DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the Monkey Punch characters depicted in this fanfiction.


To the third installment in what had now become a trilogy! I hope that this offers many surprises, twists and turns for all of the readers, as many as the previous (season?) held. I'm pretty sure there will be some things that next to no one expected in here. A Yukiko and Toshiro romance? Hee hee…. We'll see how it goes, 'kay? Maybe they may even be other couplings, as well, hint, hint. Well, enjoy!

Chapter One

A Little while in the Future: Still Crazy After All These Years

'One, two, three, four,

Can I have a little more?

Five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten,

I love you,

A, B, C, D,

Can I bring my friend to tea?

E, F, G, H, I, J,

I love you,'

--The Beatles, 'All Together Now'

A lanky figure lied on the old white couch of the Madrid pool hall, a fedora laid over the eyes of the mystery person. The pool hall patrons muttered to one another quietly as they looked downward at the white-suited being; he or she had been there for a great deal of time.

"You think he's dead?" one whispered, "He's been there for quite a while, now…"

"Nah, he's just sleeping… And that's a woman," another whispered back.

"A woman, eh? This could be fun," laughed one particularly large pool player. He slowly crept towards the sleeping figure, who appeared to be snoring gently on the couch. As he came within inches of her, he slowly stretched out his hands towards her. Just as he was about to wrap them about her neck, he came face to face with the barrel of a magnum.

"Unless you plan on losing anything vital, I suggest you move back a few paces," she mumbled. The man, stunned, slowly backed away from her. Just as he did, another lunged at her with a pool stick in hand. All watched in shocked silence as a shot fired, and the pool stick split into two pieces.

"What the hell is that?" asked one to another.

"Whatever it is, it's going to be dead in three seconds," growled the man who had tried to put his hands about her neck, "C'mon. She's got one gun that we could probably take from her easily. How hard could fighting one woman really be?"

"Yeah," the others nodded, and slowly circled her. The white-suited woman raised her fedora over her eyes, and then rolled her eyes.

"Well, I've gone and done it now…" she mumbled to herself. She fired a single shot, causing a ceiling fan to fall from the old roof and scaring the men out of their formation briefly, and ran out of their circle. The group of men blocked the different exits, and drew their own weapons at her.

"This ain't good," she mumbled to herself as they circled around her, now with their weapons drawn at her.

"Hey, I…" one man choked, and slowly fell to his knees. The others watched puzzled, and looked in horror as they saw a sword sticking out of his back. They all parted, and backed up against the walls. All save for the woman and white, who sat crouched on the ground, her gun drawn.

Her savior was Asian, and stood an unusual height of 6'1. His hair was down to his shoulders, and there was a natural part in it. Part of his bangs covered one of his dark brown eyes, which watched the pool hall players suspiciously. He wore a traditional gi and wooden sandals. The pants to the gi were light blue, and the top was of a matching light shade of blue with a white collar.

The gunwoman's eyes opened in shock as she realized who the man in front of her cleaning off his sword was. He wiped the sword off, and placed it back in its sheath, which he wore on his back. He wore two swords on his back, which was also unusual.

She smirked smugly, and put her gun back in its holster, "C'mon, I'll buy you a beer."

"Do you have gin?" he asked in a surprisingly thick Brooklyn accent.

"Sure," she nodded, and seated herself at the bar calmly while the pool players still stood against the wall and looked down at their dead comrade. She banged on the bar counter a few times, and the bartender nervously approached her, "A beer for me, and a gin for my friend here."

"Right away," he nodded, and quickly poured the gin into a shot and retrieved a beer from the refrigerator.

"So, how've you been?" he asked quietly as he sipped his gin.

"Can't complain. They have a nickname for me, here. White Devil," she looked back at the horrified pool players, "Ain't that right, fellas?"

"Yes!" all shouted hastily in response.

Later, Outside of the Bar:

"Thanks for the drink," Toshiro said with a smirk as he and Yukiko walked out of the bar, "How about a lift as my form of gratitude?"

"That'd be great! Walking in these shoes hurts after a while," Yukiko admitted. "Hey, uh, where's your car?" she inquired as she looked around the parking lot.

