Reves note: Hello!
Well I'm back after many months of fruitless labor with a new chapter. I apologize to the lack of updates: I'd encountered a bit of a writer's block (what an understatement ;;;)
On another note:
To avoid general mass confusion, (which is never a good thing) I've made a bit of a timetable... I'd recommend that you read it, since so many people have expressed a certain confusion about hangman's truth. If you don't care for timetables, feel free to skip to the story. If you don't care much for my story, then you are probably lost.
Sagara Sanosuke
February 1860:
Born in a small district of Tokyo. Taken in and "raised" by his late mother's close friend, a widow of two boys. These two boys can be said to have a mean streak, and hate Sanosuke almost as much as their mother does. They both have blond hair.
8 years old:
Sanosuke leaves the company of his foster family, and runs away into the woods.
Still eight:
Stumbles upon a Sekihoutai camp, and gets taken in by Sagara Souzou, who feels just a little bit sorry for him. Sanosuke later takes Sagara's last name for his own.
Nine years old:
It is unveiled that the members of the Sekihoutai were pawns in the Meiji government's scheme to gain support. The Sekihoutai take this secret to their graves. Fortunately Sanosuke gets thrown off a cliff (Yay!) and hence survives the incident.
Nine years and a couple months:
After being rescued from the river by a girl and her angry brother, Sanosuke is once again left to fend for his own. After stumbling into the shadier part of town, Sanosuke takes refuge from the rain in what seems to be a warehouse. When he wakes up he meets Isamu, Yoita, and Taro, of which he's not too fond.
After breaking Taro's nose and knocking him out, Sanosuke is whisked away by "Twitch," a sort of manager with a drinking/smoking/drug abuse problem, who brings him strait to the boss. The man in question is actually Bruno Champlin, a Frenchman who has made a huge fortune in Japan. He runs all of the Tokyo underground, and manages everything from drugs to geisha districts to illegally imported goods. Among these things is a sort of street fighting business (think WWE without the spandex, cheesy lines and theme songs) which he immediately signs Sanosuke into.
Did I mention Taro is Champlin's son by a geisha?
And here we come to a gap that remains to be filled in future chapters.
21 years old:
Kaoru gives birth to an adorable son by Kenshin.
21 years old a few months:
Sanosuke has become a little more familiar with a certain lady doctor, and after a day by the river, these two confess their love for each other. (I'm so corny --;;)
21 and a half:
Megumi checks out Sanosuke, and discovers scars hidden under the bandages Sano usually wears around his waist. These are the results of being carried down the raging river the day the Sekihoutai were executed. Flashback follows.
Still 21:
Sanosuke gets engaged to Megumi!
Almost 22 years old:
Sanosuke gets arrested. Yahiko is the only one to see it happen, but promises not to tell anyone what's happened, because Sanosuke is a little ashamed that he still has to deal with the police. Thinking he hasn't done anything worthy of lengthy imprisonment, Sanosuke says he'll be back soon.
3 days after arrest:
No one knows where Sanosuke is. Not even Megumi, who has been waiting to tell him she's pregnant (and remembering that certain time they shared in the rain). Sano's left for days on end before, but usually someone knows where he's gone. Meanwhile, there's said to be a hanging downtown this afternoon.
Yes, Sanosuke's about to be hanged. He's been given a list of lengthy reasons why he should die, but most of these are irrelevant. Then come these two declarations:
The officer cleared his throat and paused for effect.
"For the cold blooded murder of popular business men Takeda Kanryu..."
"And Bruno Champlin."
Hangman's Truth
Chapter Six
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Megumi's perspective.
13 years previous to the hanging.
11 years old.
All I really remember from that time was my immense sense of disbelief.
I was too young, I think, too shocked to truly comprehend they were never coming back.
I lived in a daze, a dream world; a shadow of what I was once before.
My name is Takani Megumi, and I was born to a long line of wealthy doctors based in Aizu. I hadn't known my family was in danger before that day and I expect they kept this hidden from me. I lived in an ignorant bliss, cheerfully optimistic and unaware.
The truth was that my family supported the Tokugawa Shogunate, and was sent to aid them against the Imperialist rebellion. After many months of war, their fear for their safety and that of my siblings increased dramatically so they sent me to stay at a friend of my mother's, a lady named Kuniko-san, until things had settled down. My mother was supposed to send my brother and sister after me, but they never came.
After a week had passed Kuniko-san decided to return to the Takani household to see what was the matter. Being as stubborn as a mule (or so my baka tori-atama never ceases to repeat) I persisted until I had convinced Kuniko-san to take me with her. (My friendly methods of persuasion consisted mainly of latching on to the carriage seats and refusing to let go until my demands were met.)
