Author's Note: The superb Laim Company does it again! This is a fanfic inspired by the Samurai Troopers doujinshi created by Dokumasho Raiza entitled "Gloria." The situation and dialogue is close to the original content. The only thing I really changed was where the story takes place.

She made the decision all those years ago. She could no longer keep a straight face about it. The hatred boiled and churned within her heart and soul. No matter who would ask her about it, she would always change the subject, not wishing to delve into the past. God knew she would give anything to get her revenge against the man who took away one of the most important people in her life.

She was Nasty Yagyu, college professor, and ally to the Samurai Troopers. All she could do was wait.

Gripping the picture frame, she lifted her head and gazed skyward with a grimace. There were no clouds in the sky but the distant, shining sun hung over the frigid lake down below. She bit her lower lip as an icy breeze blew all around her. She held the frame close to her arms and wrapped her arms around herself, forcing herself not to shiver from the cold.

"Here you are."

She narrowed her eyes at the sound of his voice. He was the cause of the pain that tore through her heart.

"Naaza."

Glancing over her shoulder, she found the former Poison Demon General standing a few feet away from her. He was dressed rather light for the winter season: a white button up shirt, a dark business jacket with matching slacks, and shoes. His arms rested at his side and his short green hair blew along the wispy yet freezing breezes. His black eyes were gazing at her backside but other than that he wore no expression on his pale face.

Nasty sighed. She rose from the patch of grass she was sitting on and turned around to face him. "What're you doing here?"

"I came here to see you." His answer was short and simple.

"Why?"

"I wanted to know something for quite some time. We never really got a chance to talk one on one about certain things... I believe you know what I'm talking about, Nasty."

She knew very well. She knew that this day would come. She wanted to prepare herself for this event, the day where there would be no Samurai Trooper to protect her. Yet the pain he'd cause her would be emotional than physical.

Holding the picture frame loosely, Nasty met Naaza's hard gaze and nodded. "Go on."

He shoved his hands into his pockets and asked, "You understand that I was your grandfather's enemy, don't you?"

"Of course," she replied softly. She couldn't help but lower her head and stare at the picture of herself when she was 5-years old riding on top of her grandfather's shoulders. "But you... you did it because you were manipulated by Arago."

Naaza suddenly let out a sharp laugh. He shook his head and replied, "Quit trying to sugarcoat it. I didn't come all the way here from the Youjakai just to talk to you through a mask you are wearing." Turning away, he added, "I wasn't being controlled by anyone. I acted by my own will and by that will I killed the old man."

Tears of anger and hurt filled Nasty's eyes. Memories of that fateful day suddenly overwhelmed her.

Grandfather!

Damn him, why was he hurting her like this? Why was he making her remember?

The picture frame she had been clutching fell from her grasp and onto the grass at her feet. Tiny drops of rain began to fall from the dark clouds gathering in the atmosphere. The glass surface of the picture already had a few drops of water on it.

"I see you haven't forgotten it either," Naaza observed in a calm voice.

"I would never forget something like that," she answered stiffly. She lifted her head and faced the man once more, fighting back the warm tears threatening to fall down her face. "I helped my friends, the Samurai Troopers, forget the pain they were feeling but I couldn't forget the sadness I was experiencing."

All of a sudden she couldn't hold back her emotions. "Why are you doing this to me, Naaza? Why are you really here? Are you here just to re-open the wounds? Is that why you wanted to see me?"

Both of them were surprised to hear how controlled her anger was. But of course everyone has his or her breaking point and Nasty's was on the verge of shattering.

"I want know how you feel about me," Naaza spoke out as the rain began to fall more rapidly. Neither he nor Nasty did anything to keep themselves from getting wet. "You hate me, don't you?"

Nasty's reply was short but meaningful. Her voice sounded casual but the words that came out of her mouth cut like a knife.

"I do. I hate you."

Naaza gazed at her for long, silent moments before nodding once. "That's what I wanted to hear," he said afterwards. He didn't sound hurt at all, but deep within he was satisfied to hear this answer from her. "I knew it all along. Your eyes were overflowing with hatred for me."

