Subject: [kffdisc] Those Days- Part 5A (formatted) Date: Sun, 4 Jul 1999 11:11:39 EDT From: WildWyrick@aol.com Reply-To: kffdisc@onelist.com To: kffdisc@onelist.com From: WildWyrick@aol.com Sorry about the last post. I forgot to format! Hope this is formatted better! Hi, folks! Sorry I've been absent from both writing and commenting much for a while. I hadn't planned for this chapter to be as long as it turned out to be- fics have such a way of growing! Please excuse the self-referential flashback to "The Art of War". I hadn't planned to include one, but it seemed to work. I tried to incorporate it in such a way that everything still makes sense even if you haven't read that fic. Anyway, here's the usual quick summary. Hope you enjoy! Elizabeth **In the last chapter Kenshin, Kaoru, and Saitoh were taken prisoner by Russian sailors and were marched to a deserted fishing village the sailors had turned into a base. Kaoru and Saitoh were then transported to a Russian gunboat lying just off shore. Kenshin was left behind with the sailors, tied up and hanging from the ceiling of a lodge that had been used to store food. The Russian sergeant is convinced Kenshin is a spy, and tries to make him confess by threatening him with a game of Russian roulette.** Those Days Are Written On My Heart * A Rurouni Kenshin fanfic written for entertainment purposes only. Rurouni Kenshin characters are the property of Nobuhiro Watsuki Part 5: Walking the Third Path "Now, are you going to tell me what you and your companions are up to, or are we going to play?" The sergeant paced in front of Kenshin, brandishing the heavy revolver. "I don't have patience with spies." "You're mistaken." Kenshin shook his head, his eyes following the Russian's progress back and forth across the floor of the lodge. "We're not spies." An image of Kaoru rose in his mind, but he pushed it aside resolutely. "Why would a woman be with us if we were?" "Women can be spies. Sometimes they make the best kind." "We are not spies," Kenshin repeated. His voice was steady, determined, but he felt a hard knot forming in his stomach. The Russian seemed to have answers for everything, and the truth sounded too bizarre to be believed. But still he had to try. Kaoru was waiting for him. "We're ordinary people, and strange as it may seem to you--" "Ordinary people who were flying through the air in a balloon near our base? Ordinary people with swords?" The sergeant stopped in front of Kenshin, sizing him up. "I'm not a fool. Your eyes betray your words. I don't see an ordinary man in them." "Do you really see a spy, either?" For a moment the Russian was at a loss. Then he gave a short laugh. "I see a quick-tongued boy, a little weasel who lives by cunning. But you won't worm your way out of this! You can act brave and lie as much as you want, but your flesh is like anyone else's." "I know that," Kenshin said quietly, "but I also know the truth, which is more than you do at this moment. We're not--" He was silenced by a stinging slap across the face. "Enough!" the sergeant barked. "I don't want to hear any more denials, only confessions. Why are you making it so hard on yourself? When your master is interrogated on the 'Nayezdnik' he will tell us everything he knows. Once he confesses, what mercy do you think you will receive for your stubbornness?" Slowly, deliberately, he cocked the revolver as he moved to Kenshin's side. "I'm giving you a choice." Kenshin felt the cold steel of the barrel against his temple. "Confess you are a spy and tell me what you know, or gamble your life in this game of roulette!" Kenshin closed his eyes, his mind racing. He knew the Russian was waiting for him to speak but making a false confession, even to buy himself time, was unthinkable. It was not, however, the dishonor of such an action alone that forestalled him. To confess would be to betray Saitoh and Kaoru. It was impossible to implicate himself without dragging them down as well. As long as he remained silent, they still had a chance to convince their captors of their innocence. Perhaps the officers of the 'Nayezdnik' would be more reasonable than these sailors. Yet he couldn't afford to die, either. He had made a promise to Kaoru. She was waiting for him. And she had kissed him. Kaoru had kissed him. Kenshin swallowed hard at the thought, furious at the tears he suddenly felt behind his eyelids. He could feel the Russian shift impatiently beside him, but still he could not decide. Even if he was lucky and the firing chamber of the revolver was empty the first time, what of the second? And the third? His death might be delayed, but the end result was certain: if he played against the Russian, he would lose. He clenched his fists in frustration, wincing as the rope cut into his wrists. There had to be another way. There was always another way. Opening his eyes he looked