Sitting on the very seat I had held on to for dear life not so long ago, Kuniko-san and I were on the road for nearly an hour before we began to smell the smoke.
Kuniko-san looked as if she had bitten into a lemon. Bitter tears swelled up in her eyes and her hands fluttered in her lap, like the wings of a fallen bird. She then took a deep breath, peered out the window ahead of us, and saw all she feared she would see.
The Takani household, in ruins.
I heard her inhale sharply, and ask the driver to take us home. It was only then, when the carriage was fully turned around and headed back in the direction of Kuniko-san's, that I saw what was left of my childhood memories.
A smoldering pile of ash.
I felt like my very core was shaking, though I was later told I became very still. Time passed very quickly from there on, as it no longer had any meaning. I had to constantly look out the window, as if trying to appease the tremendous sense of disbelief that filled me.
Is the house really gone? Maybe it was a trick of the light. Maybe my eyes are deceiving me. I took a deep breath and looked again, half expecting to see the house standing where it had always stood. I sat back down. Maybe that was someone else's house. Maybe we were in another place all together. Maybe I'm dreaming.
After disbelief came resolution. It was at that point that I reached deep inside and sought courage that I never knew I had. I relied on strength I never knew was there.
And so I picked up all the pieces of myself, and put me back together again. Kuniko-san had her head in her hands and was wailing miserably, pulling at what was left of her graying hair. I lifted her up, (with some difficulty, might I add) and tried to straighten her out the best I could. I was the adult, and she, the weeping child.
Kuniko-san looked down at me with reddened eyes. "Oh Megumi-chan," she managed to whisper. And then, as if my name brought forth memories too painful to bear, she erupted into a fit of hiccups and moans.
I will always remember the day I put myself back together again, for it was as if it had been burned into my memory. From that day forth I never really felt complete, as if I had forgotten a piece of myself in the Aizu countryside.
Kuniko-san seemed very old to me, although I don't think she was much older than my mother was. She spent most of her day in a dusty old room filled with mountains of paperwork and checkbooks. She was a very clever businesswoman, and made her living buying goods of poor merchants and selling them off at twice the price. She loved money.
I lived with Kuniko-san for four months, although the time seemed to pass very quickly. Then one day like any other, Kuniko-san had a man over for supper, most likely to discuss a business proposition. After the tea had been poured and the deal struck, he rose to his feet to leave, and saw me there, on my way upstairs.
"Kuniko-san," he said, "who is this lovely creature?"
I would barely describe myself as a lovely creature, and so assumed he was speaking to someone else, and I made what would have seemed a great show of turning around and verifying there was no one behind me. After I turned back towards this man with a slightly confused expression on my face, he burst into a fit of laughter, as if I'd meant to be funny.
When the laughter died and the man was reduced to wiping a the tears from his eyes, he turned towards Kuniko-san and said, "And charming as well. May I inquire why this young lady is staying with you, Kuniko-san?"
Her eyes seemed to grow heavier as she responded. "That, Tanaki-san, (the man was now no longer nameless) is a story entirely too long to be told standing up. May I invite you back into the living room for a drink of sake, then?"
Tanaki-san accepted, so I bowed and retreated to my room. I could feel Tanaki-san's eyes on me the whole length of the stairs. I shuddered involuntarily.
The talking lasted long into the night. In the morning, I found Kuniko-san passed out on the tatami mats.
I moved towards her, and her eyes flew open. She stood up quickly and smoothed her kimono with determined but weary hands. Mustering as much authority as she could for someone whom has just spent the night on the ground, she ordered, "Help me clean up this mess, Megumi-chan. Tanaki-san will be here shortly." I could smell sake on her breath.
I stared at her quizzically for a moment, but then did as I was told.
After cleaning up I returned upstairs to dress, Kuniko-san close behind me. She took special interest in my hair that day, brushing it out herself and making sure it stayed in place. She seemed nervous and was biting her nails, a thing I'd never seen her do before. She told me that Takani-san was going to take me out, and not to anger him.
She also avoided looking me in the eyes.
Takani-san did arrive shortly after, and kept smiling at me greedily, as if I was something to eat. This made me feel extremely uncomfortable, and I spent the first few minutes scowling at the ground because of it. I lifted my head when Kuniko-san asked me to (in an angry tone, might I add) but I could not find it in my heart to smile.
Takani-san's carriage was right outside the door. I stepped gingerly into it and sat down, looking strait ahead. Takani-san sat down beside me, seemingly amused by my haughty nature. Kuniko-san stepped away from the carriage, her eyes on the ground.
