Scraps of Time

Disclaimer: It is now Sano's turn to be tortured- I mean, developed! Yeah, that's what I meant. I do not own Sanosuke, nor do I own Rurouni Kenshin. *There is much rejoicing from the readers* …… You are all so mean…

***

Well, that was a complete waste of my time. Sagara Sanosuke looked at the crumpled man dispassionately. That had been such a boring fight. He didn't even get any new information as well.

Sano glanced around. Kyoto was quiet. It was like it still remembered the blood that coursed down its narrow alleys only 10 years ago. Sano's grip on his zanbatou tightened. Battousai had stalked these streets.

To think, that I will finally be able to avenge the Sekihou-tai after all these years by crushing the strongest Patriot. It makes me shiver in anticipation. Then Sano's stomach decided to let Sano know that it was empty.Sano decided to eat some dinner- and not pay, of course.

"Hmm. This looks good." The Kohagi-ya. It was a rather simple place. And it looked seedy. Perfect.

He walked in, and the pretty barmaid sat him down. "Would you like a room as well?" she asked, black bangs hiding her eyes.

"Nah. Just get me some tempura. And sake. A lot of sake," Sano smirked. The barmaid blushed deeply, and scurried off.

There were a few older men here. One looked like he was in his 40s, with a younger female companion, who looked unhappy to be there.

"Please. I really must be going back to serve customers…" She gave a withering look at the man. The man paid no attention.

"But I have a few more stories ta tell ya, Midori-chan!" he slurred. Sano snorted. The man was obviously smashed.

"Ginji, I have to work…" She shook her hand, trying to make him get off.

Sano looked up. Ginji? It couldn't be that Ginji was here of all places… His old pal Ginji, the only guy that could go against Sano in a drinking contest and tie. It is Ginji! What's he doing here?

"But I want to tell you about Battousai!" Sano's ears pricked. Maybe some information would come.

"Battousai? Please, Ginji! I'm too old for fairy tales!" Midori still didn't leave, however.

"Oh, shut up. Now, Battousai. I saw him while I was in the Kihei-tai. He was very small. His name was Kenshin. Himura Kenshin. He had a mop of red hair, and looked like he was 10. He insisted that he was 13."

"So you're saying that Battousai was 13? There's no way. Everybody says he was 10 feet tall! You're such a liar." She started to walk off. Ginji's face grew red. Before he could explode, Sano slid into the booth.

"Sano? That you?" Ginji asked.

"Hey Ginji. Getting drunk, I see." Sano chuckled at his friend's expense.

"Got any sake? I'm all out." To illustrate his statement, he tipped over his sake bottle, and nothing came out.

"I got nothing yet."

"Aw."

"You never told me you were a war veteran, you old dog." Sano peered at his old friend, who was looking at the empty sake cup morosely.

"Eh, after the Sekihou-tai thing, I realized that you can't trust anybody, 'cept yourself, family, and old friends."

"Sekihou-tai…" A man in a red bandana and uniform flashed through Sano's mind. Captain Sagara, how I miss you…

"Now what're you doing in Kyoto? Last time I heard, you were in Tokyo beating the snot out of people." Ginji shook the sake cup again, hoping for a few last drops.

"I'm looking up Battousai." Sano leaned back, smirking. His friend grew pale.

"B-Battousai? Sano! Don't you go poking your nose in that kind of business. People have killed when pressed about the demon!" Ginji's hands shook.

"I thought you said he was 13, Ginji." Sano leaned forward, hand propping up his head.

"A thirteen-year-old that sliced through a training pole with one stroke!" Ginji exclaimed.

"What? But those things are 3 feet thick!"

"Exactly. And then he rammed his sheath into the reed mat, and destroyed it and the wood! That boy made me scared, back when I wasn't scared of anything. A demon. That's what that boy was." Ginji clenched his sake cup.

"Do you know what style he used?" Sano hoped Ginji would say yes.

"Hiten Mitsurugi-Ryu, or something like that. And to think, he used that on men…" Ginji shivered.

Sano added up the figures (something he wasn't very good at) and realized something. "Hey, wait a minute! That would make him… ah, 28 now? I know he worked for 5 years, because the Captain told me so. Captain talked about Battousai a lot, saying it wasn't right to use… boys…" It all made sense now. Why Captain Sagara would talk about Katsura bitterly at times, when he was drunk. It had always made Sano curious.

"Yup. Ages 13 to 18. First half as hitokiri, then as a free-lance swordsman and bodyguard to Katsura. That's why he was known, and didn't disappear into the woodwork like the rest of us." Ginji fingered the wooden table. "In fact, this was the headquarters."

"Really, now…" Sano looked around again, this time with enlightened eyes. "Interesting…"

Wait… Wait just a second-!

"How do you know so much?" Sano asked, jerking up out of his seat.

Ginji looked surprised, yet sad. "Hiroshi used to work with the guy. Said he was the quiet type." Sano sat down slowly. Hiroshi had died 6 years ago. A drunken Patriot had shot the guy. Ginji was the one that had to tell the family that the man wasn't ever coming back. The wife had been pregnant, too. Hiroshi was one of the men that took in Sano after the Shimosuwa incident.

"Oh…" Sano rested his head on the table. His fists ached from the previous fight. Skin's dry. It'll bleed if I don't get some balm later.

Red hair. Cross-shaped scar. Little. Age 13 to 18. That would make him 28… Why does that seem so familiar…?

A gently smiling man, who had blocked an incoming sake bottle with the back of his head. A sword at his waist, and something about him that said a fight with him would be a fight to remember. And who had a cross-shaped scar and long, bright red hair.

No. Way. That man was Hitokiri Battousai! Why didn't I realize that?!

Sano stood suddenly. Ginji looked up at him in an alcohol-induced haze. "Where are you going?"

"I've just remembered something." Sano grabbed his zanbatou and ran out the Kohagi-ya. The barmaid shouted after him, something about tempura, unpaid bills, and lousy good-for-nothings.

Sano didn't care. The fight of the century was in Tokyo, and it had his name written all over it in blood red ink.

***

Author's Note: Wow, this was long. But it was Sano, who is adorable and awesome. Not as awesome as Kenshin, but awesome nonetheless! I decided to set this fanfiction in Kyoto while he was gathering information on Kenshin, because there are not a lot of those. Go me! While I continue to write drabbles (or vignettes or whatever you guys call them), I am neglecting my homework, which is threatening to swallow me and eat me whole. Aaaaaaiiiiieeeeeee! And as for this entire series of fanfiction…. headdesk. I have no excuse for this. I hope you like it. Gah.

Eternally tormented and yours, MiekoYagyu.