at long last
Here is my last minute Summer History Challenge entry.
There is a story behind this fic. I was sitting in my room where we were staying in Hove, England. I was bored out of my mind and had been rereading Tsubasa 3-7 to pass the time. And I thought to myself: Hmm. I need an idea for the Summer History Challenge. I'd had a few thoughts about something involved the war between Japan and the Soviet Union (or was it still Russia at the time? I can't remember...[embarrassed blush]) that would turn out angsty and morbid and full of trench warfare...but I would have had to research that.
Then I was drawing Fai, and the left eye came out like shit. Logically, I drew an eyepatch. Then the mouth kinda failed, so I drew a bandanna. I thought he looked a bit like a bandit, so the caption read: "Fai "D" Fluorite - the gayest durndest bandit in the West!" Then I thought, "someone should totally write a Wild West fic. That would be the best/worst thing EVAR."
I laughed for about five minutes nonstop.
Then I wrote this.
Title: Tumbleweed
Fandom: TRC
Wordcount: 2318
A/N: This is CRACK in its purest form. Also, return of the gen. I may write a follow-up, but this is intended to stand alone. Please don't shoot me. I don't have Kurogane's awesome skills, and I would soon be dead.
A barmaid hummed keylessly to herself as she served. No one really seemed to mind, as she was good-looking (or “a real looker,” as the regulars said) and young - well, nobody but Kurogane, who didn’t give a damn what she looked like. The important part was that she brought him his alcohol, although he would have preferred she not sing while doing so. This was not his ideal place to be, but then again, the whole business was something he’d rather not be involved with.
But the man in charge of the coach was rich and had offered a large sum of money for Kurogane’s services as a guard on the way to California. Kurogane had of course accepted, lacking any better options. He had envisioned roughing it, which he did not mind, and fighting off would-be robbers, which he had looked forward to. He had not planned on stopping off in some town in the middle of nowhere so that the boss could try to get laid, which was precisely what had happened the moment they left the last big city.
To make matters worse, the boss had been singularly unlucky, so they’d probably all have to stop in the next town they'd came to for him to try again. Maybe it would be less full of similarly starved ugly and rich old men, and end up being the last of these stops. If nothing else, maybe there would be a good punch-up and Kurogane could vent some frustration.
A different barmaid served his next drink, thankfully in silence. The ale tasted off, though - perhaps it had gone stale? - but he did not contemplate this too much.
This was mainly because within a second or two, he fell down unconscious.
--
He woke up, head throbbing and feeling fuzzier than a grizzly, in an unfamiliar room. He neck was cramped. probably due to the fact that he was tied upright in a chair and bee for all intents and purposes asleep. From the bad ale. He’d known this town could hold no good.
“Where the hell am I?” he muttered, surveying what he could of the situation. It seemed as if, for now, he had little opportunity to change it to his advantage. His hands remained firmly tied despite his best efforts.
At least a good fight seemed nigh.
“You’re in a room of the saloon you were drinking at,” announced a vaguely male voice that did not come from the streets of this town. Kurogane instantly disliked him, far more than his apparent role in the ale-poisoning scheme called for. This voice reeked with the potential to cause much annoyance and discomfort in the near future.
The owner of the described voice stepped into view. He was a very slender (perhaps malnourished) blonde man, somewhere around Kurogane’s age if he were any judge of the matter. This man also wore a very smug grin, assuring Kurogane that this was indeed his captor.
“Forgive us for any trouble we caused,” said another voice. Several other men entered Kurogane’s line of sight. The new speaker was no more than a kid, and probably incredibly inexperienced at that, considering he’d just apologised for his act of banditry. “You’re not what we’re after,” he continued in a determined tone that would have been ridiculous used by anyone else.
“You’re merely guarding it,” the first man said with a laugh, confirming Kurogane’s suspicions. “Your reputation precedes you, you know. We decided we’d all rather live a little longer than we have.”
“So you’ll live as long as it takes for me to get loose,” Kurogane snarled at him, by now very much Not Amused and growing less amused with each passing moment. Surrepticiously he tried again to work a hand free but found the roped binding him far too tight. Annoying Man smiled a little wider, perhaps noticing.
“I think you’ll find that no mean feat,” said another of the men.
