Four years ago, in the Ottoman Empire...

Two boys sparred in the training halls of the empire.  Each wielded 
long, rolled-up rugs like staves, occasionally doing advanced maneuvers 
such as unrolling their rugs and using them like whips.  On the 
sidelines, a girl watched their duel.  They looked to be around 13 
years old, maybe a little younger.  Eventually the larger of the two 
men won with an inspired attack that disarmed his opponent.

"You two really are amazing," said the girl.  "I can't keep up with 
either of you."

"Aw, don't say that," laughed the winner of the match.  "Just keep 
practicing, and I'm sure you'll improve in no time."

The smaller boy smiled and picked up his rug from where it had fallen.  
"Yeah, don't worry.  Us Japanese students have to stick together here 
or those Ottomans will walk all over us.  Right, Benma?"

Later...

The two boys are walking alone now, through the halls of some sort of 
building.

"You like her, don't you?" asked the smaller one.

Benma looked away, slightly embarrassed.  "C'mon, Shiro.  Who do you 
mean?"

Shiro elbowed his friend playfully.  "You know who.  Our third earth 
exchange student, of course.  Don't worry about a thing.  Just keep 
playing your role as a hero, and I'm sure she'll return your feelings."

And back to the present...

Benma, four years older and many pounds heavier, sits under a tree and 
dangles an ornate gold pendant in front of his eyes.  It is of Ottoman 
design, which explains why there is a chair engraved on the front 
rather than something more normally romantic like a rose.

And inside it is a picture...

                       ***   ***   ***

                      FURNITURE WARRIORS
                      X PLUS SIGMA TURBO
                     THALLIUM BATTLE 2002

Original idea by Brian Stricklin.  This part by David Schwager, a man 
dangerously close to being a Juri groupie and with a rather twisted 
imagination (you have been warned).

(The Furniture Warriors concept is the copyright of Nihana-san, 
obviously.  If I even thought about claiming it was mine, I'd be forced 
to come up with a new variation on an old fanfic tradition involving 
prison and insubstantial sustinance.)

                       ***   ***   ***


                          CHAPTER VI

                           Bare Rug

                             -OR-

        The Beginning of the End of Innocence (possibly)

                       ***   ***   ***

Kumayama-sensei smiled, which meant by extension that some poor 
students were getting abused.  In this case, the reason was the pop 
quiz he had sprung on his first period history students.  It was, he 
had to admit, a true masterpiece.  After that brat transfer student had 
humiliated him on his first day of class, Kumayama had been working on 
this beauty.  These were thirty of the hardest, most mind-bending short 
answer questions he could find.  There wasn't a single question there 
that had been covered in class, and many of them weren't even in the 
textbook.  He had put on questions that even he had to look up.  Even 
Yashiko, his former best student, would be hard pressed to get even 
half of them right.  Kumayama's smile widened as he soaked in the pain 
and hopelessness of his students-

"I am finished, honorable Kumayama-sensei."

The sadistic teacher's smile froze as he looked up at Seki.  Fifteen 
minutes.  He had finished the hardest test ever made in fifteen 
minutes.

Somehow, Kumayama didn't hold out much hope that the exchange student 
had gotten many questions wrong.

"Honorable Kumayama-sensei, would you like to take my test and examine 
it or should I place it on your desk for you?" asked Seki politely.

"Er... the desk is fine," managed the stricken teacher.  His only 
salvation was that at least his other new student, that insane 
overgrown child, was obviously having a hard time.  She didn't even 
seem to know how to use a pencil right!  He didn't know how she had 
gotten into this school, considering that she spent most of class 
humming and looking out the window.  Occasionally, she would burst into 
song about ice cream or puppies or something.  It was a relief to 
finally shut her up-

"Wai!  Lumi-chan is done!"

Kumayama watched as the perpetually sugar-high girl bounced up from her 
seat and proffered her paper.  He grinned and snatched it away, feeling 
he could use a quick boost of student suffering.  Glancing at the 
paper, he saw that her writing was every bit as bad as it had looked.  
"Your handwriting is atrocious," he commented.

"Lumi-chan never used pencils before," the girl explained.  "We only 
did oral examinations back home- ano, why are all the boys looking at 
me like that?"

Kumayama laughed.  "I see you left the section on European royalty 
blank."

"Hai!  Lumi-chan couldn't remember for sure which kings were which 
because they all have the same name except for the numbers and it's all 
so confusing, and Ikea-oniichan says guessing on tests is dishonorable.  
But Lumi-chan's sure I got all the other questions right!"

"Oh, really?  Well, what about..." Kumayama paused and looked over the 
test, his face sinking.  On each question he looked at, in the most 
childish writing he had ever seen, was the correct answer.  His face 
fell into something between anger and depression.

"Ano... did Lumi-chan do bad?  Wah, I'm so embarrassed!  I'm sorry I 
missed four questions!"

"Such embarrassments could be avoided if you spent more time studying 
instead of playing, Lumi-chan," advised Seki.

"But ancient history with Brother Maplewood is so boring!"

"Now now, Lumi-chan, a true warrior must travel into the future with a 
keen grasp of the past.  Just as the drawers of a dresser support and 
built on each other must the present learn from the past.  Uh, or 
something."

It is probably worth pointing out that Lumi-chan isn't actually stupid, 
just childish and easily distracted.  She also comes from a place where 
a vacation means only having to work ten hours a day.

                       ***   ***   ***

"I have orders from End of the Rug," said Kouto dramatically.

"Screw 'em," replied Benma.

This response obviously threw Kouto off his rhythm.  "What?" he asked 
intelligently.

"Screw 'em," repeated Benma.  "We don't even know who the guy is."

"Oohohoh," laughed Ijima.  "We all know he is the moderator of this 
game.  No doubt he is a representative appointed by our families."

"So who cares?  You know I don't care much for this game," said Benma 
coldly.  "Besides, what makes you think he can really deliver the prize 
he says?"

"We all saw The Bed, didn't we?" replied Kouto.

"An illusion.  A mirage.  I've seen much stranger in my stay at the 
Ottoman Empire," said Benma.

"Maybe so," interjected Kotaro, "but creating an illusion like that 
would take a lot of power.  I'm still not convinced it's even 
possible."  The Kompaqqu Ryu user was no longer a miniature black hole, 
thanks to his purchase of the recently released "Backlit Like it Should 
Have Been in the First Place GameLackey Advance," available from 
Fleecing the Fans, Inc.

"Oohoho.  Besides, for one who doesn't care about the game, you seem 
awfully eager to fight," observed Ijima.

"That is for personal reasons," said Benma coldly, clearly challenging 
someone to make his day and keep talking.

