Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, nor do I ever mean to. Just a
fan.
Note to readers: I know this doesn't -exactly- represent 1920's San Francisco in a historical manner. It takes a little imagination, but hopefully not too much to evoke the noir-detective-story meets roaring 20's feel I was going for..
Chapter 1:
The night was sultry and hot, like a ravished woman's afterglow. The city of San Francisco had never known such a heat wave, but Himura Kenshin tended not to notice. He shivered in spite of himself. Never able to get warm. He was never able to get warm.
Sano, his friend and partner, had noticed the shiver a few times. "Jesus. Its like 100 degrees out here and you are -still- cold? Incredible. You are just fucking incredible, Kenshin."
The smaller man merely nodded and handed Sanoretti Giovanni the rest of his bottle of ale. The stuff still tasted like crap to him, even after living in the states for almost a year. "Eh, Sano? Where are we going? We've been walking forever."
"Uptown. To a speakeasy known as The Arabeko. We're meeting a client there."
Good. That would mean that Sano would do all the talking this evening. And Kenshin could just sit around take it all in, watching the strange Americans and their amusing ways. A good way to pass the time. A good way to take his mind off things.
The pair wandered into an alleyway on the outskirts of Chinatown. It should have really been called Asiatown, Kenshin thought. He finally saw a few store signs that he could read. It felt like a relief.
Sano knocked on an unseen door and said, "I've got three feet."
A muffle voice replied, "Then you shouldn't dance."
Sano nodded and provided what Kenshin assumed was the correct answer, "Or the tango ends up a tangle."
The door opened. Inside, a hefty bouncer pointed to a dimly lit set of stairs. The pair nodded and tipped the guy, and headed in to the speakeasy.
*~*~*~*
"Himura-san. We have a very important job for you. We are sending you to the Americas. Our people in San Francisco have been having problems with the Italians. They've been kidnapping the wives and daughters of our people there and using them for leverage in deals. We need our shipments to be able to flow, you understand, Himura-san? We need no more distractions so that our men there can get business done."
The yakuza boss Aoshi didn't need to make his point any clearer. To send Kenshin to the Americas meant it was important enough. He was their best assassin. He knew they wouldn't put him out of their reach lightly.
Aoshi gave Himura a hefty sum of traveling money, and told him that more would be waiting in a bank account in San Francisco for his living expenses. He was to return when the San Francisco boss was no longer in need of his services.
"Boss, a question?"
"I know Himura. Don't worry. Your sister, Tsubame, will be well cared-for while you are away. We will make arrangements to move her to the safe house in the city. She will be protected at all times and will go to the private school with my own daughters."
"Thank you, Aoshi-san."
*~*~*~*
"So why -did- you bring me along, eh Sano?" Kenshin asked as they were going down the stairs. Usually the tall Italian greeted clients alone. Kenshin's deadly gaze and silent demeanor had spooked a few of their clients off in the beginning.
"Because this client. Well. She's Japanese."
"I see." That explained it. That damn Sano thought that maybe he might have to resort to having Kenshin schmooze her in her own language. Tough. Kenshin wasn't the schmoozing type. That was Sano's job. If the girl didn't need their help, Kenshin sure wasn't going to try to talk her into it.
The opened the metal door to The Arabeko. Inside, Kenshin heard music that reminded him of a few of the more posh dining establishments back home. Not that he usually went to those sorts of places on his own. But he had gone to a few business deals at such places, and taken Tsubame out a few times for special occasions such as her birthdays
The set stopped, and a lone saxophonist took their place during the downtime. "Americans. They could mix anything," Kenshin thought.
The Arabeko itself had a pleasant air, and wasn't took crowded or rowdy like many of the speakeasies tended to be. There was a bar, of course, a stage, a small dance floor, several private tables and a small area designated for gambling. Sano looked at the latter hungrily for a second before Kenshin -accidentally- stomped on his friend's foot.
"Isn't that how you got in trouble in the -first- place, Sano?"
*~*~*~*
Sanoretti Giovanni held the dice in his hands and prayed. He didn't often pray, even though his mother had brought him up a good Catholic boy. But he prayed today. Uncle Bertino never refused a bet.
