Uh…uh…uh…

So you know that poll I posted about what the theme of my next fic will be? Well I never said it would be a SuFin like my usual stuff…hehe…

And now I'm facing that awkward moment when I post a fic about characters I don't often write for. (If I do something stupid, feel free to point it out and yell at me. I need that kind of input to get better.) Kind of an out-of-the-blue pairing for me. AmeriPan has grown on me over the past year and now I want to do something about it. I'm hoping a little something different will get the writing juices flowing again, so here's my quack experimental fic about cowboys and Asians. (Get it? "Cowboys and Aliens"…Asians… Hah, I'm funny. Did anyone else even see that movie?)

Warnings:

AU: Western!Alfred and Spirit Medium!Kiku.

Will contain BL. AmeriPan. Light fluff.

I had no real attachment to Tokyo. The city was my home, but it never felt like home to me. I didn't have any friends, just a few acquaintances throughout my childhood that never lasted very long. I tended to keep to myself and avoided going places if I didn't have to. I was different, I didn't fit in, I lacked confidence. The counselors said I had a personality disorder. I let them believe that, fearing what they would do with me if I told them the truth.

My name is Kiku Honda, and I can see the spirits of the deceased.

They walk around like normal people, only invisible and untouchable to the world around them. When I was little I would tell my parents about them, about the man with one arm following us and the woman in our house who cried a lot. I didn't understand how my parents couldn't see them. Nobody else did, either. When I was young they believed I was simply making imaginary friends, and I believed that, too. But as I got older, they didn't go away. In fact, there were more of them. They all had names, I could draw their faces, some would teach me things that my parents didn't, sometimes good things and other times they got me in trouble. Eventually my mother pulled me aside and told me to never speak of my 'imaginary friends' again, because people were starting to talk and it was not normal. I tried to tell her that they weren't imaginary, that they kept asking for me to do and say things, that some of them wouldn't leave and were scaring me. The look in her eyes right before she slapped me was one I will never forget and one I don't ever want to see again. My silence began that day.

As I grew up, the spirits would follow me. Apparently word had gotten out among them that I could see them, so they swarmed me with pleas for help. And I did…for a time. They only wanted to find peace and I was their only link to the living world. It was exhausting work, though, and the more I helped the more attention I received. It was never ending. It became too much to handle. I learned that spirits are supposed to find peace on their own, though they usually didn't think that way, as if I were their only hope. I gave up, but many wouldn't take no for an answer. Some of them were violent and threatening if I didn't do what they said. They couldn't physically harm me, but the constant mental torment broke me down little by little. They wouldn't let me sleep. I was never alone. I was filled with regret, remorse, guilt, stress, confusion, until finally, I snapped.

I had an episode in school where I drove everyone out of the classroom with my sudden burst of screaming in the middle of a lecture. I blacked out, and when I came to, I was told it took three people to restrain me just to get me to the hospital. They asked me questions and gave me tests, they prescribed medication, they gave me therapy, none of it I responded to. People at school looked at me differently and rumors left me not only alone, but shunned. It was the last straw for my parents who had to put up with me and my concerning behavior no matter where we went, so on a doctor's recommendation, they did something drastic.

We moved to America.

The idea was to get me away from the bustling city and into a more peaceful place. A change of scenery, if you will. A fresh start where I could calm down and open up, where my family wasn't ridiculed, where I could have a second chance at a normal life. My parents had been wanting to move to America for a while and this was a good reason to do it. It was my escape. I didn't think about anything else other than leaving those vexatious ghosts behind, who I knew wouldn't follow me across the sea or they would never find peace, and we couldn't get to America sooner. It wasn't until I got off the plane that I realized I was terrified.

Sure, I did not like the city where there were so many people and, consequently, dead people, but it was all I knew. Tokyo was familiar. America was very different, especially where I was going to be living. Gone were the towering skyscrapers and honking horns. Gone were the crowds of people and bright lights, the customs and culture that made me, the food I ate, and the language I spoke. It was replaced with absolutely nothing. Rolling hills stretched for as far as the eye could see and the bluest sky I'd ever known touched all horizons. Farmhouses lined old roads surrounded by pastures and cornfields. The town was so small that I felt as if I would have missed it if I blinked. We went right through it on our way to our new house, passed buildings made of stone and wood, people wearing funny clothes that took notice of our tiny car and knew we were outsiders at first glance. I saw some kids around my age walking down the sidewalk, and I wondered if we would have anything in common at all. Was this really such a good idea?