Unfortunately for Kotaro, a lifetime of video games had dulled his 
hint-taking abilities.  "Really?  Does this have something to do with 
how your best friend stole the girl you liked?  Hey, is it true that 
you keep her picture in that locket?"  Kotaro then found himself 
standing on the slopes of hell itself, with much torture and pain 
imminent.

Well, actually he just looked up and saw Benma's glare.  But it was 
pretty close, really.

"...Right, I'll be going now, good luck with the fight tomorrow," said 
Kotaro as he wisely teleported out of the building.

                       ***   ***   ***

Somewhere on the way from school to Yashiko's house, Lumi-chan got 
separated from the others.  This didn't surprise Seki much, as the 
young furniture warrior had a tendency to bounce like a sugar-enriched 
rubber ball from distraction to distraction.  It did worry him a little 
though.  Of course, he wasn't worried about something happening to 
Lumi-chan, but rather about Lumi-chan happening to something.  The 
night was full of terrible dangers seeking to prey on innocent 
schoolgirls walking alone, and if any of them met Lumi-chan they would 
soon become a lot less dangerous and a lot more terrible, although it 
would be a different kind of terrible, less the demonic-murderer-rapist 
kind and more the full-body-cast kind.

At that moment, Lumi-chan was inside a small ice cream store gobbling a 
half gallon box of strawberry ice cream.  The shop should be described 
from two viewpoints.

First, through the eyes of a normal person, we see that the store is, 
like most Japanese stores, quite small.  On one side of the store is 
the counter, which holds behind its glass lots of ice cream and the 
clerks who sell the ice cream.  On the other side is a short row of 
tables (five total), which are mostly empty.  One table has a young 
couple sitting on opposite sides and sharing a large ice cream Sunday 
and shooting meaningful little glances back and forth.  At the second 
occupied table is another young couple, but this one is a bit more 
intimate.  The girl is sitting on the boy's lap, and they kiss each 
other as much as they eat their ice cream.  We also see a high school 
girl behaving like a six year old, but that's just Lumi-chan.

Second, through the eyes of Lumi-chan, we see the same physical layout, 
with maybe a bit more emphasis on all that yummy ice cream behind the 
counter.  This isn't important.  What is important are the two occupied 
tables.  The first couple were a pair of good friends eating tasty ice 
cream together.  Wai!  The second couple, however, were giving her some 
trouble.  Just a few weeks ago, she would have completely ignored their 
presence, as she couldn't quite rationalize their behavior.  Now, while 
consciously she was working her way through her second half gallon and 
enjoying it immensely, the back of her mind was starting to wonder just 
what the hell they were doing and why it seemed so attractive despite 
the fact that everyone knows boys have cooties.

It isn't that Lumi-chan hasn't picked up anything about romance during 
the past seven years, just that she's remarkably good at mentally 
editing out the parts that don't fit in with her six-year old 
mentality.  Of course, those bits and pieces weren't gone, just... 
locked away.  And they weren't happy there.  Luckily for them, a recent 
kiss bestowed by a certain jilted student council member had been an 
event powerful enough to put nice big cracks in the mental jail cell of 
adulthood.

Behind Lumi-chan's childhood innocence lies a hormonal teenager 
screaming to get out.  And now it's actually making progress.

"Get a boyfriend!" the teenager yelled.

"But I have lots of boy friends, like Seki and Ikea," replied Lumi's 
outer child.

"Not that kind of friend!  Some guy to snuggle and kiss and stuff!"

"But girls aren't supposed to kiss boys!"

"Of course they are!  Look over there, they're practically tearing the 
clothes off each other!"

"Ew, icky!  Girls and boys shouldn't do that!"

"C'mon, don't you want to do that with some nice guy?  Like Seki, he's 
cool, right?"

"Hai!  Seki's a good friend!"

"But don't you want him to be more than a friend?  I mean, he's strong, 
a hunk, and really sweet.  Don't you want to go on a romantic date with 
him?"

"What's a 'romantic date?'"

"Oh, for the love of... Like, you go to an amusement park together, and 
go on the rides together, and he buys ice cream cones for both of you, 
and then you get on the Ferris Wheel and lean against him gently and he 
puts his arm over you, and when you walk home maybe you hold hands and 
look up at the moon, and maybe you end up in some secluded park and he 
hugs you and your lips get closer and closer until they touch gently 
and... and... and that's a romantic date!"

...Well, what did you expect, a raging slut?  She might be a teenager 
but she's still LUMI-CHAN for god's sake.

Anyway, the point is that all this was going on in the back of Lumi-
chan's mind.  Which is why we'll excuse her for only eating three 
gallons of ice cream before leaving the store and meeting a weird 
masked guy with a coffin.

"Prepare yourself, child, to taste of pain such as you have never 
imagined existed," he said imposingly.

"Wai, what a cool cape!  How do you get it to billow out like that?  Is 
it that mast uncomfortable?  All that black clothing looks awfully hot, 
are you okay?  Is there someone inside that coffin?  I hope not, it 
looks dark and scary.  Why are-"

"Silence, fool!" screamed Morticus.  "For the insult you gave to me, I 
shall make the short remaining time of your life a living hell!"

"Wah, Lumi-chan insulted you?  I'm so sorry!  Ano... have we met?"

"Yes, but not in this form."  Morticus gestured and a dark portal 
appeared beside him.  "Now come, or I shall begin my tortures by 
forcing you through this portal."

Gears began to turn in Lumi-chan's mind as she applied her own special 
brand of logic which, as usual, involved her getting more or less the 
correct answer.

Lumi-chan's brain was living proof that sometimes two, four, six, or 
even eight or ten wrongs do indeed make a right.

"You're a Terrible Danger, aren't you?" accused Lumi-chan.

Morticus seemed somewhat thrown by the question.  Of course, the entire 
meeting had gone just about one hundred percent wrong.  "Well, I 
suppose so.  I've always thought of myself that way, although I've 
never heard it put quite that way before."

"I know about you!  Yashiko told me all about you!  You want to do 
horrible things to my naive, innocent, and nubile young body!  Although 
I'm not too sure what nubile means," Lumi-chan added honestly.

Morticus looked much more at ease now.  Finally, finally, this was 
going the way it was supposed to.  And he knew exactly what his next 
line should be.  "And what exactly are you going to do about it?" he 
growled menacingly.

Unfortunately for him, Lumi-chan was reading from a different script.

"This!" she yelled as she grabbed a handful of energy-saving halogen 
light bulb grenades with each hand and threw.

