Slam Dunk Fan Fiction ❯ Run From Him ❯ 1850 ( Chapter 2 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Yoshi-kun 
Anime/Manga: Slam Dunk Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 10.28.2002 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.1K | Visits: 564 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Slam Dunk Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 10.28.2002 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.1K | Visits: 564 | Status: Completed
Run From Him
Author: Yoshi
Mail: angelwings@mindless.com
Genre: Yaoi/AU/Romance
Chapter: 2/?
Disclaimers: Slam Dunk is a creation of Takehiko Inoue, and it will never be mine. No profit was made upon doing this fiction for I am merely borrowing the characters for fun.
AN: Most people asked why I labeled this a multi-chaptered fic because of the turn of events in chapter 1. Do read on and it's up to you to decide what this is all about.
---------------
June 1850
Unusually warm and humid weather assailed the man confined inside the jolting stagecoach. The steady pounding of hooves mingled with the creaking sound of wood and the grinding of metal assaulted the passenger's ears.
Deep bumps in the dusty road prevented all comfort, as if the hard, wooden seat in the stagecoach would allow any. The narrow windows refused to allow any refreshing air that might have soothed the already irritated mind and damp body. Although the journey was supposed to be only 30 miles, it seemed to be very lengthy and monotonous.
"Damn..." he muttered as the coach again rattled on the bumpy road. He brought a hand up, brushing a damp red lock on his forehead.
By this time, the redhead was already counting from ten backwards, vainly trying to control the irresistible urge to bellow on the man holding the reins of the coach.
Hanamichi wasn't sure whatever possessed him to go on to a deserted place like this; perhaps it was a thrill of his to go where the few dared to. Perhaps it is the idea of being miles away from all the chaos that was his life. He had a lot of things ahead of him. He had just finished studying from a top medical school. He's the son and heir of a rich trader. He could've chosen to marry some girl and live a luxurious life.
But there are some things that even money couldn't buy.
Money couldn't buy time. And happiness.
And so, he went out to the 'real' world, with hopes to find himself and happiness as well.
The stage finally stopped in front of the hotel. Too distracted, Hanamichi hardly noticed the changing scenery along his journey or the passage of time. After accepting his bag from the driver, he headed inside.
-------
Gunshots.
He wasn't sure what was happening, but the clamor from the streets below increased in volume. Surely, such rowdiness didn't occur every night? He rolled off the bed and went to the window, casting the soft white curtains aside for a better view.
The wooden sidewalks and dusty street were empty save for some men who appeared to be in hot pursuit of something...
"Search the entire place...don't forget the saloon and the inn; I'm sure he didn't get that far." Ordered the burly man who seemed to project an air of authority. Judging by the way he carried himself, he is undoubtedly the town's sheriff.
"Yes, sir."
...Or rather, someone.
'Interesting,' he thought to himself as he watched all the events outside. He had often read about outlaws and gunslingers from the newspaper, but never had he felt such closeness to the line of action.
As the commotion began to subside, he headed for his baggage. A few moments later, he took a shiny object out- his colts. The weapon caught a deadly glimmer in the moonlight as he took it out of its holster. After checking that it had enough ammunition, he finally placed it on top of the dresser and retreated back to the warm bed covers.
---------
Hanamichi woke less than two hours later, with a groggy and disoriented start.
For several seconds, he just sat there on the bed, squinting his eyes in the dark. He couldn't exactly point out the reason why he'd woken, what had snapped him from that deep sleep. Part of him just wanted to roll back on the bed and just shrug it off as a bad dream.
But he couldn't. His instincts were ringing alarm into his head right now and he couldn't ignore it.
And at that instant, he knew. He had woken up for a reason; he couldn't explain why, but he was sure of one thing: he wasn't alone.
A quick glance on the cool, dark room told him otherwise. Everything was still. The windows were closed, the balcony was exactly as he'd left them, and the bathroom door was ajar.
Hanamichi stood quickly, his somehow dazed mind forcing him to lean on the bedpost for support. He then walked gingerly to the bathroom, the lamplight illuminating the dark corners and revealing his groggy-eyed reflection on the mirror.