“We’ll be long gone by then,” Annoying Man added, flapping a hand in an extraordinarily questionable manner. Kurogane bit back a threatening reply (“You’d better hope you are”) in favor of scowling menacingly. The kid at least had the decency to look intimidated, as di a few of the (more sensible) men. Annoying Man grinned even more broadly, if possible. “Anyway, we have at least until the drug wears off and you’re at full strength again,” he continued cheerfully.
That explained the fuzziness. “Isn’t that kind of thing expensive?” Kurogane asked in spite of himself. “More so than what you’re hoping to steal is worth?” Not that he really knew. He didn’t really deal with narcotics, and furthermore had no idea of the worth of the coach he was guarding. For all he knew, it could be full of straw.
“That’s what we have Fluorite there for,” one of the men told him. “He makes all of our cures, and also knows some other interesting brews.” He gestured vaguely toward his right.
“What, the kid?” Kurogane was taken aback.
“No, not him,” said Annoying Man with a laugh. “I’m Fluorite. Fai “D” Fluorite, at your service.” He made an overdramatic bow more at home a century ago in France than in a room above a dusty saloon. “The kid is Syaoran Li.”
Kurogane hmphed, but refrained from commenting upon what kind of service Fluorite could have provided (although it would have involved something sharp placed somewhere highly uncomfortable). “A bit young, ain’t he?” he asked instead, attempting to jerk his head at Li. The movement failed quite miserably.
The kid coughed, turning faintly red. “I had something I needed to do,” he replied, as if to explain everything. Some of the other men laughed, and Kurogane wondered what sort of jokes had been made about this statement in the past. Several conclusions were very swift in arriving, despite the fuzziness.
“Li’s in love,” Fluorite explained. “But his lady’s older brother won’t marry her off to someone without any money. Actually,” and here he leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper, “I don’t think her brother will ever let her marry. He’s incredibly overprotective.”
“He’s thinking of getting married at that age?” Kurogane demanded, wondering if he should reassess his previous assumption that Fluorite was the craziest of the lot. In his opinion, marriage was something that happened to people who’d committed some horrible crime. Then again, considering that Li was turning robber to be able to marry the girl, maybe he was correct in that conclusion.
Li himself only nodded, although his face turned from faint red to a rather brilliant crimson. Kurogane wondered if he should be remembering this moment. He was probably speaking with the worst bandit west of the Mississppi River. “By the time I get back, I’ll be older anyways,” said bandit added as an afterthought.
“And the brother’ll let her marry a criminal?” Kurogane inquired, wondering if he was really in a position to play the devil’s advocate.
Li said nothing, but something told the prisoner that this kid hadn’t thought this plan through as well as he could have.
“Haven’t we got a job to do?” asked one of the various nameless men, opening the door. “Enough gloating.” The otehrs, awknowledging his leadership, filed out. Fluorite brought up the rear and winked in a questionable manner reminiscent of the handflap. “See you later,” he proclaimed. “If you’re unfortunate enough.” The door slammed cheerfully after him.
“If I’m lucky, the next time I’ll see you is with a bullet through your chest,” Kurogane muttered, and set about trying to untie himself.
--
It had taken a full hour or so for Kurogane to release himself from the chair. The door had been unlocked, which only served to further anger him, and he had stormed down the stairs and scared the more fragil clientele from the saloon below. The bartender had glared from a sheltered corner as he’d left loudly and continued his storming back to the coach. No one else was there, in the heat this hour of the afternoon.
It occurred to him that that was probably not a good sign. Someone should have been there too watch over it and make sure no one robbed it. And seeing as there definitely were people trying to rob it, and they’d managed to incapacitate even him…
For that matter, why hadn’t they killed him?
Kurogane decided he would deal with that question when it became pertinent, and for now concern himself with the more important issue of what the hell was going on. The main road (and coincidentally, only road) through this town was absolutely deserted. With a feeling he knew exactly what would await him, he looked in the tiny window to see…nothing. There was an annoyingly red curtain in the way.
Muttering under his breath, he stomped to the other side, where he nearly crashed into the kid Li. Stuttering an apology, the kid backed away and darted around him - or tried to. Kurogane, with a well-timed grab, caught hold of the back of his bandana and successfully prevented any more movement away.
