped her 
foot. Adjusting her now disheveled clothes, Yashiko turned back to 
Seki. "Can you believe that guy, brother? And he teases you about 
manners. He's almost as bad as...Brother, are you alright?"

	Seki slowly, careful, touched a finger to one of the cuts across 
his chest. "Yes, Yashiko I should be all righ--Son of a yeti's mother 
sled driver!" He pulled it back with a snap.

	"...Let's find Vanity? Please?"

				*	*	*

<deskworker3376>He's out! He's out!
<smooth_operatorDELTA>That is indeed fortunate news.
<Halo Chick Sexy> d00d, wh05 0ut?
<smooth_operatorDELTA>The man who's been sending us messages cut into 
the backs of rats for the past year.
<deskworker3376>The asylum warrior!
<Halo Chick Sexy>w00t!!!111
<smooth_operatorDELTA>Oi, Terebi, any thoughts?
<smooth_operatorDELTA>Terebi?
<TVgrrlll>Sorry.
<TVgrrlll>Yes, that is good news.
<deskworker3376>You've been silent. What are you doing over there?
<TVgrrlll>Cat Girl Hacker Dance Sirosuto is on. Watching.
<smooth_operatorDELTA>But of course. It's Terebi.
<Halo Chick Sexy>l4m3

	"Yeah, whatever." Natsumi typed in her words and stuck her 
tongue out at the screen. Just because these guys couldn't appreciate 
the advancing kinetic art that was TV, they thought they could pick on 
her. They'd be a lot more respectful if Morticus was still around.

	The television amazon drooped a bit at the thought of her former 
teacher. Leaning back in her the office chair, she shifted her 
attention from the computer screen to the portable TV, the same brand 
that filled every niche of her evil lair.

	The twin screens provided the only light in the lair, at the 
moment. There Terebi Natsumi lounged, draped in the dynamic light, 
dressed in only jeans and a sweatshirt. She tugged a length of soba 
noodles from the styrofoam cup, blowing on them a couple of times 
before popping them in her mouth. To her, this was perfect meditation, 
letting her mind melt into the flow of information the television 
provided. She even sat the proper distance from the screen.

	Something undercut the supreme hum of the television. A hissing, 
spinning sound that slide through the air. Her ears picked it out 
clearly because it was obviously not of the TV. Muscles up tensed up 
and down her frame as she carefully set her noodles on the floor.

	Gobos shattered through a window. They whirled around and came 
down on Natsumi, glowing evilly in the light. Natsumi spun free of her 
chair, grabbing the television as she went. The gobos eviscerated her 
seat, leaving nothing pinned under them except fluff and plastic. 
Planting her feet firmly onto the ground, Natsumi bounced into a battle 
stance, television held straight in front of her with two hands.

	A flash fire consumed her lair's door. A beam of light lanced 
through the crumbling embers and fell straight on Natsumi. Caught off 
guard, she barely managed to shield her eyes before the white-hot light 
blanketed her. Her clothing burned away and she stood there in her 
`armor' and a sloppy ten-second suntan.

	Ijima stepped through the remains of the door. She held her 
spotlight menacingly. "That was my feint. Want me to break a sweat?"

	Natsumi spun her television around in her hands and aimed the 
screen straight for the student council member. "A furniture warrior? 
More like a furniture ninja. Want to try me when I'm on guard?"

	The computer beeped for an incoming message. Ijima glanced at it. 
Natsumi smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know what's on that?"

	"Looks like a buddy list." Ijima adjusted her grip.

	"Just the buddy list of your doom."

	"Uh-huh." Ijima stared at Natsumi incredulously. "Well, you and 
your buddy list of the apocalypse can be well and content together, if 
you back off from the duels."

	Natsumi sniffed. "Kotaro had no problem offering me the locket."

	"Kotaro was an idiot. He acted alone and without common sense. I 
will have a long talk with Kotaro about that when I'm done putting out 
his fire."

	"Well, are we going to fight or just drop fighting words?" The 
television's power cord snaked around Natsumi's fingers.

	"How about neither?"

	The two girls blinked at the third presence. From the shadows 
emerged The Black Daffodil, mirror et all. Neither of them could decide 
on who to point their furniture at.

	"Now what do you want?" Natsumi asked sarcastically.

	Akai flashed his pearly whites. "I'm just here to diffuse a 
situation that could create more problems than its solves."

	"Talk." Ijima commanded. "No banter."

	"Hypocrites." Akai spoke a little under his breath. Then, in the 
kind of voice other people are meant to hear, he said. "Consider it 
this way. The student council alone has true access to the duels. But 
they have no true information about what they accomplish. The dark 
warriors, however, have almost unlimited access to vital information, 
yet have no legitimate way to make us of it. I think it would be much 
more reasonable for the two groups to act together."

	Natsumi gave Ijima a sidelong glance. "He's got an argument."

	Ijima snorted. "He's also got an angle."

	"Good point." The dark warrior gave her attention back to Akai.

	"My angle is quite simple." Akai chuckled. "I don't have full 
information or full access. But I have resources that could make very 
good use of both."

	"Wouldn't work." Ijima shook her head. "We can't all win the 
Rosewood Bride."

	"But do we all want her won for the same purpose?" Akai replied. 
"There would be a need for trust, but isn't there honor among even 
thieves?"

	"Wait, wait..." Natsumi nodded to Ijima. "I know how she has 
access. I know how I have information. But what kind of resources do 
you have? This isn't just a matter of cash."

	"Too true. You two young ladies have been quiet observant." Akai 
held his hand to his chest and bowed. "Allow me to introduce myself. 
Akai Nakijima, age forty-seven, vice president of research and 
development at ScumCo Unlimited."

				***	***	***

IS AKAI REALLY FORTY-SEVEN YEARS OLD?
WILL SUN FUTON REALLY BE BEYOND THE RANGE OF A LAWSUIT?
DO ICHIRO AND NIZO REALLY BELONG TO A UNION?
DOES HALO CHICK SEXY REALLY SPEAK l33t OR JUST PRETEND THAT SHE DOES?
AND, oh yeah, WILL THE TRUE PURPOSE OF THE BED EVER COME TO LIGHT?

Find out all this or maybe something completely different in the next 
exciting, fantastic, better-than-sex-with-a-wall-street-hooker-and-a-
bottle-of-whiskey episode of Furniture Warriors X Plus Sigma Turbo 
Thallium Battle 2002:

Lampshades of Your Heart!

...or...

Table-lating Your Options!

...or...

Something chosen by the author, probably.

				***	***	***

Author's Notes:

It's late, I've got twenty minutes to send this thing in, and I'm 
currently sitting in my tidy whities after an exhausting night at work. 
This is just going to be clearing up a couple of points.

1. The DDR girl. Not supposed to be a new character. Just a jobber.

2. ScumCo. Not trying to revive the plotline. Certainly not calling for 
the return of Harry the Handsome Executive or the office chair 
shinobi. Think of it as Akai abusing resources for personal gain.

3. If you hadn't put two and two together, the people on Natsumi's 
buddy list are supposed to be the other dark warriors.

Tuxedo Jack, Lord Ryunson, and Kai Gomi were my pre-readers. To them go 
the props. 

Any comments, questions, reviews, criticism, or mysterious ticking 
packages welcome.

Good night. Good bye.

-Nick Callahan (cruton@juno.com), 5/23/2003