'I look awful.'
He splashed a good few handfuls of cold water to his face, not bothering to dry it off. For a few minutes he just stood there, watching his reflection in the mirror when a soft scuttling sound came outside.
Glancing around the bathroom one last time, he stepped back into the bedroom closed the door.
The white curtains billowed softly, almost transparent from the huge full moon's ethereal glow bathing the balcony.
Strange. For once, he thought someone was there. He could've sworn that he just saw a figure standing on the balcony doors, skin pale against the moonlight and hair as dark as the night.
'Idiot,' the redhead chastised himself, laughing inwardly at his situation. He was getting too paranoid for his own good.
Anyways, it wasn't as if he couldn't take care of himself. If it's any consolation, he's taller by a few good inches from regular men. He could at least fight if the situation called for it.
And he had his colts with him.
Turning away from the window, he glanced towards the dresser where he had placed the weapon before he slept...
...Only to find it gone.
"What the...?" Eyes widened, heartbeat quickened, cold sweat pumped in, and his instinct rang ominously again. His gaze darted around the darkened room, confused as to why it is still empty.
Pacing hurriedly towards the bed, a cold chill ran up to his spine. A rush of thoughts flooded his mind as panic started to creep in him.
He was about to jolt out of the room when a pair of arms snaked from behind. His eyes widened in fear as a hand clamped against his mouth while another held him firmly against the outlaw's chest. He tried to struggle against the grasp, but his feeble attempts were thwarted as soon as the hand holding his mouth pointed something cold in his head.
A gun.
"Be still," ordered a voice behind him. It had a cold quality in it and...something barely unrecognizable.
Just outside, voices could be heard talking again. It was the sheriff and his men.
"Did you find him?"
"No sir. We searched the entire area but we couldn't find any trace of his whereabouts..."
"Go to the hospital. He's not a fool to actually ride out in his condition."
If before he could practically hear his heart pounding in his chest, now he felt as if it had stopped. He must be really unfortunate to meet his end this soon, as he is sure that the bandit intended to kill him once it had all his belongings.
'If I am going to die now, might as well just die fighting,' Hanamichi desperately thought to himself, as he renewed his struggle against the man behind him.
But before he could complete the task at hand, something hard smashed on the back of his head. His knees swayed, then buckled in response before he crashed unceremoniously on the floor.
--------
Hanamichi was slipping in and out of pain-induced slumber when he sensed someone near him. Added to that was the feeling that he couldn't move.
Fighting past the throbbing pain in his head, he forced his eyes open.
He was still in his room; that fact was odd enough. Truth be told, he actually expected to be left alone the moment he was knocked unconscious. Surely, the man was only after his things and nothing else, right?
Grimacing at the pounding sensation in his head, he struggled a bit to get some leverage to sit up as assess his situation. His arms were tied behind his back, and his feet tied on the bedpost. The knot was tight enough to restrain him, yet not to the extent that he was loosing the feel of it.
His eyes widened as he felt his knot somewhat give in. The man was probably in a hurry tying him up that he didn't notice the binds holding his hands weren't that firm.
"Be still," Again, the voice commanded, startling him. "You'll aggravate your head more."
At that moment, their eyes met: deep blue and warm brown. In mere seconds, silence passed, as Hanamichi studied the man sitting on the chair beside the bed. He was right after all. The man had such pale skin as if the moon kissed it and his hair as dark as the night itself. For an outlaw, he was definitely... pleasant-looking.
To add another puzzle in this predicament, the redhead wondered why his captor didn't even bother to wear a mask.
"Who are you?"
"...Doesn't matter."
"Like hell it does," Hanamichi retorted, somewhat annoyed. "Why didn't you kill me?" he asked bluntly.
He knew he was threading dangerous lines. It was like he was actually provoking the man to kill him.
"Should I?" came the reply with a stiff shrug, this time sounding a bit slurred and weary. Frowning to himself, Hanamichi wondered if the pale man is under the influence of alcohol or something.
"You can take the money if you want,"
"I don't need that." Hanamichi stared directly on the blue depths and was taken aback at the sincerity it projected.
