STANDARD DISCLAIMERS APPLY.

From your RK-loving duo, Fangs & Fire of Fangs of Fire, comes a short one-shot by Fire. Featuring Sanosuke after a couple years of roaming the world, and a dilemma. Inspired by a ridiculously overpriced but amazingly authentic Moroccan restaurant in Atlanta, GA, called "The Imperial Fez". Check it out if you've got the money and the time.

The title comes from something Sano said to Kenshin at the start of the Jinchuu arc, as they were trying to hide a map of potential target locations from Kaoru.

-- FoF

"We're not all good boys like you, Kenshin."

I said those words to you once. I know we weren't exactly being serious at the time, but right now I need you to be. Don't show this to Yahiko or the missy. I'm asking you as a man.

I'm writing this you because I don't know what else to do. Someone once told me it helped to talk to a friend, but where I am right now I have no friends. This'll have to do.

First, what you need to understand is that the culture there is like nothing I've ever seen. I'm talking about Morocco. It's this country just south of Spain, and if you ever get the chance, go there. Or maybe not. It's not exactly a place for good boys. I didn't know what I was getting into...

I went to Europe for a little while, but nothing caught my eye for longer than a couple months. It was talk of this wild continent where guns couldn't secure a man's safety that really made me open my eyes. Africa. They say it's different wherever you go – the people, the culture, the land, everything is different in every part of Africa. A never-ending adventure. You know me, I had to go.

I stayed with friends of friends of friends, more strangers than anything, but we were all one big rabble family and that made it more fun, I think. The boat ride was hell, but the night we docked...

That's what I wanted to talk about.

You wouldn't believe the noise, Kenshin. Music and people everywhere, in several languages I didn't know and I'll probably never know. The instruments were bizzare, but there were drums and the beat was enough to make anyone move. People used their voices to convey every emotion, and even though I didn't know the words, my body knew the sounds. There's a particular noise the women like to make... That would be worth visiting for. My blood tingles when I remember the music.

Colors and shapes and smells everywhere, it was all so overwhelming that I almost lost my "family" in all the commotion. They looked after me, though, and I followed them like a dog. My eyes weren't big enough, my ears weren't fine enough, my nose wasn't strong enough...

They took me to this place in the heart of Tanger, the city we docked in. It was a lounge, cut down into the ground in the basement of some place. Everything was soft. Tapestries hung from the walls depicting scenes you could barely make out but for the torches. Rugs of every shape and size matted the floor. Everyone went barefoot and sat on low couches, or cushions, or against the soft walls where quilts had been sewn behind the tapestries.

They showed me a good time, my rabble family. We took three hours to eat a meal, with so many dishes brought to us that even I started to get full. It was delicious, Kenshin. Primal.

Beautiful women washed our hands so that we could eat without chopsticks – without anything – and they brought us hookahs to smoke. The music was loud and vibrant, and there was lots of laughing. A little bit of gambling, too, and you know I can't resist that.

Then a drum stopped the music, just long enough for one heartbeat.

I don't know where she came from, but she was the most beautiful creature I've ever seen. Intoxicating. The light dimmed even further and the torches were almost put all the way out, but there was still light around her. She danced with fire.

There had been other dancers, but not like this.

She danced with fire.

Little candles, big candles, all in delicate little saucers that she balanced as if they were coins. The music was louder for her than it had been for anyone else, as though the drummers wanted to bring the place down around her. Her skin glistened in the light of her flames, and every time she looked me in the eye I saw them glitter. She smelled of the rose-water they dip your fingers in before tea, but even stronger, as if she was a living, sweating rose. I've never felt so alive.

She came so close, Kenshin! I think one of the guys wanted to poke fun at the foreigner from so far away, but they shouted something and suddenly she was paying much closer attention to me than anyone else. Her hands came so close to my face, I felt the heat of the flames. You might be the wrong person to "talk" to this about, but will you understand me if I tell you I've never wanted anything so badly as I wanted her? Did you feel that way about Kaoru the night Kenji was conceived? It's just that... in Tokyo, those whores were fun, but I never felt a fire in my blood like that.

Maybe it was an illusion created in my mind by the drums and the food and the smoke and the liquor... and the fire... but she was right there, and I almost lost it.

I think she understood.

I lingered there for a long time afterward, and near dawn she came for me.

I don't think I have to explain what happened.

It was a little awkward at first, since neither of us could understand what the other was saying, but words lose their meaning after a little while.

It was better than I thought it'd be, afterwards. I think I almost loved her. I'm not sure what she felt about me, if she felt anything at all. It doesn't matter now.

What matters now is that she's dead, and I think it's because of what we did. They beat her to death two days later and strung up her corpse in the streets, on a clothesline over an alley.

Her death made me think of something. Of how, maybe, if she hadn't died, there could have been something between us. And that made me think of how, maybe, if there had been something between us, I might have left her like I left you all in Japan.

And that made me think of how selfish a bastard I really am, Kenshin.

I left my family for the Sekihotai.

I left you and the gang for a life of adventure.

I might have left her behind for who knows what, my own restless heart?

How can I live, taking these relationships and stealing them away?

Am I wrong for being who I am, Kenshin? Is there any way for me to stop?

Don't try to write me an answer. This is all I have to say. If I need to say more, I'll say it to your face, at the dojo, in Tokyo. I don't want to cut those ties... but I will if I have to.

We're not all good boys like you, Kenshin.