                       ***   ***   ***

Seki, having lived his whole life at the Big Tibetan Furniture Dojo, 
was a big fan of routine.  Of course, his usual routine had gone 
something like "wake up, train, eat, study, train, study, train, study, 
train, eat, study, train, study, sleep."  It was not, on the whole, a 
regimen that left a lot of room for things like television or arcades 
or shopping malls, which is understandable since the dojo wasn't 
exactly located in a bustling metropolis.  Which isn't to say that the 
students there didn't have any fun, but just that their definition of 
fun involved vigorous training and competition in whatever piece of 
furniture they selected and studying all forms of learning to greater 
enhance their mental acumen.  Those students who didn't enjoy it could 
always leave, sure in the knowledge that the training they had received 
would let them succeed in a vast array of occupations, including, if 
they so desired, entering a university.  The fact that they also were 
able to knock an opponent unconscious three ways before he hit the 
ground with a normal chair was just a bonus.

So, back to Seki.  His new routine went something like this: "get up, 
eat (although very little because he needed to save room for the two 
gigantic lunches that would be made for him), go to school, eat lunch 
there, finish school, come home, train, fail to figure out why Yashiko 
was drooling all over the ground during his training, finish homework 
in about half an hour, and then figure out what to do with the many 
hours he had before needing to sleep."  The last one was, as they say, 
a real bugger.

Seki had already completed his dojo-required learning in the 
traditional sciences such as math and history.  He should have been 
learning the finer arts of furniture, such as crafting, wood 
identification, specialized combat strategies, and all the other 
knowledge that separates a true furniture warrior from some guy 
swinging around a folding chair really well.  Unfortunately, he wasn't 
able to find a teacher who knew any of that.  He couldn't simply train 
for the whole day, or his body would give out like a table whose legs 
had been sanded down one time too many.  Or something.

So, instead of working at improving his body and further traveling down 
the path to enlightenment, Seki spent many afternoons having Yashiko 
introduce him to the wonders of civilization, which included television 
and arcades and shopping malls.

To be honest, he hadn't quite got the hang of it yet.

"So," Seki said thoughtfully, "you place the small metal tokens-"

"Money," corrected Yashiko.

"Yes, the mowney.  You put the mowney in the slot down there, and then 
you can fight?"

"Uh, yeah, that's right," said his "sister" hesitantly.  Somehow, she 
knew something was going to go wrong.

Seki looked the over the Capcom vs. SNK 2 machine with a critical eye.  
"I do not see how such an immobile box can possibly be a worthy 
opponent.  Does it grow limbs?"

Yashiko groaned.  This whole trip had been a mistake; trying to get 
someone who barely understood the concept of television into an arcade 
was bound to go wrong, even without the whole fighting idea.  "No, you 
fight on the screen."

The furniture warrior tilted his head thoughtfully.  "I do not see how 
it is possible to do so.  Not only is the surface barely large enough 
to hold one person, but it is also vertical.  I am afraid that I am 
unable to stand on walls, glass or not."

"No no, you control the people on screen!  See them?  Here, let me show 
you."  Seki watched in fascination as his new sister inserted the metal 
discs- er, mowney- and explained what was going on.  Pressing buttons 
to control how the cartoon figures on screen behaved seemed a strange 
method of fighting, yet something about it was also eerily familiar.  
The young warrior wracked his brains for what it was reminding him of, 
and when he realized the answer, he wished he hadn't.  It sent a 
visible shiver of terror through his entire body.

Instantly, Yashiko abandoned the game and latched onto his arm.  "Big 
brother, what's wrong, are you okay?"

Even the warmth of a very affectionate girl pressing against his side 
failed to ward of the chill Seki felt in his soul.  He shivered again 
as he spoke.  "Playing dolls with Lumi-chan," he said gravely.  Being 
reminded of the event brought about changes in Seki that are usually 
only seen in the survivors of particularly vicious wars.  Why, he could 
practically hear her voice... the sound of detonating energy-saving 
halogen light bulb grenades... the rising panic of the other arcade 
patrons... the- wait a minute.

Seki focused on reality for a moment, just long enough to determine 
that yes, Lumi-chan really was around here somewhere and causing 
property damage.  It looked like she had found a Terrible Danger.

He would have to go make sure she didn't hurt it too badly.

                       ***   ***   ***

"BEAUTIFUL LIGHTBULB BARRAGE!" yelled Lumi-chan as she hurled a handful 
of her usual exploding projectiles.  Morticus scrambled inelegantly 
away and took cover behind a nearby truck.

It was a nice big flatbed truck, the kind they use for hauling heavy, 
sturdy, and above all damage resistant things from place to place.  In 
this case, it was holding about a dozen huge metal pipes, each of which 
was about two feet wide, twenty feet long, and three inches thick.

All of which was completely lost on Lumi-chan, as she grabbed a long 
fluorescent bulb in each hand and struck them together into a four-
pointed cross before hurling it at the offending vehicle with a cry of 
"PRETTY LIGHTBULB SHURIKEN!"

Morticus wisely dove into his coffin to hide.

When the dust cleared, the truck's load was neatly divided in half.  
Several nasty pieces of shrapnel were sticking out of the coffin, but 
the occupant didn't waste any time jumping out, grabbing his weapon and 
hiding place, and running like hell.  "She could at least get tired!" 
he though.

"Wah, come back!  Lumi-chan has to punish you!" cried the young girl in 
pursuit.  "WONDERFUL HALOGEN ASSAULT!" she yelled, hurling another 
handful of grenades at the fleeing figure in black.

Morticus dived to the side, avoiding the blasts.  He could always try 
absorbing them, of course, but doing that meant having to stand still 
and brace the coffin.  When he had tried it before, the stupid brat had 
gotten up close before he could start running again, and it was all he 
could do to get away.  As it was, he had had to sacrifice his favorite 
cape to her glowing fluorescent blade.  It was bad enough that her 
first attack had caught him by surprise and cracked his mask; where the 
hell did she learn The Way anyway?

After a particularly brilliant fight that ended with an extremely silly 
and embarrassing mistake by Lumi, Queen Radiance had said jokingly that 
the only one who could defeat Lumi-chan was Lumi-chan herself.  This is 
more true than many people realize: the hyperactive furniture warrior 
did wield power that had once been mistaken for that of Queen Radiance.  
The fact that Lumi-chan had the mental discipline of a particularly 
vapid six-year old to guide that power was pretty much her only 
weakness.