"I don't have one," Toshiro answered, and nodded towards the corner of the bar.

"You've got to be kidding me," Yukiko mumbled numbly as she laid eyes on the yellow Vespa, "What, did I catch you in the middle of your paper route or something?"

"Very funny. This can go 80 if needed," Toshiro responded.

"I thought a Vespa couldn't go over 60," said Yukiko in confusion.

"I modified it a little," Toshiro shrugged in response, "Come on, hop on."

"Well, you still don't have the car," Yukiko sighed in disappointment.

"And you still don't have the chest," Toshiro retorted. As he lifted his foot, Yukiko laid the tip of her shoe on his sandal. Toshiro toppled to the ground moments later.

He looked upward from the ground, and he watched, half amused, half annoyed, as Yukiko calmly walked over to the Vespa and climbed onto the back of the seat, "Well, are we going, or not?" she asked.

"We're going… Ouch…" he grumbled as he rose and hobbled over to the motorbike. He climbed on, and quickly pressed down the gas to its full potential. Yukiko quickly clutched onto the samurai's chest with one arm and held down her hat with her hand.

"You bastard! I could've fallen off and broken my ass!" Yukiko screamed angrily to Toshiro.

"Don't worry—With any luck, you would've fallen on your head!" Toshiro yelled over the rumbling of the Vespa.

A Local Park in Spain:

"So, we have to steal it back?" Yukiko concluded as she laid out on one of the metal benches of the Spanish park. She and Toshiro had found a series of benches, which circled a fountain, which was a statue of a famous Spanish soldier mounted on a horse, prepared for battle. Toshiro had purchased a bag of seeds, and calmly fed the pigeons while he explained everything to the reclined Yukiko.

"That's what Fuji told me on the phone," replied Toshiro quietly.

"How about your brother and sister? Are they in on the deal?"

"Mom will be glad to have Heiji out of the house, but I think Odori's too busy on the road to enlightenment to care," Toshiro answered.

A Spacious Home in Osaka:

"Heiji, it's for you!" Amaya Ishikawa yelled up the stairs to her son, who was still in his bedroom.

"Okay!" a voice screamed from the other side of the doors.

A young Asian man picked up the phone, only after putting the video game he had been playing on pause, "Hello? Oh, Bonjour Monsieur Prime Minister! The spyware, for the enemy's computer system? Ah, yes—It's all done! I'm going to ship it off to you in the morning! Yes, yes—Right into the back account. No, you know I don't take cash—We've been over this before. All right, all right…. Well, it was a pleasure doing business with you, too! Tell me how the missile program goes, all right? Okay, goodbye." Heiji Ishikawa sighed, and hung up the phone, "Nag, nag, nag… All these world superpowers ever do is nag at me… Ishikawa-Sama, please, we need the virus… Senor Ishikawa, spyware, por favor… Damn, it's enough to make me as batty as great-grandpa… Or Odori…"

There was a knock on the door, and Heiji pretended not to take notice of the knocking. A few moments later, the door was busted open, and a small Korean woman in a red and white gi stood in the midst of Heiji.

"Dinner is ready, oh Lord of the Nerds," said the tiny but vicious-looking girl. Her gi pants were white, whereas the top was red, with a white band. She wore her long hair back in a high ponytail, and bangs drooped over her glaring eyes. In her hand there was a familiar wooden sheathed sword; Zanteksu. He father had been teaching her how to wield the incredible blade, for Odori seemed to be the best at handling such a sword. Heiji was more technically inclined, although he was able to wield a blade if needed, and Toshiro used two swords, something which confused his father to an extent. What needed to be done should only take one swipe of one blade, Goemon had told him. Toshiro would take this advice lightly, however, and blame it on his father's medication.

"Odori, aren't we our usual ball of happy sunshine?" Heiji smirked sarcastically, "I'll be done in five minutes; I don't want to rush down there with the others. They're brutal."

"You're just weak," Odori countered.

"Hey, does it hurt when you smile? I'm just curious," Heiji smirked. Odori growled quietly, closed her eyes, mumbled a meditation and left Heiji.