up at his hands, red and swollen in their bonds. And then a small smile, too swift for his captor to notice, flickered across Kenshin's lips. # He was twelve years old when he stumbled upon the secret of the third path, but at the time it meant less to him than a sword. Kenshin carried the katana he had won from Hiko proudly, displaying it to everyone. The real prize seemed far less exciting in comparison. It was the old samurai at the sake shop, Hara, who made him realize what he had discovered. His eyes lit with pride when Kenshin entered wearing Hiko's katana. But he quickly grew impatient when the boy continued to marvel over his unexpected victory. "A shiny sword is only outward glory, rich as that may be! Don't you know what all this means?" "Oro?" "Himura-san, why do you think you won? Why were you able to break your master's grip and gain the right to carry that sword?" "Well," the boy admitted, "it wasn't easy for me to think of a plan. Even after you encouraged me, for a long time I still couldn't find a way to win, because Hiko is so strong. I felt..." he paused, searching for the right word, "powerless, helpless against such an opponent. But then..." "Yes?" Hara was watching him expectantly. "Go on." "But then," Kenshin cleared his throat, "I remembered a time when I really was powerless, not just thinking I was." He frowned at the memory. "It seemed to me the only way to win when you're weak is to change the rules, to alter the game. So I found a way to fight Hiko that didn't require strength, and that evened the odds between us." "You discovered the third path," Hara said with satisfaction. "What?" "Listen, Himura-san. I'm going to tell you something many men who strut around calling themselves great warriors don't know: a battle is just a series of choices, nothing more. Attack or defend? Retreat or stand your ground? Will you use this assault or that one?" He cast a piercing glance at the boy. "Are you paying attention?" "Hai!" "Good. Now, most people accept the choices they are given without question. One option seems better than the other, so they choose it and do the best they can. But sometimes you are given a choice that is no choice, where both paths before you lead to defeat and despair. It is at these moments that a truly great warrior puts aside fear and looks for the third path." "The third path...?" Hara nodded. "It is the shadow road, a path that opens in your mind when every other way seems hopeless. If you can find it and tread it steadfastly, it will lead you to victory." "But what if there is no 'third path'? What if there is nothing to find?" "There is always another way for those with eyes to see." Hara sighed. "Your master gave you a choice, didn't he? Break his grip by pitting your strength against his, or relinquish the sword. I know Hiko. He expected you to lose the sword and gain some muscle in the process." Hara smiled thinly. "But you, Himura-san, are strangely wise for your years. I suspected that might prove to be the case. You chose to walk the third path, to fight your own way. That is why you won." "But... surely Hiko knows about this 'third path' thing?" "Of course he does. Don't be arrogant! He just didn't think you would discover this truth so soon. But he will not underestimate you again, so don't expect another such victory!" Hara fell silent, studying the boy's thoughtful countenance. When he spoke again it was more gently. "Remember, Himura-san: the scavenger eats the meat it finds in its path, but the hunter seeks his prey. Do not accept the choices others give you. They are traps for the weak-hearted. Walk the third path, even if you are all alone! It is the road to unexpected victory." # "Well? Do you talk or do we play?" The sergeant pressed the barrel of the revolver more firmly against Kenshin's temple. Kenshin's unwavering gaze was now focused straight ahead. He felt hope stirring deep within him, but he gave no outward sign of its presence. His face was expressionless, a mask of indifference. "I suppose we play. I won't waste any more words on a coward." The words were spoken with icy contempt. "What?" The Russian grabbed a handful of hair and yanked Kenshin's head back, stretching his throat so that it was impossible to turn his head and see his captor. Kenshin stared up at the hook he was hanging from, at his swollen hands, at the dusty wooden ceiling above. "Only a coward would kill a man without looking him in the eye." The Russian released Kenshin's hair abruptly and moved in front of him. Kenshin lowered his head slowly, only to find the sergeant's strong hand at his throat. "You want me to look at you, then? Fine." The hand tightened, cutting off air. Kenshin hung limply, his eyes never leaving the sergeant's face. It was becoming difficult to breathe, but he forced himself to stay still, not to struggle. "I could squeeze