A shape loomed from the endless blur before me. Undoubtedly an agent of the feminist conspiracy! A quick strike to the diaphragm would disable that wom- oh wait, I recognize that gait.
 
"Sup, bro?" I greeted.
 
"Hey, Kenji. Look, man. I need you to not overreact to what I'm about to tell you."
 
"Aw, shit. Shit, bro. Nothing good ever comes after that. Like a woman saying she wants to talk. Don't say it. Just turn around."
 
Sounded like he exhaled pretty hard. His heart must be giving him trouble. My poor brother-in-arms.
 
"I set you up-"
 
"You treacherous bastard!"
 
"...On a date."
 
"...YOU TREACHEROUS BASTARD! I thought we were bros! The fuck? This is that new couple syndrome! You're all delusional and happy with your crispy squeeze, so you're trying to spread that around. This is how the feminists get you! They only need to get one proud bachelor, then it spreads like a damn virus. Dammit, I knew your girl was in on it, but you trusted her anyway. Batman has taught you nothing!"
 
"You're going on this date, Kenji."
 
"Fuck that! This is a clear feminist trap! You just arranged the time and place of my assassination!"
 
Geez, again with the heavy exhalation. My man's got some serious health issues. And I couldn't quite tell, but I'm pretty sure he was grimacing in pain.
 
"Alright, Kenji. How many people know of your hatred of feminists?"
 
"Pft, like, everyone. I spread the good word, man."
 
"So then no one would expect you to willingly show up for a date, right?"
 
"Where are you going with this wack bullshit, bro?"
 
"You can throw the, uh... the feminists, off by being in the last place they would expect you to be at that time- on that date."
 
Shit. Shit. He's right. Plus, I can use this to get information from the feminist cow he set me up with under the guise of being interested in her. Alright, maybe he's still cool. But he's not a bro unless he can answer this one question correctly.
 
"She hot, bro?"
 
"Pretty hot, yeah. Tan skin, long hair, nice body. She's on the track team. You don't have any problems with the track team, right?"
 
Damn, she did sound hot. Guess he's a bro after all.
 
"Nah, nah. Track team's cool. 'Cept that one assassin of theirs."
 
"Good. You're meeting her at the Shanghai tomorrow at eleven."
 
"THE SH-"
 
"Yuuko isn't working that day."
 
"Oh, cool, alright. Still a big home field advantage for the feminists, though. What if they leave a contingent of them there just in case? They have numbers to spare, you know."
 
"Yes, I-"
 
"You should have scheduled it somewhere manlier. Like a monster truck rally. Or a sports game. Or a bowling alley."
 
Man, he has GOT to get his lungs checked on. All that heavy breathing has got to mean something bad.
 
"Her name is Miki Miura. She's missing her right hand, so don't greet her with a handshake or anything like that."
 
"She oughta get something mounted on the stump. Like a Mega Buster, or finger guns, or something. Then if she knocks someone down, she could be all 'Now's our chance for an all out-'"
 
"I'd love to discuss the various things you could imagine her equipping her arm with," he interrupted, "but I really need to go." And he turned and left at a brisk pace, like he had a galaxy to save or something.
 
"Fatal strike!" I shouted at his back, and returned to my room to prepare for the upcoming battle.
 
...
 
"Hisao! My man! Need some dating advice, what with you being all experiences in getting close to women without having your soul torn out and all."
 
"Huh? Oh, sure. What, you want to know what to wear?"
 
I clutched my chest, feeling the physical pain such a callous remark would bring.
 
"Auuugh. Dude. Dude. Look at this scarf," I said, proudly fingering it. "A man with a scarf this great needs no fashion advice. Especially from you, sweatervest."
 
"...Alright. What's up, then?"
 
"I need to do some reconaissance, right? So I need to be there early to scope the place out."
 
"Uh-huh."
 
"But if I show up early, then I can't be fashionably late. I'm gonna look like a bitch, waiting on a woman. I'm no woman's bitch, Hisao."
 
"Well," he began, "Sounds like you need to choose between showing up early, so you'll survive a potential trap, and showing up late for pointless, stupid pride." He said this in a very suggestive tone, looking at me meaningfully. I got his point, of course.
 
"You're right, bro. Absolutely right. There's only one choice. Never mind the danger. If there's one thing a Saiyan always keeps, it's his pride. So, what, like, thirty minutes late?"
 
"Five. Tops."
 
I frowned at him, trying to convey my displeasure at his utter non-ballin-osity.
 
"You are like a complete Brolocaust," I said decisively. "Fine. Five minutes late. That oughta be enough if I also make a cool entrance."
 
"Hey, bro! Open that up for me, will ya?" I shouted at someone unimportant who was about to walk into the den of evil that was the Shanghai. "Thanks, pal."
 
I dramatically tossed the beige carpet I brought with me to the floor and kicked it so it unfurled into the tea shop. I couldn't find a red one in time. Stepping forward, brimming with confidence and testosterone, I announced my presence to any feminists who may be lying in wait. Let them come.
 
"Ladies and bitches! Kenji Setou is in the house! Get some!"
 
At the end of my frankly fantastic entrance, I peered inside.
 
"Damn, where's that Miki chick?"
 
"You say your name was Kenji?"
 
