Chapter Text
My dear Oboro,
I never was that excellent of a writer. I am unsure what you expected from me, but here is this.
I’ve been on the road some time now and I don’t know if these will ever actually reach you. But on the off chance that they do, I suppose I can give you updates.
They said that the seagulls would tell me when I was close. What seagulls are doing this far inland I have no clue. Supposedly these things were the answer to some of those Mormons’ prayers when they got to the area. I think it’s horseshit, but you know me. I never did appeal to the might of a higher being. I’m a Godless man living a Godless life.
Maybe that was a bit dramatic. I don’t know. The seagulls are leading me somewhere, I guess you’ll know if it was the right path or not if you get another letter after this one.
I never did have much to say.
Yours,
Shouta Aizawa
The evening sun came blazing down on him like the unforgiving mistress that she was. The dry air was almost suffocating and made the inside of his throat feel as if it were flaking over. He knew that he would wake to aching skin that didn’t manage to avoid the wrath of the Southwest climate. At this point, it became a typical part of Shouta’s life. He took care of himself the best that he could, but there was always a day like this one that was humbling. He was never a man that went out much as a kid. And even when he did, he looked different than he did now.
Gone was the youthful boy with promise in his eyes. Every trace of the young adult learning how to be the best person he could was washed away. Left behind was a broad-shouldered man whose hands bore blood of many. They were calloused and they were long, but they had traced the Earth here and known the stench and horrors of the Anglos. Still, they payed well. Their wallets were heavy with wealth and privilege. While Shouta spent much of his life on the railroads, the Anglos knew the comfort of a permanent home on fertile land. What few places in these burning hot lands that could bear fruit were quickly possessed by the Anglos. That was the way of pioneering to the West. There was opportunity here for them that he could never trace. Maybe that was why he chose to do this.
Shouta wrapped some cloth around his hand and huffed. Leave it to him to think of the strife he knew for the way that he looked while he was on his way to help the very people behind it all. But, as he knew and repeated: The Anglos were heavy with wealth.
Bloodsuckers. Vampires. Whatever they were to be called, they were all the same. Cruel beings that sucked the life from people and whose only weakness seemed to be the might of a church Shouta did not believe in. When the Anglos moved West, they came with them. There was no real answer for them. They were always getting caught too. Far too easily. It made this work easy which was nice for many but a bore to Shouta. Though, nothing ever did seem to naturally excite him off the bat. He found his thrills in the emotions and thoughts he could pull from what he saw. In the case of the bloodsuckers, he was thrilled at getting to kill Anglos at all. Which, perhaps was violent and not something to be proud of, but something he had grown apathetic to over time. He had spent so much time under their heel because there was no other way. He spent ages on the railroads looking for a dream that was promised but only met to ever be for the white man. This grand land of opportunity and liberty and all that he could see was how desolate it was when they took away the people who knew the land. They took it and then replaced them with people who never would view it as anything other than an object to own. There was nothing to be proud of wanting to achieve by being important here. He knew that much. The only pride that he brought himself was in eliminating these beasts and giving hope to everyone who once tended to this land like the living mass it was.
That’s what this was now. He was going more North than anticipated, but it was a good paying job. Another ranch attacked and that meant that they were desperate enough to offer everything for a chance to keep what they had. It was the same time after time. He was hired when things seemed to be too far from finding a solution. Aizawa Shouta was a vampire hunter and he was damn good at it too. Only these skills could have won him the chance to be seen as useful in more of a way than cheap labor. It gave him worth. Like a dying man in the desert, he reached and clawed for his only hope even when it wore him down.
As the sun began to dim, he prepared himself to stop for the night. Pushing himself was a dangerous game to play in these mountains. They were unforgiving and offered much to fear. There were so many things that could go wrong if Shouta wasn’t careful. He didn’t really like travelling through the mountains, Rockys or other. Still, his work was important to him.
He tapped the letter he had for Oboro at his side. His friend would surely have so much to say. He never did approve for his work and disliked often having to worry on where Shouta was. The man did not write back like he promised many many times and it always was daunting (or rather he imagined it was) to wait for news that he hadn’t died in his reckless profession.
Maybe it was a bit cruel of him to do this to the only person that really seemed to care if he was gone or not.