the life out of you this way, but it would be too easy. A coward! Arrogant words, but soon you'll be begging for my mercy!" He released Kenshin's throat and stepped back, considering. One of the other sailors shouted a suggestion that seemed to please him. Moving forward again, the Russian stood directly in front of Kenshin and pressed the revolver against his prisoner's knee. "I've changed my mind about shooting you in the head. Sergei has pointed out that playing for smaller stakes makes the fun last so much longer." He grinned at Kenshin. "Do you know what will happen if there is a bullet in the firing chamber? Your kneecap will shatter into a hundred pieces. You'll be a cripple forever, even if you do decide to start talking and I let you live." Kenshin made no reply but he watched his captor closely, his breathing shallow and controlled. After a moment the sergeant shrugged. "I guess now we'll find out if you're a lucky man, or just a stupid one." And he pulled the trigger. When the gun went off there was a deafening explosion, so loud it drowned out every other sound in the lodge, even Kenshin's cry. # "What was that?" "It sounded like a gunshot." Sanosuke broke into a run, sprinting down the beach with Yahiko at his heels. The street fighter was flying, moving with incredible dexterity along the rocky ground, his white shirt billowing behind him. Then, without warning, he suddenly flung himself down. Yahiko had no time to stop. He fell in a tangle of arms and legs on top of Sano. "Hey!" "Shh." The man's hand closed over Yahiko's mouth. "Shut up and look over there." They had rounded a bend and a cove lay before them. They stared down at the hidden bay, at the iron-hulled sloop that lay in its protected waters. "What the...?" Yahiko's astonished exclamation was muffled by Sano's hand. "We have to stay down and get to that line of trees, or we'll be seen," Sano hissed. He began crawling up the beach, moving with a stealthy grace. Yahiko followed more clumsily. He looked behind them, then tugged Sano's sleeve. "Sano?" "Shh!" "But..." "What?" Sano whirled on him. His irritated expression faded as soon as he realized what was bothering the boy, only to be replaced by one of dismay. "Now, where did he go...?" Sano quickly scanned the beach in all directions, cursing. Kitsune was nowhere to be seen. # Kenshin was surprised there was actually a bullet in the firing chamber of the revolver. It was bad luck, and against the odds. The instant the Russian's finger tightened on the trigger he gave a battle-yell and kicked with all his strength, sending the revolver flying out of his captor's hand. He pushed off against the sergeant's body with both feet, swinging backwards through the air. The momentum was enough to propel him off the hook as he swung forward once again. He flew through the air, landing on top of his captor. Even though the Russian's body broke Kenshin's fall, the landing still sent pain coursing through him. He rolled away, trying to protect his cracked ribs, conscious of the other sailors pressing forward. He only had a moment before they would be on top of him. Pushing the pain aside, he tried to stand on his good ankle, but he had no strength in his left leg. He stared down at it, realizing for the first time he had just been shot. His kick had prevented his knee from being shattered, but the bullet had grazed him as it passed, opening a long gash in his thigh. As he tried to struggle to his feet, he felt one of the sailor's hands close on the front of his gi, lifting him off the ground. Kenshin swung his bound hands, clubbing the Russian on the side of the head. The man toppled, releasing him. The impact of the blow loosened the rope, and Kenshin wriggled his hands free, flinging the knotted coil into the nearest sailor's face. There was a rifle propped against the wall. Kenshin lunged for it, only to fall jarringly on his stomach when the sailor he had just knocked to the floor grabbed his ankle. He kicked the man in the face, and crawled forward, reaching the rifle just in time. A blade fell through the air toward his back. Kenshin rolled over, blocking it with the rifle. Another sailor stood above him, his cutlass embedded in the wooden stock. Twisting the rifle, Kenshin wrenched the blade out of the man's hands. He tore it free and cast the gun aside. Slowly, he pushed himself along the floor toward the wall, the cutlass held up protectively. He had a sword. It was a strange shape and length, but the pommel fit reassuringly into his hand. He was wounded, cornered, exhausted, but he had a blade. Things could definitely be worse. Gritting his teeth, Kenshin forced himself to his feet. He leaned heavily against the wall, his hand pressed against his thigh. Blood oozed between his fingers. Too much blood. He shook his head to clear it, his eyes narrowing as they focused on the