"Stop running from Lumi-chan!  AMAZING ENERGY-SAVING ATTACK!"  Morticus 
cursed and dodged again.  His projectile attacks had already been 
proven useless against her much more numerous lightbulbs.  She had 
taken him apart in melee fighting with her two-handed fluorescent bulb 
style.  And to make it worse, her natural sugar-high didn't look to be 
giving out anytime soon.  Much as he hated to admit it, he might have 
to retreat for now.  It wasn't like he was a stranger to tactical 
retreats, though...

Engrossed in his strategy planning, Morticus completely missed the 
figure above him.  He had much more pressing worries, most of which 
revolved around lightbulbs.  And, after all, it was, in the grand 
scheme of things, fairly small.
 
It was also holding a well crafted Victorian style chair.

"FALLING CHAIR FIRE!" yelled Seki as he descended at the enemy figure.  
Morticus, finally aware of his second enemy, desperately brought his 
coffin up to block the attack and succeeded only in deflecting it 
slightly upwards, so instead of being knocked unconscious he just took 
a slight knock to the head.

In classic samurai-movie fashion, the two fighters slid to a stop five 
feet apart with their backs turned to each other.  Even Lumi-chan 
halted her murderous rampage to watch the dramatically dictated pause.

Where Morticus stood, there was a sound of a much abused mask finally 
cracking in half and falling to the ground with a clatter.  Only then 
did Seki, because he was (more or less) honest about whose technique it 
had originally been, say quietly "Or something."

Somewhere nearby, Yashiko swooned from the sheer coolness.  Which is a 
shame, because she was the only one of the three currently looking from 
the right angle to see the face Morticus had hid under his mask.  If 
she had looked before he dived into a portal of darkness, a lot of 
mysteries would have been made clearer.

In the end, nothing would have actually changed.  But at least the 
heroes would have known a bit more.

                       ***   ***   ***

Morticus tumbled out of the portal and immediately closed it behind 
him.  Then he hit the ground.  Getting that damn thing tuned right was 
a real pain; even after all this time, he wasn't quite sure how to make 
it work right, as the portal kept drifting away from where he wanted it 
no matter how much he reset it.  He suspected it had been broken when 
he salvaged it from the wreckage of the Ottoman Empire, but even a 
portal with a tendency to dump him ten feet in the air was better than 
no portal at all.  Without it, he might have been killed by those 
stupid, disrespectful brats!  They both knew the way, huh?  Where the 
hell did they learn it?

"The Big Tibetan Furniture Dojo," said a voice helpfully.  Morticus 
whirled to face it, and found the speaking lounging sensually on the 
sofa (one of the Emperor's favorites, another nicely symbolic if not 
particularly useful find).  The man was wearing an entirely white 
costume with decorations that made it look like a more evolved and 
intricate version of the student council uniform.  He had long, waist-
length white hair and almond-colored skin.  His face was beautiful, but 
with hard edged lines, and there was something about his smile that you 
could use to cut diamonds.  Something about him seemed very familiar, 
but Morticus couldn't place it.

The stranger raised one hand as if in greeting.  "Yo, honorable 
Kumayama-sensei," he said mockingly.

"How do you know that?" Morticus yelled.

"Please, don't insult my intelligence Kumayama-sensei.  It was easy 
enough to figure out once I put my mind to it.  It's still hard to 
believe you've been here all this time, though.  Tracking down and 
killing students who anger you enough with your alternate identity, 
huh?  You're lucky I didn't see the pattern sooner.  I guess it's 
because I've been so busy recently, what with everything finally coming 
together."

Morticus aka Kumayama growled.  What was supposed to have been a nice 
night enjoying himself and torturing one of the brats who had so 
deliberately humiliated him was turning into the worst night since the 
Empire had crumbled around him without him even being able to fight 
once!  If only that stupid emperor had sent him to fight, he would have 
destroyed everyone that stood against the Empire!  Well, he would show 
his worth to everyone that had doubted him and rebuild the Ottoman 
Empire, only this time he would rule it and not some decrepit old man 
with no idea of who was truly strong-

"It's useless," said the stranger.  "You're nowhere near strong enough 
to rebuild it, and even if you somehow managed you would never hold 
onto it.  You're too stupid to lead that kind of organization, and you 
don't have enough brute strength to make up for it."  His tone was 
cheerful but mocking, and it made Morticus want to rip his tongue out.

Morticus wasn't someone with a lot of impulse control.

"I'll rip your tongue out!" he yelled as he slammed his coffin to the 
ground.  "COFFIN KI BLAST!"  The coffin top slid away and a ball of 
pure black energy shot from its depths at the unconcerned man on the 
couch.  With a halfhearted wave of his hand, the ki ball impacted a 
spherical wall around the man and vanished utterly.

"Wha... how did you do that?" said Morticus, more out of shock than 
anything else.  The only ones he knew who could disperse a ki attack 
with invisible shields like that had names like "Ottoman Emperor" and 
"Queen Radiance."  The part of Morticus' brain that dated back to when 
cavemen had to watch out for hungry tigers, that unidentifiable danger 
sense that warns people when they're out of their depth, was screaming 
at Morticus with everything it had to run as far and fast as he could.

The more sophisticated danger sense that dealt with human opponents and 
had been honed by years of combat training was crying in a corner 
because it knew it was already too late.

The unnamed stranger simply grinned wider.  "This is my school," he 
said.

"Your... school?"  Suddenly, Morticus had a flash of insight as to why 
this stranger seemed so familiar.  Cut off a few feet of hair, soften 
the lines on his face, change the tone of his voice to get rid of that 
mocking element, and you get... "Chairman!  You're the school's 
chairman, aren't you?"

The stranger shrugged as if to say, "does it matter?"  "Sometimes, 
yes," he said out loud.  "You really shouldn't have messed in the game, 
you know.  That was when I really became aware of you.  What were you 
trying to accomplish anyway, gather canon fodder for your petty attempt 
to resurrect your precious empire?"

Morticus growled.  "You're one to talk.  What do you care about this 
stupid game with its fake Rosewood Bride?"

The man took on an obviously fake expression of hurt.  "Hey now, that's 
mean.  Why are you calling my little sister a fake like that?"

"And you're saying she's real?  The Rosewood Bride is nothing but a 
character from a fairy tale.  A legend, nothing more."

The stranger's smile grew crueler as he slowly and deliberately rose 
from the couch.  "It occurs to me," he said, "that the Ottoman Empire 
was also nothing more than a legend.  Considering where you came from, 
you should really be more respectful of legends."

"You can't be serious..."  Morticus trailed off as he realized that, 
despite the smile this man wore, he was perfectly, one hundred percent 
serious.  "But then, if she's your younger sister, than you're..."

