Kurenai's voice had grown coarse and weary from a particuarly jubilant party in the tavern the night before and was drinking plenty of water as she worked the bar to get it ready to do it all again later that day. She sweeped the floor as the bar tender disappeared into the back room. Suddenly there was a knock on the door.
"We're closed!" she called out but the knock was repeated followed by a man's voice speaking rather poor Japanese, "I don't want a drink. I'm here to see Ichimatsu!" Kurenai stood intrigued by the request from the strange sounding man and felt compelled to at least see who it was at the door. She unbolted the door and opened it to find a rather pale faced gentlemen of Western origin standing before her. He wore a black suit which had a white band around the neck and a long peaked cap which he removed in respect to Kurenai.
"Oh, good morning...miss" he said. "Please forgive my Japanese. It is a difficult language."
"That's quite alright" said Kurenai politely.
"My name is Father Besson and I am looking for a man named Ichimatsu. I am told he can be found here" explained the man. Kurenai was cautious. It was not unknown for the Shogun Preservation Bureau to send foriegn assassins and she was taking no chances with the stranger despite his aged and friendly appearance.
"I know of an Ichimatsu" she said. "But how do you know you have the right one? Ichimatsu is a common name."
"Ah!" smiled the man. "The Ichimatsu I am looking for is only half Japanese. Now I doubt there are too many of them in these parts unless of course I am mistaken and in which case I am sorry for troubling you." Kurenai knew that any further pretence was pointless.
"You have come to the right place but unfortunately Ichimatsu is away for the time being and won't be back until tomorrow." Kurenai knew that he was away on an assignment for the council and as she spoke the words she silently prayed for his safe return. "Can I give him a message?"
"Yes!" said Father Besson. "You can tell him that I have come from France to talk give him this." He handed her a small sealed envelope. " It's about his mother. I shall return tomorrow then. Good day." Kurenai stood in the doorway stunned at the appearance of the strange man from the west and watched as he made his way down the street in the bright light of the early morning.
The bulk of the overweight man lumbered through the darkened forest. It was now in the middle of the night and the once powerful man, thanks only to his money, was reduced to a terrifed shell of his former self. He fell hard against the ground as he tripped on the roots of a tree that gnawed their way into the ground. He knew that his pursuer was catching up with him and he had no time to waste. With his lungs rapidly rising as he fought to get his breath he rose to his feet and continued to run as fast as his stout body could take him...which wasn't very!
There was a loud cracking sound followed by a whistle before his right shoulder felt an enormous force impact on his back sending the man spinning around as he reached with his left hand in a vain effort to cover the wound the bullet had left. He fell to the floor bellowing in pain and crying out for mercy from the invisible assassins who had just moments ago killed four of his best men.
"Where are you?" he cried out! "Show yourself you fucking cowards!"
Suddenly, in the darkness the shadowy outline of a man appeared walking casually towards his victim laying wounded on the ground before him. The wounded man couldn't believe that there was just one and looked around almost desperately to find his accomplaces but there was none to be seen. He looked back towards his attacker, blood seeping through his fingers that held his wound, and saw just one eye staring down at him menacingly. In the attacker's right hand was a gun and the realisation dawned on him at just who it was that was attacking him. Although he never thought it possible as he was being chased, his fear rose to new heights.
"You!" he gasped terror stricken. "You're..."
"Samurai Gun!" said the attacker as he raised his pistol, a custom made repeater, and pointed it at the man on the floor.
"Look!" pleaded the wounded man. "We can work this out! I have money! Women! Name your price? We can make a deal."
"Like you did with that family when you burned their house to the ground with them inside!" The Samurai Gun's voice had the Devil's fury behind it made worse by the pleading of the filth of a human being that lay on the ground before him.
"Th-They were my property" screached the man. "I paid for them. They were mine. What do you care anyway about a few slaves?"
The repeater fired several times and the bullets crushed the man's skull. The Samurai Gun stood over the body and examined it to make sure he was dead. Suddenly his eye winced in self loathing followed by pure rage. He had, for that brief moment, enjoyed the feeling of the gun firing in his hand. He had enjoyed the death of another and no matter how much he knew this scum deserved it he loathed himself for taking those few moments of pleasure.
As the sun came up the Samurai Gun disappeared replaced by a young man with a patch over his eye. The dawn had put to rest the Samurai Gun and gave rebirth to Ichimatsu. Just another half-breed in feudal Japan.
