Recherche: Getting to Know You

 Recherché Chapter Ten 

There on the crest of the hill stood Genma, his chest puffed with pride. "Brought you up this way on purpose, behold …the Fire Temple,” he said flinging wide his arms.  “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Five steps behind him, a wearied Kotetsu huffed, "There was an easier way to get here, wasn’t there?"

“Maybe,” he laughed, “but you have to admit it’s majesty was worth the trip.”

Ignoring the murderous gleam in his friend’s eye, Izumo positioned himself between the men. “It’s not every day we see something like this Genma," he said.  "I don’t know how to thank you.”

Rubbing at the stitch in his side, Kotetsu grumped, “Well I do ‘Zumo.  Soon as I catch my breath... I'm gonna strangle him ... and then …you.”

“Remember, we’re doing this for Iruka,” came the snipped reply from the side of his mouth. “You’re right, Tetsu, they did a remarkable job of incorporating the additions.”

“Naturally,” Genma said as his yellow toothed grin stretched wider.  “The finest artisans and construction workers in the five nations make their home right here in Konoha.  You see that building over there?  That’s where the first group of monks used to spend their days meditating, studying bugei and practicing bujutsu; they were the Daimyo’s original guards and protectors of the cargo ships back in the early days. Bout thirty years ago, Hashirama Senju gifted the monks with another five acres of land and they … wait a minute Izumo, how’d you know about the additions?”

“Told you I was born in Konoha ... lived here for almost ten years. Before we moved they were almost finished with the newer buildings --”

“Oh, right,” Genma sheepishly said, “it’s coming back to me now.”

"Amazing, I can still remember the fragrance of incense they used on special occasions; the winds used to carry the aroma through the town on a summer's day--"

“Damn shame, that's what it was .. couldna happened at a worse time.”

“For cryin' out loud, 'Zumo! All this stoppin’ and startin’ is getting on my nerves.  Damn fool can’t’ stay on one subject for--”

“Shhh!  Sorry Genma … you were saying?”

“Hyuga girl's death ...what a hell of a way to kick off mating season.”

“Pardon?  A death relates to the temple's buildings and the ‘mating season', how?”

“Sorry … didn’t realize I said bit out loud.”

“There's a big surprise,” Kotetsu mumbled. 

“Half the territory is gonna come out to see her on a sad occasion – her tsuya is tonight, you know   Had she lived, a select few would’ve seen her at her brightest and best at this same temple …  on her wedding day, I mean.”

“Alright … we’re with you so far,” Izumo said, “but what about--?”  

“The 'mating season'?  We’re in it right now.  The time of year when rich folk get together with their lawyers and matchmakers and plan next spring’s nuptials, a combining of fortunes, if you will.  Konoha is near to ratifying trade agreements with Europe and that means new money’s gonna pour into the territory.  Well, enough of that romance and finance stuff.   That building over there is the lecture hall; you’ll find most of the monks this time of morning.  I’m gonna head off to the gardens on your left and hopefully catch the chief priest before he starts meditating. You know, I kinda feel sorry for the new kid,” he said as they began their descent.

“Let me guess, he’s not talking about the head priest, is he?”

“Oh, excuse me, terrible habit … people tell me I’m a 'stream of consciousness' man; that’s a nice way of saying I blurt out what I’m thinking.”

“Psycho … is a more accurate term.  Don’t know how much more I can take of this guy, Zumo--”

“About a year ago, yeah, that's right ...that young man came here to bury his father’s ashes,” Genma said.   “Heard he used to live in Europe too.”

Izumo and Kotetsu held their tongues, having agreed silence would squeeze more from their ‘fat little duck’.

“Comes from old money he does, they probably talked him into hosting one of their shindigs by now.  Makes sense … he’s filthy rich and a bachelor to boot,” he said tapping his pipe against the palm of his hand.  “Father left him that huge mansion near the cemetery, owns about fifty acres of land further to the west and he’s got a house full of servants too.  Businessmen been flocking around him like vultures ever since he got back; picking his brain, seeing if he’s got contacts over there they can exploit. Yep, I feel sorry for the new kid.”

“Well, I can tell you’re a world traveler,” Kotetsu mocked.  “Europe’s vast, think you could be more specific?”

“Hmm," he said tamping the tobacco down in the bowl, "somebody said he used to live in London.”

“Really? That’s exciting news!  There only about fifty Japanese people where we lived, so it’s possible we know him,” Izumo explained. “What's his name, Genma?”