"The End of the Rug," finished the stranger.  Still smiling, he bent 
down and tore off a small piece of the carpet.  Holding it against his 
open right palm with his thumb, he rose again and pointed the hand at 
Morticus aka Kumayama aka very scared man sure he was going to die in 
the next few seconds.  "It's easier with a focus," explained The End of 
the Rug cheerfully, before he released a wave of pure white energy that 
made Morticus' earlier attack look like a weak breeze.

"COFFIN KI ABSORB!" shouted Morticus desperately, slamming his coffin 
down in front of him.  For a second it seemed like it would work, but 
then...

For just a moment, the coffin walls bulged sickeningly, the void inside 
overloaded by the massive influx of energy...

And then it exploded, showering planks of wood across the room.  
Several planks flew at The End of the Rug, but all of them were 
deflected by an invisible sphere before reaching him.

When the dust settled, The End of the Rug looked at Morticus' body.  
Sticking out of his heart was a plank of wood from the coffin he had 
tried to protect himself with.  The End of the Rug smiled, as this was 
the kind of mildly ironic thing he really liked.  Pointing his carpet 
hand at the body, he incinerated it instantly before calling up a 
slight breeze to scatter the ashes.  He could already see the 
headlines: Teacher Mysteriously Disappears, Cause Unknown.  All he had 
to do was clean up the apartment of everything he didn't want to be 
found, which wouldn't take long.  Then it was on to all the other 
things he needed to see to tonight so that tomorrow would come off 
without a hitch.  Of course, no matter how many preparations he made, 
it would amount to nothing if that boy couldn't do what he needed to.

"I'm counting on you, Seki," he thought.  He had been so busy lately he 
hadn't had any time for fun, and he would be really ticked off if that 
kid wasted it all.  

After the fight, though, he would have some free time, and he had 
already lined up a perfect bit of fun.  Really, everyone was talking 
about how the morals of youth today had deteriorated, but did they know 
how hard it was to get a cute girl and her just as cute cousin into bed 
at the same time?  He really missed the good old days back in India.  
The fun they had had there...

The End of the Rug continued his work, thinking happily to himself of 
memories long past and memories yet to be made...

                       ***   ***   ***

The rivers turned to blood and the seas boiled.  Swarms of locusts 
plagued the world, and legions of hell rose from the ground to begin 
their battle against heaven.

Well, none of those things really happened, but Kumayama-sensei was 
late to class, which was just as good a herald of the end of days as 
anything else, at least according to the students of Hiroto High 
School.

Ten minutes into first period, an unknown teacher entered to awkwardly 
state that no one knew where Kumayama was, and he would be the 
substitute for today.  Since Kumayama took vacation days about as often 
as he gave an easy test, the event was met with an impromptu party, 
much to the chagrin of the poor substitute.

Chips, cookies, and other unhealthy snack foods were produced.  Sodas, 
cups, plates, and napkins somehow found their way into the classroom.  
A hastily painted banner reading "Kumayama's Gone!" was thrown across 
the blackboard.  Somehow, several alcoholic beverages had found their 
way past the door, although this wasn't quite as unbelievable as the DJ 
who was setting up at the front of the class.  The substitute, one of 
those poor, kind, and relatively blameless people who just didn't have 
much in the way of backbone was understandably unable to face down 
thirty students acting like they had just won the lottery.  His attempt 
to cope with the unmitigated disaster involved the help of several of 
the aforementioned alcoholic beverages.

Seki and Lumi, of course, were given the seats of honor, as it was 
widely assumed that their ability to ace even the hardest of tests was 
responsible for the current lack of teacher.  Like many things that are 
widely assumed, this was both more and less true than anyone realized, 
depending on how you looked at it, although this is probably not worth 
pointing out.

Anyway, Seki responded with his usual funky demeanor, which is to say 
that he politely refrained from saying how flimsy the "seat of honor" 
looked (just like a normal chair with a sign saying "seat of honor" 
taped to the back, really).  Lumi-chan, on the other hand, didn't so 
much use her seat as not use it in a very dynamic manner.  Which is to 
say that she randomly bounced around like a sub-atomic particle, and 
occasionally landed in her chair (atomic physics could learn a lot from 
Lumi-chan; not many people have ever seen a living, breathing example 
of electron cloud theory).

Of course, the party didn't go unopposed.  However, having a tiny disco 
open up in a downstairs classroom had never happened before, and like 
most things that have never happened before, no one knew quite what to 
do.  The delegates sent down to put a stop to it had been handed a 
(possibly alcoholic) drink, told the good news, and absorbed into the 
celebration.  Likewise for any passing student or teacher who happened 
to poke their head in to see what all the fuss was about.  By 
lunchtime, the thing was growing like an amoeba and had already 
extended into the hallway and the three closest classrooms, with 
another two or three like to fall soon.

Not being a particularly big party person, Seki used the break to 
escape to his usual tree for lunch.  He didn't know who had set up all 
those flashing lights, but combined with the sounds which had been 
somewhat reliably confirmed as music (although Seki had heard music 
before and was fairly certain this was not it, he wasn't about to go so 
far as to outright contradict Yashiko) it was giving him urges most 
unbefitting an honorable furniture warrior such as himself.  After all, 
beating up helpless Day Jays would be truly dishonorable, no matter how 
loud their noise was.  Music was, he meant music was.  And, because he 
was honest about these things, he added to himself "probably."

For the record, at many times in her near random movements Lumi-chan 
had attempted to do something which was not entirely dissimilar to 
"getting down with her funky self," although the beat she attempted to 
do so with was definitely not in the room, and possibly not even in the 
realm of physical possibly.

But Lumi-chan's approach to dancing isn't what we're talking about 
here.  It's lunch time, wai!  With Lumi grabbing bits of lunch from 
both Yashiko's and Vanity's creations (despite the creators' best 
efforts), Seki was left with a more reasonable amount to consume (only 
enough to choke one and a half horses, or one point seven water 
buffalo).  While he did that, he talked to his mini-harem, and whenever 
his conversation included Vanity, it always seemed to lead around to 
the same argument.

Seki was not, on the whole, a person prone to anger.  Sure, he was a 
bit touchy about his weapon of choice (a bad habit picked up from 
spending a bit too much time with students of other dojos), but other 
than that, it was awfully hard to get under his skin.

Still, trying to convince Vanity to be her own woman could try the 
patience of a saint.  Hell, it could try the patience of IKEA.

Their conversation at lunch went (minus interruptions from Lumi-chan 
and Yashiko, which happened fairly often) something like this:

"You should not follow the orders of others.  Rather, stand on your own 
two feet."

"But you are my master.  I must do as you order."

"I do not want to be your master."