Well, on the plus side, there were no ghosts following me.

My family spent the first two days unpacking what the movers brought to us in dusty vans and cleaning our new rental house, which was pretty big compared to our old apartment. It belonged to my cousin's family that ran a business renting out houses all over the country, hence the great deal we got. There were no spirits lingering around, which I couldn't have been happier about. It was the first time in my life that I could have any peace and quiet, and I spent it in my room arranging my things. The silence was actually a little eerie, so I listened to music, figuring it would most likely take some time to get used to. It was my newfound privacy that I loved the most. No eyes watching me, no snide remarks from rude ghosts, no heads popping through the wall with no warning, just me while I figured out how my room would look. My art desk was put under the window, my bed near the door, television propped on my dresser and games neatly organized on the shelves. I think my parents noticed the smile on my face that wasn't there before. They began smiling more, too. All was fine so far…until on the third day, there was a knock on our door.

"Kiku, could you get that?" My mother asked in Japanese from the kitchen. I was sitting on the couch playing my PSP while she arranged her prized porcelain plates on top of the cabinets in the kitchen. It was really starting to look like our place in Japan, just rearranged differently to accommodate the new space.

"Hai," I answered and put my game on pause. I expected to see more movers dropping off a few boxes we might have missed, but when I opened the door, I found myself staring at a grinning boy with eyes as blue and wide as the sky behind him.

"Howdy!" he greeted enthusiastically and tipped the wide brimmed hat on his head down with the flick of a finger, then back up with a curt nod. He then stuck his hand out at me to initiate a handshake before I could even respond. "I saw you folks were moving in, so I came down to meet'cha. It's not every day we get new neighbors in these parts!" I copied him hesitantly and put my hand out, and he grabbed it and shook with a grip I wasn't expecting. "The name's Alfred F. Jones, and welcome to Glenly!"

He released my hand and I wasn't quite sure what to say. I wasn't prepared for this! He kept looking at me with that grin, and after a moment of obvious silence that quickly became uncomfortable, I knew I had no chance at giving off a normal impression anymore. It didn't take much to make me panic, and as the seconds ticked by, I remained frozen like an idiot. That only made me panic more, and Alfred's expression was starting to turn into confusion. Come on, say something! Anything!

"…You okay?" He waved a hand in front of my face and I felt my ears burn in embarrassment.

"Uh, h-hai, I-I…um…" My throat was so tight that I couldn't get words past it. Just as I was praying for lightning to strike me where I stood and end this awkward nightmare, my mother came to the rescue.

"Hello," she greeted politely as she came to the door and I quickly stepped aside, thanking every deity I could name while simultaneously wanting to find a hole to crawl into after such a pitiful failure just trying to say hi. "Are you our neighbor?"

Alfred's grin was back and he tipped his hat to her as he had to me. "Sure am! My family lives down the road, the one with all the horses and the stable. I came down to welcome you here and invite ya'll over for dinner tonight. Pop is fix'n steak and potatoes, a good country meal for a good country welcome."

My mother smiled at him, no doubt finding him charming. "How nice! Of course we will attend. My name is Honda Sakura, my husband Honda Hiroshi is in the town at the moment, and this is my son Honda Kiku." I inched just a bit more behind her when his eyes landed on me again. I couldn't help it for some reason.

Alfred blinked and scratched the back of his head, as if he didn't understand something. My mother's accent wasn't that bad, I thought. "All of you are named Honda?"

"Yes, that is our family name."

"Oh!" Alfred's eyes brightened like a light bulb had gone on in his head. He sure had an expressive face. "But if Honda is your last name, then why do ya say it first?"

"It is how we introduce ourselves in Japan," she explained.

"Oh, cool! I didn't know that." He went back to that smile of his and hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans. "Well, I'm 'Jones F. Alfred,' my dad is 'Jones John,' and my ma is 'Jones Amelia.' I hope Glenly becomes as much of a home for you as it has been for us!"