If he won this dye roll, he would have all of his gambling debts forgiven. He was in deep. Almost $5,000. If he lost, Uncle Bertino would get Sano's most prized possession in the world. Himself. For seven years he would work off his debts for the Bertino family, doing whatever they wanted, legal or illegal, moral or immoral. And if he didn't, every Italian family from here to Florence would be shooting for his head.
Uncle Bertino, however, wasn't particularly interested in Sano's roll. He'd left his underlings to watch that. They would inform him later. What truly interested Uncle Bertino was the exotic beauty tied up in his bedroom. So young, maybe only 15 or 16. She was the daughter of a well-to- do yakuza member. Certainly they had protected and sheltered her well in her few years of life. And certainly he would be the first to experience all that her budding body had to offer.
Uncle Bertino padded into his bedroom, his fat sweaty body rolling like a dumpling. He closed the door behind him, though he doubted it would prevent the others from hearing the girl's screams. What did he care?
Sano prayed. He literally got on his knees and said all the prayers he could remember. Everyone else in the room being as Italian Catholic as himself, how could they refuse him?
He was praying so hard, he didn't even notice how silent the room suddenly became.
But, right in the middle of a very fervent Hail Mary, he heard the coldest voice he'd ever experienced. But, what caused his particular shiver wasn't the voice, but the flat of a cold metal blade which pressed his chin upwards.
"You. You have name, you do?"
"Sanoretti. Sanoretti Giovanni." Sano opened his eyes carefully. He stared at the odd red-haired man with a cross-shaped scar standing calmly before him, holding a strange foreign-type sword steadily at his chin. In his peripheral view, he could tell that the half-dozen Bertino men in the room laid on the ground. Sano sniffed the air quietly. He didn't smell much blood, so Sano assumed they had only been knocked out.
"You not Bertino?" The question seemed rhetorical, so Sano didn't answer. "You praying, ah?" The strange red-headed man in the foreign-looking garb squinted his chillingly blue eyes a bit and observed Sano.
It took Sano a moment to think how to explain the situation to the young assassin who apparently didn't speak much English. He lifted up his right hand and outstretched his fingers for the Japanese man to see. The top third of Sano pinky finger still bled from where they had removed it with the butcher knife earlier in the day. He had wrapped it in cotton and gauze, but the dressings were easy to slip off.
"Ah," Kenshin replied, as if understanding. "Where Bertino?"
The answer came in the form of a piercing female scream from Bertino's makeshift bedroom. Sano's gaze shifted to the door, and by the time he looked back, the assassin was no longer there. The Italian man raised his hand cautiously to his chin. He could still feel the biting cold of the blade.
By the time he looked back, he could see through the open door. The red- headed assassin had skewered a naked Bertino through the gut. And he had slit him open all the way down to his genitals.
The girl behind Bertino stood naked and tied to some beams in the wall. Her raven-haired head lolled forward, causing her whole body to pull forward against the ropes. Sano watched as blood trickled down her neck and naked body. Sano suddenly felt quite displeased. He didn't know. No. That wasn't true. He didn't mind what went on behind closed doors, as long as he didn't have to see it, as long as he could deny it to himself.
Sano stood and walked tentatively into the doorway as the assassin removed his blade and allowed Uncle Bertino to slump to the ground. Without thinking, he walked across the room while taking off his jacket. Silently, as Kenshin cut the girl down, Sano wrapped her in his dusty jacket. The jacket had hung almost all the way to Sano's knees, so it almost completely dwarfed the petite Japanese teenager.
"I, uh, I know a good doctor. Uh. He won't talk. You know. Keeps quiet? I can take you. But your sword, it might draw attention."
The red-head nodded and stepped out of the room. When he returned, he wore a roomy grey trench coat. It took the assassin only a few moments to sling the blade diagonally across back and secure it, pulling the trench coat on over it. In the end, only the tip of the sword seemed to poke the fabric slightly near the Japanese man's hip. It looked like he was carrying a gun there. A normal occurrence in this day and age.
As they walked along the back alleys, the young assassin carrying the body of the unconscious girl, Sano couldn't control his curiosity about the strange foreigner.
"She your girl?" Sano asked.
"No."
"Why'd you help her?"