door of the lodge. Some of his adversaries stood in front of it, blocking his escape. Others clustered around him, just beyond the reach of his blade. They could afford to wait, but he could not. With a yell Kenshin leapt forward, striking the closest man with the flat of his blade. Another sailor rushed in and caught his wrist, hoping to wrest the cutlass from him. He knocked the man aside and lunged for the door on unsteady legs. He had almost reached it when he caught a glimpse of motion out of the corner of his eye. The sergeant was on his feet again, revolver in hand. Kenshin tried to dodge his blow, but it was too late. The gun crashed into his face, knocking him to the floor. He lay there in a heap, gasping. One of the sailors stepped forward and pried the cutlass from his numb fingers. He could see nothing but a haze of light and shadow, could feel nothing but a sea of pain. For a terrifying moment Kenshin was afraid he had been blinded. Then he began to discern shapes again, could see the sergeant standing above him, his back to the door. It was only a few short steps away, but it might as well have been miles. As Kenshin watched him, the man began to load the revolver, slowly and deliberately placing a bullet in each chamber. Then he cocked the gun and aimed it at Kenshin's head. "You're clever," the Russian said, "but the game is over and you have lost." "Nothing... is over." Kenshin tensed, ready to dodge, but he knew his chances were poor. But it was point-blank range and he was moving far too slowly. He wondered if Kaoru would forgive him for breaking his promise, if she would understand how hard he had tried to keep it. At least she had kissed him. At least he had that. The sergeant's finger tightened on the trigger.. # "Hey, what's going on in here?" Sano flung the door open, hitting the sergeant in the back and sending him sprawling on top of Kenshin. The street fighter took in the scene at a glance. "You take care of those three, Yahiko," he said, motioning to his right. "I'll get the rest." Sano sprang into action, his fists flying. The Russians were totally unprepared for this sudden onslaught. Sano and Yahiko fell on them like a wave, sweeping them aside. Kenshin struggled with the sergeant, trying desperately to keep the revolver pointed away from both of them. The man's hand tightened and the gun fired, sending a bullet whizzing past Sano's head. "Hey, Kenshin!" Sano ducked beneath one of the sailors' punches, landing a solid blow in his opponent's stomach. "What do you think you're doing?" He spun and kicked, sweeping the legs out from under two more. "I...can't...help...it..." Kenshin grunted. The sergeant was unusually strong. And he was not very sportsmanlike when his game turned against him. Kenshin could see the veins bulging in his forehead as he strove to turn the revolver in Kenshin's direction. The gun fired again, this time sending a bullet into the floor near Sano's feet. "Can't you take care of one of them, when I've got ten here to deal with?" A sailor grabbed Sano's arm, and the street fighter flung him into the wall. There was a heavy thud and the man's unconscious body slid slowly to the floor. "No!" "I've got him," Yahiko yelled. He brought his shinai down sharply on the sergeant's head. The man crumpled on top of Kenshin, the revolver falling out of his hand with a thud. Sano stepped back as his last opponent went down and surveyed the carnage with a satisfied smile. Brushing his hands together, he turned to Kenshin and Yahiko. "Pretty smooth, huh? I haven't had a workout like that since..." the words trailed away and his smile vanished as he looked at Kenshin. "Shit! You look terrible!" He moved swiftly to his friend's side. "That's strange," Kenshin said, "I feel better than I have all day." He smiled up at Sano and Yahiko, wincing a little. His eye was beginning to swell shut and he could taste his own blood, but his smile was genuine, joyful. "You're both alive. I could hardly hope for such good luck." "We thought maybe you were dead, too," Yahiko said. "I'm so glad..." His eyes misted and he looked away. "Hey!" Sano put his hands on Yahiko's shoulders and propelled the boy in front of him. "Let's get these guys tied up, then talk." He winked at Kenshin as Yahiko brightened and they both set to work. Kenshin sat quietly, watching them as they efficiently bound and gagged all the sailors. "How did you get here?" "We found your balloon on the beach," Sano said as he stuffed one of the sailor's handkerchiefs into his mouth. "It wasn't hard to follow your trail." "Then we heard the gunshot and ran here as quick as we could." Yahiko tied the sergeant's hands tightly behind his back and set to work binding his ankles. "What happened to Kitsune?" They looked at Kenshin blankly. "The man who took Yahiko prisoner?" "Oh, him." Sano shrugged. "I guess he