“Kid,” he said angrily, “what the hell are you trying to do?”
Li gazed back with a determined expression, which Kurogane suspected was the closest thing he came to glaring. “Let me go,” he said.
“You can’t win this,” Kurogane replied. “I’m twice your size and armed.”
“Oh, but we can keep you occupied,” said another voice. The apparent leader from earlier stepped up and drew his gun. “Drop the kid and put your hands up.”
This was really getting too far. Kurogane, with his free hand, swung out and grabbed the gun, pulling it away and releasing its former owner’s grip. “Your turn,” he growled.
“Wheet-whew!” called another depressingly familiar voice in what sounded like a pathetic attempt at mimicking a whistle. Fluorite waved from the growing group of robbers behind the now-incapacitated leader. “That was excellent!”
“I just did that to your own leader,” Kurogane muttered, amazed at the depths of insanity that any human mind could sink to. The leader himself looked back for a second and looked almost embarrassed for a second. Not that Kurogane blamed him…
But it did provide a nice opportunity to gain the upper hand. Instead of using the conventional method, Kurogane brought the gun up and with a resounding thwack, knocked the leader out. A small cloud of dust rose from the ground where he fell.
The group as one took a step back. Except Fluorite, who looked as insanely gleeful as ever.
Li cleared his throat. “I challenge you,” he told Kurogane in a steady voice, “to a duel.”
--
The street was still hot and dusty, although a great deal less empty than it had been earlier. Besides the outlaws, a group of onlookers had amassed in front of each of the two saloons, muttering bets and drinking ale while trying to be inconspicuous. Kurogane stood on one end of the road, facing Li.
A tumbleweed blew by.
“On three!” called the robber who’d been chosen to mediate. “One!”
Li pushed hair from his forehead, eyes never leaving Kurogane’s.
“Two!”
The sun beat down mercilessly on the street. A trickle of sweat made its way down the side of Kurogane’s face.
“One!”
Both guns came up; twin shots could be heard. But neither bullet made its mark, as Li rolled out of the way and missed his mark. Kurogane’s second bullet buried itself in the ground where his head had originally come to rest. Then Li stood, breathing heavily. For a moment, there was silence.
Kurogane fired again, but Li dodged successfully and ran up to deliver a flying kick. It was deflected and the kid was easily knocked over and pinned with a knee. With a tsk of disappointment, Kurogane lowered his gun to point at the one who’d lost, but did not fire.
“You’ve got a long way to go, kid,” he said instead.
Li looked up, gulped, and nodded. His face was a study of awe and relief.
Several of the other bandits approached cautiously. “You’re letting him go?” one asked. He glanced back at another, the fallen leader who apparently had woken up. “It’s rare to see honor like that around these parts.” It was difficult to tell if the tone was mocking or earnest.
“I don’t kill kids,” Kurogane growled.
The leader muttered something to one of the men, who appeared stricken. Then, to Kurogane’s horror, Fluorite sauntered up and added something else in a whisper, to which the others laughed nervously - save the leader, who instead appeared to actually contemplate whatever had been said.
“How much are they paying you?” he finally asked.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kurogane demanded.
“How much are you being paid to guard that coach?”
Kurogane, still bemused, named a sum. Both Fluorite and the leader smiled broadly, and Kurogane’s instincts started telling him to shoot both of them and then get the hell out of this town. “Want to join us?” Fluorite inquired.
There was a pause in which Kurogane’s jaw did not drop, but only through a large amount of self-discipline. “What?”
“There’s about twenty thousand dollars in that there coach,” the leader explained. “Your share of that, if you joined us, would be pretty damn big.” Kurogane took in the other members, and slowly, in defiance of what until now he’d considered his better senses were screaming at him, he too smiled.
“I’m in,” he said.
Fluorite grinned like a maniac and took command of his arm, pulling the hapless new robber to the rest of the ranks. “What’s you name, anyway?” he asked.
“I’m Kurogane,” Kurogane growled, trying to be angry and realising to his horror that the rage would not come. “Let go of me. Now.”
“You sound like an annoyed dog,” Fluorite commented. “Sure thing, Kuro-woof.”