"Is job."
"Don't you care that if the rest of the Bertino family finds out, they will hunt you down?"
"How they find out? No one look. Unless..."
Kenshin peered at the lanky Italian walking next to him. His eyes narrowed, and Sano could have sworn they glowed the color of the golden moonlight above.
"No way. I won't tell them. Jesus Christ." Sano clamped a hand over his own mouth and quickly made the sign of the cross. His mother didn't mind him swearing so much. As long as it wasn't -that- swear. "So anyway, you have a name, or what?"
Kenshin walked silently for a few moments. Could he trust this guy? He -had- given the girl his coat and he -was- taking them to a doctor. But, maybe the doctor thing was a trick.
"I tell you. This girl lives, and I tell you."
*~*~*~*
Only a few weeks after that, the San Francisco yakuza had experienced a shake-up from within. The new boss was a cruel man, and Kenshin found him horribly dishonorable. Aoshi was a lot of things, but he never believed in an excessive abuse of violence. No. Only the level of violence needed to get things done right the first time. Himura had killed for Aoshi many times, but never girls. And he had never been asked to torture anyone merely for the sake of making them pay for their debts with pain.
But the new San Francisco boss, Gohei, he was a cruel sort. In retaliation for the kidnappings of the Japanese girls, he began to kidnap the Italian families' daughters and wives.
Kenshin found this sort of thinking deplorable and refused to participate in the kidnappings. He wrote to Aoshi. Two weeks later, Aoshi's return letter released him from the San Francisco yakuza's services. Unfortunately, however, Aoshi would need him to stay in San Francisco a while longer. Other business might be needed there soon, and Aoshi's operatives would contact him when they were ready. Until then, he was released to experience America.
"You needed a vacation, anyway, Himura-san." Aoshi's letter wrote.
Kenshin had moved out of the yakuza's safe house when Sano had told him of his new plan. The two had become fast friends since that first day when Kenshin killed Bertino and had brought the injured girl to Dr. Genselli. Sano was out of the gambling business now. For good, he promised. He was going to start a Detective agency. Help people in trouble, especially since the corrupt local police force couldn't be trusted. And he wanted to know if Kenshin wanted in.
For now, Kenshin slept in the supply closet of the office they had rented on the border between Little Italy and Chinatown. It had a cot, and enough room for the few things he had brought from Japan. He ate with Sano at Sano's mother's house usually, always amused that how the tiny and ancient Italian woman could make her rowdy and womanizing son cringe.
*~*~*~*
Kenshin removed his foot from Sano's with a bemused grin and sat down at a nearby booth. Sano snarled and limped to the table.
"Yeah, yeah. You're right," Sano said as he thrust his hand into his coat pocket and rolled his lucky dice over and over in his hand. His lucky dice. The ones he was about to roll when Kenshin showed up. The ones he had absentmindedly pocketed before he wrapped that girl in his jacket.
He'd learned since then that the dice were weighted. He would have lost. If he had thrown those dice, he would belong to the Bertino family now. They were lucky dice. Yup. Lucky for him, Kenshin had shown up.
"You still owe me the money I lent you to pay off the Bertinos," Kenshin said off-handedly.
"Whatever," Sano said. He liked it better when Kenshin didn't know as much English. He had learned way too fast what to say and how to say it.
Sano pulled out a cigarette and lit up, leaning back to crook his arm relaxedly over the top of the booth seat. He surveyed the room as Kenshin tried to hail the waitress for a glass of water. Yup. He was the only non- Asian person here. And he liked it that way. None of his Italian "acquaintances" to come by and bug him.
As for Kenshin, he was busy ordering. Surprised that they had sake, he decided to give it a pass and go wild. Lemonade. Sano was shocked. Besides the few sips of ale Kenshin would drink before passing the bottles to the alcohol-mad Italian, Sano had only ever seen him drink water. Sano ordered the house liquor smugly and wondered then their client would show up.
It was Kenshin's turn to survey the establishment. His eye was much more discerning and cool than his partner's, which had lingered on every good- looking woman in the joint. Though, Kenshin did let his gaze linger for a moment on the bartender, a good-natured Japanese woman who seemed to have a knack for handling rowdy customers. Satisfied that no one in the place looked like they were going to try to start a fight, Kenshin leaned back and consented to let his gaze unfocus on the pipes near the ceiling.