“Names of folks I don't see on the regular get away from me, but I never forget a face.  Saw him the night he arrived, he said, patting down his pockets for a matchbox.  "Handsome lanky fella, I remember thinking how strange it was to see a head full of gray hair on such a young man; must be a family trait, that or somebody gave him a good fright.   Something’s wrong with his left eye too, eyepatch barely covered a wicked lookin’ scar.”  The biting smell of phosphorous and tobacco brought tears to their eyes as Genma puffed away.  “Surname is Hajame or Hataji … something like that.”

Kotetsu and Izumo turned to one another smiling broadly.

“Hatake,” they whispered.

 Recherché

One uninterrupted hour, that’s all she wanted; sixty minutes of serenity, that’s all she needed to clear her mind, reorganize her priorities and loosen that annoying crick in her neck.  With an eye to evading recognition, she’d left her hair unbound, exchanged the familiar green haori for a sapphire outer cloak and forsook her usual spot under a spreading tree. Unfortunately, even holding a tabloid newspaper before her face didn't keep the steady stream of townsfolk from stopping by to express support and share their concerns.

Should have followed my first mind and took myself home for a nap when I had the chance, she thought when the last of the well-wishers dispersed.  Might as well go back to the office … sure Ibiki’s there by now. As she stood, most of the newspaper slipped free of her lap, scattering itself over the bench.  With a mumbled curse and a quick pivot, she turned to retrieve it.  Suddenly, something sturdy collided with her hip and the ground rose to meet her. What the hell?

“Gosh, I’m sorry ma’am ... wasn’t watching where I was going.” A brown arm shot across her chest, shielding her from impact with the sharp gravel surrounding the bench; a warm hand caught her by the elbow, and the concerned face of a panicked young man abruptly appeared in her line of sight.  

“I’ll thank you to unhand me,” she gruffly said glancing down at the arm smashed against her bosom.

“Oh … pardon me. Didn’t hurt you, did I?   Again, I'm so sorry.”

Set to give him a piece of her mind once she could stand unaided, the moment she saw those kind brown eyes brimming with fretfulness, she lost the will to chew him out.   “I’m fine … question is,” she said pointing to his bloodied bandaged hand, “are you alright?”

Recherché

“Damn… more stairs Zumo?”

“What did you think those long white stone things leading up to the temple gates were ... flocks of seagulls?”

He stroked at his goatee as he stared off into the distance. “You’re a regular riot, but if you look at 'em sideways, like this,” he said tilting his head, “kinda look like slices of coconut layer cake.”

“Coconut layer cake?  Oh no, it’s happening again!”

Genma nervously looked back and forth between them. “What? What’s happening?”    Watching Kotetsu stagger off the steps toward an open area ringed with fruit trees to their right, he grabbed at Izumo’s wrist, “What’s wrong with him?”

Izumo waited quietly as Kotetsu tottered onto a patch of grass and unceremoniously dropped to his knees.  He’s playing this to the hilt.  Guess I'll have to step up my game too, he thought, turning to the mortified mortician.  “Having one of his spells,” he whispered.  “Before we left London, Kotetsu was diagnosed with a serious illness … narcolepsy, that's what the doctor said.  Ever heard of it?”

Genma shook his head. “Never, and I pride myself on keeping abreast of the latest illnesses.  Death certificates are legal documents don't you know; hafta provide an accurate cause of demise.  Narcolepsy,” he sounded out the word carefully, “that’s a new one on me. He’s so young." He paused, looking around Izumo to the shallow breathing man on his knees. "Seemed healthy he did.  “This illness ... it’s not fatal, is it?”

Excusing the hopeful note in the undertaker’s voice, Izumo kept a straight face saying, “Afraid not.  More than anything it's embarrassing.  He’s awful sensitive about it Genma, please … don’t tease him when he comes around.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it!”

Just then, Kotetsu keeled over, crumpling onto his side as Genma’s eyebrows disappeared under the hat’s headband.  “What’s happening to him now?”

“That my friend, is cataplexy . . . a sudden, uncontrollable loss of muscle tone triggered by intense emotion; usually happens before the narcolepsy takes firm hold of him. These episodes come on stronger when he’s overtired or famished,” he calmly said as they walked to the place Kotetsu lay.

“Had I but known he was in poor health ...would’ve taken the shortcut.”

“Relax, it’s not entirely your fault.  I should have made him eat something before we left his morning.  Come on, help me get him to that tree over there and onto his back.”

