Author: Arashi (marenski@hotmail.com)
Website: www.kenkaya.com
Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin nor am I making any money off this story!
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You know, I totally forgot something before I left: Tae and my huge bill at the Akabeko. Aw hell she's gotta be furious. I can practically hear her right now. "This time he's really dined and ditched! That good for nothing rooster-head! I'll show him! I'll tack on interest that will make his head spin!" Ha ha well I guess she really wouldn't say anything like that (out loud anyway)
That's what I started thinking about the minute the cards were in my hands. It's funny how memories and thoughts of old friends surface at the most inopportune of moments. The man sitting across from me grimaced, noticing the fact that I'd started smiling. Shit, so much for my poker face. And the worst thing I wasn't exactly smiling about my hand. Hell cards or dice, it doesn't matter. I'm always shit outta luck.
The other two dirt bags noticed my grin too. It was too late to hide it and try and play everything off cool.
"How many cards, Sagara?" The dealer glared at me. It wasn't hard to tell he didn't like me much. At any rate, the feeling was mutual. And to top things off, the man totally butchered my last name. I swear, not a single person I'd met could pronounce it correctly.
But anyway, the dilemma about my last name hardly mattered at that moment. I needed to think, and fast. My cards were laughing at me, one lousy jack with a cocky assed smirk. I vowed that if I ever met anyone that even remotely reminded me of this card, I'd punch him out in a heartbeat.
But shit, they'd already seen me smiling. Taking one more look at the cards I met the dealer's gaze with as much confidence as I could muster. "None." Perfect English, might I add. (at least, I think it was perfect English...) At any rate, you don't spend months in a foreign country without learning to communicate. Couldn't read worth a damn, but I was catching on.
The guy next to me grunted. I took that to be his way of showing surprise. Everyone else took a card or two and then sat staring at their hands as though they could will them to improve. Caught a few calculating glances thrown in my direction and then the bidding started.
I was so screwed. I eyed my pile of winnings which happened to be every penny I had to my name. Sighing inwardly, I slid the entire pile into the middle of the table. All or nothing, right? Someday probably someday soon, my motto is going to bite me in the ass.
But not that day. The men choked. All three of them folded and waited for me to show my hand. When I slapped that baby down on the chipped wooden table they all swore. And, might I add, they did so extremely well very inventive. I thought people knew how to spew it in Japan but they must teach swearing in the schools of America otherwise I don't know how I can explain everyone's proficiency.
Ignoring them, I collected my winnings. It wasn't much, what with the fact that half of it was mine originally. But it was certainly enough to let me live easy for a couple weeks. When the dagger slammed down between my outstretched fingers, I finally decided to take the scumbags seriously.
"You lost fair and square." I don't let emotion get into my voice when I'm dealing with their lot. I let my eyes and my fists do the real talking.
"Like hell we did! You tricked us you little shit." The other two men were on their feet, hands drifting dangerously close to their gun holsters.
Pausing, I rolled my eyes and unconsciously switched back into Japanese. "It's going to be another one of those days"
"What was that?"
People assume when I speak in my native tongue that I'm insulting them. Doesn't matter. I knew I wasn't getting away without a fight. And I didn't mind at all.
"I said you guys whine like babies." Without pausing I grabbed the edge of the table and pulled. Somebody should have told me the damn thing was bolted to the floor. Makes it a little more difficult to get that edge of surprise. Expecting the thing to fly up with minimal effort, I didn't exactly give it enough force to snap it free.
"What the f"
They stood there, completely confused, with their hands resting on the handles of their pistols.
"Chikusho" Yeah I swore. In Japanese too I looked like a damn moron. But I guess it worked to my advantage. The two guys glanced at the dealer, who seemed to be their ringleader. He paused a long moment before he seemed to recall the fact that I'd beat them gambling and that I'd called them babies.
"Shoot him already, ya morons!"
Yup that's how it works in some of those small towns. Nobody cares what happens to one unlucky foreigner. But I'm quite fond of myself and I had better things to do than get shot. I'd made a promise to Jou-chan to take care of myself, after all.
The table cracked free when I applied the
proper amount of effort. They hadn't been expecting that
to say the least. All three of them were caught in its path
and that thing was pretty damn heavy too. The owner must have
figured out that tables were always the first things to go when
fights broke out. Bolting them to the floor and making them heavy
like that should have stopped anyone from using it as a handy
weapon. But not me.
Of course, there's something funny about saloon fights in the
west It doesn't matter who your quarrel was with in the
beginning by the end it's just a free for all with everybody
attacking everybody. Unfortunately, I'm a bit conspicuous in
those types of settings. Usually the only Japanese guy in the
place for one thing. And my outfit doesn't help much either.