"Hello. Are you Mr. Giovanni?"
"Yes Ma'am, and this is my partner."
Oh. Finally. She arrived. Kenshin tilted his head forward and tried to focus, a bit dizzy for a moment.
Into his view swam the most strikingly pleasant face he had ever seen. Crisply cut black hair was tied back in a loose purple bow to reveal a face unmarred by time or make-up. Fresh and clean with deep blue eyes. Japanese, sure. But some sort of fragile inner strength shone through the eyes like sparkling snowflake intent upon never melting. Kenshin gasped in spite of himself.
"Kaoru Kamiya," she replied and stuck her hand out towards Kenshin.
"It is good to meet you," Kenshin replied in Japanese. "I am Himura Kenshin." He felt her catch his outstretched hand and shake it firmly. The warmth from her skin invaded his frigid hand, traveling up his arm like an electric shock. When their hands parted after what seemed an eternity, his whole arm glowed with warmth.
Sano, on the other hand, merely peered at the two. He knew his friend was taken by the young Japanese woman. He'd even said his goddamned name backwards. At the thought, Sano checked the normal impulse to cross himself for his internal swear against God.
"Please, sit. Can we get you anything?" Sano asked, oozing politeness.
"No thank you. I'd prefer to get straight down to business, if you don't mind."
The Italian man nodded and nudged his partner under the table. A warning not to stare. But Kenshin couldn't help but look. Kaoru was dressed in the American style, a jade-green dress that hung low at her hips and came down a bit past her knees. The flowing material hung open a bit immodestly the front, but Kaoru had tied a beige scarf there, securing it with an opalescent blue pin that matched her eyes.
"It's my brother, Yahiko. Well. You see. I'm a teacher. I teach both adults and children in the Chinatown community how to speak and read English. It helps the children to go to American schools, and helps the parents get better jobs, but it doesn't always pay much," Kaoru began.
"Yahiko is only thirteen, but, well, he told me he had taken an after- school job to help out with our living expenses. When he told me he was working for a delivery service, I figured it was something like food delivery, or flower delivery. A few days later, he came home with a black eye. The next time, his wrist was broken. The next time, he had a gash on his head. I begged him to tell me what was going on, but he wouldn't. Then I got angry. I told him that there was no way he was going to live under my roof if he didn't tell me where he was working."
"The next day, he went to school, and he never came back. That was a week ago. I don't even know where to start looking for him. I don't know if he is staying away on purpose, or if he is hurt somewhere. He acts tough, so stubborn, but he is still a little kid. And I'm so worried.."
Kaoru's voice seemed to get choppy, and Kenshin could tell she was fighting the impulse to cry. The red-headed assassin reached across the table and put his hand on top of Ms. Kamiya's, his intention half to calm her, and half to find out if that strange warmth would climb up his arm again. As it did, he leveled his icy blue gaze at the woman.
"We'll find your brother, we will."
Sano nodded and pretended not to notice the previously rather unemotional Kenshin being so affected. "There is, however, the small matter of our fee," Sano said, trying desperately to bring a more professional air to the conversation, but failing miserably.
"I don't have much, but I had been saving some for a new blackboard for the classroom, and some new textbooks. Half now and half when the job is done, right?" Kaoru slipped her hand off the table and out of Kenshin's light caress. She reached in her handbag and slid a small wad of folded bills to Sano. The Italian picked them up and examined them before nodding.
"We'd like to come by tomorrow morning and examine Yahiko's room. His things. Perhaps if you had a picture handy, that would also help?" Sano said, as he slipped the bills in his pocket.
"Yes. Yes. Of course. I am usually free in the mornings." Kaoru scribbled down her address and passed it to Sano.
Kenshin took the opportunity to watch Kaoru again, while her concentration was on Sano. But his thoughts were interrupted by some buzzing noise. What? Was someone talking to him?
Kaoru looked directly at Kenshin. She quirked an eyebrow and a small grin crossed her face.
"Sir. Sir. Your lemonade, sir? With extra sugar?" the waitress was saying.