Strange. An outlaw refusing money? Is the world coming to an end? Just what does this man want? Series after series of questions bombarded Hanamichi's mind. He couldn't think of anything else that the raven-haired man could possibly be after. "Then, what is it?"
Silence. It was the type of silence that meant he was thinking of something.
"I need a place to stay for a moment."
Hanamichi was about to question further when he observed something from the man. It appeared as if the man was distracted from something.
He wasn't sure what had compelled him to turn his head, to keenly observe the outlaw beside him. He frowned as his mind processed and made the obvious connections.
"...Search the entire place...I'm sure he didn't get that far."
The spacey speech, the stiff movements...
"Go to the hospital. He's not a fool to actually ride out in his condition."
...And the crimson wetness splotched in his shoulders. It dawned to him that the man was actually bleeding profusely from his gunshot wounds.
"You're..."
He didn't get to finish the inquiry as the dark-haired man stood up shakily from his seat. "They're gone. I'll leave now..." he struggled towards the door.
It didn't even took him a few steps before he collapsed in an ungraceful heap on the wooden floor, his knees obviously giving up due to intense exhaustion and pain. Soon, he succumbed to the tempting darkness.
Hanamichi watched as the man fell unconscious before him. With a final hard tug on his restraints, he was able to free his hands. He then spent a few seconds untying the complex knots that bound his ankles to the bedpost.
When the last of the ropes had been unwound, he shuffled out of the bed.
Glancing at the man in front of him, he pondered what to do next. The rational side of his mind told him to get out of the room, leave the man bleeding to death, and run to the town sheriff.
However, something tugged deep within him- the part that told him to do otherwise. It was the part he often listened to.
'Oh hell...' Hanamichi thought to himself as he rushed to the injured man, checking for a pulse, unknowingly breathing a sigh of relief when he found it.
He laid the dark-haired man on the bed, before hurriedly retrieving his medical kit. He often brought it with him whenever he traveled, and he was thankful for that foresight.
As he began to strip the man out of his bloodied clothing, he briefly wondered if he chose the right path...
----------------------------
AN: Damn. I think I bored the hell outta you...oh well. If you have suggestions, please say so and I'll entertain them.
Author: Yoshi
Mail: angelwings@mindless.com
Genre: Yaoi/AU/Romance
Chapter: 2/?
Disclaimers: Slam Dunk is a creation of Takehiko Inoue, and it will never be mine. No profit was made upon doing this fiction for I am merely borrowing the characters for fun.
AN: Most people asked why I labeled this a multi-chaptered fic because of the turn of events in chapter 1. Do read on and it's up to you to decide what this is all about.
---------------
June 1850
Unusually warm and humid weather assailed the man confined inside the jolting stagecoach. The steady pounding of hooves mingled with the creaking sound of wood and the grinding of metal assaulted the passenger's ears.
Deep bumps in the dusty road prevented all comfort, as if the hard, wooden seat in the stagecoach would allow any. The narrow windows refused to allow any refreshing air that might have soothed the already irritated mind and damp body. Although the journey was supposed to be only 30 miles, it seemed to be very lengthy and monotonous.
"Damn..." he muttered as the coach again rattled on the bumpy road. He brought a hand up, brushing a damp red lock on his forehead.
By this time, the redhead was already counting from ten backwards, vainly trying to control the irresistible urge to bellow on the man holding the reins of the coach.
Hanamichi wasn't sure whatever possessed him to go on to a deserted place like this; perhaps it was a thrill of his to go where the few dared to. Perhaps it is the idea of being miles away from all the chaos that was his life. He had a lot of things ahead of him. He had just finished studying from a top medical school. He's the son and heir of a rich trader. He could've chosen to marry some girl and live a luxurious life.
But there are some things that even money couldn't buy.
Money couldn't buy time. And happiness.
And so, he went out to the 'real' world, with hopes to find himself and happiness as well.
The stage finally stopped in front of the hotel. Too distracted, Hanamichi hardly noticed the changing scenery along his journey or the passage of time. After accepting his bag from the driver, he headed inside.
