MadiSano: Eh...heheh...hi...ohmigosh...um...this is my first fanfic I've actually done, and what's more is that it has chapters. I'm really nervous and scared that I made some humongous mistake...if I did, tell me...GENTLY...I'm on the verge of a nervous breakdown, here. So what if I decided to take on a huge project like this? I dream big. So read, reveiw, and hopefully you'll like it at least a little.

Disclaimer: I don't own Saitoh or Sano or anything to do with Rurouni Kenshin!

CHAPTER ONE: FALLEN WIND

The wind howled through the alleyways and through the crevices of the rundown buildings in downtown Tokyo. The moonlight filtered through the clouds, splattering on the ground and roofs like spilt paint. Soft footsteps echoed throughout the alley…a long shadow was cast, killing the moonlight in its path.

Two men stood in the dark hall, whispering to one another. Their quiet conversation was cut short when the shadow passed over them, and but for the wind, there was silence as the intruder was acknowledged.

A boy of sixteen stood not ten feet away from them. His was tall and unusually well built for a boy his age, and the huge sword resting on his shoulder explained his strength. His dark brown hair was tinted black in the moonlight, and it stood up in irregular spikes. He wore a jacket that stretched down to his mid-thighs, and short white pants that ceased above his ankles. Two intense brown eyes glowered at them from behind a red bandanna.

"Huh?" one man muttered. "Who…?"

The other man gasped. "It's Zanza!"

"Zanza…?"

"The Fight Merchant. He's been around for about seven years, and he's famous for beating countless men with that monster Zanbatou of his," the first man explained under his breath.

"I am Zanza the Fight Merchant," the boy announced, removing the Zanbatou from his shoulder. "I have come to fight ya."

The second man swore and drew his blade, the other mimicking his actions. "No way! Come an' get it, you son of a—UGH!"

Zanza had unleashed his Zanbatou, slamming it into the side of the first man and crashing him into the second, sending them both flying, landing in an unconscious heap a ways away. Zanza sighed slightly and put his Zanbatou back onto his shoulder, turning on his heel and walking off.

Dang. Fights are too easy these days, and they only get more pathetic, Zanza thought as he proceeded through the streets. Oh, well…more money for me.

The boy made his way through the dark streets of Tokyo easily, continuing his thoughts. I'll collect my fee tomorrow. I'm still ticked about today's gambling turnouts. And…and…what the heck?

Zanza stopped short of his favorite gambling place. He had no intention to go inside, he had already made his trip. Several men we outside the secret gambling hut, of which Zanza had never seen and knew did not belong. One of the Fight Merchant's 'friends' owned the place, and as a usual participant Zanza felt it was his duty to protect the building. It was on his turf, anyways. And no one trespassed on Zanza the Fight Merchant's territory.

But these guys looked like petty yakuza. These dorks wouldn't receive the honor of feeling Zanza's fangs—his Zanbatou nowadays was reserved for when he was tired or was in a hurry. No tough guys were to be found. Zanza internally decided to leave his partner out of this one.

"Hey."

The men turned to see who was speaking to them, and when the moonlight fell on Zanza's form, the trespassers turned white. Zanza continued, glaring at them. "What're ya doin'?"

"N—Nothing," one man stammered.

Zanza's free hand stiffened, and even the men, who were ten feet away, could hear his knuckles crack. "Wrong answer. Wanna try again?" the Fighter offered.

The group exchanged nervous looks, until one spoke up. "We're here for you."

Zanza wasted no time leaping to the next question. "Why?"

The man swallowed, attempting a cool expression. "We're here to tell you this territory is no longer yours."

He stared at them all with a blank expression, until, suddenly, Zanza began to laugh. It wasn't a true laugh, but Zanza couldn't help but grind their pride into the dirt. When he was finished, Zanza said with less humor then he had before, "Oh. You were serious. Here's my reply—" Zanza promptly flipped them off, finishing his sentence. "—Bite me."

The men glowered at him. "You'll regret your words when Kasumi-san hears of this!"

"Kasumi?" Zanza inquired. "Never heard of him."

Zanza's onlookers looked at one another as though they knew something he did not. Then one looked back at Zanza and actually had the nerve to smirk at the Fighter for Hire. "You will soon, Zanza. In fact, Kasumi-san says that if we fail to take your land from you, our leader will deal with you personally."

Zanza the Fight Merchant grinned superiorly like he was arguing with a bunch of monkeys. "Bring it on. I won't even use my partner—I'll make ya cry with my fists." Voluntarily, Zanza placed his Zanbatou on the ground and held up two fists, looking out at the gang from beneath his eyelashes.

"Have it your way, Zanza!" the yazuka screamed, drawing their wooden swords and attacking Zanza.

The Fighter for Hire waited until they came to him, taking down the quickest one with swift movements and iron fists that moved right past the gangster's bokken and connected with his face. Zanza spun around and dealt the same punishment to two men who had bean stealthy enough to sneak up behind him. Ramming his elbow backwards, Zanza knocked out another at his back, whirling around, and ripping through the group with flying fists.

When Zanza had knocked every one of them out, taking up no more than five minutes, he smiled and picked up his Zanbatou. Pushing his bandanna out of his eyes, Zanza said to the unconscious men, "Tell Mister Kasumi that this is my turf, and if he wants it, he can come and take it from me personally."