"I am the Rosewood Bride.  You are the current Champion of the Duels.  
I exist only to obey your wishes."

"But I do not wish to be your master."

"That does not matter.  I am the Rosewood Bride, you are the Champion.  
Therefore, you are my master."

"Well, why are you the Rosewood Bride?"

"I... do not understand."

"You say the Rosewood Bride must obey the Champion.  Why do you not 
stop being the Rosewood Bride?  Then you would no longer need to obey 
me."

"But I am the Rosewood Bride.  I cannot simply stop."

"Why not?"

"You may as well tell me to stop being human.  I am the Rosewood Bride.  
Therefore, I am the Rosewood Bride."

Seki paused.  That was as close to a real answer he had ever gotten 
from her.  Not that it made much sense to him, but at least he 
understood that somehow, at some fundamental level, Vanity believed 
that being the Rosewood Bride was as essential as breathing.  Perhaps 
some sort of brainwashing?  But Seki had never heard of brainwashing 
this deep, and wouldn't know how to counter it in any case...

Abruptly, Seki roused from his quiet pondering.  Finely tuned warrior 
senses shouted out that somewhere, something was wrong.  Very wrong.

Cocking an ear, he listened to the rustle of the trees... the wind over 
the grass... somewhere, something was going wrong, but all he could 
hear were the normal, everyday sounds of nature.  Not even an 
oppressive, unnatural silence that would foreshadow something bad.

Then he realized: there were no sounds but that of nature, which meant 
Yashiko and Lumi-chan were off somewhere else.  Probably together.  No 
good could come of this.

Rising to his feet, Seki shouldered his yak-hair tarpaulin-covered 
chair.  The path of a true warrior was never easy, although Seki was 
beginning to wish his particular path had fewer girls on it.  One or 
two would be okay, but three were a bit too many to handle.

"Once more into the breach," he said solemnly, and headed back into the 
party.

                       ***   ***   ***

Actually, Lumi-chan and Yashiko weren't at the party, but had run off 
into the wide campus somewhere after Yashiko started chasing off Lumi 
for stealing one too many octopus wieners.

Pay close attention to this, it's going to be important later.

Lumi hesitated and turned to face Yashiko as if undergoing a mental 
struggle (she was, she just wasn't conscious of it).  After pausing for 
a moment, she spoke up.  "Ne, Yashiko-oneechan, what's a 'ro-man-tic 
date?'"

Yashiko froze in midstep and, without any thought at all, her smile 
grew until it covered her entire face.  You could practically see the 
metaphorical equivalent of fox ears and a tail pop out of her.  "Well, 
Lumi-chan, it's like this..."

                       ***   ***   ***

In hindsight, it was really rather amazing.  Once the party hit six 
classrooms (half an hour after lunch) it reached a kind of critical 
mass.  Teachers no longer tried to stop it, but instead joined in, 
sometimes bringing their classes halfway across school to do so.  Once 
the band in the outdoor quad had started playing on the makeshift 
stage, practically half the school (most of the remaining students who 
were holding out) gave up the fight and grabbed a (possibly alcoholic) 
drink.

It was also amazing just how many people were pissed off at Kumayama.  
Not even the other teachers had liked him.

It might be worth mentioning that several people in various states of 
inebriation were sure they had seen the chairman in the extremely close 
company of female students (the exact number and descriptions varied 
from person to person, and no two accounts were exactly alike).  Still, 
this was a silly idea, since the chairman would hardly be seducing 
(apparently many different) students.  And besides, the chairman cut 
such a distinctive figure that if he really had been around, more than 
just a scattering of people would have seen him.  It was obvious, 
really.

Despite all efforts, however, the party was winding to a close when the 
bell rang signaling the end of school, mostly because the food was fast 
running out and the nearby convenience stores had long ago been raided 
dry.  Somehow, in a kind of group unconsciousness, it was decided that 
the upcoming duel between Seki and whichever student council member 
came forth would be the capper to the festivities.  As one, the student 
body took their seats around the Venerable Ancient Duelist's Arena and 
Squash Court.  How they got up there was a mystery to Seki, as he 
didn't see a single sound as he climbed what seemed like hundreds of 
floors worth of stairs.  And to make it worse, those damn new age 
musicians were still practicing right next door.  Why did they have to 
be the only students not mildly buzzed and waiting up top for a fight?

When he finally reached the top, Seki posed proudly and not even the 
slightest bit out of breath.  Across the ring was one of the largest 
men he had ever seen, a veritable human mountain.  Although, at the 
moment he wasn't terribly intimidating, as he was sprawled and 
apparently asleep on a large rolled out rug.  From what Seki could see, 
the pattern on the rug appeared to a single huge bear.

The man lying on it yawned hugely and rolled over to face Seki.  "So, 
the great hero finally appears."  Getting to his feet lazily, he slowly 
unfolded upwards.  Seki, a firm believer in "the bigger they are the 
harder they fall" was not impressed.  Much.

"I would have arrived sooner, only there were an awful lot of stairs," 
replied Seki calmly, setting his still-covered chair down in front of 
him.  "Before we begin, I wish to know your name and what it is you 
want with Vanity."

The giant shrugged.  "My name is Benma, trained in the high impact arts 
of the Ottoman Empire, although I'm not terribly fond of the bastards.  
I hear I have you to thank for their downfall?"

"Not me personally, although members of my dojo were involved-"

"WAI!  Lumi-chan helped!" yelled Lumi from the sidelines.  "It was lots 
and lots and lots of fun!  Ikea-oniichan was there, and we met 
Radiance-oneechan and next-next-next-next-next-or-something-cousin 
Shelly and lots of other nice people!  Although there wasn't much ice 
cream, which made Lumi-chan sad."

"...As I said, members of my dojo were involved," continued Seki with 
barely a dent in his cool bishonen-ness.  "However, you did not answer 
my question: what do you want with Vanity?"

"Anything."  Benma grinned at the confused response his answer drew.  
"That's what we're supposed to get for possessing her, you know.  When 
the game ends, whoever owns her gets anything they want, no matter how 
extravagant.  The world on a silver platter, infinite strength, the 
woman you love... anything."

"Stop, Benma!" yelled Kouto from the sidelines.  "You're not allowed to 
talk about the rules of the game!"

"What does it matter?" interrupted Kotaro.  "You gave him a brooch, 
Kouto.  He's the current Champion.  He might as well know the rules."

"So, you want this prize?" asked Seki.

Benma grinned again.  "Bah, of course not!  What kind of an idiot would 
believe that kind of prize existed?  I couldn't care less about that 
spineless idiot Vanity.  The one I'm interested in... is you!"