That was the last time I saw her.
Takani-san and I rode in silence for at least twenty minutes before I realized we were leaving town. I sat very still, but felt as if there was a volcano of activity raging inside of me. My emotions were in turmoil. I thought of a million reasons for my being where I was, but none of them seemed to make sense. My logic was waging a war against my trust. Why had Kuniko-san sent me away?
I resisted the urge to ask where we were headed, and instead put on a cold front. This was my defense: to act as if unaffected by all that is happening around you. Sometimes I even manage to convince myself that it is true.
I heard a low mechanical groan, and realized at once exactly where we were.
The train station.
I stared ahead, and although shocked managed to maintain my poker face.
He seemed unaffected by my silence. "We are going to visit an old friend of mine." He paused. "She lives in Tokyo."
The carriage stopped. I let Takani-san get out before me, so as to be free from his wandering eyes. Takani-san handed the coachman our tickets, and we climbed aboard. A few minutes later, we were on our way.
The journey lasted a full day, but it felt longer. Takani-san sat across from me, ignoring me for the most part, never saying a word. We arrived late that night, stepped outside, and climbed aboard another carriage, which took us to a building near the outskirts of town.
The door was opened, and we were ushered in by candlelight. I was so tired at that point that all I saw were dark shapes and forms, so I followed the light of the candle, which into a dark room down the hallway. I felt a futon under my feet. And so, mentally and physically exhausted, I found myself falling asleep to the monotone mutter of Takani-san's voice in the next room.
But something he said woke me up with a start.
"...So what do you think of the girl?"
"She's beautiful, Takani-san. Stunning. You were not exaggerating in the least."
I now had my eyes fully open and alert. As quietly as I could, I crawled to the door on all fours and opened the rice paper door a crack. Down the hallway from me Takani-san and his friend sat in the living room, discussing me openly over a bottle of sake. I've been told ladies never eavesdrop, but when the topic of conversation is you...
"Do you agree to my price then, Shizuka-san?"
I stopped breathing. Price? The tension in Kuniko-san's movements earlier that day suddenly made sense. Her burdened silence. The way her eyes never met mine. All the subtle signs that something was wrong. Why did I not see them before?
In later years I often wondered why Kuniko-san chose to act the way she did. Part of me believed that she thought I would have a better life elsewhere, one she could not give me. The war had been hard on her, and I often suspected she was on the verge of bankruptcy, though she never mentioned anything. Another more cynical part of me believed that she had done it to get out of that difficult financial situation I just mentioned. Which ever the case, what mattered now was the present and how I was going to deal with it.
So I took a deep breath to compose myself, and wiped away my silent tears.
"I find your price to be quite reasonable, Takani-san," said his friend Shizuka-san. "Come, let us toast the occasion."
Without really realizing what I was doing, I peered around the corner to get a look at them. Takani-san looked just as I had left him, but that woman was something else. She was a geisha.(A Japanese woman trained to entertain men with conversation, singing, and dancing.) Her hair was combed upward in the split-peach style of that time and her face was painted white. She was no more than an average looking woman, but this attire painted an illusive image of beauty.
A maid rushed by me, followed by another woman, who also wore the geisha attire. Takani-san's friend immediately lowered the sake bottle and exclaimed, "Why mother, how nice of you to join us!"
My breath once again caught in my throat.
I was in an okiya.
(An okiya is a geisha house. Geisha are totally dependent of their okiya, and until the 1950's, lived there as well. All the profit that a geisha makes will go directly to the okiya. In return, the okiya takes cares care of their food, dress, maids, and in general, money matters. The most successful geisha are usually adopted as daughters of the okiya house.)
There was no other explanation. If I had been bought as a maid, why would they have expressed an interest in my appearance? And as far as I knew, woman of the same age in an okiya often referred to another as "mother" depending on who was adopted first.
I had been sold as an apprentice geisha.
Mother sat down, disgruntled.
"Where is the girl?" She asked, turning towards the first woman. "I will have to see that she is suitable first. Just because she has a pretty face does not mean she will make money."
It was then that I saw her face for the first time.
It was perfect. Her skin was very soft and smooth looking, and seemed to glow like ivory. Her lips, painted red were perfectly pouted and expressive. Her eyes illuminated her face, giving anyone the impression of wonder and enlightenment. Compared to this, the first geisha looked very crude, almost deformed.
All three at the table nodded a little solemnly before changing the topic of conversation. Takani-san drained his sake and left shortly afterwards.
The two geisha remained for a bit, discussing anything from the weather to my future. When they had said all that needed to be said, both stood to leave.
Shizuka-san blew out the candles, and they both left the room.