"Thank you, what time should we be over?"

"Four o'clock should be just fine. I better get back so I can tell my pop how many we're feeding. It'll be fun gett'n to know each other, I'm sure we'll all be great friends!" He tipped his hat again, that gesture apparently meaning hello and goodbye, and he bid my mother farewell. "Good to meet ya, Ma'm." He then looked to me and, I swear on my life, I saw him wink. "You too, Kiku." He then turned around and walked down the gravel driveway towards a brown horse tethered to the mailbox by the road. Next to the horse was another person who looked a lot like Alfred, at least from this distance, and he patted the horse's neck while it munched on grass. My mother closed the door before I could watch him hop onto the saddle and she turned to me with her hands on her hips.

"That boy was being polite and you didn't say a single thing," she said. Her tone was tired, seeing how we'd been through this kind of thing many times before, but I still felt the sting of disappointment. "Please try harder at dinner tonight."

It was a fair thing to ask of me, yet it filled me with slight dread. "Yes, mother." She gave me a warm smile, the one that reassured me that she wasn't mad, and went back to the kitchen for further decorating. I went up to my room and decided to stop procrastinating and unpack the rest of my clothes if I wanted to find something to wear tonight.

Alfred lingered on my mind long after he'd left. He was the first person I'd met in this new place and I was already put off by his boisterous attitude and odd way of talking. Was that normal for people around here? I feared my quiet voice wouldn't be heard if I couldn't match his volume. And what would I be wearing to dinner? Was this a formal event? Was it casual? The way Alfred was dressed when he invited us would suggest casual, but what if it was formal and I showed up underdressed? And never mind what I was wearing, how was I going to face him after that pathetic performance? Baka! He probably thought I was stupid! I managed to screw up before even saying a word. Whatever hope I had of fitting in here was diminishing fast, and I could only hope for the chance to redeem myself. But knowing me, I'd probably screw that up, too.

I guess all I could do was to tell myself to stay positive. Look at the bright side: even if I became an outcast here, at least there were no spirits to drive me insane.

OOO

"Welcome!" a cheerful woman answered the door to the house before we even reached the top step. She was wearing her blonde hair tied back and a simple flannel button-up left open at the top. I could feel my family's relief, seeing how we all didn't know what was expected of us and we all took a chance and dressed informally. So far so good. "You must be the Hondas. Come on in!"

We were ushered in and I got ready to take off my shoes, but to my surprise, Mrs. Jones was still wearing hers inside the house. The carpet even looked freshly vacuumed and she was wearing her shoes! I guess it was normal, though, because who should come around the corner than Alfred, also wearing his boots in the house. His smile was just as bright as the last time I saw it, forming a matching pair when standing beside his mother. He looked a lot like her but with slightly darker blonde hair, and with his hat off I noticed one rebellious lock sticking up from his part. I figured he would greet my mother first, considering she was the only one he's talked to so far, or maybe my father because he hadn't met him yet, but to my surprise he walked right up to me instead.

"Good to see ya again," he said as if he didn't remember the last time he tried to talk to me. I felt my mother's eyes flick to me, waiting in expectancy, and with her to please and me now ready for this, I was able to swallow my initial nervousness.

"Yes, it is a pleasure to meet you," I said and was about to bow, but I managed to remember that westerners didn't do that. What did they do? I knew from observation that they tipped hats, but what if you weren't wearing a hat? Neither of us were. Handshake? We already did that earlier. Was it appropriate to shake hands several times in the same day?

And just like that, I felt awkward again. But at least I managed to say something this time. I've never been so anxious when meeting someone new before, but these people were so different, and there was so much pressure to make a good impression. Or was it all in my head?

Thankfully, Alfred moved on to greet my parents before it could get awkward again. He smiled at my mother and shook hands with my father; the whole time Mrs. Jones assured us happily that we were welcome in her home anytime. She ushered us through the house passed the living room, kitchen, and dining room, only allowing for a short glimpse into the home of our rustic neighbors, before leading us out the open back door and onto a large wooden patio that overlooked the yard. There were some brown chickens pecking the grass around a barn not too far away, and a wood and wire fence separated a few grazing horses in the bordering field. The entire place felt old, but not tiredly so. The buildings rested timelessly on the land, looking comfortable and intertwined with the foliage that grew at their sides, as if they had all grown from the same soil. It looked like a scene from an oil painting.