Dragged a short distance and shifted into a supine position between them, Genma leaned over Kotetsu’s body. “How long you think he’ll be out of it?”

“Oh ... I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he cautioned when Genma moved to check his friend’s pulse.  “Might attack you … learned that the hard way.  Just leave him be – in a few minutes or a half an hour, he’ll wake refreshed, completely unaware of how he got here,” he said leaning against the tree.   “Let's make the best of this situation, shall we?”

Glancing down on the stricken man, up to Izumo and finally toward the temple, Genma said, “Feel kinda responsible for his state, I’m real sorry about that.  But since the priest isn’t going anywhere, reckon we can take a short break.”  Flipping off his hat, he dabbed at the sweatband with his handkerchief.   “You two been friends a long time have you?”

“Yeah, the three of us practically grew up together.”

“Hmm ... explains why you look alike.”

“Me and Kotetsu?”

“No, I mean in profile, you and that Dr. Umino fella bear a striking resemblance.  I’d bet my last dollar you're related.”

“Good eye, Genma … our fathers were brothers, half brothers actually and--”

“Consanguinity,” he said, slapping his thigh. “I knew it! Hey, he’s coming to.”

He gave Kotetsu the once over and a subtle kick to the shin.  “I think not, Genma.  He’ll rest for another ten minutes or so.  As I was saying, those were fun times growing up in London, we got up to such mischief,” he laughed.   “What else can you tell me about the other young man … this Hajame person?”

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Genma turned the hat crown side down on his lap.  "Practically a recluse, I hear. Those creative types usually are; they sleep all day, work all night--”

“So, he’s an artist or musician, I take it.”

“Nah, he's the brainy type, used to be a doctor or surgeon - now he's a writer. Translates textbooks, fluent in four languages, used to travel extensively, so says the rumor mill.”

"I’m sure we know him then.  My father and uncle worked with anatomists and illustrators to translate English medical texts into Japanese. Well what do know about that? We travel halfway round the globe just to meet someone who probably lived across the street from us." He closed his eyes for a moment.  “A chance to renew an acquaintance with someone that knew my father; may his soul rest in peace.” His eyes popped open and he turned to Genma saying, “Sorry, I’m rambling, aren’t I?  You have no idea how thrilling the prospect of reconnecting with someone from our old stomping grounds--”

“No, no, I got it ... but as I said, this guy’s a hermit. Wouldn’t hold my breath waiting for an invitation to tea--"

"I'm sure you're right, Genma."

"While I'm at it, allow me to correct myself.  This guy isn't from London ... I remember hearing he came from a place called Cornwall . . . that’s a suburb of London, isn't it?”

“A town 250 miles southwest of London is hardly a suburb--”

“Right then ... maybe this guy isn’t who you think he is.”

“Yeah,” Izumo blew out a long breath, “maybe he isn’t.”

Suddenly, Kotetsu’s legs start twitching and his entire upper body shakes violently.

“Oh, my god Izumo!  Is he having a seizure?  Should I fetch a doctor?”

“No, he’ll be fine,” was Izumo’s distracted response.  “It’s probably an anger stroke--”

“What?”

“Look, you’ve already done us a huge favor, Genma; the temple’s in sight. I know how much lies before you today, so why don’t you just go on without us?”

Genma was on his feet in an instant.  "If you insist,” he said, considering the grimacing face of Kotetsu and the vacant eyes of Izumo, “you sure he’s gonna be okay?”

 

Note:

Consanguinity: relationship by descent from a common ancestor; kinship.

Recherche: Mending Fences, Building Bridges Pt1

 Recherché Chapter Eleven

A/N:  Kakashi never shows up when expected and when he does, he manages to overshadow those around him. Thank you kindly for allowing the other characters to shine before he appears and eclipses them.

 

 

Bout time they got that sign fixed, he thought bringing his mount to halt at the front gate. Expanded the stables and the paddock looks full too.  “Lot of changes since we were here last, eh Mayonaka?” As they slowly head up the gravel path, several farm hands shoot incredulous looks their way, while others stopped him to chat.

“Hold it right there!  The hell are you doing here?”  

The wild-haired, snarling woman blocking his path was Inuzuka Tsume, proprietor of Konoha’s veterinary hospital, matriarch of a powerful clan and his acid-tongued in law.  He mustered a fake grin saying, “Thank god everything around here hasn’t changed.  How’s it going Tsume?”