wasn't in the mood for a fight. Or maybe now that we've found some people he's decided to try his own luck." "That's what worries me." Kenshin pressed his hand firmly against the wound on his thigh, but it continued to bleed. He looked down at it with a scowl. "Saitoh said he was a spy, that he stole important military plans. If he sells them to the Russians..." Sano finished tying the last unconscious sailor and moved back to Kenshin's side, stepping carefully over the bodies that littered the floor. "Forget about him, Kenshin. Where's Jou-chan?" "She and Saitoh are on the gunboat." "What?" Kenshin flinched slightly at the dismay in Yahiko's voice. He opened his mouth to speak, to tell Yahiko everything would be fine, that Kaoru was his teacher and he should believe in her. But Sano spoke first. "We'll get her back. Don't worry. But first," he squatted beside Kenshin and put his friend's arm over his shoulder, "we have to get you fixed up and think of a plan." Kenshin gritted his teeth as Sano lifted him to his feet. "Is it safe to go outside?" "No one was around when we came up. I think everybody went back to the ship except these guys." Light flooded through the open door into the dark room, warming Kenshin's face. He stumbled out into the world like a man emerging from a tomb. A few minutes before the door of the lodge had separated him from everything he cared about. Now it seemed insignificant, a barrier that had only existed in his mind. He glanced up at Sano, and was surprised to see that his friend's expression was unusually serious as well. "You know, Kenshin," he said, "being this close to you, I mean carrying you and all, makes me realize something about you I hadn't noticed before." "What's that?' "You sure could use a bath. I mean, you're really, really filthy. Ouch!" Yahiko shook his head, smiling, as he trudged ahead of them. He didn't look back. # "There!" Sano lowered Kenshin carefully onto a cot and stepped back, surveying the room. It had probably once been a meeting hall for the fishermen who built the village, but now it was a barracks for the Russian sailors. "Just rest. I'll go look for some food and see if I can find out what's going on." "Water would be even better." "There's some of that over here!" Yahiko had been searching for supplies on the far side of the hall. He came toward them between the rows of cots carrying a large bucket. Water slopped over its sides as he walked. "I think it's clean, but it isn't very cool." "Doesn't matter." Kenshin drank from his cupped hands, not caring that the blood on them tainted the taste. He couldn't remember when he had last had water to drink. He was certain it had been days. "Are you going to be all right while we look around?" Kenshin nodded, not even looking up at Sano. He plunged his hands back into the water. # While they were gone, Kenshin stripped off his clothes and washed. He scrubbed both dirt and bruises without pity, assessing the damage his body had suffered with a cool, appraising eye. His ankle was swollen and discolored, his sides ached when he breathed, but the gash in his leg troubled him the most. As soon as he washed away dried blood, it was replaced with fresh. He sighed. Something would have to be done about it. He wrapped a blanket around his waist when he heard Sano and Yahiko at the door. They barged in without ceremony, each carrying an armload of supplies. Kenshin's greeting froze on his lips as he looked up into their faces. Yahiko was staring at him with dismay. Sano's face had darkened to a dangerous hue, his jaw tight. "Oro?" "Shit, Kenshin! If I'd realized they'd beaten you so badly, I'd have--" Sano broke off, fuming. "What? Oh." Kenshin looked down at his torso, at the mottled bruising that covered his chest and stomach. "The Russians didn't do this." "Then how--?" "I fell out of the balloon." They stared at him, wide-eyed, as he related what had happened. When he finished, Sano laughed. "I think you must be a kami, or maybe an oni, to have survived that! What luck!" "Maybe," Kenshin said, "but my luck wasn't so good with the Russian sergeant. Only one chance in six that his gun would fire!" He checked the wound on his leg and shook his head. "I still can't get it to stop bleeding." "I found some medicines while I was looking around." Yahiko opened a large wooden case he had been holding. "Maybe one of these will help." "Hmm." Kenshin examined its contents carefully, leaning over the side of the cot. "This is what I need." He pulled out silken thread and a long, curved needle. His hand trembled slightly as he held them up. "Sano, will you help me?" Yahiko watched as Sano threaded the needle wordlessly and passed it back to Kenshin. The street fighter then settled at the end of the cot, bracing Kenshin's leg between his hands. "Do you want me to do it?" Yahiko's question stopped Kenshin just