Hearing the sound of water, his head shot to the side and there it was. The smallest flicker of light that seemed to be hidden. It beat like a heart and glimmered like a burning bright star in the night. Shouta couldn’t help but follow it. It moved, held by either someone foolish enough to test the fates or by someone bold enough to serve him a challenge.
His steps were careful. The last thing that he wanted to do was give away that he was there before he could figure out if he was in danger or not. The element of surprise was a matter of life or death when it came to life in the West. The faintest sound could give one away and lead to them being the next victim to one of these devils.
As he got closer, his eyes squinted. Pale skin. At least, he thought so. It was difficult to tell with all of the layers that the other was wearing. Even as he got closer, it did not seem to assist much in figuring that out. Shouta crouched low in the bushes, making his way as close as he could. When he was just maybe fifteen feet away, he was able to get a decent look. It was definitely a white man. The hands gave it away. As well as the tuft of light brown hair that poked out. His eyes quickly flickered around the site after taking that in. There were some cans surrounding the fire. Good signs. He caught sight of some fruit cores. Also a good sign. Alright.
But something felt…wrong.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up straight. No. It wasn’t this man. But someone-
Before he could finish the thought, a gust of wind blew past him. Despite how fast it was, it all felt so slow. He was sitting there crouched and hiding and suddenly a pair of glittering red eyes attached to a large mass were rushing past him. He didn’t even have time to fall before the scream came. It was loud and it was wet. Despite the gurgling noise coming from the man, all Shouta could think about was how close he was to being that sorry motherfucker himself.
He had seen his fair share of kills from them. It was grotesque every time. Still, all Shouta did for a moment was watch it happen. He couldn’t intervene.
The hat fell off of the man and he saw a pair of human eyes stare at him in the brush. They stared, wide and flickering. His mouth parted, a silent beg attempting to make its way out. Within seconds, his face was sucked in and his skin looked like a leaf in autumn. What little color there was was gone and the light in those eyes went out.
He sighed. This was never fun and it always disappointed him when he wasn’t able to act quickly. But there was nothing that could be done and so Shouta did not rush to give away where he was. Still, he covered his dagger in holy water and as soon as he was able to, he leapt from his position. The vampire hissed at him. Red eyes were glowing in the dark and the jaw of this creature unhinged as it hissed at him once more. This time it was a promise that he would never make it home alive.
Shouta was not afraid.
As the pale vampire dropped its victim, Shouta swiped his dagger, pleased when he could feel the resistance of a body against it. The thud that came after told him he had limited time to finish the job. He jumped on top of the vile creature. Its skin was pulled back tight against its body and he could see its veins. Those eyes were sunken in and the teeth were razor sharp. He was quick to throw more holy water. The screaming that came from the vampire made his heart beat faster and his hands move with quick precision. Silver and a stake. He quickly plunged it into the monster’s heart. It jerked a few more times before its movements slowed. When it finally came to a stop, Shouta noticed the blood on his face for the first time.
All of this seemed to happen so quickly with little time to absorb it. Though, it always felt that way. It was something that needed to happen that way. He could not hesitate or he risked his own life. Perhaps it was callous and maybe there was more to these things than he knew, but he did not want to bet his life on a possibility. The damage that these things did was grotesque. The gore alone would make anyone tremble. Still, he did not seem fazed by it. He pulled his hand away and wiped the blood off of his face best that he could. This was a dirty job, but it was a good-paying one nonetheless. Violent, dangerous, and one with need for quick reflexes, Shouta prided himself in his ability to take down these monsters.
“Alright. Let’s get you taken care of.” he said to himself.
He lifted the body as best that he could and he began to walk. He didn’t dare leave a trace of himself behind. Unlike the foolish man that died to feed this thing, he knew better. These things would never find him and he made sure of it. They were too stupid anyway. He had killed enough to know it. They were carnal beings and sought for the taste of blood and nothing else. He didn’t need to be one of them to understand that. Hissing, biting, and terrorizing was all they knew. They were another extension of the Anglos presence and he knew that well.