“We’re busier than one-legged men in a butt kicking contest or haven't you noticed?  Kiba!” she yelled over her shoulder, “Come get this horse! Well, Biki?  Unless you’re here to arrest somebody ... we could use another set of hands.  Kiba! Damn it, where is that boy?”

“For heaven’s sake Mother … what’s all the shouting about?”

Running from the doorway of the house, a leather apron draped over her arm was his sister-in-law. Inuzuka Hana, the fresh faced, peace maker of the family; hard to believe she was related to the woman with her hands entangled in his mount’s reins.  Ever the optimist, she saw only the good in people, even me, he thought.  “Hana,” he said. “How’ve you been?”

“Talk about perfect timing Ibiki!  Afraid I’ll have to catch you up on all the news over dinner. Mind taking these to the stable? Hang on … you’ll need a pair too.”

“No, you don't understand ... wasn’t going to stay that long... just came to--”

“Don’t be silly," she turned and said, "we haven’t seen you in ages, of course you’ll stay for dinner--”

“Hana ... no, I can’t. Quick question for Idate is all,” he called after her as she ducked inside the house.

“Well, he aint got no time for chitchat neither,” Tsume growled, “we got two mares in foal--”

“In foal?” He spared the tall, sturdily built woman an awkward glance.  “A bit late in the season and too early in the day--”

“Yeah? Tell the mares that why don’t you?  Now dismount and get your ass over to the stables!  Damn it Kiba!  Where are you?”

“Behind you Mom," the young man said with a smile.  "Hey uncle Biki! It’s been a while.”

“Sure has and what a strapping young man you’ve turned into,” he said, alighting the saddle.  “Looking like your old man every day.”

“Damn you Biki! Don’t insult the boy,” snarled Tsume.  “Now look, there’s work needs doing ... no time for gum flapping the two of ya!”

“Yes, and I do apologize," Hana said as she bounded out the front door.  Shoving a pair of obstetric sleeves toward him, she apologized, "Sorry we have to press you into service.  It’s been nuts around here of late.”

“I can come back some other time ... don't wanna be in the way.  'Sides, it’s not that important and if he’s busy--”

“Nonsense,” she smiled.  “He’ll appreciate someone experienced beside him.”

“Yes, but we haven't spoken since, you know ...the incident--”

“Goodness that was a hundred years ago, Ibiki.  Let's go ... get a move on before Mother starts yelling again." She flashed him a winning smile as his eyes searched hers for reprieve.  "You two are brothers and we're family.  Families fall out, they fall in and they mend bridges, it's what we do."  She gave him a pat on the shoulder and a slight shove toward the stable.  "You’ll have a few hours to talk things over and you’ll see, he’s changed Ibiki; not the hothead he used to be--”

"Still, it’s been a long time since I did the foaling thing. Hope I remember how--”

“Shove your excuses! Idate knows what's what; do as he says and you’ll be fine,” snapped an irritated Tsume.   “Hana, damn it girl!  Aren't those vaccines ready yet?”

“Not yet, ma’am.”

“Well hurry it up!  Do I hafta do everything around here myself?   Oh and Biki,” she called over her shoulder as she headed toward the main house, “try not to get yourself trampled.”

Recherché

A glimmer of recognition and a glut of insincere smiles; these highlight the minuet of saving face as Tsunade and Iruka dance around the issue of:

‘Why can’t I remember how I know you or where I know you from?’

He, hesitant to speak first for fear of making another blunder, humbly averted his eyes; she, reluctant to concede another memory lost to time’s onward march, boldly searched the young man’s face. Her eyes swept down over his suit, settling on the arm which he held close to his belly.

“Your hand,” she said.  “What happened to your hand?”

So much for remaining inconspicuous, he thought glowering at his traitorous upturned palm.  The speed in which a plausible falsehood sprang to mind surprised him.  "This is what bad timing and poor judgment looks like,” he said, stretching his hand toward her.  The tone of his voice in his own ears was steady and filled with enough self-deprecation to squelch further questioning.  When she didn’t recoil in shock at the sight of the blood, Iruka huffed out a humorless laugh.  “Reckon it wasn’t a good idea to slice through an apple using my palm as a cutting board, was it?”

Unfazed both by the handkerchief and his scrawny wit, Tsunade spared him a disbelieving glance as she took his hand into her own.