The anger was quick in coming then.
There is a story behind this fic. I was sitting in my room where we were staying in Hove, England. I was bored out of my mind and had been rereading Tsubasa 3-7 to pass the time. And I thought to myself: Hmm. I need an idea for the Summer History Challenge. I'd had a few thoughts about something involved the war between Japan and the Soviet Union (or was it still Russia at the time? I can't remember...[embarrassed blush]) that would turn out angsty and morbid and full of trench warfare...but I would have had to research that.
Then I was drawing Fai, and the left eye came out like shit. Logically, I drew an eyepatch. Then the mouth kinda failed, so I drew a bandanna. I thought he looked a bit like a bandit, so the caption read: "Fai "D" Fluorite - the gayest durndest bandit in the West!" Then I thought, "someone should totally write a Wild West fic. That would be the best/worst thing EVAR."
I laughed for about five minutes nonstop.
Then I wrote this.
Title: Tumbleweed
Fandom: TRC
Wordcount: 2318
A/N: This is CRACK in its purest form. Also, return of the gen. I may write a follow-up, but this is intended to stand alone. Please don't shoot me. I don't have Kurogane's awesome skills, and I would soon be dead.
A barmaid hummed keylessly to herself as she served. No one really seemed to mind, as she was good-looking (or “a real looker,” as the regulars said) and young - well, nobody but Kurogane, who didn’t give a damn what she looked like. The important part was that she brought him his alcohol, although he would have preferred she not sing while doing so. This was not his ideal place to be, but then again, the whole business was something he’d rather not be involved with.
But the man in charge of the coach was rich and had offered a large sum of money for Kurogane’s services as a guard on the way to California. Kurogane had of course accepted, lacking any better options. He had envisioned roughing it, which he did not mind, and fighting off would-be robbers, which he had looked forward to. He had not planned on stopping off in some town in the middle of nowhere so that the boss could try to get laid, which was precisely what had happened the moment they left the last big city.
To make matters worse, the boss had been singularly unlucky, so they’d probably all have to stop in the next town they'd came to for him to try again. Maybe it would be less full of similarly starved ugly and rich old men, and end up being the last of these stops. If nothing else, maybe there would be a good punch-up and Kurogane could vent some frustration.
A different barmaid served his next drink, thankfully in silence. The ale tasted off, though - perhaps it had gone stale? - but he did not contemplate this too much.
This was mainly because within a second or two, he fell down unconscious.
--
He woke up, head throbbing and feeling fuzzier than a grizzly, in an unfamiliar room. He neck was cramped. probably due to the fact that he was tied upright in a chair and bee for all intents and purposes asleep. From the bad ale. He’d known this town could hold no good.
“Where the hell am I?” he muttered, surveying what he could of the situation. It seemed as if, for now, he had little opportunity to change it to his advantage. His hands remained firmly tied despite his best efforts.
At least a good fight seemed nigh.
“You’re in a room of the saloon you were drinking at,” announced a vaguely male voice that did not come from the streets of this town. Kurogane instantly disliked him, far more than his apparent role in the ale-poisoning scheme called for. This voice reeked with the potential to cause much annoyance and discomfort in the near future.
The owner of the described voice stepped into view. He was a very slender (perhaps malnourished) blonde man, somewhere around Kurogane’s age if he were any judge of the matter. This man also wore a very smug grin, assuring Kurogane that this was indeed his captor.
“Forgive us for any trouble we caused,” said another voice. Several other men entered Kurogane’s line of sight. The new speaker was no more than a kid, and probably incredibly inexperienced at that, considering he’d just apologised for his act of banditry. “You’re not what we’re after,” he continued in a determined tone that would have been ridiculous used by anyone else.
“You’re merely guarding it,” the first man said with a laugh, confirming Kurogane’s suspicions. “Your reputation precedes you, you know. We decided we’d all rather live a little longer than we have.”
“So you’ll live as long as it takes for me to get loose,” Kurogane snarled at him, by now very much Not Amused and growing less amused with each passing moment. Surrepticiously he tried again to work a hand free but found the roped binding him far too tight. Annoying Man smiled a little wider, perhaps noticing.
“I think you’ll find that no mean feat,” said another of the men.
