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Tanabata Jasmine: Chapter 10 - Temper

by Nekotsuki ::: 07.Aug.2004

"So tell me, flower-seller. What the fuck have you done with my friend?"

The merchant responded by arching an eyebrow and running his hand over the splintered door frame. "It's very rude to level accusations like that. And here, you've broken my door. The landlady will be quite upset."

"Your door isn't the only thing I'll break, you flat-nosed bastard," Sano growled, taking a step and thrusting the blood-spattered bucket forward. "This bucket belongs to Jou-chan. I'm not gonna ask again: What did you do to Kenshin?"

"I drugged him."

The answer was so unexpectedly honest, delivered in such placid tones, that for a moment all Sanosuke could do was stare at the merchant in shock. Then temper took over. In two strides he was at the doorway, both hands bunched in the merchant's gi and hauling him into the air as the tofu bucket fell to the ground with a clatter. There was the gratification of seeing the smaller man's black eyes widen with genuine fright as Sano dragged him up face to face, and snarled. "Where is he?"

The merchant pried uselessly at the clenched fists so close to his throat. "I'm not so ... stupid as to tell you ... that, Sagara-san..."

Sano cursed and flung him bodily onto the ground outside, drawing a grunt of pain. He gave the man no time to recover, but kicked him brutally in the ribs. The merchant curled on his side, gasping for breath.

"Try again," Sano offered with a humourless grin. He planted his feet on either side of the man and hoisted him up to glare into his mottled face once more. "You've done your homework, I see. Then you know how nasty I can be when I'm angry, ne? So try again, bastard. Where?"

There was the faintest shnik of metal scraping against wood. Sano froze as sharpened steel came to rest against the side of his neck.

"Put me down," the merchant suggested softly.

A tense moment passed, as Sano finally noticed what his anger had made him blind to. They were by no means alone. Two strangers now flanked him on either side, both with blades unsheathed. One of those charming swords was now digging subtly into the tender flesh near his throat. Not a situation Sano couldn't get out of, had his hands not been busy almost throttling the man in front of him.

"Che!" he spat, and dropped him in the dirt.

The pressure of the sword eased slightly, and then vanished altogether. The man on Sano's other side walked into his line of vision, holding his free hand out to help the merchant, still gasping, to his feet. Dressed in dark grey tunic and pants, the thing that stood out most about him was the ugly, scored welt on the man's throat. Despite the situation, Sano grinned again; having witnessed it first hand (so to speak), he knew what sort of weapon would have inflicted such an injury.

"I do know all about you," the merchant agreed, finally. The bland look had returned to his face once more. "Sagara Sanosuke, formerly known as Zanza, fighter-for-hire. A pastime you apparently dropped when you met Himura-san. I know very well how nasty you can be. It is, in fact, why I decided not to return here alone."

"I gotta wonder why you returned here at all," Sano retorted. "Did you think we wouldn't work it out?"

"Iie," the merchant sighed, straightening his gi. There was a slight hitch to his speech that made Sano suspect he'd broken a rib or two. "I expected you to be hunting for him. I just didn't expect for you to be on my doorstep first thing in the morning. You threw my timing out a little."

The other swordsman was still behind him, to his vast irritation. Sano couldn't turn to face him without losing sight of the other. The presence of an unsheathed blade at his back kept a check on his temper. Refraining from acting on his first impulse – a violent and bloody impulse – he instead asked the question again. "Where is he?"

The merchant waved a hand in dismissal. "Long gone. Gomen, Sagara-san, but the most I will tell you is that he is alive, and relatively unharmed. You deserve that much. Ah, but there are more important things to discuss here than Himura-san, ne?"

There are? Come to think of it, he couldn't think of a single reason the bastard would return to an abode he'd quite obviously fled earlier.

"You, for instance."

Sano narrowed his eyes. "You came back here for me?"

"More precisely, I was curious as to how swiftly someone would follow my trail." The merchant smiled somewhat ruefully. "You were very fast, Sagara-san, beyond all my expectations of you. Far too fast for comfort, and I can't have you interfering. I don't suppose you could be convinced to keep yourself to the Kamiya dojo and leave me be?"