It didn’t take long to find an edge where he knew nobody would explore willingly. Plus, the body would be gone by daylight. All he needed was to prevent anyone from finding it before then. With aching arms, he pulled the body to the edge and kicked it. He watched as it fell, listening to the branches snap and the bushes it hit. It kept rolling. When he could no longer hear it, he sighed and turned around. He didn’t walk very far, only to a spot with a rare tree to lean against. The night always seemed so peaceful after a kill.
It also gave him time to observe and think.
He pulled out a pocketbook and sighed. He had some time to write before he went to sleep for the night. He would have kept going, but he knew his limits and he was aware that the moment he overexerted himself, he risked losing his life in his work. So, he scribbled.
May 12th, 1894
Found another vampire. One death. Two counting the monster. It was killed and disposed of before sunrise. Body should be completely disposed of by daylight. No other hints of nearby vampires. Location: The Wasatch Mountains, Utah
Noted abilities: Strong bite, advanced speed, unhinged jaw.
Shouta sighed and shoved the notebook away. He pulled out a cigarette instead. Pushing himself up from his spot, he started walking back to the victim to tonight’s kill. The fire had died down a good amount, but Shouta did not hesitate to stomp it out. The last thing that he needed was to draw more attention to himself. These damn vampires were a plague on the West and he still could not quite seem to pin why it was here that they thrived. They came with the Europeans. As soon as the white man stepped foot West, they followed with. They went from spotty cases here and there in the East to dominating everything West of the Mississippi. At least, that is what his parents. They had been here when the West was still fairly new and something everyone wanted a slice of. Something about this land made them feel alive and he supposed it did the same for the vampires. Shouta was sure it was because of how godless and uncharted it was to many.
Shouta didn’t much believe in a God. Even if his work was tied directly to a church in California dedicated to bringing the godless to the light. He figured that if something worked in getting rid of the vampires, then it was worth it. They had enough blood-sucking demons to deal with in the land of opportunity.
Maybe it was ironic of him to feel so connected to the land when this wasn’t his home either. This was different from Japan. Though, it wasn’t as if he had ever been to Japan. All he knew about his family’s home was what came from the lips of his loved ones in the stories he was told as a child. Despite that, he felt a connection here that was different from the selfish pursuits of those descended from Europeans. He did not seek wealth, opportunity, nor power. Shouta did not seek to be a king of kings. All that he wanted was somewhere to call home where he was not beneath the heel of someone else.
But that was too much thinking for now.
Shouta looked at the man that had died instead of him tonight. He was an Anglo. That much was clear. And yet, Shouta still felt pity for him. He was cautious with lifting him up, not wanting to get drenched in blood and make himself a treat for any others out tonight. There was a job that was calling to him and he knew that the pay would keep him alive for another year. He was heavier than the vampire, though that did not surprise him.
He dragged him along, listening to branches snap and bushes rustle. He could hear animals scurrying and the flap of the occasional bird. Thankfully, there was nothing that made the hairs on the back of his neck straighten again. There was only the night and the moon glowing down on him and this man who somehow gained Shouta’s pity. It was amazing how he could feel so much for someone who might not have valued his life. Shouta, in the face of his enemy, still held pity in his head.
It was that pity that guided him through the night until he came upon a creek. It was that pity that gave him the strength to dig with bare hands into the Earth. It was that pity that encouraged him to find what few things he could to make a grave. Shouta’s pity took the lead and eventually led him to praying to someone else’s God to guide this man in the afterlife. Because Shouta was human. He was a bleeding, feeling, just human and nobody deserved a gruesome death like this with no honor. Naturally, he reached into his own heart, and sacrificed his own honor for the man he buried. If there was dignity to spare, Shouta would give it and never expect a thing in return.
“Idiot.” he muttered, because his pity did not remove his sense of logic. Throwing some wildflowers he found on top of the makeshift grave, Shouta walked back the camping spot he had made. It would do for the night and he would take what he could with him when the morning came. For now though, Shouta allowed himself rest and a break from the violent job he took on.
The desert was still merciless in the day. Dry and sickening, he thanked the universe that the man he buried left behind food and water. Surviving on his dried meat, cigarettes, and half a canteen of water was a vile thing. It made the journey easier. Thankfully, his journey through the Wasatch Mountains would be easier from here. He had gone through the hardest parts and if his map was still accurate, there would be a town ahead where he could get something proper to eat and perhaps a horse. His own had died along the journey. A strong and beautiful beast she was, but that was before she gained her age. Having been around so long, he knew that it was only natural that she would pass on the journey.