“We’ll be long gone by then,” Annoying Man added, flapping a hand in an extraordinarily questionable manner. Kurogane bit back a threatening reply (“You’d better hope you are”) in favor of scowling menacingly. The kid at least had the decency to look intimidated, as di a few of the (more sensible) men. Annoying Man grinned even more broadly, if possible. “Anyway, we have at least until the drug wears off and you’re at full strength again,” he continued cheerfully.
That explained the fuzziness. “Isn’t that kind of thing expensive?” Kurogane asked in spite of himself. “More so than what you’re hoping to steal is worth?” Not that he really knew. He didn’t really deal with narcotics, and furthermore had no idea of the worth of the coach he was guarding. For all he knew, it could be full of straw.
“That’s what we have Fluorite there for,” one of the men told him. “He makes all of our cures, and also knows some other interesting brews.” He gestured vaguely toward his right.
“What, the kid?” Kurogane was taken aback.
“No, not him,” said Annoying Man with a laugh. “I’m Fluorite. Fai “D” Fluorite, at your service.” He made an overdramatic bow more at home a century ago in France than in a room above a dusty saloon. “The kid is Syaoran Li.”
Kurogane hmphed, but refrained from commenting upon what kind of service Fluorite could have provided (although it would have involved something sharp placed somewhere highly uncomfortable). “A bit young, ain’t he?” he asked instead, attempting to jerk his head at Li. The movement failed quite miserably.
The kid coughed, turning faintly red. “I had something I needed to do,” he replied, as if to explain everything. Some of the other men laughed, and Kurogane wondered what sort of jokes had been made about this statement in the past. Several conclusions were very swift in arriving, despite the fuzziness.
“Li’s in love,” Fluorite explained. “But his lady’s older brother won’t marry her off to someone without any money. Actually,” and here he leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper, “I don’t think her brother will ever let her marry. He’s incredibly overprotective.”
“He’s thinking of getting married at that age?” Kurogane demanded, wondering if he should reassess his previous assumption that Fluorite was the craziest of the lot. In his opinion, marriage was something that happened to people who’d committed some horrible crime. Then again, considering that Li was turning robber to be able to marry the girl, maybe he was correct in that conclusion.
Li himself only nodded, although his face turned from faint red to a rather brilliant crimson. Kurogane wondered if he should be remembering this moment. He was probably speaking with the worst bandit west of the Mississppi River. “By the time I get back, I’ll be older anyways,” said bandit added as an afterthought.
“And the brother’ll let her marry a criminal?” Kurogane inquired, wondering if he was really in a position to play the devil’s advocate.
Li said nothing, but something told the prisoner that this kid hadn’t thought this plan through as well as he could have.
“Haven’t we got a job to do?” asked one of the various nameless men, opening the door. “Enough gloating.” The otehrs, awknowledging his leadership, filed out. Fluorite brought up the rear and winked in a questionable manner reminiscent of the handflap. “See you later,” he proclaimed. “If you’re unfortunate enough.” The door slammed cheerfully after him.
“If I’m lucky, the next time I’ll see you is with a bullet through your chest,” Kurogane muttered, and set about trying to untie himself.
--
It had taken a full hour or so for Kurogane to release himself from the chair. The door had been unlocked, which only served to further anger him, and he had stormed down the stairs and scared the more fragil clientele from the saloon below. The bartender had glared from a sheltered corner as he’d left loudly and continued his storming back to the coach. No one else was there, in the heat this hour of the afternoon.
It occurred to him that that was probably not a good sign. Someone should have been there too watch over it and make sure no one robbed it. And seeing as there definitely were people trying to rob it, and they’d managed to incapacitate even him…
For that matter, why hadn’t they killed him?
Kurogane decided he would deal with that question when it became pertinent, and for now concern himself with the more important issue of what the hell was going on. The main road (and coincidentally, only road) through this town was absolutely deserted. With a feeling he knew exactly what would await him, he looked in the tiny window to see…nothing. There was an annoyingly red curtain in the way.
Muttering under his breath, he stomped to the other side, where he nearly crashed into the kid Li. Stuttering an apology, the kid backed away and darted around him - or tried to. Kurogane, with a well-timed grab, caught hold of the back of his bandana and successfully prevented any more movement away.