as he was about to make the first stitch. He looked up at Yahiko, startled. Then he smiled. "Come here, and I'll show you how." As Yahiko knelt by Kenshin's side, he wished for a moment he hadn't made the offer. He shifted nervously. "Don't worry," Kenshin said, "it isn't hard. Just pass the needle through like this, and be sure not to pull the thread too tightly." He made another stitch, his head bent low in concentration. "If you do, the skin will pucker and it won't heal correctly." He demonstrated with three more stitches, then looked up at Yahiko. "Ready to try?" Yahiko nodded and took the needle. Kenshin lay back, staring up at the ceiling. "Go ahead," he said gently, sensing the boy's hesitation. "I'll be fine." Gingerly, Yahiko made the stitch. He glanced nervously at Kenshin, but his patient gave no sign of discomfort except for a slight tightening of his fist. Sighing with relief, Yahiko turned back to his task. Maybe it really wasn't so difficult after all. "I'm going to go look around again," Sano announced. He released Kenshin and stood up, stretching. "But you're supposed to be helping me! You can't go!" "Baka!" Sano brought his hand down lightly on Yahiko's head. "I'm not doing anything except sitting here. He hasn't moved a muscle in that leg." He leaned over Kenshin, grinning. "You're boring." Kenshin smiled. Yahiko was not amused. "No! Don't leave me!" He forgot about the thread he was holding and reached out to grab Sano's sleeve. Kenshin gave a tremendous flinch and bolted up. "Yahiko! Pay attention to what you're doing, please!" "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Just lie down and I won't do it again." He pressed his hands against Kenshin's bruised chest. "Ouch! Yahiko!" "Sano!" Yahiko's appeal was tinged with desperation. He turned wide, pleading eyes toward the street fighter. "No way," Sano laughed. "You two are on your own. Just try not to kill each other before I get back!" And with that he left the room. He paused on the other side of the door, listening. He could still hear Yahiko apologizing. Then Kenshin's voice broke in, low and reassuring. Sano smiled and stepped out into the sunlight, hands in his pockets. # He was gone for quite a while. When he returned, Kenshin and Yahiko were both asleep. The boy was curled up in the center of one of the cots, his head buried under a pillow. He was snoring softly, but the sound was muffled by the material over his face. Sano's gaze flickered over him, but he quickly turned his attention to Kenshin. He felt uneasy as he approached his friend's sleeping form. Usually Kenshin would wake up if someone were so near. It was a testament to his current state of exhaustion that he didn't even stir. Looking down into his friend's face, Sano hoped he wasn't developing a fever. Kenshin's breathing was shallow, and there was a tightness around his lips that spoke of pain. Yet when he touched Kenshin's forehead it was cool beneath his fingers. Sano sighed, relieved. "Kaoru?" Kenshin opened his eyes, bewildered to find himself looking up into Sano's face. "It's just me. I brought you some food." Sano sat down carefully on the side of the cot. "Don't talk too loud. Yahiko's asleep." "Oh. Thanks." Kenshin sat up slowly, accepting the bread Sano offered. "Poor Yahiko," he said around a mouthful. "He's exhausted." His gentle, amused gaze rested on the sleeping boy. "I feel sorry for him, having to deal with such a bad patient." Sano snorted. "You're the one I feel sorry for." Kenshin shook his head. "Don't. He did a good job, once he calmed down." He felt his leg through the blanket. The wound had been carefully bandaged, and was already less painful. "What time is it?" "Late afternoon." Kenshin made no reply but he chewed thoughtfully, his expression suddenly serious. "You're thinking about Jou-chan, aren't you?" Kenshin nodded. "I was wondering when you'd remember her. What's going on between you two, anyway? You usually go crazy when she's in danger." "I know," Kenshin sighed. "And that's how I feel now, inside. But she told me to believe in her, so that's what I'm trying to do." Sano stared at his friend. "I can't believe you took her seriously. She probably just said that so you wouldn't worry." "If you had been there, Sano, if you had seen her... you would have taken her seriously, too." The memory of flashing eyes and warm, demanding lips against his own filled Kenshin's mind. Sano regarded him skeptically. "So you're not interested in saving her, then?" "I didn't say that." "Good! 'Cause I've got a plan that can't fail!" Sano whipped open the bundle he had brought with him and displayed its contents before Kenshin's wondering eyes. "What in the--?" Sano was holding up a Russian lieutenant's uniform. Gold braid flashed on the sleeves. Gold epaulets adorned the shoulders. It looked as if it would fit Sano perfectly.