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Megumi's perspective.
1 year previous to the hanging.
23 years old.
I blew out the candle at my door and stepped into the dark of my room, dressed in my nightgown. I stopped for a moment at my doorway, just to listen to the sounds of the night before I finally drifted of to sleep.
I felt a warm breath on my neck.
"Oi."
My arms flailed and I spun around with what could be best described as a shriek. Taking what object was within my reach (the candleholder) I thumped my intruder a good two times on the head before he managed to get away. I heard a familiar sounding "ow" in the darkness.
A little sheepishly I called out, "Sanosuke?"
"Jeez fox you got one hell of a right arm," I heard him mumble to my right. Unable to hold back my laughter, I moved towards him crouched down with my arms in front of me to feel for obstacles. Finally I felt what I was looking for, a spiky tuff of hair attached to a Sanosuke. I ran my fingers through it a couple times.
"Right...here." Sanosuke moved my hand to his forehead. "That's where you hit me."
I pretended to feel a bump and gasped. "Why Sanosuke," I said in mock concern. "You seem to be growing soft in your old age."
"Or maybe you're just getting better at hitting me. You've had tons of practice."
I put my hands on either side of his head, lifted up his bangs and kissed his forehead. That seemed to be enough of an apology for him, for he moved so that I was sitting beside him. I leaned against his shoulder.
"Remember the first time we met?"
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Sanosuke's perspectiveAlso 13 years previous to the hanging
9 years old.
After my little talk with the boss, Twitch brought me back down the cold stone hallway, past where Taro had been lying, (there was still a little blood on the floor) an' pointed me in the direction of a small wooden door. Twiddling his cigarette butt between his teeth, he told me that was where I'd be sleeping, in the same room as Isamu and Yoita.
"Work hard kid," he said after spitting a lug of tobacco onto the floor. I stepped out of his line of fire. "And stay out trouble. Champlin 'll kick you out in half a second if you ever cost him a single Yen."
I was so tired by then I'd have agreed if he'd told me to sleep in a pigsty. I must have walked inside the room 'cause next thing I knew I was on a futon, covers nestled up underneath my chin, more comfortable than I'd been in months.
It didn't seem like it then, but I can tell you now that that day was the best and worst of my life. The worst because I started a life where I couldn't tell right from wrong, the best because it lead me to Megumi.
The next day Isamu and Yoita gave me the tour. They told me where the equipment was, how to clean it, where the gym was, who to avoid while they were training, where the weapons were, and not to touch them. In later years they also taught me how to cuss, gamble, and drink.
I soon found out that when Twich and Champlin said they'd teach me how to make a name for myself, they actually meant I'd be nothing more than a servant. Being a trainee in this building only meant you were a slave to anyone who was big enough to order you around. One of these was nicknamed "Butch".
Butch was one of those people you could never figure out. There was no logic in his movements, no reasoning behind his clouded eyes. Everything he did was loud, rash and unexpected. You often caught him grinning like a madman for no reason at all. Whenever I saw him I got this unsettling feelin' in my stomach. Everyone avoided him, mostly because of how bad he smelled.
Butch was without a doubt the biggest asshole in the business. Unfortunately he was also the most successful, which meant that everything he said was law. Isamu, Yoita an' me being the youngest, this applied especially to us.
Butch's story was always told over a warm bottle of sake. He was an illegal immigrant from the colonies, they'd say, a working man, though a little empty in the head. While still living there, he was engaged to a woman who lived in a town a couple miles away from his. They didn't get to see each other very often, but the storyteller always assured that they were very much in love. (I didn't believe it was possible to like, never mind love Butch, but I'm told he was real different back then) Then one day, Butch decided to surprise his fiancée by visiting her unannounced. He found her in bed with her neighbor.
This, the storyteller always said, broke Butch's soul, as well as his heart. It was at that point that he turned into the Butch we all knew, the smelly, sweaty, piss-drunk, bald-headed, 6 foot 3, insane son of a bitch. Emphasis on "insane".
Isamu used to tell anyone who'd listen that he'd once seen Butch light a cat on fire. Isamu claimed he was getting a drink of water in the middle of the night, when Butch ordered 'im to bring a bottle of sake to his room.
'Samu said that when he when came back, Butch held a purring cat in his arms, the way you would hold a baby. Taking the bottle, he took a swing and then carefully poured the rest on the cat's belly and back, chuckling. The cat, annoyed at being wet, jumped out of his arms and tried to shake itself off. Butch, still grinning that demented grin, slowly took a flint out of his pocket and...