“Kid,” he said angrily, “what the hell are you trying to do?”
Li gazed back with a determined expression, which Kurogane suspected was the closest thing he came to glaring. “Let me go,” he said.
“You can’t win this,” Kurogane replied. “I’m twice your size and armed.”
“Oh, but we can keep you occupied,” said another voice. The apparent leader from earlier stepped up and drew his gun. “Drop the kid and put your hands up.”
This was really getting too far. Kurogane, with his free hand, swung out and grabbed the gun, pulling it away and releasing its former owner’s grip. “Your turn,” he growled.
“Wheet-whew!” called another depressingly familiar voice in what sounded like a pathetic attempt at mimicking a whistle. Fluorite waved from the growing group of robbers behind the now-incapacitated leader. “That was excellent!”
“I just did that to your own leader,” Kurogane muttered, amazed at the depths of insanity that any human mind could sink to. The leader himself looked back for a second and looked almost embarrassed for a second. Not that Kurogane blamed him…
But it did provide a nice opportunity to gain the upper hand. Instead of using the conventional method, Kurogane brought the gun up and with a resounding thwack, knocked the leader out. A small cloud of dust rose from the ground where he fell.
The group as one took a step back. Except Fluorite, who looked as insanely gleeful as ever.
Li cleared his throat. “I challenge you,” he told Kurogane in a steady voice, “to a duel.”
--
The street was still hot and dusty, although a great deal less empty than it had been earlier. Besides the outlaws, a group of onlookers had amassed in front of each of the two saloons, muttering bets and drinking ale while trying to be inconspicuous. Kurogane stood on one end of the road, facing Li.
A tumbleweed blew by.
“On three!” called the robber who’d been chosen to mediate. “One!”
Li pushed hair from his forehead, eyes never leaving Kurogane’s.
“Two!”
The sun beat down mercilessly on the street. A trickle of sweat made its way down the side of Kurogane’s face.
“One!”
Both guns came up; twin shots could be heard. But neither bullet made its mark, as Li rolled out of the way and missed his mark. Kurogane’s second bullet buried itself in the ground where his head had originally come to rest. Then Li stood, breathing heavily. For a moment, there was silence.
Kurogane fired again, but Li dodged successfully and ran up to deliver a flying kick. It was deflected and the kid was easily knocked over and pinned with a knee. With a tsk of disappointment, Kurogane lowered his gun to point at the one who’d lost, but did not fire.
“You’ve got a long way to go, kid,” he said instead.
Li looked up, gulped, and nodded. His face was a study of awe and relief.
Several of the other bandits approached cautiously. “You’re letting him go?” one asked. He glanced back at another, the fallen leader who apparently had woken up. “It’s rare to see honor like that around these parts.” It was difficult to tell if the tone was mocking or earnest.
“I don’t kill kids,” Kurogane growled.
The leader muttered something to one of the men, who appeared stricken. Then, to Kurogane’s horror, Fluorite sauntered up and added something else in a whisper, to which the others laughed nervously - save the leader, who instead appeared to actually contemplate whatever had been said.
“How much are they paying you?” he finally asked.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kurogane demanded.
“How much are you being paid to guard that coach?”
Kurogane, still bemused, named a sum. Both Fluorite and the leader smiled broadly, and Kurogane’s instincts started telling him to shoot both of them and then get the hell out of this town. “Want to join us?” Fluorite inquired.
There was a pause in which Kurogane’s jaw did not drop, but only through a large amount of self-discipline. “What?”
“There’s about twenty thousand dollars in that there coach,” the leader explained. “Your share of that, if you joined us, would be pretty damn big.” Kurogane took in the other members, and slowly, in defiance of what until now he’d considered his better senses were screaming at him, he too smiled.
“I’m in,” he said.
Fluorite grinned like a maniac and took command of his arm, pulling the hapless new robber to the rest of the ranks. “What’s you name, anyway?” he asked.
“I’m Kurogane,” Kurogane growled, trying to be angry and realising to his horror that the rage would not come. “Let go of me. Now.”
“You sound like an annoyed dog,” Fluorite commented. “Sure thing, Kuro-woof.”
The anger was quick in coming then.