The voice behind me caused me to whirl around. Wait a minute, that unimportant NPC that opened the door has tan skin, long hair, and... DAMN YEAH, Hisao! Wait. Fuck.
 
"You're like ten minutes late," she pointed out.
 
"Don't you use your hypocritical woman logic on me! So are you!" I accused.
 
She shrugged. "Eh, I just call it being fashionably late. I'm Miki. Now come on, let's get something to eat. I'm freakin' starved."
 
"Psh. Good luck fixing that here. Portions are, like, tiny."
 
"Seriously? Damn. I've never been here before, so..."
 
If this devious woman was trying to make me like her so I'd let my guard down, I wouldn't fall for it. But this was a great opportunity to gain a home field advantage.
 
"Oh yeah? I know a place with good food not too far from here. Wanna tag along?"
 
She shrugged again. "Sure, why not? Lead the way, Setou."
 
"Kenji. I ain't got a Blue Eyes, or that much money."
 
"How do you screw the rules, then?"
 
"With an appropriate amount of caution that everyone calls paranoia. They'll see, though. Now come on."
 
It didn't take long to get to my favorite place in the town. The haven of masculinity that was the Wounded Horse.
 
"Is this a bar?"
 
"Hells yeah. Best bar ever."
 
"Are... they gonna let us in?"
 
I waved a hand dismissively. "I'm cool with the owner."
 
I walked in with a confident stride. The rough voice of the bartender and owner called out.
 
"What the hell, Kenji?" He sounded mad. "Don't be taking advantage of my good nature to bring your friends in here to get shitfaced. I'm alright with you, since it's a good way to get back at that bitch of a sister of mine, but-"
 
"Calm your tits!" I shouted back. "We're just here for food. Give us a couple of steak sandwiches already. I'll be at the good table."
 
I lead the obvious female conspirator to a familiar, poorly-lit corner in the back. The place seemed pretty empty. Good, little chance for collateral damage if I have to put her down hard.
 
"So, how d'ya know the owner?" she asked casually as we sat down.
 
"He's my uncle." Wait. Fuck! I'm already spilling secrets on my connections. Damn, they sent a skilled agent.
 
She snorted, sounding very unfeminine. Figures that the best the women have acts like the superior gender.
 
"You told your uncle to calm his tits?"
 
"The man's tits were all kinds of flustered. He needed to calm them."
 
This got a laugh out of her, good and loud. Not one of those girly giggles.
 
"You're an interesting guy, Kenji. But how good you are as a date kinda rides on whether these sandwiches are any good. Seriously, I'm starving here."
 
"Man, these sandwiches are bitchin'. Plus, you get yourself a good helping of one of the two food groups."
 
"I thought there were like five or six."
 
"There's only two that matter- steak and whiskey."
 
"Wha' bou' prezzels?" she asked around a mouthful of some.
 
"Tasty, but unnecessary. Speaking of, stop munching. These sandwiches are huge, and you'll smack yourself if you can't finish it all. Shit's good."
 
Shortly thereafter, Uncle came by with two of his massive signature steak sandwiches.
 
"Damn yeah!" Miki cheered, reaching out for her sandwich.
 
I abandoned any conversation as I devoured my meat-filled bread tower with all the manly passion it demanded. A frustrated grunt drew my attention away from the monolith of meat to the woman who was surprisingly good company, for a feminist bitchwhore who sought my demise. She was struggling to keep a hold of the sandwich with just one hand. Meat was spilling out from the sides. Shit, that ain't right. I reached out and grabbed the sandwich with one hand, steadying it.
 
She looked a little conflicted. I think. The lighting really sucks.
 
"...Thanks," she said finally, leaning over to take a huge bite. Now THAT'S how you eat those.
 
"You looked like you needed a hand."
 
She offered me a half-hearted glare. "Thaf's no' funny."
 
With a little help, she polished off the entire sandwich and sucked the juice off her fingers in a satisfied manner, leaning back.
 
"So whadja think?" I asked.
 
She held a single finger up, her face contorted. Suddenly, a huge-ass burp ripped out of her throat. Holy shit. She leaned back happily.
 
"That was ace. You gotta take me back here sometime."
 
"What are you trying to set up?" I asked with a suspicious glare.
 
She shrugged. "Second date?"
 
Damn! She's obviously trying to infiltrate one of my only two safe havens. No way. Fuck that. Ain't happening.
 
"Cool, sure."
 
Fuck you, mouth! I didn't tell you to say that. I don't care how much of a bro this bitch is.
 
"Oh, I'll pay for your sandwich," she offered. "Kinda pay you back for the, uh... the help."
 
Man, she is way too bro for a feminist.
 
"Alright, thanks."
 
"This date ain't over quite yet, though," she said. "You gotta take me to your room."
 
That's it. My last safe haven. Her motives revealed. She's trying to invade all of my safe zones and conquer them. Well, I'm not budging on this one.
 
"Why?" I demanded.
 
That evil grin could only mean one thing. Her motive will be laid bare. She's gonna summon the secret contingent of feminists that has been stalking me and-
 
"Thought we could have some of the other major food group, if you have any."
 
Oh. ...Ohhhhhhh.
 
"...Sure."
 
Fuck it. Some bitches are worth the risk.