It made traveling a bitch.
Sure enough, within a few hours, he stumbled upon a town. The good news is that this meant he could stop for a little and eat. The bad news is that the Mormons had taken over this land in the 50s and so the moment he stepped foot in it, he knew he would be met with the most judgemental stares there were. And he was correct. People didn’t notice at first. Nobody said anything initially. However, when his head lifted up and his eyes met the people around him, he could practically read their thoughts. Despite the numbers of Japanese people jumping up, it always seemed like the white people were shocked when Shouta showed his face. It was either that judgment or the immediate hatred and forced assimilation they pushed onto him and the Chinese.
He was getting tired of people assuming he was Chinese.
But he shared their strife and there was solidarity there. His pain was their pain and their pain was his. Doomed to forever be assumed to be the same and doomed to be seen as lesser, he wondered what promise they followed here only to find it was built on lies.
He nodded at the people staring at him and he kept walking. He could hear horses neighing in the distance and it pushed him forward. He refused to continue the rest of this journey on foot. It was difficult, unbearable, and most of all, it was wasting time and money he hardly had. These jobs were supporting him better than anything else, but they were far apart. It took quite a level of desperation for the Anglos to find themselves at the mercy of someone like him. It did not matter that his parents came as students and were fairly well off; all that mattered was that he was unlike them.
Shouta made his way along and once he caught sight of the horses, his mood lifted. This purchase would take quite a bit of the money he had left, but he was at a point where he had few other options. It was worth it.
He stood before them and reached into his pouch for something to offer them. An apple. There went his lunch for the day but it was alright. The horse that came up to him was a stunning thing. He was black and tall. Gentle too. Much more than most horses Shouta knew of.
“He’s beautiful isn’t he?” a voice called. Shouta turned his head to meet a pair of brilliant green ones. They looked into him and glittered with mischief. The owner of them was sat on top of the fence. The first thing he noticed about this stranger is that he appeared suddenly and nearly startled him. The second thing that he noticed was that he was Asian. He had a golden brown skin tone and long wavy blond hair. Mostly at least. That was the next thing that he picked up. The top of his head was covered in pitch black hair that seemed to turn lighter as it went down. And it went down far . How this was achieved, he had no clue. He didn’t know it was possible to make the head lighter than the rest of it.
The man smiled at him and raised a dark eyebrow, “What is it? Don’t speak English?”
“I speak English just fine.” he replied. Shouta turned his attention back to the horse, but his gaze did flicker over to the strange man, “Are these your horses?”
“Oh you must be fresh off the boat if you think I can manage to own this many horses. I’m a worker. Down here to pick up a couple horses for my boss in the Valley.” the man laughed. He flipped some of his hair past his shoulder and kept staring at Shouta. He felt some…odd feeling fill him. It was unpleasant. His stomach seemed to tighten and the air left his lungs. Were it not for the fact that he was standing before him in broad sunlight, he might have been convinced the other was a vampire. But he was also too pretty for that. He was a thin man, yes. But he was no Anglo, he was not burning, and he did not carry any of the horrifying features he had grown used to seeing when he risked his life for money, “I thought the Chinese Exclusion Act was still up, but I guess I’m wrong.”
“I’m not Chinese.” he replied.
“Oh?”
“I’m Japanese.” Shouta said, “And you?”
The man smiled at him and nodded his head, “Japanese as well. Well. Japanese and Mexican. I’m Hizashi.”
“Aizawa.”
“Aizawa. Good name. Do I get a given name?” this stranger had such a smooth voice. It was sleek like his hair that cascaded down his back in waves. It paired wonderfully with his sharp features and worn clothes.
“No.”
He laughed and when he did, Shouta felt something inside of him shift. This man was a charmer. But he was probably looking to scam him in some way if these horses were not his. Still, he was…oddly intriguing, not that he would ever entertain the impulse to talk to him more. Shouta had made his way through life ignoring the idea of connections with people in favor of a life that was all his own. He intended to keep it that way.
