Enter the Gaijin Part 2: Midday Brawl By: Zan Shutani Houkiku The mob took their bearings and rushed her on command. It was relatively easy fending them off. Given that she could follow the speeding bullets perfectly, there was no reason she could not catch their attacks at their speed. It took Eiji's brother five minutes to realize that his men were actually losing to that one woman. None of them had inflicted so much as a wound on her, though some of the swordsmen had managed to at least land a few slashes which still did nothing more than scratch her clothing. The gunmen had no better luck, not even the two with shotguns, firearms which were designed to litter a wide area with pellets. The moment the next man writhed in pain from her bokken strike, the leader flipped his sword up and assumed a stance. "Fools. What on earth do I pay them for? Do I have to do everything myself?" But all was not well with Houkiku. For one thing, she was getting winded faster than she would have liked. And her side was starting to ache with a familiar stiffness again. Her movements had become a little sluggish, although it would take one with a well-trained eye and freshness of mind to note it. Old age. She thought ruefully. I am getting too old for this. She ducked her head to push a lock of dampened hair out of her eyes with an arm, missing the man's charge. The pound of metal on her next reflextative block took hold of the bokken, the raise of the sword that followed the parry bringing her arms up with it a distance as she struggled to pull it free, wreariness leaving her side carelessly exposed. A single cold fang bit into her side along its length, drawing a strangled cry of old and new pain, cut off suddenly, and she crumbled, revealing the hobbling man, pommel still raised over where the base of her neck was. A neat ending to the midday duel. The squadron crowded around, some bracing themselves against their swords. A couple had their fingers hanging impossibly limp. They were the ones who held the most venom in their looks and spat upon her prone unconsciousness. The others were more...appreciative. "Whaddaya know, boys.", said one of the swordsmen who seemed to be second-in-command of the whole squad. "She don't look so high and mighty anymore." He leered down at her, then his head suddenly dipped, his lips slobbering on hers. Temporarily, he broke off, but the hungry look was still in his eyes. "Boss. Whaddaya say?" Eiji's brother wiped some blood, Kiku's blood, off his sword and replaced it within the folds of his cloak. He waved his hand dismissively. "Do as you like. Just make sure she's no longer among the living when you're all through." The other men with that same look laughed, threw their weapons aside. One of them reached for and loosened her kimono and the one beneath, partially opened their tops and widening the other men's feral eyes. As he undid the rest of them, he snickered. "She ain't bad-looking underneath those." He licked his lips and drew closer. "Not bad-looking at all..." Zan rounded the bend, ended up facing Shutani Houkiku's shop. From where he was, he could spy a small knot of figures clad in overcoats and hakanas. They seemed to be surrounding something, resembling predators closing in on their prey. He gritted his teeth. "Dammit. They got to her first. They're either going to kill her..." The Samurai Gunman observed more closely some of the other men. Those in the inner circle actually had the clothes below their waist off. "...or worse." To him, rapists were among the most disgusting kind of criminals he knew of. "These perverts have no respect for women. Time to correct that." His left hand came up with the Johnny No More, sunlight glinting off it's silver coating. He snapped open the six-holed chamber, checking for a full complement of ammunition. Satisfied, he cocked the hammer with his thumb, lined up the thug farthest from the circle in his sights. He could just as well aim for those nearest the woman, but all he wanted right now was their attention. As all their backs were turned away from him and had no idea of his presence, they were all nothing but bottles in a firing range. "Steady..." "Me first!" Eiji's brother snorted in exasperation as two of his men came to blows over the woman. "No, me, you bastard!" "You've no idea how to bed a woman!" "Yeah, well I saw her first!" Turning his eyes to leisurely examine one of the textiles on the shelf, he said "The longer you argue, the more you'll never get anything done. Besides, the gunshots may have already attracted attention. If you still haven't finished and the police arrive, I'll have your heads on a nodachi. Now, Tanaka. You go first." The loser grudgingly capitulated, and the