The cat took off with a scream of anguish, this great, burning ball of flame and fur streaking around the room looking for a way out, (the door was closed) the horrible pain evident in its every stride. Isamu's shock overcame his fear of Butch, and he ran to let to the cat out. The feline bounced down the stone hallway and out the doors it had wandered into, leaving ashes in its wake.
Fucking insane.
When Butch found out his fiancée was cheating on him, his heart left him. It broke into a thousand pieces, leaving a great gaping hole in his chest that could only be filled by revenge.
First he strangled the neighbor and then, his fiancée. Next he calmly strode down the hall and got a long, cold knife from the kitchen. And then, the storyteller would say with great relish, he hacked their naked bodies into a million tiny pieces.
Butch left the continent that same day. He became known all over the colonies as "The Butcher", madman wanted for murder. The tale of the slaughter was glorified at each telling, though no one was sure of the details. Some say he rapped his fiancée before he killed her, others that he cradled her severed head in his arms for hours. Some told (but only after drinking a whole lot more than they should of) that they thought the lovers were still alive when Butch cut 'em up. Another story told that he cut off his fiancée's wedding finger and hung it from a string around his neck. (I tried to check once, but couldn't really tell because of the baggy shirt he was wearing. But if there was a rotting finger thumping against his beating chest, it would explain the smell.) News of "The Butcher" even reached Japan on the other side of the world but only through rumors and whispers. Next thing you know Butch is signed up with Champlin, getting' paid to beat up men in front of a drunken, cheering crowd.
What a great place to grow up in.
By the time I was twelve I'd pretty much gotten the hang of things. I went to watch the fights on a weekly basis, with Isamu and Yoita.
Taro and I still didn't really get along. He wanted to kill me.
People started arriving at the teahouse at about seven. The tables were always filled with businessmen; politicians...People with money looking for a good time. There was usually one or two geisha at each table, some better looking than others, pouring sake, telling jokes, laughing too loudly at what some guy had said. They looked like ghosts to me, faces painted white, gliding up and down the hallways. Further down you had your usual set of illegal gambling halls, with your usual suspects: working class guys trying to strike it rich. There was a brothel nearby just incase any of them ever did.
Now if you continued to walk down this hallway, took a right and then a left you'd find yourself in front of a door with no apparent use. In front of this door would usually stand a guy twice your size, and of course he'd ask you where you were going and if you were lost. Now usually, you'd stutter and say you were looking for the washroom, and he'd point you back the way you came.
But if, just if, you were someone very important, with more money then you knew what to do with, he'd open the door.
And you would be in a completely different place.
There were ten rows of seats that reached the ceiling on every wall. The stands were usually filled with cheering, screaming men with money bulging in their pockets. They were always very red in the face and they always had a bottle of sake in one hand, but in all the excitement most of it ended up on the ground. The air was always thick with smoke.
Every night each of those men bet on their favorite fighter. Each night, huge sums of money were won and lost.
In the center of this room stood a huge fenced cage that touched the ceiling. This was there 'cause the crowd sometimes threw their sake bottles at the ring, if they didn't like what they saw. It was also there so the guy who was losing had nowhere to run.
It was amazing to watch. Two titans, each fighting until the other was unconscious or dead. These kinds of staged fights were illegal, of course, which made people paid huge sums to see 'em.
It didn't pay as much as Champlin's drug business, but it still got him a lot of money.
There were geisha there too, the most beautiful geisha you had ever seen, the expensive kind, the ones who didn't look at you unless they already knew your name.
One of these was Taro's mother, Mirasaki. She was the most beautiful woman any of us had seen up to then, with her startling eyes, ivory skin an' blood red lips. She was Champlin's mistress. I'd only seen Champlin once up until then, but the thought of someone with him really grossed me out. She looked like she got paid really well though.
Recently she'd taken to parading new apprentice geisha, one of them about my age.
That night, I saw her for the first time.
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To be continued
Reves other author's note: Can anyone tell me the name of Sanosuke's friend, the one who was killed by Megumi's opium?? Please tell me!!!
Thank you Akinababy, (it was your reviews that prompted me into writing again. Thanks ) Innocent Thief, (I'm honored! :D) NeverWinter, (thank you I will ) Me (that's right, no one steal it), (there are so many things I could say...Let's just leave it at we share a love for angry German music) bscl43, (ya that--;;; it was more of an inside joke than anything, to be honest ;; thanks for your comment ) Shakaku Gekkani, (does this update mean I get to live? :D) FFX2player, (I'll try not to forget ) Silent Tears of Agony, (why thank you ) Glowing Firefly, (Hopefully the timeline helps) and of course, mushi-azn(We still have to collaborate on that lemon, you do realize )
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