The bleachers shook with quite whispering.  "But, I thought you had a 
girl you liked..." said Kotaro hesitantly.

For a second, this seemed to take Benma off guard.  He blinked and 
mentally reviewed his last statement.  "Oh, not like that.  What I 
meant is that I want to beat the crap out of you, Seki!"  With a shout, 
Benma grabbed the corner of his rug and snapped it into the air.  
Somehow, he twisted it in such a way that it rolled itself back up in 
midair and landed on his shoulder in a ready position for an overhead 
strike.

Sensing the beginning of hostilities, Seki threw off his tarpaulin and 
raised his own weapon.  "What is it that I have done to anger you so?" 
he asked.

"Heh.  Waltzing in here and sticking out your neck to save the pretty 
little princess like you're some kind of hero, that's what."  Benma's 
grin disappeared, and his face became cold an emotionless, except with 
maybe a hint of scorn.  "I'm going to show you that heroes don't exist!  
Here I come!"

Benma rushed forward, lifting his rug upwards like a pilar while Seki 
also ran forward to meet him.  Their weapons clashed together, Benma's 
rug held in between the four legs of Seki's chair.  The two fighters 
pressed against each other for a few moments before Seki broke the 
clash with a shout of "RISING CHAIR FIRE!"  The attack knocked back his 
opponent a few feet, but Benma used the recoil to swing his rug back 
and around like a huge baseball bat at Seki.  Seki blocked the blow 
with his chair, but the sheer momentum still hurled him aside and into 
an ungraceful roll.

Seki shakily rose to his feet and stared at his opponent, who was now 
holding his rug like a lance.  "CROSS CHAIR SLASH!" he yelled, using 
the attack mostly to judge Benma's style and reaction to projectiles.

The student council member didn't seem concerned as the attack neared 
him, although he made no attempt to counter it with his own.  Just when 
Seki thought he would parry it with his rug, Benma snapped his rug out 
and unfolded it, somehow engulfing Seki's projectile.  With another 
snap and a yell of "ROLLING RUG RETURN!" Seki found himself looking 
down the business end of his own blast.  Rather than counter it, he 
dodged to the side, but when he looked around Benma was nowhere to be 
seen.

"Look out Brother Seki!" yelled Lumi-chan from the sidelines.  "He's 
above you!  He used his rug like a pole-vault!"

Seki looked up in shock.  There was Benma, twenty feet up and coming 
down fast, his rolled-up rug held at one like an oversized sword.  Seki 
did the obvious thing and dodged backwards as fast as he could.

Benma seemed to have accounted for the dodge, however.  In the last few 
feet before he landed, he yelled out "RUG ROLLING ROCK!" and brought 
down his weapon in an impact that cracked the ground, not to mention 
sent out a small two-foot high wave through the earth.

The wave only caused Seki to lose balance for a moment, but it was all 
Benma needed.  The giant jabbed forward with his rug and caught one of 
Seki's chair's legs in the center of the rolled up rug.  Swinging his 
rug a few degrees upwards invoked one of the principles of levers and 
forced Seki's weapon all the way over his head and behind him before he 
recovered.  Of course, this left him wide open, and Benma took full 
advantage of it.  The student council member first brought his rug back 
down on Seki's head, driving the furniture warrior to his knees, before 
delivering a thrust to the head that sent Seki sprawling back.  Benma 
finished the combo by spinning around 360 degrees and smashing Seki as 
he tried to get up.  This final blow sent Seki and his chair flying 
across the arena, and they both kept rolling until they hit one of the 
low walls that marked the arena edge.  Well, Seki hit the wall, and his 
chair hit him.  He didn't move, and the referee began to count down 
from ten.

Ten.

"Wow," said Kotaro succinctly.  "I see why they call him Black Bear 
Benma now."

Eight.

Ijima tilted her head and laughed.  "Ohoho.  You've never seen Benma 
fight seriously before, have you?  He doesn't get worked up like this 
often."

Six.

Kouto grimaced, but nodded in agreement.  "I hate to admit it, but when 
he's like this I don't this any of us has a chance of beating him.  
Seki is finished; I doubt he can even stand after taking the full power 
of that last Spinning Bear Blow."

Four.

"Ohoho, exactly.  Benma's rug is triple-reinforced with metal mesh 
woven right into the fabric.  Swung at that speed, Seki might as well 
have been hit with a car.  The Rosewood Bride is ours once more.  
Ohohohohoho-"

One.

"He's getting up," interrupted Kotaro.

"-hoho.  What?  Why, so he is.  Amazing, really."

"Up" was, in this case, a matter of opinion.  Seki was leaning heavily 
against the wall that had broken his fall (and nearly his neck), 
gasping for air, and shakily holding his chair out in front of him in a 
vain attempt at a battle stance that wouldn't have warded off the 
weakest of children back at the dojo.  Still, it was good enough for 
the ref, and he stopped counting.

"It's over, Seki," said Benma calmly, holding his rug by his side.  
"Don't make me hurt you anymore.

"...... ..... ....." replied Seki.

"You aren't a hero.  Just give it up," rationalized Benma.  "You can 
barely stand.  You don't really think you can beat me?"

Although no one noticed, somewhere in the bleachers Vanity began to 
glow green.

"....ty .sn.. ...rs," Seki mumbled.

"What's that?" asked Benma, curious at what thought was making the 
furniture warrior support himself on what was obviously sheer willpower 
alone.

"..nity isn.. ..urs," Seki mumbled again.

Benma sighed.  "I still can't hear you.  If you can't even speak up, I 
don't see how you're going to be able to fight-"

"VANITY ISN'T YOURS!" yelled Seki, and a column of brilliant green 
light shot out of him and into the sky.  It seemed almost like the 
light lifted the tired warrior up until he stood straight, not to 
mention several inches off the ground.

What happened next only took a few seconds of objective time, but 
seemed much longer to everyone watching.  The sky parted around the 
column of light like clouds being pushed away from a bomb explosion.  
It was like an invisible force was pushing the normal sky away to 
reveal what was behind it, and in this case what was behind it was... 
was...

A giant, floating, upside-down four-post bed.  There just isn't any 
other way to say it.

As beds go, this one was very nice.  It had pretty, slight pinkish 
drapes hanging from the top (or bottom, depending on which spacial 
orientation you were using).  The wood beautifully varnished and finely 
carved and decorated in places with gold gilt, but not enough gilt to 
make it look tasteless.  The back was beautifully carved, although the 
exact carvings seemed to shift from second to second in your mind so 
you couldn't quite see what was depicted.  You couldn't see inside it, 
but you got the feeling that there were lots and lots off tasteful and 
elegant and, most of all, expensive pillows and cushions and blankets 
and such.  It was the kind of bed a king or queen could use and feel 
pampered in.