Granted, I'd adopted a few items of American apparel. Only out of necessity If I could have I would have continued wearing around nothing but my white pants and gi with the character for evil. (which was all but unrecognized in the U.S damn shame) I'd bought myself a white cowboy hat to keep the sun out of my eyes and a red bandana I used to cover my face when riding through particularly dusty areas. I also bought a pair of leather chaps to protect my legs from whatever I happened to ride through. I didn't think I'd need to buy something like that until after a week of riding through the cactuses and underbrush that my damn horse perpetually steers toward. My white pants were all but shredded and I think I've still got some little scars from the adventure My black Chinese style shoes were the only items I'd actually had to throw away. For one thing, I'd worn them out pretty bad and for another thing You try riding without a pair of boots or something with a little support. Not to mention that my spurs wouldn't have attached very well to my old shoes
At any rate My white gi still attracts a lot of attention. Or maybe it's a combination of my gi and the fact that I demolish any man stupid enough to stand in front of me? As long as no one draws their guns, I'm pretty much uncontested that means I get a lot of people ganging up on me. But I don't care Saves me the trouble of having to go looking for my next opponent.
Things were certainly lively in the saloon after I tossed that table. I think I probably broke at least four jaws. That's a mighty satisfying sound, the sound of bone crunching coming from some scumbag who definitely deserves it. Half the guys I'd met in places like that would probably kill ya for your boots. Way I saw it, I was just cleaning up the neighborhood a bit.
When the last man in the place crumpled under my fists, I'd decided it was time to head out. Some of those American guys call it "high tailing", but they don't understand that the last thing I'm doing is running away. Not like I'm scared of the men I just trashed. Not really Which is why I made it really obvious that I was unconcerned when I walked up to the bartender and tossed a few coins on the counter for the whiskey I'd consumed and a little extra from the broken table. The man slowly stood up from his hiding spot behind the counter when he heard the sound of cold, hard, cash clinking against it.
"I've never seen anything like that" He muttered as he set down the shotgun that he'd been clutching hard enough to make his knuckles whiten. The man viewed the carnage in awe while I just grunted in response. "You took out the whole lot of em in under five minutes"
The sound of some woman giggling drew my attention to the second floor's overhanging balcony. Three scantily clad prostitutes hung over the railing giving me a full view of their cleavage.
"Hey big boy you leaving so soon?"
"Why don't you come up here and play? We like big, strong men"
"We're going to be sooooo lonely now that you've beat up everybody. Why don't you come up here and keep us company?"
"We saw how well you handled yourself when three men came at you how about you try it with three women?"
It was always the same. The hookers usually weren't interested in me until they'd seen me fight. And then they'd never shut up.
"Sorry ladies, maybe next time." I tipped my hat and turned around, listening to them pout until I pushed open the swinging doors and stepped outside. Of course, there wouldn't be a next time. They knew it as well as I did. I don't really know what the problem is but even when I have time to kill, there is just something wrong about enjoying myself in the brothels. I went once since arriving in America and the whole time I felt dirty. I'd been fairly drunk tooAnd Kami-sama knows I'm no stranger to the red light district of Tokyo. Like I'd told Kenshin once, "We're not all good boys." But somehow the whole thing just seemed I don't know wrong or something. The next day and even that night I kept having these crazy thoughts. The damn fox kept popping into my head.
I thought about sending her a letter. I went to three different post offices and got quotes on how much it would cost to mail the thing to Japan But what the hell was I supposed to say? "Hey Fox, I was with this hooker the other night and I started thinking about you. How's it going?" I'm not very good with words And I certainly didn't have any way to express what was going on in my head on paper considering the fact that I couldn't really figure it out for myself.
Shaking my head to clear it from thoughts of Megumi, I let my eyes adjust to the light beaming down from the unforgiving sun. There was something wrong. I sensed it immediately. Turning quickly I glanced toward the watering trough where I'd tied up my horse. The bastard was gone.
If you're wondering what bastard I'm referring
to Let me rephrase myself. My damn horse was missing. My
cool exterior melted in a rush of fear. Sure it was fine to be
cocky when all the men who would hurt you in a minute were lying
unconscious on the floor of some saloon while you have the advantage
of being miles away riding like the wind. On the other hand,
there was no way I'd be able to reach a safe distance by foot.
Every man I'd just defeated had a nice shiny gun or two strapped
to his waist or hips
If I didn't get some distance between them, and myself I'd be
used for target practice. Think the character for evil would
double as a nice big bulls eye? I wasn't in the mood to find
out.
"Maverick!!"
That's my horse's name. He was named when I bought him and I didn't know at the time of purchasing what the word meant. But since then I've been educated time and time again. The damn animal doesn't do a thing I want it to do and it's too smart for it's own good. Man hasn't invented a knot that he can't untie. I leave him alone for five minutes and he disappears. But lately he'd been getting sneakier. He unties himself and heads off for a while to find something to eat and then he wanders back to the place that I left him. He's got me figured out. I'd started checking on him about every twenty minutes so he makes sure to be standing right there all innocent like when I stick my head out of the local saloon.
Somehow though he always manages to be somewhere else when I really need him.
"Where the hell did you go!!?"
I jumped off the wooden porch and dashed around the side of the saloon, hoping to find him cooling off in the shade. He wasn't there so I ran back further and checked behind the building and the outskirts of the small town. You can see a long ways in a desert, but there was no sign of my horse. I turned around and headed back to the single street in town and the collection of buildings lining it on either side.