He wanted to protest the intrusion when she pulled loose the sloppily tied kerchief, but he couldn’t; he wished with all his might he were brazen enough to snatch away his hand when she roughly bent backward his fingers, but he didn’t.  Good manners allowed only a wince and a swallowed down grunt as concessions to his discomfort.

The stern look on her face and the soft hand holding his, made him uncomfortable as time plodded along - soon the brittle sound of his nervous chatter flooded the gulch of reticence dividing them.

“Sprinkled some alum from my shaving kit on it earlier,” he said when she squeezed the underside of his hand.  “Stung like a nest of angry bees … guess it wasn’t adequate, huh?”

 “Course it wasn’t.  This wound is too deep ... probably damaged the tissues."  A fresh line of crimson welled up, pooling along the crease of his palm when she bent his hand toward his body.   "If this is your dominant hand, it won’t stop bleeding until properly treated.”  From the squinting of his eyes, the tense set of his shoulders and the tight smile on his lips, it was clear she’d embarrassed him.  All right, she thought. Go easy on the kid . . . yes he’s a klutz, but don’t scare him to death.  “See here young man, get yourself to the apothecary; have them prepare a mixture of powdered Mitragyna Parvifolia and Calendula Officinalis--”

“Wouldn’t yarrow root do just as well ma’am?”

The moderately peeved look she gave him was on par with the ones his mother affected, right before she tugged on his ear and served up a scalding tongue-lashing.  Without conscious thought, his left hand flew up to shield a vulnerable earlobe.

“As I was saying ... when you get home, mix a pinch of the powder with warm water until it becomes a smooth paste, apply it liberally.  Then, wrap your hand,” she continued with her eyebrow raised, brokering no backtalk, “with a clean bandage . . . you can get those from the apothecary too.  Leave the paste and the bandage on overnight and come morning, the swelling and bleeding will have stopped.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said gratefully bowing his head.  “I feel somewhat silly but appreciate the advice.”

They stood silent for a time, his hand in hers . . . her eyes still searching his face.  “You’ll pardon me but, you look so familiar.”

“I have that kind of face,” he joked. “People say I remind them of--”

“Related to the Mitarashi family, aren’t you?”

Mentally scrolling down a list of names from the old country, Iruka sadly shook his head.  “The name doesn’t ring a bell, ma’am but my parents were from a small village, so … I guess it’s possible.”

“Lovely little family, the Mitarashi's,” she said, never looking up from the task of rewrapping his hand. “Had two children, a daughter named Anko and a son whose name escapes me presently – you look just like him though.”

“Pretty sure I was an only child, ma'am.  Sorry ... must've left my manners in my back pocket today--"  .

"What are you mumbling about?"

"I mean to say ... should have introduced myself earlier," he said straightening to his full height. "My name is--”

“Oi . . . that scrap of paper there,” she gestured to her left with their joined hands, “not yours, is it?”

He’d seen the slip of white skittering above the ground earlier but ignored it, convinced he’d slipped the map in a pocket as he reached out to keep her from falling.  Shouldn’t be, he thought, clumsily thumbing through a fob pocket with his other hand.  A brief, one-handed search of his jacket and pants pockets rendered nothing. Excusing himself, he gave chase as balmy breezes rolling off the sea gaily lifted the paper, skipping it along the ground, bumping it over and through clumps of wild grass.

Tsunade stifled a giggle behind her hand watching the intrepid hunter take off  on a stumbling, twisting chivy, always lagging three steps behind in the wake of his quarry. She had to pinch her arm to prevent an outburst of laughter when a wayward gust banged the paper against a nearby tree trunk.

Surely, he’ll capture it now, she thought.

Alas, was the young man was left standing at the base of the tree, his fists at his hips, looking up helplessly as the paper ascended on the back of a playful wind.  Just outside his reach, it slapped smack in the middle of a bough, seven feet from the ground.

Poor little biscuit, she found herself thinking when his shoulders drooped in defeat. “I take it that was something sentimental.”

“Not really,” he sighed, “just a map.”

After a third attempt at jumping up and grabbing the paper failed, Iruka made another half circuit around the overgrown acorn factory.  “It took her so long to finish,” he said more so to the oak than Tsunade.  “She even added notes of interest . . . landmarks and such.  Now I’ll have to go back and tell her I’ve lost the darn thing.”

The outbreath of resignation and the hollow sound of his back colliding with the scaly ridges of the tree’s bark when he sagged against it, tapped into Tsunade’s maternal side against her will.  “Looks like I’m not the only one who had a rough start to the morning.  You almost sliced your hand open for breakfast, pert near knocked an old woman to the ground and now you’ve lost your little map.”