other began to pull the girl towards himself. A loud bang suddenly sounded off. Like startled rabbits, Eiji's brother and his men half-jumped at the unexpected sound and reached for their weapons. The first thought on Eiji's brother's mind was that one of his men had accidentally fired his gun. "If so, then he'd better not even be here if he has no idea on how to control his own weapon." He turned and his eyes fell on one of his men at the back, the one with the rifle. The mercenary was pale and drawn with shock. What was more, there was a hole on his forehead, blood was seeping out in a fine spray. "Fool shot himself. A mistake hiring him." He quickly observed though, that the barrel of the gunman's rifle had no smoke trailing from it. That man fell forward flat on his face, as one of the ronin whirled in alarm and began to draw his swords. They were only half-drawn when Eiji's brother saw a blade slice across the ronin's torso. Halved horizontally in two, what was left of the swordsman fell to the floor, blood mingling with the one who had died ahead of him. A gunshot and a sword slash. Only one man he knew was capable of that. A man who was almost as much a bane to him as his own brother. The remains of the ronin's body fell, and outlined in the sunlight was the figure of a man clad in an American Western outfit complete with the hat. A rather big revolver was in the newcomer's left hand, and right now, the only non-Western thing about him was a katana, blood dripping from it's blade. The figure stepped closer, the light receding enough to get a good look at him. There was no mistake about it. The blond hair, the X shaped scar across his nose, the red vest that seemed a marriage of a Western vest and a gi. Zan raised his head, said "Twelve men. One woman. Thought I'd lessen the odds a bit." Eiji's brother calmly rested his sword on his shoulder, a sneer crossing his face. "The much vaunted Gaijin Swordsman. So much have I heard about you and your little crusade. I always thought we'd see each other sooner or later. Just my luck that we meet now." A sarcastic grin played out on Zan's face. "Not a nice day for good karma is it?" "Well, Zan," said Eiji's brother, as he motioned his remaining men to deal with the annoying American. "I agree it's the perfect day for bad karma...for the likes of you." The henchmen moved away from the woman, came up with their weapons, a little wary now. Zan could see a bokken a little distance from Shutani Houkiku. Given that some of the men were somewhat haggard and bruised, perhaps she had taught them an early lesson. Zan allowed a smile to come out on his features, amused at the sight of some of the men torn between keeping their guard up or keeping their pants up. The one with the nunchaku twirled his weapon about and quipped "I hope you're worth what we're being paid for. Mind if I find out?" The Samurai Gunman raised his sword, pointed it in their direction. "Let's get it on!" The woman stirred a little, moaning softly as the warm blood splattered over her face. A frown seemed to pass her brow for a moment, but nothing more. the man that wanted her dead looked down at the disheveled and bloodied woman at his feet. And what a pathetic sight she was, too. Pah! She isn't about to wake anytime soon. He stepped over her to avoid having to take notice of her. He can kill her later, when this new crisis is over. The nunchaku man swung his weapon in a horizontal arc of chain and wood. In response, Zan leaped up and over the man's head. As the jump became a roll, he extended the Demonslayer. The man was fast with his weapon and he snapped it up, chain exposed to block. Too late. Zan's sword sliced cleanly through both the chain and the man's skull. He felt the blade slide through like a knife on soft butter. Zan landed on his feet in a stomp kick on another man's head, one of the shotgunners. Buckshot sprayed from the scattergun, only to harmlessly lodge itself in the ceiling. Using the man's head as a springboard, the Samurai Gunman leaped forward once more, firing a shot into the thug's back as he flipped. Another one down. He landed to be greeted by a katana thrusting towards his ribs. Zan canted his body sidewards, as the blade nicked his vest and cut his chest a little. The blade embedded itself in the wall. As the ronin struggled to pull it free, Zan gave him a withering look. "No one messes with the vest, pal." From his sideward stance, his elbow lashed out and smashed the man in the gut, then he snapped it up into a backfist to the man's face. To finish him, Zan grabbed the ronin and held him before himself in a human shield. Two gunshots from the revolver man, and the ronin's eyes rolled and closed. To gain a little time, the