babyviper

While the weeks since her dreamscape trip to Japan had generally given the island a happier, calmer O-Ren, the days since the Halloween party had returned to her to a silent, almost taciturn state. She didn't try explaining the change-- if she thought about it-- to any of the others in the hut.

She still didn't exactly understand it herself.

After cleaning her weapons for the fourth time that day, O-Ren flopped down on her bed and stared at the ceiling. This was horrible. This was exactly why she'd sworn never to do this sort of thing.

Why couldn't I just stay emotionally stunted?

Where her father was, O-Ren Ishii didn't know.

She stood at the edge of Zama-- she'd been so surprised to find it was an ocean town, she hadn't remembered that-- with her sword in her hand. Though there was blood on her, it wasn't hers. Nor did it belong to any one person. O-Ren had needed to battle several of Matsumoto's henchmen to get here. The gods must have been smiling on her, because she had been able to go back in time and find her mother.

Get her out before dirty hands could touch her. (If Matsumoto showed his face here, she'd cut it off....)

O-Ren turned back to look at her mother. Mama wasn't doing so well, but if her daddy would just show up... then it would be okay again. "Daijoubou, Mama," she said, knowing her mother preferred Japanese.