It didn’t mean that this strange man didn’t pique his interest.
“Alright then. No given name. So what’s a man like you doing over here? Passing through on your way to California?”
“No.” How much disinterest would it take to get this man to leave him alone? He had no interest in engaging in this conversation in any meaningful way nor did he plan to share details about his life. Vulnerability was weakness for him and he had much better things to be doing than engaging with a stranger with curious hair.
“Are you going to give me any other responses except no?”
“No.”
He laughed again and that same, curious feeling came forward. It stirred Shouta from the inside and he could not help but feel cautious. What for? He did not know. It wasn’t as if he planned to stick around long enough for this man to show why he felt this way to be around. But he laughed and Shouta looked away quickly and back to the horse.
“Well will you at least tell me if you’re planning to do anything except stare at the horses and offer them apples?” Hizashi asked.
“Unless you can get me one of these horses, no.”
“And who says I can’t? I told you. I’m here to pick up some horses for my boss. I’ll get a good word in for you. People help people, yeah?” he winked at him before jumping off of the fence, “Come on Aizawa. I’ll get you that black horse in no time.”
His better judgment told him not to cave. If he followed this man it would be to his demise. Sure, now he was harmless and kind, but that would change into a feeling of obligation and he did not have time for that. Or worse, the man could take this as a sign that Shouta wanted something more than acquaintance. He did not want that. But Shouta followed him anyway. When everything else told him no, he followed him. He followed this strange man with strange hair and ignored his own instinct.
“Hizashi!” the man inside called out, “I wasn’t expecting you yet. We’re still getting the horses ready.”
This Anglo looked upon him in favor. It was strange. He wasn’t quite used to the idea of an Anglo, especially this far up, looking at them in respect. They sure seemed to vote for all of the laws that would damn him to eternal suffering. He didn’t trust it but he also didn’t trust Hizashi, so what really stood out about this enough to matter right now?
“Oh I’m not a worry at all. I was actually here to help someone out.” he said. He bumped his hip against Shouta’s, gaining an odd noise and a mildly annoyed look his way, “This is my cousin Yoshiyuki. He’s trying to get up to the Valley but lost his horse a couple days ago. Victory over there seems to have taken a liking to him so he was wondering if he could buy him off of ya.”
A liar. How great. But he supposed he had to thank the liar if this actually worked out. He would have preferred putting his money to a good horse. Another old one would do him no good.
“Oh I don’t know. Victory is a good horse and I could use him here.” the man rubbed the back of his neck.
“I know he is. But my cousin really needs to get moving and he just took such a liking to him. I’ll bring back one of my boss’s horses for ya? Maybe Chestnut?” Hizashi asked, “I’ll even throw in a week of me being down here to help you out. I know the horses like me better than any of your stable boys.”
This stranger sure was fighting quite a bit for someone that he didn’t know. What would he gain from this? Once Shouta was gone, they’d never see each other again. They’d be strangers and forget each other. Well, Shouta would at least be forgotten. He wasn’t sure it was possible for him to forget this man with his odd hair and expert lies. He stood out from most civilians that he encountered and Shouta also knew that he would remember every face of a fellow Asian on this land. They knew each other and their pain was something that brought them together in the oddest way. It was morbid perhaps, but it was all theirs. No Anglo could ever rob them of that.
The man looked between Hizashi and Shouta. He was taking in the person he knew, and trying to analyze the stranger in front of him as well. The offer was enticing, he could see it in the way that this man’s eyes flickered around between the two of them and the horse.
Shouta reached into the pouch at his side and pulled out some notes. Clearly neither Hizashi nor the man in front of them expected that. And he wasn’t surprised, “I can pay for him, I assure you.”
Hizashi’s mouth floundered open for a minute before he looked up, “See? I’m not lying. He can buy him from you.”
Shouta shrugged. He knew that his money would go to a new horse eventually. There was only so much time left with his old mare. It wasn’t a bother if a good horse would get him where he needed to be. He had some miles left to go and he did not want to walk on foot the entire way.
“Two-hundred?” the man inquired, his gaze heavy on Shouta now.
His expression did not change, but Shouta definitely was standing taller now, “Done.”