Gaijin Swordsman pushed the corpse towards his comrades and rolled aside next to the woman. Shutani Houkiku was quite a sight to behold, blood pouring out from what looked like a re-opened scar on her side. That plus the fact that she was half-naked. Zan momentarily felt his eyes stopping where they shouldn't. "Oggle at her for a few more seconds and you'll end up like her. So get moving.", he yelled to himself. He pulled out the white bandanna at his neck and pressed it against her wound, hoping it would be enough to stop the bleeding, and jumped away again a split second before a bullet could find its' mark on his neck. He was immediately caught up in another scruffle with another of the men, the rest gathering in a close tight knot in recognition of a paticular pattern. They are not unused to working as a team. They had him locked good. Out of the corner of an ear he heard the familiar latching sound of a double- barreled shotgun's barrels being locked back in place. Damn it! There was no way he could avoid that! A gunshot. Zan screwed his eyes shut, lending all his strength on the man locking his sword and gun to manuvuer him as a shield, praying to all the Gods he knew that it would work... it didn't. But the cry of pain a moment later was not his, either. "Oro? What's going on here?" Crumpled in a heap was the man with the shotgun. One of the men previously circling Zan, the one with the sickle, was clutching his knee on the street, bleeding uncontrollably. The chief source of all this seemed to be a frail man, red-haired, a sword by his side. He cut a comic figure in his wine-red hakama, a shallow wooden basin raised in one hand, staring wide-eyed confusion. There was a bump swelling up on the fallen gunman's crown. "Hey! What are you doing to Kiku-ane!" This next was a girl in a right fine rage, running out from behind the swordsman to the fallen woman, heedless of the dangers. His opponents' eyes on the newcomers was all he needed. His ronin adversary's grip on their locked blades had momentarily loosened. From his sword-gun X block, Zan tightened his fists, still gripping his weapons, and lashed them out straight forward in an X punch to the man's face. The effect was spectacular, as not only Zan's fists but also the blunt side of the ronin's own sword had slammed into his nose and forehead, leaving quite an impression. The Samurai Gunman heard and felt the man's face break with a wet snap. Zan quickly shifted his point of view to the other thugs. The one with a pair of revolvers swept his guns up, targeting the young woman rushing towards Shutani Houkiku. Zan's Johnny No More came up as well, aiming for that shooter... The revolver man froze and after a second or two, fell. Behind him was the redhead, and his sword was unsheathed. The look of confusion in that man's eyes was gone now, leaving a sort of dead calm. And for the first time, the Gaijin Swordsman noticed that this redhead's sword was among the rarest of weapons. A sakabatou, or a reverse-edged sword in layman's terms. He blinked momentarily, recalling the man's red hair and seeing a cross shaped scar on his cheek quite like his own. "Jesus Christ...I know I've heard of this guy before..." Eiji's brother growled. "More uninvited guests. Deal with them." "You can't call us uninvited, fighting on the open street!" Before the closest men, the girl in what had the common cut of the ninja "uniform" planted her heels firmly into the dust and drew a pair of kodachi. Her eyes glowed resolutely as she crossed the short swords in a defensive cross before her. "I don't want to hurt you, but if you like someone, you have to protect your loved one for any reason..." "Pah!" The man spat to her feet. "I am not here to be lectured by little children!" His eyes wandered up the expanse of exposed white leg. "C'mere..." He leered. "And I'll teach you your place, doll!" Momiji shuddered at the unpleasantness creeping up her spine and gritted her teeth against it before it got too far. "Why don't you..." Suddenly she was gone. "Come get me!" The voice came from above and the lecher looked up just in time, to see the flash of twin kodachi glimmer in the midday sun before crashing into him, leaving stars and blackness in his sights. On the other end of the fight, more men had chosen to take on the new man rather than Zan: he was small and looked easier to tackle. They were having a lot less luck and falling a lot faster. Eiji's brother rolled his eyes. You just don't get them like you used to. But he was genuinely impressed by the small man... and indeed, a little scared of his skill, too. Zan observed the redhead, the fluidity of his motions, some sort of controlled killer instinct guiding those moves. Zan