He then left.

Zanza opened his eyes, the morning light filtering through his window and onto his face. Getting up and dressing, he left his Zanbatou at home and took a visit to the one who owed him some money for last nights' fight. After collecting his cash, he made a trip to a restaurant he had taken a liking to—the Akabeko.

He ordered his usual meal, and in the middle of eating, one of Zanza's 'friends,' named Shuu, came and sat with him at his table. "Hey," the boy said, his eyes wide. He apparently seemed very agitated about something.

"Mm?" Zanza said in between a bite of fish.

Shuu seemed a little hesitant. "You're gonna flip, but…"

"What?" Zanza snapped.

His 'friend' flinched and finished what he was going to say. "There's another Fight Merchant going around town."

Zanza stood up in a millisecond, yelling at the top of his voice, "WHAT?"

Shuu nearly fell out of his seat, alarmed. "C-calm, down!" he cried, embarrassed since so many people were staring at them now.

"CALM DOWN? WHERE—! WHERE IS THIS DIRTY—" Zanza shouted, taking Shuu by the collar and dragging him out of the Akabeko without paying for his meal. Shuu squeaked in fright as Zanza dragged him into an alleyway, whirling around and continuing his rant.

"Where is he? Who is he? What's his name? Why's he here? How do ya know?" Zanza hissed.

Shuu swallowed, and explained. "H-his name is Kasumi…"

Zanza swore and punched the wall. Shuu looked at him with a mixture of fear and concern. After a minute, Zanza turned his head and regarded Shuu with serious eyes. "Tell me more."

The boy named Shuu nodded. "Well, he's been around for a bit. I can understand how you don't know much about him because you don't have many—er, I mean, you don't interact with a lot of people. His name is Kasumi, and he's supposed to be short and skinny, and always wears a cape that covers his body and face. From what I've heard, he fights with some sort of martial arts, and chains, too."

Shuu continued. "I'm not sure why Kasumi's here, but he's taking over your territory really fast. He's got half the yakuza in Tokyo fighting under his command. No one knows of Kasumi's location, but word is he's out after you, Sanosuke."

"Me?" Zanza repeated, remembering what the yakuza from last night said to him: 'In fact, Kasumi-san says that if we fail to take your land from you, our leader will deal with you personally.'

"Yes," Shuu said, glad to see that Zanza was calming down a bit. "Now…um, could you please let go of my collar? I'm not as tall as you are and the blood is rushing to my toes."

Zanza let go of Shuu's collar apologetically. "Sorry," the Fight Merchant said gruffly, "gotta go."

Leaving his bewildered friend, Zanza slunk back to his house. As he made the journey, he reviewed what he had heard about Fight Merchant Kasumi and came up with this conclusion: There is only room for one Fight Merchant in Tokyo. And it is I. So, how to find this Kasumi…or should I wait until he comes to me? I've gotta get my stuff back or I won't have anything left. But what the heck—he's got at least two hundred yakuza under his wing! My only hope is to take him on one-on-one and toss him to the trash. So…WHAT THE HECK DO I DO?

Zanza arrived at his home, and slammed the door shut behind him in irritation. The thing fell off its hinges, and Zanza whirled around to catch it before it fell down.

Feeling extremely ticked off, Zanza spent the next ten minutes fixing his door.

When his entryway was intact, Zanza resumed his rampage. Sitting down on the floor, he toyed with the handle of his Zanbatou, trying to figure out how to handle his situation. He spent the next half hour doing so. Zanza had never spent so much time thinking in his entire life.

But it wasn't simply the next half hour Zanza spent pondering. Throughout the next week, Zanza carried his Zanbatou wherever he went, prepared for an ambush or attack. He no longer visited the Akabeko, in fear of putting those weaker than the yakuza in danger. Zanza may have been a tough and unruly boy, but he wasn't going to let weaklings get pummeled—unless they asked for it.

No further word of Kasumi came to Zanza. He checked every available source he had, but it seemed that Kasumi was lying low. Zanza knew Kasumi wasn't afraid—what kind of Fight Merchant would lose heart so quickly? Unless he was…well, it was possible. Kasumi could be.

He could be one of those damned patriots, Zanza considered as he leaned against the wall of a familiar alleyway. If he is, he'll really get a major butt kicking.

Suddenly, Zanza noticed a brief flicker of movement behind him. Whirling around and kicking over a trashcan where he saw the thing dash, he was amused but embarrassed to find that he had nearly kicked a street cat to the moon.

Not daring to pick up the traumatized feline, he shooed it away and continued to think, trying to smother his humiliation. I really am edgy nowadays. Nearly killed the rotten animal.

Deciding that he had patrolled the streets thoroughly enough for the night, Zanza picked up his giant sword and strode off into the night.

Captain Sagara…what do I do?

Dictionary:

Zanza—Sanosuke's Fighter name, meaning "Death by Decapitation."

Zanbatou—Zanza's monster sword. It was created in the warring eras, and the longest sword ever created.

Yakuza—Japanese mafia

Kasumi—name that means mist

San—an add-on to a name. It can mean Miss, Mister, Mrs.…etcetera.

MadiSano: Yaaaaay! Chapter one! ...Beginnings suck. --'''