“Well Hizashi, you have a mighty generous cousin here. And I figure if Victory is going to go to anyone, it might as well be someone connected to you. I’ll get him ready for you, Yoshi.”
That wasn’t even his real name and he felt irritated by it. He was getting a horse out of this, though. So he supposed that he could not be offended or complain. Victory was indeed a beautiful horse and he looked forward to leaving this place in the Wasatch with him. Still, he could not stand the way their names fell from the lips of the Anglos. It was disgusting and never said with respect. They spoke with an air of superiority that they never had and never would earn.
“So you’re loaded or something?” Hizashi asked, “You could have gone and asked him yourself if you could afford him this entire time.’”
“I never said I couldn’t afford it.” he said, pulling out a cigarette, “You offered.”
The other was…fascinating to look at when he was insulted. He had his arms folded over his chest and was tapping his foot at him. He did not pay him any extra attention.
Hizashi rolled his eyes and shoved him gently, “Ugh. Now I gotta drag myself all the way down here from the Valley for a week and listen to him talk to me about how I’m ‘one of the good ones”
A rare laugh escaped Shouta. He quickly stifled it. Not quick enough though, because as soon as it escaped him, Hizashi’s eyes shot over wide. He was grinning like a madman and leaned on the counter, “So he is capable of joy!”
“I’m not made of stone.” he replied, dead expression returned to his face.
Perhaps he didn’t show his emotions well, or at all, but he still felt things. He was able to be amused and currently he found great amusement in the inconvenience that the other would have to deal with now. Maybe Oboro had a point when he said that he could be a great ass at times.
“I almost was sure you were.” he said, “So I’ve helped you get a horse. Do I get given name status?”
“No.”
Hizashi frowned. He tapped his chin as he thought, “What if I take you to the Valley personally?”
“No.”
He had to admit that Hizashi was certainly persistent. He almost wanted to go against his better judgment again, but he did not. He remained firm in brushing him off and wanting only to focus on getting that horse to the Salt Lake Valley and getting his next job over with. Anglo money in his pockets made things feel much more worth it.
“I’ll get you free food tonight.” he offered.
Shouta rolled his eyes and shook his head, “No thank you.”
“You are an impossible man, but very well.” Hizashi said, “I’m calling you Yoshiyuki now because I can.”
As if the two of them were going to speak to each other ever again after he got his horse. Hizashi would become another thing in the back of his mind like his parents stories of Japan or the hope that one day the Anglos learning to value others the way they value land. He would be a faint memory and he would become a faceless figure with long blond hair.
Shouta shook his head, “Cousins was your solution? We look nothing alike.”
“It is a bold assumption to make that they have any ability to tell us apart.” Hizashi replied.
Another rare laugh that he quickly stifled.
Hizashi’s lips quirked and he stood up straighter with a hand on his hip, “You should laugh more.”
“I laugh when I am entertained.” he said.
Hizashi tapped his nose, “You are entertained by me?”
Shouta swat his hand away, “A circus monkey is entertaining. Don’t flatter yourself.”
Hizashi pouted but nodded, “Very well Yoshiyuki. What if I get you something to eat. No name needed.”
No matter how proud of a man that he was, an offer like that was too enticing to ever pass up. He knew that anything would be better than the dried meat that was practically leather at this point. And honestly…he was quite intrigued at the idea of an evening with this bronzed man.
“Very well.”
“Great! Let’s get Victory then and head out.”
Curiosity was a dangerous thing to follow, but he chased it nonetheless. Even if only for free food. He was almost certain that he would find himself roped into something he regretted, But that was a problem for future him to shoulder. Here, now, he would allow himself the chance to see what was stored in an evening with Hizashi. He wouldn’t do anything stupid and he wouldn’t chain them together. After this evening, he planned to return to being the Shouta he always was. He would keep walking all alone, he would ignore every friendship and he would throw away ever hope at something more. Shouta would remain the recluse he was and would wait until the Anglos needed him again.
“So. One of the good ones?” Shouta asked, “What’s that about?”
There was a fire between them, but Shouta still caught the uncomfortable look in Hizashi’s eyes. Whatever this place was for him, he wanted to know why he came back. He wanted to know what was going through his head when he talked to the Anglos like they were friends.