Even though only about half a second went by, people felt like they had 
been staring at the bed for hours.  The trance shattered when a ghostly 
figure began floating down the pillar of light.  It had almond skin and 
short white hair, and a while uniform, but anything else was lost in 
the bright light.  It continued down and into Seki, until the two forms 
overlapped and you couldn't quite tell which one was which.  Or if 
there was even more than one.

The pillar of light cut off as suddenly as it had begun.  The floating 
figure had only taken about a second.

Seki lowered his chair and burst forward faster than he had been at the 
beginning of the match, apparently unbothered by the injuries he had 
taken.  Benma, shocked but not to the point of immobility, lowered his 
rug and charged.  Dimly his mind noted that Seki's chair seemed to be 
glowing green.

They crashed together in the center of the arena, thrusting rug against 
thrusting chair.  For a second it seemed that they would be evenly 
matched, but then Benma's rug began to tear.

Well, "tear" might not be as good a word as "explode."  The glowing 
chair ripped the triple-reinforced rug into pieces just a few inches 
large and scattered them to the wind.  Seki seemed unaware that he was 
shredding the equivalent of rolled up steel sheeting with nothing but 
the ki energy flowing out of his chair, but then again he also seemed 
unaware that there was even anything in the way of his attack.  
Finally, after tearing through Benma's entire rug, Seki struck his 
target, sending Benma flying into the student council's private seats.  
Thankfully, the other members had seen this coming and had already 
evacuated.

The ghostly green light faded and, when anyone thought to look up at 
the sky again, the bed was gone as well.

Benma was most emphatically unconscious.

The cheers of students rang across the arena as Seki collapsed.  He 
could think about what happened later, when he could do more important 
things like stand upright.

"That... That was His bed, wasn't it?" said Kotaro shakily.  "Where He 
and His power sleeps... wait, that thing Seki did, do you think that 
was His power?"

"Probably," said Ijima, for once without a laugh.  "I don't know of 
anything else that could shred Benma's rug like that."

"I wonder what End of the Rug will say about this..." said Kouto 
quietly.  "Well, Ijima, you'd better get training.  You're going to 
have to beat him next week."

"Wha- Er... Ohoho.  I will surely... hope he doesn't do that again," 
said Ijima honestly.  "It looks most painful."

                       ***   ***   ***

In the next exciting chapter of... FURNITURE WARRIORS X PLUS GREEK 
LETTERS AND STUFF:

WILL Ijima turn out to have an obsessive little brother who likes 
yellow and has a thing for kittens? (we can only hope)
WILL "He" get a real name?
WILL Lumi-chan grow up mentally, letting me stop writing "-chan" after 
her name every time to emphasize her childishness?
WILL Yashiko get more of a role?
WILL the picture in Benma's locket be seen?
WILL there be less Utena references? (probably)

Find out next time in Chapter Seven: Don't Let the Chair Bugs Bite!

                       ***   ***   ***

Ah, the author's notes, my favorite part.  First thing's first: I 
apologize for cramming all these Utena references in here.  I just got 
started and couldn't help it anymore.  I'll give some explanations of 
the most obvious.

Any Utena fan (or even just someone who's watched a few key episodes) 
should already be intimately familiar with Benma's locket and his 
motivations.  If you don't know, just ask any Utena fan about Juri's 
relationship to Shiori.  I'm not going to spell it out here because I 
don't want to mandate it; you can go with the classic Utena 
interpretation (I would, although future authors obviously don't have 
to) or you can use what I put down here and improvise (I tried to only 
mention a few pieces so as to leave wiggle-room if some future author 
wants to deviate).

Next, the Bed: we need a world-threatening power (it's mandatory for 
all fighting games and almost all animes), and the Utena one works 
awfully well, so I decided to just drag it in with a few variations.  I 
don't expect Seki to use it in every duel from now on, but against 
particularly tough opponents he probably should bust it out.  End of 
the Rug was meant to be the supreme manipulator behind the dueling 
game, with an awful lot of sheer power but also extremely skilled at 
memory and world manipulation (in short, not an enemy you can attack 
head-on no matter how powerful you are).  To give you a good idea of 
how his power works: he made the four families of the student council 
members think it was their idea to create the game rather than his.  In 
Utena, End of the World has nearly complete dominion over everything 
that happens in the school, but his control doesn't go far beyond the 
campus boundaries (this is oversimplifying it, but I'm talking for non-
fans here).  That's more or less what I'm shooting for here.  I suppose 
someone can always come and contradict me since I only implied a lot of 
stuff, but what the heck, that's impro.

I did sow the seeds for a more mature Lumi-chan, but please, please, 
PLEASE do not make her into a slut.  There is such a thing as middle 
ground here, and I tried to indicate that in the part, but it still 
deserves being emphasized here.  I say this mostly because I don't want 
to look back and think that I was the one responsible for turning a 
cute hyper ball of ice-cream cravings into someone who slept with half 
the high school.  I do recommend having End of the Rug try to seduce 
her, though.

Lastly, what will probably be my most controversial decision: killing 
Morticus.  I have three reasons for it, one of which is actually valid.  
First, he's annoying.  That's just my opinion, and is only grounds for 
dropping flowerpots on his head or something.  Second, he's cliched.  
Horribly, horribly cliched.  Let's see, mysterious plotter, dresses in 
black, carries a coffin, has a name derived from "Mort," wears a skull 
mask... it's a bit on the subtle side, maybe we should give him a 
scythe to go along with it?  Also, he seems a bit familiar, almost as 
if I've seen him in half the animes and most of the impros ever.  Now, 
the third reason (and the one that actually matters): he's unnecessary.  
I would have killed him (or at least radically screwed with him) even 
if he didn't fulfill the previous two conditions.  We have the student 
council for Seki's opponents and they can do any minor plotting 
necessary.  We also have the master plotter, End of the Rug, who might 
be a bit silly, what with ordering his minions to deliver him pizzas (I 
assume he used it as a trick to impress some girls), but is still 
supposed to be the man at large.  We really don't need some random 
plotter coming in somewhere in the middle.  If you need some plotting, 
bring in new secondary characters for the student council: siblings, 
old friends, people they have crushes on, people who have crushes on 
them, etc.  There's been very little exploration of the council members 
besides their powers, so have some fun and stretch your imagination.  A 
man is more than his weapon.  Really.

I think that's everything.  Have fun, and remember: no man is a table 
unto himself.

David Schwager (SLADElevel99@yahoo.com)