He cut his eyes at her, looking all the world like a little child who’d broken his favorite toy.

“If it weren’t so early in the day, I’d invite you back to my office for a stiff drink; looks like you could use one.”

“I'll have to pass,” he said turning to face her with his arms huffily folded across his chest. “Not going to let this drive me to drink just yet.  I’m sure if I keep heading in this direction, I’ll find what I was looking for--”

“So, you aren’t from here . . . no wonder I had trouble placing your face.”

“Not exactly a tourist either ma’am,” he said, pushing away from his sad post.  “I was born here …  been away for ages though and the territory has changed so much --”

“Well I’m overdue for a good deed this month, so maybe I can help.  What is it you’re looking for young man?”

“The fire brigade,” came the almost inaudible response when he cast a final glance over his shoulder.

Taking into account his slight build, natty attire and overall carriage, this time Tsunade didn’t hold back her laughter. “Don’t tell me,” she snickered, “you’re looking to sign on as a volunteer?”

Recherché

Beneath them a duvet of emerald grasses; above them, azure skies and slow moving puffy white clouds. Kotetsu lazily sprawled while Izumo rested at the base of an ancient elm, both men savoring the quiet made possible by Genma’s departure.

Rolling onto his side he smiled and said, “Well, am I a genius or what Zumo?”

“More like ‘or what,’ as in what were you thinking?”  Izumo bumped his head against the smooth bark behind him, “I thought we agreed the ‘coconut layer cake’ bit was only for use in emergency situations.”

“Hey! I was on the verge of garroting Genma just to keep him quiet.  Doesn’t that count as an emergency?”

“You’re too much, ’Tetsu," he laughed shaking his head. "For goodness sakes, Genma is an undertaker!  And with you making out like a scoop of lard in a hot skillet, it was all I could do to keep him from running over and measuring you for a coffin.”

“With a dolt like him, I had to lay it on thick, 'Zumo," he said flexing his fingers beneath his head and flopping onto his back.   "In the end, it came down to results; you needed ‘em …I got ‘em.”

“Overly dramatic if you ask me--”

“Says the man who makes up nonsense words like ‘narcolepsy’ and ‘cataplexy’ on the fly – what the heck was that about?”

Without even looking, Izumo sent a badly aimed punch that connected with his friend’s elbow. “They weren’t made up words you goof, they’re real medical terms for real physiological conditions which you faked rather poorly.”

Blah, blah, blah,” Kotetsu teased shaking off the prickly sensations running along his arm.  “Whatever you say Doctor Killjoy.”

“Never mind your sass, we'll need to get a move on eventually.”

“Now you’re talking sense.  After a short nap, I say we grab a bite to eat and then head back to the inn.”

“Nap time comes later,” Izumo laughed.  Right now, we’re going to the Fire Temple.”

Kotetsu sprang up like a trip wire. “You loopy from the altitude or something? Genma’s long gone and the man he was talking about obviously isn’t the one Iruka is looking for.  What possible reason have we to go to the Temple now?”

Maneuvering himself into a standing position, Izumo stretched out his back. “The Inspector and the Coroner believe that’s where we’re headed, that’s why.  It’s not gonna hurt our cause to be seen talking with the monks for a few minutes--”

“Come on man!  We climbed up the side of a mountain and listened to Genma natter on for what felt like seventeen hours. You’re the goof if you think I’m gonna tramp all the way over there to--”

“Have you forgotten we’re being tailed by a pair of constables?  You know they’re going to inform the Inspector if we don’t follow through.  So, quit your whining and get up.”

“You know, you’re a gigantic pain in the butt ‘Zumo. Don't know why I let you talk me into these crazy things.”

“Yes, yes, results my friend,” he said extending his hand to the scowling Kotetsu, “that’s all that matters, right?”

Recherché

Notes:

Mitragyna Parvifolia: a deciduous tree found in Asia and Malaysia; the bruised leaves of the tree promote healing of wounds and alleviate pain.  Extracts of the tree’s fruit can be used as an anti-inflammatory agent.

Calendula Officinalis: marigolds, the flowers are considered a beneficial antiseptic and help to reduce inflammation.

Yarrow root: fresh leaves of this flowering plant were applied to wounds to stop bleeding and fight fever; it also has antimicrobial properties.

Chivy (British): to run about.