Heiji chuckled to himself, and rose. He was only about 5'7, but he was the second-to-tallest child of the Ishikawas. He was slightly pudgy, but not enough to matter, and wore black-framed plastic glasses, due to mild astigmatism. He wore his hair much like his father and his older brother, but this was only due to the fact that any other hairstyles looked horrible on him. He wore a pair of sandals, blue pants, a white shirt, and a blue short-sleeve button up shirt over this, which usually went unbuttoned. Although he had been raised with traditional aspects, he took his mother's fascination with electronics. But he could give a glare that could stop anyone dead in their tracks, much like his father.

"Heiji, Odori, Toshiro called," said an older Amaya as Heiji walked down the stairs to eat dinner with the rest of his family. Heiji seated himself at the table, along with his three younger sisters (including Odori) and his two younger brothers. Odori was Korean, and Heiji's younger sisters were twin Vietnamese girls. His three brothers were Chinese, Japanese, and Filipino in origin. His mother and father had traveled all over Asia in order to have the big family they had both always wanted. And with the savings the two had accumulated over their years in the thieving business, they were able to live more than comfortably in their home with all of the children.

"Yeah, what'd he say?" asked Heiji and he reached for a bowl of rice on the table.

"Fuji called him. She says there's a job," Amaya replied nonchalantly as she walked into the kitchen and came out with a pill box, "Here, nearly forgot."

"I didn't. I was hoping you had," Goemon replied.

"Hey, I know it's a lot, but it's what the doctor said will help you to get better. Especially after what happened," Amaya replied solemnly.

"I won't take it for the doctors, but I'll take it for you," Goemon said as he opened the pillbox.

"Hey, at least you're not crazy, like the rest of your family," said Heiji lightly. Odori glared at her older brother, and considered stabbing him with her chopsticks.

"It is true," Goemon nodded as he swallowed a few of the pills, and downed them with water, "Odori, we will finish practicing after dinner."

"Yes, Papa," Odori nodded.

"Not too much now, though. I want you living at least until they're all graduated from college," Amaya warned.

"I'll call Toshiro back in a little bit, Mom. Say, where was he calling from, anyway?"


"Must've gone to see her, then," said Heiji with a smile, "He always goes running back to her in the end. Hey, do you think I should call Ally and Ryo?"

"Ally's probably at practice by now, and the gods only know where Ryo is. But you can try," Amaya answered.

Chicago, Illinois, at an ice rink:

"And LeFretti takes the puck from Jigen, and he SCORES!" the faceless announcer shouted over the microphone in the ice rink. The crowds of people cheered happily, and all on the other team seemed disappointed that the other team had scored, save for one player, who just looked like he wanted to kill LeFretti.

A single played skated up to LeFretti, and removed his glove, and extended his hand. LeFretti looked downward, smiled, and reached out to shake his opponent's hand, but in a surprise move, the other player put LeFretti into a headlock, and began to hit him over the head, all while LeFretti tried to escape. Even when he did escape, the other player began to beat LeFretti with his hockey stick, and yell at him.

"Lousy son of a whore! You stole that puck from me, you no good, lying cheat! I'm gonna bash your brains in!" screamed the hockey player who was beating the other.

It took two referees to pull him off the ice, and three medics to pull LeFretti off of the ice.

"What in God's name do you think you were doing!? You're not a Mafia batboy, Jigen! You were playing hockey for a children's charity!" shouted the hot-tempered player's coach after the game, "I've got dozens of crying kids who watched you pummel their favorite player, and even more pissed off mothers who are convinced you should be committed!"

"He took the puck from me," Ally Jigen responded with a calm shrug as he removed his helmet and set it in his locker.

"You're good, but you have the worst damned temper I've ever seen!" screamed the coach, "What the hell am I gonna do with you!?"

"Let me get a shower," Ally answered as he removed his Blackhawks jersey and tossed it into the locker. The coach, frustrated by the player, stormed out of the locker room, banging at the lockers as he passed. Ally shrugged, and removed his mouthpiece, "Jeeze, I should not be playing a game like this when tooth problems run in the family…" he mumbled.