When a bullet makes a whizzing sound that means it's really close and generally, it means that it was being aimed at you. I didn't bother to find out exactly where it came from. I had a fairly good idea. Someone in the saloon had regained consciousness.
Darting back into the relative safety of the alley between the saloon and the general store, I spent a few heartbeats swearing. I heard a couple angry voices from inside the saloon and decided that more than one of my little friends had regained consciousness I figure they were probably some of the guys that had been knocked out by the other men. If I'd actually been the one to knock them out, there was no way in hell they'd be up and running around.
I peeked around the corner and saw a few men standing in the doorway. They were having a heated argument about something or another When people talk too fast I still have trouble understanding them. It all kind of meshes together.
But I did make out one thing clearly enough. "He doesn't have a gun so he'll be easy enough to finish off."
Ouch. Once again my anti-gun policy was spitting in my face. By simply carrying a weapon I'd have been a lot better off. The American's are fairly certain of their firearms, and granted, I don't think there's any reason for them not to be. Some of the sharp shooters out here could hit a horsefly from a hundred yards. I'm still not sure exactly how far a yard is, but when people tell me that I have no reason not to believe them. At any rate, it sounds scary enough and I'd seen proof of their accuracy more than once. Wandered into a fair number of bloodbaths already Everybody shooting at everybody until one group or another finishes off their opponents. It's a different kind of fighting than I was used to. But I've learned learned not to be around when the bullets start flying.
If my horse had been waiting where he was supposed to be I wouldn't have had a problem. Everything would have been nice and simple. Peeking my head around the corner of the saloon I finally caught sight of the animal. He was grazing at the other end of town just off to the side of the main road. To get to him I'd have to pass the saloon. I decided that I'd sell him to a glue maker in the next town and buy myself a new dependable horse.
Cursing my luck I took off at a dead run passing directly in front of the saloon. It was the shortest distance to my horse and I figured if I moved fast enough they wouldn't have time to react. But they saw me, or heard me and the bullets started whizzing. Meanwhile, I started shouting out to my horse, trying to get his attention. He ignored me of course, though I swear I saw his ears perk up and point in my direction. Bastard One of these days he is soooo going to be made into glue.
Unlike other horses, Maverick is not afraid of the sound of guns. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing but it's made me wonder a few times. Hell, the stupid animal will stand there happily munching away while bullets fly around him.
I was within twenty feet of my uncaring horse when I tripped. I was running like a madman but that still didn't explain the event. I never trip. Never. Sure I'd been drinking for the last few hours, but I was hardly drunk. Pushing up to my feet I wasn't expecting the spasm of pain from my leg. Glancing down I noticed the nice hole in my chaps and the all too familiar color of blood.
It wasn't a big deal. The bullet hit me on the side of my left leg and passed straight through. If it had been further over it might have hit bone and embedded itself, creating a nice big problem for me. But this was nothing nothing except a major inconvenience especially since I was in a bit of a hurry.
It was then that my horse decided to pay attention to me. I hadn't taken half a staggering step toward him when he dashed over to my side and stood patiently waiting for me to get on. My injured leg complained when I slid my foot into the stirrup and hoisted myself into the saddle and I barely had time to get situated before Maverick started galloping. Did I tell him to start galloping? No. He wouldn't have listened to me if I had. I wasn't going to complain though. Even though I was letting my horse make his own decisions Sometimes he just knows what needs to be done.
It would have been nice if I'd had time to buy some supplies before heading out into the desert again. Food was always good. And something to drink beside my flask of whiskey But there was no time to worry about it. I was sure I'd find another town as long as I kept heading east. Yeah another town a place where no one would shoot me on sight a new place to explore
Spurring Maverick for good measure I let out a single whoop of excitement. I'd survived another close encounter. My horse sensed my mood and responded, picking up his pace and kicking up a dust trail to be proud of. The wind whipped my shirt and headband and once again I enjoyed the sensation. The desert stretched out before me, a mess of cacti and brush in a plain dusty green and brown landscape. Mountains loomed in the distance and I made up my mind to reach them by the time the sun set. Grinning, I wondered what kind of trouble I'd be able to get myself into in the next town. At any rate, I figured I'd be finding out soon enough
It's the times when I'm riding through the desert at full speed with the wind blowing through my hair that I'm really glad that I decided to leave Japan. It's a feeling that I never experienced there. I don't have to worry about the government... or my friends... or anything really. I have no attachments and nothing to hold me down. It's freedom... pure and simple. And I've decided that I'm going to enjoy it as long as I can.
But freedom isn't everything I guess
When I found myself in the middle of nowhere with a shot up leg
and no supplies I would have given anything to be able to head
over to the dojo or the clinic I'm starting to think
that maybe friends are more valuable than anything. Especially
friends like Kenshin, Jou-chan, Yahiko, Tae... and.... Megumi.
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Here's just a taste of Sano in America... what do you think? Please review and let me know. I can either continue this or pump out a totally different story. Do you want to see more of America? Or England? Or Europe in general? Or maybe Mongolia? Your reviews will help me decide!
Thanks for reading and keep in mind that you too can join in on the fun! Write some Sano traveling stories!
And check out J. Liha's fic about Sanosuke in America!