Kenshin had never been so embarrassed.
Note to readers: I know this doesn't -exactly- represent 1920's San Francisco in a historical manner. It takes a little imagination, but hopefully not too much to evoke the noir-detective-story meets roaring 20's feel I was going for..
Chapter 1:
The night was sultry and hot, like a ravished woman's afterglow. The city of San Francisco had never known such a heat wave, but Himura Kenshin tended not to notice. He shivered in spite of himself. Never able to get warm. He was never able to get warm.
Sano, his friend and partner, had noticed the shiver a few times. "Jesus. Its like 100 degrees out here and you are -still- cold? Incredible. You are just fucking incredible, Kenshin."
The smaller man merely nodded and handed Sanoretti Giovanni the rest of his bottle of ale. The stuff still tasted like crap to him, even after living in the states for almost a year. "Eh, Sano? Where are we going? We've been walking forever."
"Uptown. To a speakeasy known as The Arabeko. We're meeting a client there."
Good. That would mean that Sano would do all the talking this evening. And Kenshin could just sit around take it all in, watching the strange Americans and their amusing ways. A good way to pass the time. A good way to take his mind off things.
The pair wandered into an alleyway on the outskirts of Chinatown. It should have really been called Asiatown, Kenshin thought. He finally saw a few store signs that he could read. It felt like a relief.
Sano knocked on an unseen door and said, "I've got three feet."
A muffle voice replied, "Then you shouldn't dance."
Sano nodded and provided what Kenshin assumed was the correct answer, "Or the tango ends up a tangle."
The door opened. Inside, a hefty bouncer pointed to a dimly lit set of stairs. The pair nodded and tipped the guy, and headed in to the speakeasy.
*~*~*~*
"Himura-san. We have a very important job for you. We are sending you to the Americas. Our people in San Francisco have been having problems with the Italians. They've been kidnapping the wives and daughters of our people there and using them for leverage in deals. We need our shipments to be able to flow, you understand, Himura-san? We need no more distractions so that our men there can get business done."
The yakuza boss Aoshi didn't need to make his point any clearer. To send Kenshin to the Americas meant it was important enough. He was their best assassin. He knew they wouldn't put him out of their reach lightly.
Aoshi gave Himura a hefty sum of traveling money, and told him that more would be waiting in a bank account in San Francisco for his living expenses. He was to return when the San Francisco boss was no longer in need of his services.
"Boss, a question?"
"I know Himura. Don't worry. Your sister, Tsubame, will be well cared-for while you are away. We will make arrangements to move her to the safe house in the city. She will be protected at all times and will go to the private school with my own daughters."
"Thank you, Aoshi-san."
*~*~*~*
"So why -did- you bring me along, eh Sano?" Kenshin asked as they were going down the stairs. Usually the tall Italian greeted clients alone. Kenshin's deadly gaze and silent demeanor had spooked a few of their clients off in the beginning.
"Because this client. Well. She's Japanese."
"I see." That explained it. That damn Sano thought that maybe he might have to resort to having Kenshin schmooze her in her own language. Tough. Kenshin wasn't the schmoozing type. That was Sano's job. If the girl didn't need their help, Kenshin sure wasn't going to try to talk her into it.
The opened the metal door to The Arabeko. Inside, Kenshin heard music that reminded him of a few of the more posh dining establishments back home. Not that he usually went to those sorts of places on his own. But he had gone to a few business deals at such places, and taken Tsubame out a few times for special occasions such as her birthdays
The set stopped, and a lone saxophonist took their place during the downtime. "Americans. They could mix anything," Kenshin thought.
The Arabeko itself had a pleasant air, and wasn't took crowded or rowdy like many of the speakeasies tended to be. There was a bar, of course, a stage, a small dance floor, several private tables and a small area designated for gambling. Sano looked at the latter hungrily for a second before Kenshin -accidentally- stomped on his friend's foot.
"Isn't that how you got in trouble in the -first- place, Sano?"
*~*~*~*
Sanoretti Giovanni held the dice in his hands and prayed. He didn't often pray, even though his mother had brought him up a good Catholic boy. But he prayed today. Uncle Bertino never refused a bet.