Ally looked almost eerily like his father, save for a few facts. He did not wear a beard, much like his father had, and instead of wearing his hair slicked back, he wore it with his bangs over his eyes, completely hiding his eyes from the average looker. He did have the same olive skin, though, as well as the pointy nose. He was also about the same height as his father.

After he showered, he changed into a pair of black dress shoes, a pair of black slacks, a white dress shirt, and a tie. He picked up his suit jacket, and whistled as he exited the locker room, oblivious to the leers of his fellow teammates.

"Maybe I should start wearing a hat; I wouldn't be able to see these creeps as easily," mumbled Ally as he vacated the hockey rink. He looked around outside, and noted all of the glaring mothers staring him down and all of the children of the mothers crying. When he got to his car, a familiar pink Alfa Romeo, he noticed that his tires had been slashed.

"That's great… Well, I would call Ryo or Yukiko, but they're off in Spain and Australia doing only God knows what…" he mumbled as he kicked at one of his tires, "That's my luck, I guess… We'll I'm hoofin' it to the house. I don't think anyone wants to give me a ride home right now… Unless it's in the trunk…"

Ally returned later that evening to his family's all-too normal looking suburban home, and was first greeted by the family dog, Martha III. Ming came to the doorway moments later, smiling hopefully, "Hey, Ally, how was your day?"

"Beat up a hockey player in front of a large group of children…" Ally replied nonchalantly, "Hey, are we having Lo Mein for dinner?"

"Wait, wait, back up… You beat up a hockey player?" Ming choked.

"Yeah… Well, he kinda stole the puck from me, so I showed him that I didn't take too kindly to anyone stealing from me…" Ally replied.

"Jeeze… Your dad's going to kill you…" Ming groaned, "You have a temper almost as bad as mine… You've got to control it, Ally! It's going to get you into trouble yet! Each time you've gone off on a job with your dad or your sisters, you blow up on someone and nearly kill them and everyone else in the process!"

"I know, I know," Ally mumbled, "Hey, where is Dad, anyway?"

"Polishing his rifle collection in the basement," Ming answered, "Go in slowly! You don't want to scare him too badly! Especially when he's working with his weapons! He gets a little jumpy…"

"And that's why Martha's no longer a twin," Ally finished.

"Oh, and you got a call from Heiji!" Ming remembered, "He wants you to call him! Toshiro called him, and Fuji called Toshiro! She wants to go on a heist or something…"

"Really?" Ally smiled, "All right! Finally, some action! It's about damn time! I'm gonna go call Ryo!"

Sydney, Australia:

"Fire!" shouted an olive-skinned woman to the man working the clay pigeon launcher. The gunmen watched in shock as she fired at each of the clay pigeons, hitting each one with unbelievable accuracy.

"I've seen only one other person do that in my lifetime, and that was nearly thirty years ago…" mumbled one man.

"Yeah, that was my Daddy," she replied in a cool laugh as she reloaded her manual rifle.


"Yep. If I had a hat on, you'd recognize the resemblance," she chuckled as she clicked the chamber, and spun it around once, "Fire!" she yelled. They watched in awe as she continued hit the targets on sight.

"Excuse me, is there a Ryo here?" an attendant from the front desk asked.

"That'd be me," Ryo replied, placing her gun in its holster and walking with him back to the front counter.

"I'd ask her for a drink, but I'd be afraid of her shooting me," mumbled one of the gunmen. The others nodded numbly in agreement.

Ryo had taken much after mother, but some resemblance to her father was apparent. She had the same skin tone as her father, as well as his thick, wavy black hair and his widow's peak. She had acquired an attractive figure, and a cool personality, in her years. She wore numerous bracelets, light makeup, red pump heels, a red U-neck blouse, and tight denim blue jeans. Her hair was usually worn slicked back, and brushed her shoulders.

