The Stranded Samurai

  Whether it was due to Samira's lone tattooed arm, his Bakumatsu style haircut, or the doormaker's Nordic furs and face paint, Shinjiro didn't know, but even with his poor eyesight he could tell there wasn't a single set of eyes in the izakaya that wasn't glued to the trio sitting at the bar.

"This was a terrible idea," Shinjiro said, tucking the sword into his suit jacket despite the throbbing in his eyes.

"We agree on one thing," Samira said, crossing her arms and glancing at him from the other side of the Norseman.

"This is how I like to do business-hee!" the man said, throwing his full pitcher of beer back and drinking half in one go.

"Then let's get to business, Mister Doormaker."

"Doormaker?" he asked, tilting his head. "That's silly! I'm a carpenter!" Shinjiro glared at Samira, who puckered her lips out and looked away.

"Hee! So, you want to know if you can go back to your time, Shinjiro Oto?"

"Actually, I'd like you to take me back this instant," Shinjiro replied, tapping the bartop as his eyes darted around the crowded room.

"Tee! Of course I can't do that," the man said, regarding him like he was the crazy one. "You have a contract with this young lady.

"You say that, but I don't remember agreeing to being ripped from my home."

"You may not have, but she did. So, you see, my hands are tied," he said, holding his hands up before looking at them, giggling, and putting them down.

"So you're saying I have no choice?"

"All you have to do is fulfill the terms of the contract-tee!"

"And those are?"

The doormaker looked at Samira, and chuckled. "You really should have read the fineprint when I asked. Now he's going to be angry at both of us."

"I was in a hurry," Samira said in the loudest whisper possible. "You knew that."

"Please just tell me…"

"Okay, okay," the man said, folding his hands together. "The summoned person must serve the needs of the one who requested their summoning. They cannot go back to their time period unless the requestor is truly satisfied with their service. A door for the summoned person will not be made unless this requirement is met according to the requestor's heart."

"You have to be kidding me…"

"W-well I did tell you as much, didn't I?" Samira said, averting her eyes.

"Ahem," the doormaker said. "To ensure the summoned person is working to fulfill the requestor's needs, a toll must be paid. If they act against the requestor's wish made at the time of summoning, even the slightest rebellion, they will feel a physical toll relevant to the struggles their body faced in their own time period."

"So that's what this is…" Shinjiro muttered, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and finger. "Wait…I'm supposed to protect her, so why the hell would it hurt when I touch…" He stopped, glancing at the confused girl, and sighed. "So basically, I got screwed into a deal that only exploits me with a contract that was signed hundreds of years in the future, without my permission."

"That's the long and short of it," he replied, grinning. "There's more. Would you like to hear it?"

"More? Give me a break. I'll just drink myself to death tonight, how about that?"

The door burst open, turning all eyes away from the three at last. A man, sporting only his underwear and a disheveled mohawk, looked around as the crowd of suited men laughed at him. He seemed to be looking for a friend, but instead, he found the man wearing his clothes.

"Uh oh," Samira said, while the two men chugged their pitchers.

"Hey! That guy and the girl stole my clothes! Her and the Viking are wanted by the boss, too!"

Shinjiro's vision was indeed poor, but he could tell all the yakuza in the bar were pointing guns and blades in their direction.

"Get down!"

He had no choice but to use the sword in his belt, knowing what would happen. Bullets flew, glass shattered, beer spilled, and blood sputtered across the bar. Shinjiro managed to throw Samira over the bartop while deflecting the first few bullets. As she landed on her backside with a yelp, he dashed into the crowd, making quick work of the gunmen. In seconds, all of their guns were either broken or their arms sliced off from the wrist.

The men, spirited by alcohol and ego, still rushed in, drawing swords. Shinjiro dispatched one after another, his head pounding and eyesight narrowing more with each slash, while the Doormaker smashed beer pitchers across two men's faces at once.

"So, do you want to hear the rest-tee?"

"Now isn't the time for that!" Shinjiro and Samira cried simultaneously. For a moment, Shinjiro's head found relief, and he saw the room clearly.

"Huh?"

The relief was gone in a moment, but not before he'd slashed three more men.

"The requestor should reward the summoned person for working to fulfill their purpose, simply by doing or saying things the summoned person will like. In other words, making them happy."

"What?" Samira cried, peeking from behind the bartop for a moment, only to duck back as a pitcher flew over her head.

"Maybe you should have read the fineprint!" Shinjiro said, gritting his teeth as he struggled to cut down two men, his eyesight worsening by the second.

"I did tell her that-hee!"

Someone managed to get a punch in before Shinjiro slashed him in the chest despite being unable to see it. Another man kicked him from behind, and a third man landed a grazing blow to his back.

"He's paying the toll right now, requestor," the Doormaker said, grinning at Samira as he smashed a pitcher over a table and watched the shards fly like arrows into several men.

"W-well what do I do?" Samira cried. "I don't know what he likes! Hey, samurai, give me ideas!"

"Figure it out yourself," Shinjiro replied, focusing on abating his attackers. "You brought me into this, remember? Promise to get me back to my time, that's a good start!"

"Okay, fine, I'll let you go back!" She watched with bated breath to see if her spell worked, but Shinjiro continued to struggle, and suffered two more cuts.

"Why didn't that work? You're too hard to please! You've already proven you're strong, so I'm pretty sure you can handle this on your own, anyway. Why do you need my help? I don't even know what's hurting you, so how can I help make it better?"

He didn't know what part of what she said worked, but his eyes burst open for another second, allowing him to finish off the last five men around him.

The Doormaker giggled and clapped before stepping over a body to chug the last pitcher of beer left standing. "Hee! Well done. Looks like you two will get along well after all."

Shinjiro promptly dropped the sword, and saw the half-hidden Samira clearly, thanks to whatever it was she'd said. Once he realized she must be thinking about the same thing, he felt his cheeks turn red at the same time as he watched hers.