If he won this dye roll, he would have all of his gambling debts forgiven. He was in deep. Almost $5,000. If he lost, Uncle Bertino would get Sano's most prized possession in the world. Himself. For seven years he would work off his debts for the Bertino family, doing whatever they wanted, legal or illegal, moral or immoral. And if he didn't, every Italian family from here to Florence would be shooting for his head.
Uncle Bertino, however, wasn't particularly interested in Sano's roll. He'd left his underlings to watch that. They would inform him later. What truly interested Uncle Bertino was the exotic beauty tied up in his bedroom. So young, maybe only 15 or 16. She was the daughter of a well-to- do yakuza member. Certainly they had protected and sheltered her well in her few years of life. And certainly he would be the first to experience all that her budding body had to offer.
Uncle Bertino padded into his bedroom, his fat sweaty body rolling like a dumpling. He closed the door behind him, though he doubted it would prevent the others from hearing the girl's screams. What did he care?
Sano prayed. He literally got on his knees and said all the prayers he could remember. Everyone else in the room being as Italian Catholic as himself, how could they refuse him?
He was praying so hard, he didn't even notice how silent the room suddenly became.
But, right in the middle of a very fervent Hail Mary, he heard the coldest voice he'd ever experienced. But, what caused his particular shiver wasn't the voice, but the flat of a cold metal blade which pressed his chin upwards.
"You. You have name, you do?"
"Sanoretti. Sanoretti Giovanni." Sano opened his eyes carefully. He stared at the odd red-haired man with a cross-shaped scar standing calmly before him, holding a strange foreign-type sword steadily at his chin. In his peripheral view, he could tell that the half-dozen Bertino men in the room laid on the ground. Sano sniffed the air quietly. He didn't smell much blood, so Sano assumed they had only been knocked out.
"You not Bertino?" The question seemed rhetorical, so Sano didn't answer. "You praying, ah?" The strange red-headed man in the foreign-looking garb squinted his chillingly blue eyes a bit and observed Sano.
It took Sano a moment to think how to explain the situation to the young assassin who apparently didn't speak much English. He lifted up his right hand and outstretched his fingers for the Japanese man to see. The top third of Sano pinky finger still bled from where they had removed it with the butcher knife earlier in the day. He had wrapped it in cotton and gauze, but the dressings were easy to slip off.
"Ah," Kenshin replied, as if understanding. "Where Bertino?"
The answer came in the form of a piercing female scream from Bertino's makeshift bedroom. Sano's gaze shifted to the door, and by the time he looked back, the assassin was no longer there. The Italian man raised his hand cautiously to his chin. He could still feel the biting cold of the blade.
By the time he looked back, he could see through the open door. The red- headed assassin had skewered a naked Bertino through the gut. And he had slit him open all the way down to his genitals.
The girl behind Bertino stood naked and tied to some beams in the wall. Her raven-haired head lolled forward, causing her whole body to pull forward against the ropes. Sano watched as blood trickled down her neck and naked body. Sano suddenly felt quite displeased. He didn't know. No. That wasn't true. He didn't mind what went on behind closed doors, as long as he didn't have to see it, as long as he could deny it to himself.
Sano stood and walked tentatively into the doorway as the assassin removed his blade and allowed Uncle Bertino to slump to the ground. Without thinking, he walked across the room while taking off his jacket. Silently, as Kenshin cut the girl down, Sano wrapped her in his dusty jacket. The jacket had hung almost all the way to Sano's knees, so it almost completely dwarfed the petite Japanese teenager.
"I, uh, I know a good doctor. Uh. He won't talk. You know. Keeps quiet? I can take you. But your sword, it might draw attention."
The red-head nodded and stepped out of the room. When he returned, he wore a roomy grey trench coat. It took the assassin only a few moments to sling the blade diagonally across back and secure it, pulling the trench coat on over it. In the end, only the tip of the sword seemed to poke the fabric slightly near the Japanese man's hip. It looked like he was carrying a gun there. A normal occurrence in this day and age.
As they walked along the back alleys, the young assassin carrying the body of the unconscious girl, Sano couldn't control his curiosity about the strange foreigner.
"She your girl?" Sano asked.
"No."
"Why'd you help her?"
"Is job."