"Hello?" she inquired as she picked up the phone, "Hi, Ally! Fuji? Oh, really? You don't say… Well, I'll pack my bags right away, and I'll be out on the next flight to, where? The Bahamas? 'Kay. See you there. Oh, how'd your hockey game go? What to you mean… In front of who? Oh, Daisuke… Yukiko and I will talk to you later! Bye…"

The Bahamas, a few nights later, at a posh restaurant:

"Where are they?" Yukiko mumbled as she sat uncomfortably at the large dinner table. Both had worn their usual attire, not feeling the need to dress up for the event. Fuji had actually requested that they dress as they usually did.

"I can't believe you had me valet park my Vespa," Toshiro mumbled.

"Hey, I was just as embarrassed as you! Serves you right, for driving such a piece of crap... You'rea friggin' joke for a samurai. You sound like Joe Piesci and look like someone out of an Akira Kurosawa flick. You're like a badly dubbed samurai movie, you know that?"

"Quiet, already," Toshiro mumbled as he sipped his drink, "Don't look now—It's Heiji and Dori."

"I love how happy your sister always looks—Especially when she's around your brother," Yukiko chuckled.

"Hey, at least neither of them have been put in therapy before, much like your squirrel-hating brother…" Toshiro mumbled.

"Hey, Ally only shot three!"

"Before he was caught. He shoots animals—That's a sign of a serial killer," warned Toshiro.

"That's a sign of someone who was given a Smith and Wesson on the fifth birthday," Yukiko countered. Odori and Heiji seated themselves at the table, and after saying hello to Yukiko and Toshiro, they ordered their meals. Heiji was obviously embarrassed when Odori inquired to the waiter if they carried Miso soup.

"I honestly didn't think you would show, Odori," admitted Toshiro.

"Really? What about me, huh?" Heiji smiled. Toshiro remained silent, and looked downward at his wineglass. Yukiko coughed, and excused herself from the table.

"Toshiro, how's Julia?" inquired Odori. Toshiro sat there a few moments quietly before also excusing himself from the table silently.

"What'd I say?" Odori wondered out loud.

Toshiro opened the door to the balcony outside, and was shocked to see Yukiko smoking while looking out at the Bahamas beach, "What are you doing?"

"Hey, don't tell anyone, okay? No one knows," said Yukiko calmly, "You want one, Toshiro?"

"No, thanks," Toshiro replied as he leaned on the stone balcony, "The others will be coming soon. So finish the cigarette and let's hurry in, all right?"

"Okay," she nodded, and after a few more puffs of the cigarette, she threw it over the side of the balcony, and walked back in with him. Ally and Ryo had already arrived, and Ryo smiled as she watched the two sit down next to one another.

"Well, if it isn't the happy couple?" Ryo smirked wryly.

"Eh… Where's Fuji?" Yukiko asked, pulling her fedora over her eyes.

"Probably going to make a grand entrance any second, knowing her," Toshiro replied calmly. Moments later, there was a loud laughing sound, and Fujiko Lupin II made her grand entrance.

She looked almost exactly like Fujiko (including bust), save for a black hair color, which was a shade similar to her father's. Her personality was also much like her father's. She loved men almost as much as her father loved women. She wore red pair of high-heeled shoes, which matched her short V-neck red dress. Over her spaghetti-strapped dress she wore a blue denim jacket, which was long sleeved. Although the sleeves were long, the jacket itself was short in length.

"Sorry, guys. Just got back from a date with a couple of very lovely and very wealthy gentlemen," Fuji smirked as she seated herself in the center of them all, "Well, we're all here, now, so we best get down to business."

"Wait… What about Ari and Max?" Ally inquired.

Fuji glared, "They're off doing their own things… We don't need them, anyway. We all know how they are…. Well, fellas, what do you say we get our lobster dinners, and I explain to you why I gathered you all here."

"Sounds like a plan to me!" Ally laughed, "And it's better than going to court over assault charges any day!"

Fuji paused, "I want to know the story behind those assault charges, but let's wait until later for that… Right now, we have a lot to cover, and little time before Yukiko's drunk."

"Ha ha… Start talkin'," Yukiko demanded.

"Okay," Fuji nodded, and removed a folded sheet of paper from one of her jacket pockets. She rose over the table, and laid it over the round dining surface.