Summary: Not everything can be forgotten. Some things will stay with you, no matter what. One night in a bar, a man spills his life's story out to the innocent barman, a story of love, loss, and regret. SouMisao
Disclaimer: I do not own Sojiro, Misao, Kamatari, Kenshin, or anyone else that may show up in this story. Rurouni Kenshin and everything related to it belongs to Shonen Jump and Nobuhiro Watsuki. All I own is the barman, and he doesn't even have a name.
Author's note: I've heard that this is a little choppy, and I will try to revise it and fix it as I go along. By the end it should be much better. As for the vague descriptions in the bar, it's meant to be that way. Just one more way I seclude the present from the past.
A Young Man's Tale
By: SajaNatalia, alias Kasumi-kun
"Not everything can be forgotten.
Some things will stay with you,
No matter what, residing at the back
Of your mind forever."
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Present:
In the Bar
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"More!"
"No, sir," the barman replied to the only customer left in the room. It was well early into the morning, and this young man seemed to be the only person left inside the dark bar. "I'm afraid I can't give you any more."
"Aw, why not?" the drunken man asked, shoving his ceramic cup in the barman's direction. "Can't you spare some for me? Just this once?"
The barman shook his head, wiping his hands on his apron. "I'm sorry, sir, but no."
The drunk gave him a horrible look, his blue eyes enough to send shivers down the barman's spine. "I asked for another. You're going to give it to me." The man pushed his shaggy black hair out of his face, showing a fierce expression. "Understand?"
Shaking his head, the barman refused once more. "I can't serve you any more, sir."
Furious, the drunk shot up onto his feet, his hands clasping at the man's green gi, lifting him off of the ground. "Do it."
Suddenly, the drunk's eyes softened. Setting the man down, the drunk begged, "Please."
"Sir?"
The drunk shook his head, still standing before the barman and swaying slightly. "You wouldn't be interested in my story. It's far too complex for you, too much you wouldn't understand."
"I-I could try, sir," the barman replied, stepping back a bit from the man.
"STOP CALLING ME SIR!" the drunk suddenly yelled, his face red, and his hands balled into fists. "I've got a name! Use it!"
"B-but you haven't told me it yet," the barman protested, shielding his face with his hands. "I can't use it if I don't know it."
"FINE!" the drunk shouted, throwing his hands in the air, glaring and pointing at the man. "FINE! YOU WANNA KNOW IT? YOU WANNA KNOW THE NAME I'M STUCK WITH? THE NAME BINDING ME? IT'S SOJIRO! SETA SOJIRO!"
The barman cowered a bit before replying. "Yes, erm, Sojiro-san, was it?"
"Yeah."
"Well, erm, you speak rather roughly for such a young man. What's your story? It must be tough," the barman said, leaning over to see the man as he sat back down.
"You really wanna know?" Sojiro asked, a mistrusting expression on his face, and his eyes narrowed. "Really?"
The barman shrugged. "I've got nothing else to do, and it's been a while since I've heard a drunk's tale. You want to tell?"
"Fine," Sojiro responded. "But only if you give me another cup of sake." Sighing, the barman reluctantly complied. It seemed that this rough man's story had caught his attention.
"Now tell me," he said, handing the cup to Sojiro. He sipped it slowly, a look of relief playing on his features as the liquid slipped down his throat. "You really wanna know?" he asked the man again. The barman nodded once more.
Sighing, Sojiro set down his cup and stared the man in the eyes. "Alright, I'll tell you."