was still astounded at the man's weapon. Truly something he had never seen before. Of all the strange rumors he had heard about various swordsmen in this country, the one he could never really believe was the one about Hitokiri Battousai. A redheaded swordsman with a cross-shaped scar on his cheek who has beaten countless foes. If that legend had any substance, Zan had told himself, he'd have to see it first to believe it. Looking at the swordsman's red hair and scar and watching him fight now made Zan wonder if all those rumors about the fabled swordsman could be true. What Zan also found interesting was that this man was not killing anyone. Indeed, each slash that connected merely dazed or knocked out his targets. "This guy is either a pretty good Battousai look-alike...or he's the real thing. Heck, Battousai or no, he just saved my life." Zan spotted the remaining shotgunner get up, shaking his head and wincing at the bump on his crown, and taking careful aim at the redhead. "No you don't." A shot from his revolver connected into the man's throat, exiting out the other end. As the man fell once more, dead this time, the redhead's eyes met Zan's for a split second and seemed to bid a silent thank you. "Though I'll bet he could have taken him out just as easily as the rest. Well, debt's repaid." He directed his attention to the thugs' leader and grinned. "Looks an awful lot of fun, doesn't it? I'd say we join the festivities." Zan unloaded a fierce uppercut, caught the man on the jaw and sending him stumbling back against the counter. Zan came forward in hopes of following up, when Eiji's brother rebounded against the counter with sword slashing for Zan's neck. A second before it could have lopped his head off, the Demonslayer's steel met the opponent's. The momentum however smashed Zan to the ground with his back against the floor. The crime boss sneered down at the American through the clashed blades. "I was hoping to end the Gaijin Swordsman's career with my own hands. Now is as good a time as any." "You've got lousy timing, bucko." Zan kneed the thug in the stomach then brought his boots up and catapulted him over. Like a cat, however, Eiji's brother landed on his feet. Zan got up in a roll, as the leader assumed an offensive stance and charged, sword aimed from the left in a horizontal waist high cut. Zan parried, then his opponent brought it around from the right in a slash to the midsection. Just in time did Zan flip the Demonslayer over dagger-style to block, then saw an opening. He grabbed the man's arm and threw him over his shoulder. As he flew, Zan whipped the Demonslayer up in a crescent slash, still in dagger form, and heard it slice into the man's side. The leader fell to the floor, gasping and holding his side. Zan looked him up and down, then quipped, "Don't like that, do you?" Eiji's brother abruptly brought his head up then laughed, standing up. "Nice move, gaijin. But it helps to have a little protection." Zan observed that the blood trickling from the man's side wasn't as much as the actual effect the slash was supposed to produce. About that moment did Eiji's brother open his coat, revealing a metal plate protector on his body. There was the impression of a cut and some blood was pouring out from it. Zan then felt that desire to merely whip out his six-gun and end the fight that quickly. "Naw. Don't think of that. You may win, but that's cheating against a worthy opponent." Eiji's brother then lunged and the two men exchanged slashes. Zan gritted his teeth at the sheer ferocity of the man's slashes. Something akin to a wild animal. For more than a minute did they relentlessly exchange strikes, neither showing any sign of letting up. During a brief lapse in the fight, the leader poised his sword for a thrust. "He's getting desperate. Good for me." Zan set the Demonslayer for a similar thrust. A second later, Eiji's brother yelled and rushed. Zan braced himself and charged as well. Both their swords extended... A shrill whistle filled the air, stopping the both of them. When next Zan looked, his blade was mere inches from the leader's throat but his opponent's was similarly close to his own chest, practically touching it. Eiji's brother turned his head towards the street, where a small crowd had gathered as spectators to the fight. The Gaijin Swordsman allowed himself a glance in the same direction, seeing a police squad rapidly making its' way to them. Eiji's brother slipped his sword back into it's concealment, smirked at Zan. "Guess that means we live another day. Until next time, Zan" Zan smirked as the crime boss ran off. "There's always a barrier protecting the good that will kill the bad. Know that I am that barrier...and I