Prolouge
The evening I returned to Tokyo, I was overwhelmed by the changes within the city. Open air shops that had once barely scraped by were now flourishing, their wares no longer being kept in wooden crates by their stalls, but in small storage sheds and back rooms. I absently thought, "Boy, it's tougher to scare up a free meal now...." before realizing that I tried not to do that sort of thing anymore. It's quite strange, really, I am almost considered a respectable gentleman in some parts of the world. I don't go to those places anymore, they cramp my style.
It was strange to see myself back here, Sagara Sanosuke, wanderer, fighter, part time peacemaker, full time troublemaker, with all the changes and differences apparent for the first time to me. I could never figure out why, but I always considered this place my home, ever since meeting Kenshin and Kaoru oh so long ago.... It was strange for another reason, as well. People were slowly showing more signs of the English and the French influence, kimono's were rare, geta were giving way to western style shoes, and suits seemed to be in fashion more often than not. Though, even with all the modernization, and the constant stares from more "civilized" people, I still wear a simple white dogi, red headband, and my personal crusade on my back. Easier to clean, more comfortable to wear, and on top of that, easier to get blood stains out of after a fight than a suit... Ten year's worth of memories, road travel, aches, and old sore muscles complained quietly about the chill breeze that had sprung up from off the bay because of my attire. Ignoring them had become common for me, and today was no different. I had an appointment to keep, one that had waited more than ten years, and for me, wouldn't wait a moment more.
*****
Walking within the cemetary ground's was something that I have avidly avoided, if at all possible. Reminicing on the dead is not something that I like to do, if I can help it. I figure the dead have their own problems to deal with, and having to put up with me will just annoy the ancestors more than I already have. Passing quietly, I nod politely to the respectable old man burning incense at the grave of his departed wife. I nod respectfully to a stone as I pass it by, noting it was one of the older shopkeepers that I used to haunt, then quietly move down the row towards my destination. I take note of the grey slate stones as I pass them by, their kanji speaking of the people enshrined within.
I nearly miss their marker, small and silent among the surrounding stones as it is. Hardly rich in life, they couldn't afford much, but the simple word's seemed to bring back a flood of memories like a torrent of the tides. "Himura Shinta" and "Himura Kaoru" carved carefully by one of the local stonesmiths, no doubt one of the many that Kenshin... Shinta had helped at one time or another through the many years. Stepping down quietly, I brush aside some of the leave's that collect in places like this, their burnt umber ruffled to life by my intrusion upon their stony resting ground. Placing several osenko into the small pot provided, I face the stone directly for the first time before I begin to tell my tale.
"Hey Jou-chan, Kenshin. It's been a long time since I stuck you in that boat coming home, but, I don't regret that I did. Took all my money, and my best haggling skills to get you to Tokyo, you know that Kenshin. Scared the bejesus out of an old friend, but he willingly took you, plus a small fee, of course. For what it is worth to you, I am glad that you finally found your peace, Kenshin. It may have taken war, death, redemption, pain, and a hell of a lot of heartache, but you did it. I wish I could have realized how bad it really was for you, back then. I would have helped more than I did..." I glance down at my right hand, still bandaged to protect it from the crushing forces that I use when I fight. Even after all these years, four pale parallel scars peeking out between the cream-colored bandages, the memories of orange fur, teeth, claws and blood rising again to meet me. "It was a hard fight, yes, and it cost me, but it was worth it. I owed you a great deal for that, you know. I also know that I hate owing people anything. So, I figure that I pay you back for your hospitality, and your friendship." Sano shifted his eyes up, catching the early morning light in his salt and pepper hair before sighing at the weather, and then settling back down, and continuing.
"I know that I haven't visited you for ten years, and for that, I am sorry. I needed to find my own way, and my own truth before I could come back to face the reality of yours. I still don't know if my truth is the one that I sought in the beginning, but I know that I found it, that it was also the better one, the right one. It also wasn't the one that I expected, once I realized what it was. I sat on a rain drenched field for hours laughing my head off when I realized it, and it changed me. I think it made me the person that you two saw every time you looked at me, looked at what was hidden under the surface of the rough, rowdy fighter that you two called friend." Sighing for a moment, I set into my tale.
"I figure that I better start at the beginning for you to realize the end, huh. Or maybe, the middle is where to start, cause that's where we seperated, all those years ago. I hope it doesn't take ten years, though... I still have some things that I need to do here in Tokyo..." Settling down quietly into a favored cross-legged position, I begin the tale of how I grew up.....
To Be Continued.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
osenko: n. (form) incense
Zanza: n. a large blade used by the calvery in the late 1400's. They were considered to large and unweildy for most swordsman, and had fallen out of favor by the early 1500's.
Note: It is also Sanosuke's name he held for many years as as a hired gangster.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Authors Ranting:
I'm often asked "what is the point behind a fight." I always think of Sano when I get asked that question, and that's prolly why I am writing this fanfiction. He always seemed to be nearly out of control, his furance never quenched, his power just over the horizon. I can identify with the man, and I feel he needed a story all his own, though it will never be manga, I hope that this becomes one of those possible "what if" fic's.
It was never intended to be posted to anything other than friends and relatives, but, due to some thoughtful and well written *kapowies* and *mutilates* I decided to post it. Chapter One and Two should be up soon, they are the only ones that are fleshed out enough to post at the moment. With that, I hope you enjoyed reading this fanfiction.
Jeremy Bennett
P.S. people I should thank for this fictions creation? I'll have a complete list sometime before I die.