“You know how it is with… them .” he says quietly, “They treat you like you’re less than. You’re dirty. You’re not civilized. You’re different . I’ve made good work for myself, don’t get me wrong. But I doubt any of them know if I’m Chinese or Japanese.”
He wasn’t wrong. Shouta did take in these things when he went about. He knew he was a last resort otherwise the Anglos might be able to maintain their pride while asking for his help of all people. And even then, he couldn’t say he faced the worst of it. His parents were students and were well off. Everything he made himself into now came from his own decisions. At least, that is what he told himself.
“And Mexican.” he adds, taking a sip of his drink.
Hizashi laughed, “Yeah. And Mexican. Let me tell you, they find thrills in that.”
Shouta looks at Hizashi and the question comes out before he is able to think through it, “Are you part Anglo too? Because the hair and eyes.”
Hizashi looks at him with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. Shouta immediately buried his face in his hands. Of course that is what came out of his mouth at a time like this. He wasn’t going to see this man again after this evening and yet he still felt all of the humiliation in the world hit him at once.
“I am going to act as if you never asked that and we will continue the conversation from where it was at before.” he said with a smug look on his face.
So he wasn’t entirely offended. Somehow, that made him more curious. It was odd because he couldn’t say he felt a natural draw like this to someone else. He cared very little about the strangers he met and though he didn’t plan to stick around Hizashi long, he could not help but want to learn everything he could this evening. Though, it was likely simply his fascination with the first person like him he had seen in some time now. Familiarity rested in his eyes and Shouta assured himself that it was just a one time thing. He needed to hear this familiarity just once and he could go the next months without a worry about it. There was nothing he really needed that would make this last longer than it needed to.
“What do you do for work?” Hizashi asked. He leaned back in his spot until he was flat on the ground.
“Railroad worker.” he said.
“Really?”
“What?”
“Oh nothing.” Hizashi waved his hand, but Shouta’s attention was officially caught, “You just don’t come off as one.”
Shouta leaned forward, drink in hand, “And what do I come off as then?”
Hizashi chuckled and crossed his legs. This felt natural—something he could not say for most others. Looking at Shouta, Hizashi’s gaze seemed to beckon him. It probed at him with the desire to know more. It was charming. He was charming. Still, he brushed it off knowing that they would part ways soon and it would not matter how he viewed him.
“You’re an apprentice to some sort of artist. Musical, literary.” he said, “Traveling to learn more from other experts. Though I’m not 100% certain on the decision to travel to the Salt Lake Valley.”
Shouta snorted, “As if I were an apprentice. No. I’m a railroad worker. I heard that Utah was showing some progress.”
“Progress in what?” Hizashi asked, “This place is some Anglo’s erotic dream.”
He couldn’t argue with him there. His presence in Utah was strange. But he kept his mouth shut about his feelings there. There was no need to start a war when he was enjoying himself. Instead, he laughed and gave Hizashi a look that read with mild annoyance but amusement sprinkled in.
“I thought they chased the Mormons out here?” he asked.
“Well yes. But you have to admit that the idea of this place is something else.” Hizashi said.
Shouta looked out to the desert that they were in. The moon was glimmering and the stars sparkled like gemstones. He had to admit that this place was beautiful. He could feel the life radiating from it. Every scurrying animal lived in beauty. Shouta was but a guest here and were it not for Oboro, he might have spent the rest of his life learning to make this place his home. Something about the Wasatch and the Rockies drew him in.
“It’s a shame. Them coming over here the way they did.” Hizashi said, “I imagine this place was like nothing else before they did.”
“It was only a matter of time before they sunk their teeth here. I almost wish that I was here before it all.” Shouta said, “Salt Lake Valley seems like it could be real pretty.”
“It is.” Hizashi said.
When Shouta looked over, his eyes were to the sky. Those vibrant green eyes held so much wonder—it was like someone who was seeing the world for the first time. They were wide, they sparkled, and they begged oh so many questions.
“My family used to own a rancho in Tejas.” he said, “Before the Anglos came. We’d been on it for generations and when my mom came here as a student, they accepted her in. But then they took it and it was shortly after that that the Anglos brought the bloodsuckers with them.”