will kill you next time you show your face here." The Gaijin Swordsman sheathed and holstered his weapons, turned to look over at the girl in the ninja uniform and the redhead swordsman. The girl was tending as much as possible to Shutani's wounds, while the redhead glanced athim. Their eyes met and Zan felt a chill run through him. "His eyes have seen everything in a hard life. More than they should have." Zan bowed. "Good afternoon. I am Zan." He gestured to the bullet-perforated and blood-stained walls of Shutani Houkiku's tiny shop. "And...sorry about the mess." "We can fix that later. I'm Himura Kenshin." said the redhead, bowing back. "Nice to meet you, but I think we should get her some medical help. Where's the nearest clinic?", Zan asked. Kenshin smiled slightly as he went over to the girl and carefully supported the shopkeeper. "Nearer than you think." * * * "Shutani? Shutani, please be okay..." The first face Houkiku saw as she dragged her reluctant way back to the living was the lean, girl-smooth face with its worried violet eyes and mop of red hair. "Ne..." The words were difficult in forming, but lightly flippant, as her usual way. "That's 'Kiku-chan' to you. Why do i have to keep reminding you?" Even the smile was somewhat labourious. But this was physical abuse she was not unused to. The shopkeeper struggled to a seated position under the assistance of the girl ninja and the red-head swordsman. Her eyes darted around, orientating herself. In Megumi's emergency ward. Her side ached with fresh pain, sharp even through the haze of anesthetics. The dark eyes slanted into a cat-like suspicion as they lighted on the Zan. "What is this man doing here." She asked in sudden harsh Japanese, "man" stressed unpleasantly. "I think 'gaijin' is the proper word you're looking for?" Zan leaned back against the wall, rolled his eyes and thought, "Just great. Another bigot." Houkiku began to rise to her feet, looking as if she was making a grab at Kenshin's sakabatou. Were she in better shape, Zan had a feeling she'd have had that sword out of the redhead's scabbard before he could even blink. And would be winging Zan by now with the cutting edge. She seemed to be in the proccess of doing just that when Kenshin gently pushed her back to her sitting position. "Ease up, Kiku-chan. You need rest." He looked at Zan once, glanced back at Kiku and said. "Besides, he saved your life. And that's what he gets in return? Thanks are warranted." After a bit, he added. "Added to that, he also saved MY life." Zan opened his mouth in a silent protest. True that he had saved both their lives, but Kenshin had saved his as well. "And that gunman was barely worth his time!" "Nothing good's ever came out from over the seas." The woman snarled. The moment passes and she slumps wearily against the delicate swordsman. "Kiku-ane..." The ninja reached out hesistantly to touch her, and quickly drew her hand back, unsure of the reception. The shopkeeper waved her hand loftily in some kind of self- dismissal. The gesture brought her hand sharply down to press against the fresh wound, biting down a cry. And that moment passed too, such that she got to her feet against Kenshin and Momiji's protests and started out. "Don't let her move..." Megumi's voice heralded her arrival. Stepping through the short cloth blinds, her tone turned wry. "About. Kiku-chan, you know full well you're not supposed to be moving around like this: if you don't get back to that bed this instant I'll set Kenshin to do it for you!" Kenshin's eyes got very large in that stunned expression again, a bead of pesperation running down his cheek. Shutani cast an amused look from the doctor to the swordsman, and mildly, "What, have you finally tamed our idealist? Last night?" Megumi's face flushed, but the expression she turned on her neighbour was one that said 'what-nonsense'. "I wish." She mumbled. Shutani chuckled, patting the younger woman on the shoulder on her way out. Her strength didn't hold out long. Not at all, in fact. Scarcely had she left the back room when a rather rough voice called out from the front, "Oi, foxy, give me a hand here, willya!" The three Japanese ducked out quickly, sensing immdiately the sense of haste in those drawled-out words. In the waiting room, Sagura Sanosuke was chewing on his customary fishbone, looking down uncertainly at the unconcious female form he carried in his arms. "What's up with her?" Megumi, with her doctor's eye, was the first to catch the spreading red stain on his own bandaged hand. "Sano! How many times have I told you to go easy on that? How do you expect it to heal..." "Meg," He interrupted her in a harsh, tensed whisper. "It's not mine." * * * [End Part 2/Midday Brawl]