The evening I returned to Tokyo, I was overwhelmed by the changes within the city. Open air shops that had once barely scraped by were now flourishing, their wares no longer being kept in wooden crates by their stalls, but in small storage sheds and back rooms. I absently thought, "Boy, it's tougher to scare up a free meal now...." before realizing that I tried not to do that sort of thing anymore. It's quite strange, really, I am almost considered a respectable gentleman in some parts of the world. I don't go to those places anymore, they cramp my style.
It was strange to see myself back here, Sagara Sanosuke, wanderer, fighter, part time peacemaker, full time troublemaker, with all the changes and differences apparent for the first time to me. I could never figure out why, but I always considered this place my home, ever since meeting Kenshin and Kaoru oh so long ago.... It was strange for another reason, as well. People were slowly showing more signs of the English and the French influence, kimono's were rare, geta were giving way to western style shoes, and suits seemed to be in fashion more often than not. Though, even with all the modernization, and the constant stares from more "civilized" people, I still wear a simple white dogi, red headband, and my personal crusade on my back. Easier to clean, more comfortable to wear, and on top of that, easier to get blood stains out of after a fight than a suit... Ten year's worth of memories, road travel, aches, and old sore muscles complained quietly about the chill breeze that had sprung up from off the bay because of my attire. Ignoring them had become common for me, and today was no different. I had an appointment to keep, one that had waited more than ten years, and for me, wouldn't wait a moment more.
*****
Walking within the cemetary ground's was something that I have avidly avoided, if at all possible. Reminicing on the dead is not something that I like to do, if I can help it. I figure the dead have their own problems to deal with, and having to put up with me will just annoy the ancestors more than I already have. Passing quietly, I nod politely to the respectable old man burning incense at the grave of his departed wife. I nod respectfully to a stone as I pass it by, noting it was one of the older shopkeepers that I used to haunt, then quietly move down the row towards my destination. I take note of the grey slate stones as I pass them by, their kanji speaking of the people enshrined within.
I nearly miss their marker, small and silent among the surrounding stones as it is. Hardly rich in life, they couldn't afford much, but the simple word's seemed to bring back a flood of memories like a torrent of the tides. "Himura Shinta" and "Himura Kaoru" carved carefully by one of the local stonesmiths, no doubt one of the many that Kenshin... Shinta had helped at one time or another through the many years. Stepping down quietly, I brush aside some of the leave's that collect in places like this, their burnt umber ruffled to life by my intrusion upon their stony resting ground. Placing several osenko into the small pot provided, I face the stone directly for the first time before I begin to tell my tale.
"Hey Jou-chan, Kenshin. It's been a long time since I stuck you in that boat coming home, but, I don't regret that I did. Took all my money, and my best haggling skills to get you to Tokyo, you know that Kenshin. Scared the bejesus out of an old friend, but he willingly took you, plus a small fee, of course. For what it is worth to you, I am glad that you finally found your peace, Kenshin. It may have taken war, death, redemption, pain, and a hell of a lot of heartache, but you did it. I wish I could have realized how bad it really was for you, back then. I would have helped more than I did..." I glance down at my right hand, still bandaged to protect it from the crushing forces that I use when I fight. Even after all these years, four pale parallel scars peeking out between the cream-colored bandages, the memories of orange fur, teeth, claws and blood rising again to meet me. "It was a hard fight, yes, and it cost me, but it was worth it. I owed you a great deal for that, you know. I also know that I hate owing people anything. So, I figure that I pay you back for your hospitality, and your friendship." Sano shifted his eyes up, catching the early morning light in his salt and pepper hair before sighing at the weather, and then settling back down, and continuing.
"I know that I haven't visited you for ten years, and for that, I am sorry. I needed to find my own way, and my own truth before I could come back to face the reality of yours. I still don't know if my truth is the one that I sought in the beginning, but I know that I found it, that it was also the better one, the right one. It also wasn't the one that I expected, once I realized what it was. I sat on a rain drenched field for hours laughing my head off when I realized it, and it changed me. I think it made me the person that you two saw every time you looked at me, looked at what was hidden under the surface of the rough, rowdy fighter that you two called friend." Sighing for a moment, I set into my tale.
"I figure that I better start at the beginning for you to realize the end, huh. Or maybe, the middle is where to start, cause that's where we seperated, all those years ago. I hope it doesn't take ten years, though... I still have some things that I need to do here in Tokyo..." Settling down quietly into a favored cross-legged position, I begin the tale of how I grew up.....
To Be Continued.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
osenko: n. (form) incense
Zanza: n. a large blade used by the calvery in the late 1400's. They were considered to large and unweildy for most swordsman, and had fallen out of favor by the early 1500's.
Note: It is also Sanosuke's name he held for many years as as a hired gangster.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Authors Ranting:
I'm often asked "what is the point behind a fight." I always think of Sano when I get asked that question, and that's prolly why I am writing this fanfiction. He always seemed to be nearly out of control, his furance never quenched, his power just over the horizon. I can identify with the man, and I feel he needed a story all his own, though it will never be manga, I hope that this becomes one of those possible "what if" fic's.
It was never intended to be posted to anything other than friends and relatives, but, due to some thoughtful and well written *kapowies* and *mutilates* I decided to post it. Chapter One and Two should be up soon, they are the only ones that are fleshed out enough to post at the moment. With that, I hope you enjoyed reading this fanfiction.
Jeremy Bennett
P.S. people I should thank for this fictions creation? I'll have a complete list sometime before I die.