She didn't say anything. She was staring at the fallen picture, refusing to cry even then. No matter what happened, no matter what the situation was, she never allowed herself to break the face she wore. Though the only time was when her grandfather died... the overwhelming hurt and despair had been too much for her.

"I couldn't help but be amazed," he continued without changing his tone, "because I mean why would you, who should hate me, smile at me? When Arago was defeated, you smiled at the others and me before we returned to the Youjakai. Even though we caused you all that trouble..."

"It's okay, Naaza."

"And another thing, why do you call my name as if I were a friend?" Naaza was beginning to sound confused, almost frustrated with her. "I couldn't understand. It wasn't a front but it was how you really are. I wanted to hear you speak without putting a nice face on it. I won't ask you to forgive me because there's nothing you can forgive. Never the less, I wanted to apologize to you."

Nasty looked over at him once more, her round, turquoise eyes calm and almost peaceful. She called out to him. "Naaza..."

The green haired man walked over to her, hearing the mud and water squishing underneath his shoes. His brown armor gear appeared over his clothing and he got down on one knee with his head lowered. Nasty was caught off guard by this gesture and she wasn't sure of what to do but he began to speak to her.

"I have never bowed my head to a woman until now. I don't think I will bow my head to a woman in the future. You are the first woman in my whole life that I will bow my head to... I'm sorry."

She smiled at him, small tears of joy falling down her cheeks. The rain began to cast aside, the falling water ceasing to drench the two individuals. Her dark chestnut colored hair was plastered against her face and clothing. Kneeling down, not giving any concern about the mud underneath her, she put her arms around Naaza and embraced him, holding him close.

"I wasn't putting a nice face on," Nasty said as she dried her hair with a small towel. She and Naaza went back to her home before they would become ill from the weather. They were in the study where she kept her computer and her grandfather's samurai artifacts. "For the first time since then, I forgive you, Naaza."

Naaza was sitting over by the doors that led to the balcony. He was already dry as a bone. He turned his head and looked over at her. "It took you all this time?" he asked her.

She nodded. "Yes, but I understand now. Oh, your tea has gotten cold. Let me reheat it for you."

While she left the room, Naaza rose from his seat and wandered about, looking at the armor and weapons on display. At the end of his trek, he paused at a picture frame. Gently lifting it from the desk, he held it closer and saw that it was a picture of Nasty and a familiar looking young man. The two of them looked very happy with one another.

The door flew open and Nasty returned to the room. Naaza turned around and motioned to the picture. "Nasty, is this...?"

Nasty smiled as she placed his teacup down. "That's my husband," she said, beaming.

"You got married? To that little kid?"

She couldn't help but giggle. She slapped his arm playfully and laughed, "Honestly! He'll always be a youngster to you, won't he?"

Naaza smiled back, a genuine smile. "You're happy with him, aren't you?" He already knew the answer to his own question. He had viewed the closeness between her and this particular Samurai Trooper in the past.

"Yes, very," Nasty responded happily.

"Ah, that's good."

As night fell, Nasty prepared herself and her husband dinner.

"Oh, honey. Naaza came by today."

Her husband frowned from behind his newspaper. Lowering it, he looked over at her as she was setting the table. "Naaza did? What for?"

"He said he wanted to know how I was feeling."

"So he has changed?" He folded up his newspaper and placed it beside his dinner plate. "Oh wait, not that many days have passed in the Youjakai."

"He's changed a lot," Nasty said as she served him dinner. After she served herself, she sat across from him and added, "Naaza now wears a suit, smokes, and drinks coffee."

"That's impressive."

The young woman nodded in agreement. "Really, but more over he's gotten to where he can laugh gently. Oh, it's snowing..."

The two of them gazed out of the window and watched as the gentle snow began to fall from the colorless winter skies. Nasty stood up from her seat and moved over to be next to her beloved husband. She leaned on his shoulder as he slipped his arm around her waist, holding her close.

She closed her eyes and whispered, "It's wonderful... It's a white Christmas."

~The End~