Yes. Those things.
They were why he was here. He almost wanted to forget them, “That sounds like them.”
Hizashi flicked something at him. He didn’t know what but it smacked him in the face. This naturally caused him to shoot him a deadly glare. But something inside of him told him that he would never actually act on it. So he just glared at Hizashi and wondered how long it would take to forget him and this evening.
“I work for some Anglos that did the same to another family. As morbid as it sounds. Myself and my friend Nemuri. We’re all we’ve got.” Hizashi continued, “We’re trying to save up to go to California. Funny that you’re coming from there to be in the Valley. It is beautiful here, I’ll tell you that. Nothing sings like the mountains here. The stars are beautiful when you take a hike up them.”
“I imagine. It seems quiet here.” Shouta said.
“It always is.” Hizashi said, “I love it here.”
“Why leave?” It was the first question he asked that didn’t have anything else behind it. For once, he was indulging in what his curiosity begged to know. This place seemed beautiful enough, the land was magical, and clearly the other held a deep fondness for it. He could not come up with a reason to leave it all behind, even when losing land at the hands of the Anglos.
Hizashi looked over at him. Something about the smile on his face or the tenderness in his eyes made Shouta shift in his spot. He laughed and pushed some of that long blond hair back, “Only in Utopia would I be able to stay where I come from and not have to worry about the Anglos. You know it too, Yoshiyuki. Wherever they are, there will never be peace to be found. This land of opportunity makes a million promises but never tells us that we aren’t included. They kicked out the Utes. They changed the borders. There is nothing but strife left for me here.”
These things were all true. He knew how little they thought of them and how they saw every face of theirs as needing their white grasp to find humanity. He knew that they did not value his life. He had learned all of these things growing up and seeing the fights that his family went through simply to keep him alive. Perhaps it was vain to think that there would ever be real opportunity for those like them here. He knew well that such things were never meant for their hands to hold or their eyes to see.
“You’re right.” he said. He took a sip of his drink.
“But?”
Shouta looked over at him and shook his head, “No buts. You’re right.”
Hizashi eyed him once more and a smile appeared on his face. He tipped his hat at Shouta.
“Are the vampires bad up there?” he asked.
“Horrid actually.” Hizashi said, “They keep attacking the ranches in the area and there’s been a lot of Anglo deaths. Obviously, they will take it as a serious issue now.”
“As they do when it’s other Anglos involved.”
“Oftentimes, I wonder what it might be like if they valued us too.”
Shouta wondered it too. Was all there was in live tied to this? Would they forever be forced to dance and prove why their lives were worth the same as anyone else’s? Would there ever come the day when they could wake up and know that they were the people living the dream of progress and divinity? He did not want to think so negatively and he surely did not want to have this conversation with this stranger, no matter how charming. But it scratched at the back of his mind and he always wondered what his parents saw in this place when they traveled across waters for it. Surely there had to be something more worth living for in Japan? He had never seen it but he knew it from their stories. He knew it through his elders. Shouta had an image but he was unsure if it even was true.
“Yeah.” he took another drink, “Me too.”
Hizashi looked over at him, something written his eyes that he had yet to decipher.
“Be careful. With the vampires.” he said, “The Valley is going through a rough period with all of them.”
“I will.” he promised.
Why make a promise to someone you’ll never meet again? Shouta had partaken in many odd actions today. All because this man had an odd draw to him that he could not help but indulge in. It was not of his nature and he did it anyway.
“Well. I need to be out of here tomorrow morning early to get the horses to my boss and I’m sure you will want to get yourself and Victory out soon. I am going to catch some sleep.”
“It was…good to meet you, Hizashi.”
“The feeling is mutual Yoshiyuki.”
Shouta . He wanted to say. Instead, he let the fire die down and lay down. And like that, it was over. He would forget this soon enough. He just needed to stop thinking about it and then he would discover the true meaning of liberation. He didn’t need to cave into this man who pulled him in. He didn’t need to think about all the questions he wanted to ask or the comfort that there was in finding another person like him here. He pushed such silly and vulnerable questions and thoughts aside. When he looked up at the stars, he swore he never saw anything so magnificent.