"Best joke I've heard all day," Sano smirked. "I'm surprised you were stupid enough to ask that."

"A shame," the merchant murmured. "I wanted to give you the chance. I'm not a killer by nature, Sagara-san. I had hoped to avoid unnecessary bloodshed entirely."

There was an obvious cue in his words – after all, the second swordsman hadn't remained behind him because he was too lazy to move. Sanosuke hurled himself forward before the merchant had finished speaking. He'd cut it too fine; the assassination stroke aimed to cleave through him instead scored a thin, burning line through the back of his shirt. Stung like all hell, but wasn't likely to kill him any time soon. He staggered briefly at the flare of pain, then surged upright, fist already swinging for the merchant's face.

The man in grey smoothly interposed himself between the two as the merchant stumbled backward, sword raised to guard. With a bitten back curse, Sano pulled his punch before the blade could carve into his fist and instead swerved left, out of the direct line of attack. At least now, turning, he could see both of them at once. The other man wore dark blue gi and hakama and regarded him with a faint look of amusement, the tip of his sword coated in Sano's blood.

"I am truly sorry," the merchant said softly.

"Don't be," Sano gave him a ferocious smile as the two swordsmen began to close. "You're next."

They would flank him again, given opportunity, he knew. Snare him in a pincer attack and whittle him down between them. He bought time with evasion, falling back, thinking fast. They were smart – the man in blue kept between Sano and the doorway to the cottage, forcing him to remain in the open.

They were also good. Grey's first strike was fast enough that he almost didn't see it coming. He jerked back from the blow gracelessly, earning a nick on his chin that seemed to hurt more than his back did. Grey was breathing harshly, though, dark eyes glittering with effort as he completed the arc of his swing. The sakabatou injury across his throat would tax him before much longer had passed.

Sano kept grinning, recklessly. Good, but nowhere near Kenshin's level of skill. And if they weren't as good as Kenshin, then he could take them down, given time and a little luck. His biggest problem was range – a bare-handed fighter against two swords? Now, that was a problem to be worked around.

Preferably before they dealt real damage. He couldn't stay on the defensive indefinitely, and now both of them were coming for him from opposite sides. He avoided Grey's next swing, and then cursed as he realised his sidestep had taken him directly into the path of the other man. There was the hiss of faint laughter behind him. Sano twisted desperately, trying to avoid Blue's lunge.

He was only partially successful. The blade caught him as he spun sideways, scraping briefly across his collar bone before plunging into his left shoulder. He gave a yelp of pain as the blade passed through, but stood firm, meeting the man's triumphant gaze. And grinned tiredly as his fingers closed around the blade in front of him and yanked it forwards another inch.

"Too close," he announced. Blue had just enough time to look incredulous before Sano's free hand curled into a fist and struck his face with all the strength he could muster. He ignored the jerk of the sword in his shoulder as his opponent staggered on his feet, and followed up with a kick to the man's gut. Blue went flying, hands limp, leaving Sanosuke listing to one side as he turned to face the other one, blood soaking through the shoulder of his gi.

Grey watched him, frozen in astonishment as Sano tugged lightly at the embedded blade, winced, then drew the damn thing out as carefully as he could. "The problem is," he explained faintly, "I was never very good at defense."

"You're mad," Grey finally hissed, voice hoarse.

"Nah," Sano corrected. "I'm just tough." The bloodied sword slipped from his grasp, striking the dirt. "It'll take a lot more than that to stop me. Don't suppose you want to tell me where my friend is?"

In response, the man lifted his weapon and charged, lips pulled back in a snarl.

"Guess not."

It was a dirty trick, and not exactly playing fair. Sano did it anyway. With a well-placed kick, he sent the fallen sword tumbling into the man's path. The edge of the blade caught him across the shins and sent him sprawling with a cry. With a deliberate step, Sano planted one foot on the man's blade and slammed him viciously in the side of the head with the other.

He stood there a moment, breathing heavily, relishing the sudden quiet. Then his hand rose to his shoulder, and he winced. Without adrenalin to keep him going, the wound was beginning to hurt immensely.

"K'so," he muttered. And then he cursed again. The merchant was nowhere to be seen.