On the corner of the deck furthest from the house were five people laughing and talking around a gas powered grill. It looked like another couple and their teenage son, and the boy that looked like a younger Alfred from before sat on the bench beside them. The broad shouldered man using the grill put the lid down and introduced himself as John, the husband of Mrs. Jones.

"Hope you folks don't mind, but the Carriedo family would like to join us for dinner, too. They own the ranch down the road from ours so we're all pretty much the same family." My parents assured them it was fine, though a bit awkwardly, and the reason for our concerned glances was explained when my mother held up the gift bag in her arms.

"Where we come from, it is customary to bring gifts when invited to one's home. We weren't expecting so many people, so I am afraid we do not have enough…"

"You're giving us gifts?" Mrs. Carriedo laughed. "How funny! Over here, we're the ones that are supposed to give you the gift baskets. Speaking of which, I'll go fetch those from the house real quick." She went inside while everyone gathered around my family, and my mother handed both my father and I the little wrapped boxes to give to our hosts. The others didn't seem to mind they weren't receiving gifts, looking much more excited to give theirs to us instead.

"My, my! It's so beautifully wrapped that I'm going to feel bad about opening it!" Mrs. Jones said as she examined her box bound in a purple and white handkerchief tied in a knot at the top that resembled a flower. It was my mother's specialty, and my father handed his offering to Mr. Jones next. The man thanked him, and then it was my turn. I had two, one for Alfred and the other for who I assumed was his younger brother standing at his left and watching the exchange with interest. He seemed to be very quiet, but his smile was inquisitive and kind, a sharp contrast to Alfred's nearly identical face boasting broad and animated grins. I handed the first package to Alfred since he was looking so eager.

"Wow, thanks!" he said and spared only a moment to look at the colorful paper tied with a white ribbon before pulling the string and peeling it away. I was taken by surprise when he, as well as the rest of his family, opened their gifts to discover the rice crackers and chocolates that were inside right in front of us. I looked to my parents for their reaction and they simply smiled as if this were normal. They'd each been to America before, so I trusted their experience.

"Cool, it's all Japanese-y," Alfred said as he turned over the box of Apollo chocolates in his hands. "What is it?"

"Candy," I explained. "Inside are small strawberry and chocolate cones. They are popular in Tokyo."

"You come from Tokyo?" The Carriedo's son asked with raised eyebrows. "That's a pretty big city to move to here from. What's it like?"

"It is very…crowded," I answered hesitantly. "And loud."

"Well if you wanted a change of pace, ya sure got it out here." I nodded in agreement. "Who's that one for?"

I look down at my hand where Alfred was pointing and suddenly remembered the box for the younger brother, who had seemed to have wandered off somewhere after he didn't get to open his gift with the rest of his family. They didn't even bother to wait. "S-sorry, this one is meant for the other one who came to invite us here." I looked around and finally spotted him standing by the adults and listening to their conversation, as if he were simply part of the background.

"You mean Scarlet?" Alfred pointed his thumb over his shoulder at the pasture and one of the horses lazily lifted its head at the sound of its name, only to flick its tail and go right back to eating grass. "That's real thoughtful of ya, but horses can't have chocolate."

"No, I mean…" when I looked to the quiet brother again, he appeared to have noticed my eyes on him. He looked back at me and froze with open-mouthed disbelief. It didn't take me more than a second to put it all together, and when I did, the realization made my stomach sink to my toes. I messed up.

"You…you can see me?"

Bum bum buuuuuum. Matt's a ghost. Big surprise, eh?

Gosh is it easy for me to describe this setting. I just have to look out my window! Granted, I live in a more mountainous valley area, but it's got the same feeling. I grew up on a bit of a farm myself.

This is my first time writing for Japan so I'd love to know how I'm doing. Also, western Alfred is best Alfred.