"Don't you care that if the rest of the Bertino family finds out, they will hunt you down?"
"How they find out? No one look. Unless..."
Kenshin peered at the lanky Italian walking next to him. His eyes narrowed, and Sano could have sworn they glowed the color of the golden moonlight above.
"No way. I won't tell them. Jesus Christ." Sano clamped a hand over his own mouth and quickly made the sign of the cross. His mother didn't mind him swearing so much. As long as it wasn't -that- swear. "So anyway, you have a name, or what?"
Kenshin walked silently for a few moments. Could he trust this guy? He -had- given the girl his coat and he -was- taking them to a doctor. But, maybe the doctor thing was a trick.
"I tell you. This girl lives, and I tell you."
*~*~*~*
Only a few weeks after that, the San Francisco yakuza had experienced a shake-up from within. The new boss was a cruel man, and Kenshin found him horribly dishonorable. Aoshi was a lot of things, but he never believed in an excessive abuse of violence. No. Only the level of violence needed to get things done right the first time. Himura had killed for Aoshi many times, but never girls. And he had never been asked to torture anyone merely for the sake of making them pay for their debts with pain.
But the new San Francisco boss, Gohei, he was a cruel sort. In retaliation for the kidnappings of the Japanese girls, he began to kidnap the Italian families' daughters and wives.
Kenshin found this sort of thinking deplorable and refused to participate in the kidnappings. He wrote to Aoshi. Two weeks later, Aoshi's return letter released him from the San Francisco yakuza's services. Unfortunately, however, Aoshi would need him to stay in San Francisco a while longer. Other business might be needed there soon, and Aoshi's operatives would contact him when they were ready. Until then, he was released to experience America.
"You needed a vacation, anyway, Himura-san." Aoshi's letter wrote.
Kenshin had moved out of the yakuza's safe house when Sano had told him of his new plan. The two had become fast friends since that first day when Kenshin killed Bertino and had brought the injured girl to Dr. Genselli. Sano was out of the gambling business now. For good, he promised. He was going to start a Detective agency. Help people in trouble, especially since the corrupt local police force couldn't be trusted. And he wanted to know if Kenshin wanted in.
For now, Kenshin slept in the supply closet of the office they had rented on the border between Little Italy and Chinatown. It had a cot, and enough room for the few things he had brought from Japan. He ate with Sano at Sano's mother's house usually, always amused that how the tiny and ancient Italian woman could make her rowdy and womanizing son cringe.
*~*~*~*
Kenshin removed his foot from Sano's with a bemused grin and sat down at a nearby booth. Sano snarled and limped to the table.
"Yeah, yeah. You're right," Sano said as he thrust his hand into his coat pocket and rolled his lucky dice over and over in his hand. His lucky dice. The ones he was about to roll when Kenshin showed up. The ones he had absentmindedly pocketed before he wrapped that girl in his jacket.
He'd learned since then that the dice were weighted. He would have lost. If he had thrown those dice, he would belong to the Bertino family now. They were lucky dice. Yup. Lucky for him, Kenshin had shown up.
"You still owe me the money I lent you to pay off the Bertinos," Kenshin said off-handedly.
"Whatever," Sano said. He liked it better when Kenshin didn't know as much English. He had learned way too fast what to say and how to say it.
Sano pulled out a cigarette and lit up, leaning back to crook his arm relaxedly over the top of the booth seat. He surveyed the room as Kenshin tried to hail the waitress for a glass of water. Yup. He was the only non- Asian person here. And he liked it that way. None of his Italian "acquaintances" to come by and bug him.
As for Kenshin, he was busy ordering. Surprised that they had sake, he decided to give it a pass and go wild. Lemonade. Sano was shocked. Besides the few sips of ale Kenshin would drink before passing the bottles to the alcohol-mad Italian, Sano had only ever seen him drink water. Sano ordered the house liquor smugly and wondered then their client would show up.
It was Kenshin's turn to survey the establishment. His eye was much more discerning and cool than his partner's, which had lingered on every good- looking woman in the joint. Though, Kenshin did let his gaze linger for a moment on the bartender, a good-natured Japanese woman who seemed to have a knack for handling rowdy customers. Satisfied that no one in the place looked like they were going to try to start a fight, Kenshin leaned back and consented to let his gaze unfocus on the pipes near the ceiling.