-------
Gunshots.
He wasn't sure what was happening, but the clamor from the streets below increased in volume. Surely, such rowdiness didn't occur every night? He rolled off the bed and went to the window, casting the soft white curtains aside for a better view.
The wooden sidewalks and dusty street were empty save for some men who appeared to be in hot pursuit of something...
"Search the entire place...don't forget the saloon and the inn; I'm sure he didn't get that far." Ordered the burly man who seemed to project an air of authority. Judging by the way he carried himself, he is undoubtedly the town's sheriff.
"Yes, sir."
...Or rather, someone.
'Interesting,' he thought to himself as he watched all the events outside. He had often read about outlaws and gunslingers from the newspaper, but never had he felt such closeness to the line of action.
As the commotion began to subside, he headed for his baggage. A few moments later, he took a shiny object out- his colts. The weapon caught a deadly glimmer in the moonlight as he took it out of its holster. After checking that it had enough ammunition, he finally placed it on top of the dresser and retreated back to the warm bed covers.
---------
Hanamichi woke less than two hours later, with a groggy and disoriented start.
For several seconds, he just sat there on the bed, squinting his eyes in the dark. He couldn't exactly point out the reason why he'd woken, what had snapped him from that deep sleep. Part of him just wanted to roll back on the bed and just shrug it off as a bad dream.
But he couldn't. His instincts were ringing alarm into his head right now and he couldn't ignore it.
And at that instant, he knew. He had woken up for a reason; he couldn't explain why, but he was sure of one thing: he wasn't alone.
A quick glance on the cool, dark room told him otherwise. Everything was still. The windows were closed, the balcony was exactly as he'd left them, and the bathroom door was ajar.
Hanamichi stood quickly, his somehow dazed mind forcing him to lean on the bedpost for support. He then walked gingerly to the bathroom, the lamplight illuminating the dark corners and revealing his groggy-eyed reflection on the mirror.
'I look awful.'
He splashed a good few handfuls of cold water to his face, not bothering to dry it off. For a few minutes he just stood there, watching his reflection in the mirror when a soft scuttling sound came outside.
Glancing around the bathroom one last time, he stepped back into the bedroom closed the door.
The white curtains billowed softly, almost transparent from the huge full moon's ethereal glow bathing the balcony.
Strange. For once, he thought someone was there. He could've sworn that he just saw a figure standing on the balcony doors, skin pale against the moonlight and hair as dark as the night.
'Idiot,' the redhead chastised himself, laughing inwardly at his situation. He was getting too paranoid for his own good.
Anyways, it wasn't as if he couldn't take care of himself. If it's any consolation, he's taller by a few good inches from regular men. He could at least fight if the situation called for it.
And he had his colts with him.
Turning away from the window, he glanced towards the dresser where he had placed the weapon before he slept...
...Only to find it gone.
"What the...?" Eyes widened, heartbeat quickened, cold sweat pumped in, and his instinct rang ominously again. His gaze darted around the darkened room, confused as to why it is still empty.
Pacing hurriedly towards the bed, a cold chill ran up to his spine. A rush of thoughts flooded his mind as panic started to creep in him.
He was about to jolt out of the room when a pair of arms snaked from behind. His eyes widened in fear as a hand clamped against his mouth while another held him firmly against the outlaw's chest. He tried to struggle against the grasp, but his feeble attempts were thwarted as soon as the hand holding his mouth pointed something cold in his head.
A gun.
"Be still," ordered a voice behind him. It had a cold quality in it and...something barely unrecognizable.
Just outside, voices could be heard talking again. It was the sheriff and his men.
"Did you find him?"
"No sir. We searched the entire area but we couldn't find any trace of his whereabouts..."
"Go to the hospital. He's not a fool to actually ride out in his condition."
If before he could practically hear his heart pounding in his chest, now he felt as if it had stopped. He must be really unfortunate to meet his end this soon, as he is sure that the bandit intended to kill him once it had all his belongings.
'If I am going to die now, might as well just die fighting,' Hanamichi desperately thought to himself, as he renewed his struggle against the man behind him.