"Hello. Are you Mr. Giovanni?"
"Yes Ma'am, and this is my partner."
Oh. Finally. She arrived. Kenshin tilted his head forward and tried to focus, a bit dizzy for a moment.
Into his view swam the most strikingly pleasant face he had ever seen. Crisply cut black hair was tied back in a loose purple bow to reveal a face unmarred by time or make-up. Fresh and clean with deep blue eyes. Japanese, sure. But some sort of fragile inner strength shone through the eyes like sparkling snowflake intent upon never melting. Kenshin gasped in spite of himself.
"Kaoru Kamiya," she replied and stuck her hand out towards Kenshin.
"It is good to meet you," Kenshin replied in Japanese. "I am Himura Kenshin." He felt her catch his outstretched hand and shake it firmly. The warmth from her skin invaded his frigid hand, traveling up his arm like an electric shock. When their hands parted after what seemed an eternity, his whole arm glowed with warmth.
Sano, on the other hand, merely peered at the two. He knew his friend was taken by the young Japanese woman. He'd even said his goddamned name backwards. At the thought, Sano checked the normal impulse to cross himself for his internal swear against God.
"Please, sit. Can we get you anything?" Sano asked, oozing politeness.
"No thank you. I'd prefer to get straight down to business, if you don't mind."
The Italian man nodded and nudged his partner under the table. A warning not to stare. But Kenshin couldn't help but look. Kaoru was dressed in the American style, a jade-green dress that hung low at her hips and came down a bit past her knees. The flowing material hung open a bit immodestly the front, but Kaoru had tied a beige scarf there, securing it with an opalescent blue pin that matched her eyes.
"It's my brother, Yahiko. Well. You see. I'm a teacher. I teach both adults and children in the Chinatown community how to speak and read English. It helps the children to go to American schools, and helps the parents get better jobs, but it doesn't always pay much," Kaoru began.
"Yahiko is only thirteen, but, well, he told me he had taken an after- school job to help out with our living expenses. When he told me he was working for a delivery service, I figured it was something like food delivery, or flower delivery. A few days later, he came home with a black eye. The next time, his wrist was broken. The next time, he had a gash on his head. I begged him to tell me what was going on, but he wouldn't. Then I got angry. I told him that there was no way he was going to live under my roof if he didn't tell me where he was working."
"The next day, he went to school, and he never came back. That was a week ago. I don't even know where to start looking for him. I don't know if he is staying away on purpose, or if he is hurt somewhere. He acts tough, so stubborn, but he is still a little kid. And I'm so worried.."
Kaoru's voice seemed to get choppy, and Kenshin could tell she was fighting the impulse to cry. The red-headed assassin reached across the table and put his hand on top of Ms. Kamiya's, his intention half to calm her, and half to find out if that strange warmth would climb up his arm again. As it did, he leveled his icy blue gaze at the woman.
"We'll find your brother, we will."
Sano nodded and pretended not to notice the previously rather unemotional Kenshin being so affected. "There is, however, the small matter of our fee," Sano said, trying desperately to bring a more professional air to the conversation, but failing miserably.
"I don't have much, but I had been saving some for a new blackboard for the classroom, and some new textbooks. Half now and half when the job is done, right?" Kaoru slipped her hand off the table and out of Kenshin's light caress. She reached in her handbag and slid a small wad of folded bills to Sano. The Italian picked them up and examined them before nodding.
"We'd like to come by tomorrow morning and examine Yahiko's room. His things. Perhaps if you had a picture handy, that would also help?" Sano said, as he slipped the bills in his pocket.
"Yes. Yes. Of course. I am usually free in the mornings." Kaoru scribbled down her address and passed it to Sano.
Kenshin took the opportunity to watch Kaoru again, while her concentration was on Sano. But his thoughts were interrupted by some buzzing noise. What? Was someone talking to him?
Kaoru looked directly at Kenshin. She quirked an eyebrow and a small grin crossed her face.
"Sir. Sir. Your lemonade, sir? With extra sugar?" the waitress was saying.
Kenshin had never been so embarrassed.