But before he could complete the task at hand, something hard smashed on the back of his head. His knees swayed, then buckled in response before he crashed unceremoniously on the floor.
--------
Hanamichi was slipping in and out of pain-induced slumber when he sensed someone near him. Added to that was the feeling that he couldn't move.
Fighting past the throbbing pain in his head, he forced his eyes open.
He was still in his room; that fact was odd enough. Truth be told, he actually expected to be left alone the moment he was knocked unconscious. Surely, the man was only after his things and nothing else, right?
Grimacing at the pounding sensation in his head, he struggled a bit to get some leverage to sit up as assess his situation. His arms were tied behind his back, and his feet tied on the bedpost. The knot was tight enough to restrain him, yet not to the extent that he was loosing the feel of it.
His eyes widened as he felt his knot somewhat give in. The man was probably in a hurry tying him up that he didn't notice the binds holding his hands weren't that firm.
"Be still," Again, the voice commanded, startling him. "You'll aggravate your head more."
At that moment, their eyes met: deep blue and warm brown. In mere seconds, silence passed, as Hanamichi studied the man sitting on the chair beside the bed. He was right after all. The man had such pale skin as if the moon kissed it and his hair as dark as the night itself. For an outlaw, he was definitely... pleasant-looking.
To add another puzzle in this predicament, the redhead wondered why his captor didn't even bother to wear a mask.
"Who are you?"
"...Doesn't matter."
"Like hell it does," Hanamichi retorted, somewhat annoyed. "Why didn't you kill me?" he asked bluntly.
He knew he was threading dangerous lines. It was like he was actually provoking the man to kill him.
"Should I?" came the reply with a stiff shrug, this time sounding a bit slurred and weary. Frowning to himself, Hanamichi wondered if the pale man is under the influence of alcohol or something.
"You can take the money if you want,"
"I don't need that." Hanamichi stared directly on the blue depths and was taken aback at the sincerity it projected.
Strange. An outlaw refusing money? Is the world coming to an end? Just what does this man want? Series after series of questions bombarded Hanamichi's mind. He couldn't think of anything else that the raven-haired man could possibly be after. "Then, what is it?"
Silence. It was the type of silence that meant he was thinking of something.
"I need a place to stay for a moment."
Hanamichi was about to question further when he observed something from the man. It appeared as if the man was distracted from something.
He wasn't sure what had compelled him to turn his head, to keenly observe the outlaw beside him. He frowned as his mind processed and made the obvious connections.
"...Search the entire place...I'm sure he didn't get that far."
The spacey speech, the stiff movements...
"Go to the hospital. He's not a fool to actually ride out in his condition."
...And the crimson wetness splotched in his shoulders. It dawned to him that the man was actually bleeding profusely from his gunshot wounds.
"You're..."
He didn't get to finish the inquiry as the dark-haired man stood up shakily from his seat. "They're gone. I'll leave now..." he struggled towards the door.
It didn't even took him a few steps before he collapsed in an ungraceful heap on the wooden floor, his knees obviously giving up due to intense exhaustion and pain. Soon, he succumbed to the tempting darkness.
Hanamichi watched as the man fell unconscious before him. With a final hard tug on his restraints, he was able to free his hands. He then spent a few seconds untying the complex knots that bound his ankles to the bedpost.
When the last of the ropes had been unwound, he shuffled out of the bed.
Glancing at the man in front of him, he pondered what to do next. The rational side of his mind told him to get out of the room, leave the man bleeding to death, and run to the town sheriff.
However, something tugged deep within him- the part that told him to do otherwise. It was the part he often listened to.
'Oh hell...' Hanamichi thought to himself as he rushed to the injured man, checking for a pulse, unknowingly breathing a sigh of relief when he found it.
He laid the dark-haired man on the bed, before hurriedly retrieving his medical kit. He often brought it with him whenever he traveled, and he was thankful for that foresight.
As he began to strip the man out of his bloodied clothing, he briefly wondered if he chose the right path...
----------------------------
AN: Damn. I think I bored the hell outta you...oh well. If you have suggestions, please say so and I'll entertain them.