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The smell of salt sea water was fragrant in the summer air, growing stronger as the wind blew past the cowboy, rustling his golden blond hair. Overlooking the scattered cliffs, he could see the waves of the sea clashing against each other, creating a tumultuous cacophony that was unlike the seas back in his home country. Seagulls cawed and fought in the air, their wings fluttering as a back drop of various ships could be seen in the not so distant harbor as they docked and unloaded valuable goods to the city. Yankee, the name that he was gifted by the people of this strange land, crouched down in the dry grass and instinctively began to pluck clumps of the vegetation. Other than his parched lips, he was able to find a state of tranquility that was scarce in the ever present chaotic times; while Yankee couldn't understand the current political upheavals in the city (which he only recently learned had a name-Kyoto), his conscience could sense the tides turning and a period of calamity up ahead. It wasn't unlike the anything he hadn't seen in the Wild West, with the only difference being instead of scummy cowboys and bandits, it was scummy officers of large corrupt samurai syndicates.
Yankee grew to a still, his eyes blinking slowly and his tongue laying uncomfortable on the inside of his mouth. It had been only weeks ago that he had been marooned, grateful to be alive with his gun intact and no valuable items stolen from him but frustrated that he had to have landed in a land distant as this one. He had yet to have recollected any memories as to how he ended tied to a disheveled pathetic boat (if one could even call it a boat; it was more likely poorly crafted planks of wood tied together by twine, string, and a few nails along with a pathetic flag as a sail), and he was still unaware of how he was able to survive out at sea for that long. It was hard to calculate, with time feeling ever changing and inconsistent, but he had to have been out at sea for weeks, a month even. The question always remained: how was Yankee still alive? He should had died days into his journey, so was there a divine force at play? A god? An angel? Spirits of the shipwrecked sailors who dared to changed the Pacific and her horrors? The cowboy, quite frankly, didn't know and didn't want to think about those things yet.
A cool gust of wind from the east changed his train of thought to a particular man he had met on his first day of being conscious: Souji. Well, he wasn't sure if the officer's first name was Souji or Okita, for the two names were used interchangeably, but he assumed Souji was the correct name by the way the long-haired man smiled delightfully whenever Yankee called him. The minute Yankee had set foot on the land, Souji was there to watch and examine him, like a new pet to gawk at, but somehow it was different from the other residents of Kyoto. The people of Kyoto, while they saw the cowboy as a mysterious being from the west, a creature who carried a strange metal weapon that could kill men instantaneously, Souji saw him as something else. At first, he saw the American as foe or a new target to practice his impeccable sword skills on. They dueled each other upon first contact, first with their eyes in a staring match, then with pistol and katana. They were equal in strength and Souji was a competitive and skillful match, meaning that their battles weren't ended until one of them called quits. Simply put, Yankee and Souji were the unstoppable object and the immovable force, and if continued to fight for very long, they were sure to mortally wound the other or burn out from exhaustion.
Soon after their first introduction, they smoothly transitioned into a life style that accommodated for the needs of the samurai and for his cowboy counterpart. The first days were the hardest due to their differences (besides, Yankee didn't know it was customary to take off shoes in doors and how to hold a katana. His hands were pioneered for holding the cool pistol, not for a sharp and frankly flimsy yet sharp sword), but they persevered and managed to overcome the obstacles they had. They even developed a routine: as Souji began to awaken and rise at the strike of dawn, so did Yankee. Wherever Souji went, whether it was to the courtyard to train with his teachers or his peers, to the town to watch out for dodging thieves and criminals, or to the bars late at night for drinks, the American would follow, never once feeling out of place. The duo were attached to the hip and even began to understand each other's native languages, although there was still a lot for Yankee to learn. He knew basic things: casual greetings, food items, and some of the honorary titles that were supposed to be used depending on the person you were talking to, but no matter how hard the cowboy tried, the sounds and words wouldn't exit his mouth the way they did with Souji. His take on Japanese was jumbled and imperfect, while Souji made it sound like a song or a poem about beauty and all things amazing, but no matter how terrible the cowboy sounded, his friend would present a cheeky smile and correct him, making sure to not treat him like an ignorant child. Souji took his time, his patience showing immensely, and in return the cowboy showed the same whenever they practiced English together.
"Come on Souji, just repeat after me: howdy."
"How-dee."
"You're close. Listen, howdy."
"どうして英語が難しいのか。日本語を勉強してみませんか？"
"Sure, why not? Give me somethin' easy though."
"立派な外国人。これを試してください：「私はあなたを愛しています。」"
"Huh? I told ya', something simple! That was a whole darn sentence and you don't even explain it! Alright, here's my best shot: わたしは、あなたを愛しています."
"印象的！私はあなたのような外国人がそれを得るとは思いませんでしたが、私はあなたが速い学習者です !"
"Would you mind translating that? I try my best to at least describe the stuff that I'm saying."
"いいえ、頑固になります。それが何を意味するのかをお話しする日は、私たちが一緒に言う日です。"
"Alright, have it your way then."
Yankee smiled at that memory, watching the sun fall down into the earth, spewing rays of orange, magenta, and yellow. The light was scattered across the blue water, and while it was bright that it blinded the cowboy's icy blue eyes, he was captured by its beauty and mesmerized by how, even when so far away from home, the sunset always looked the same no matter where he stood on the globe. Suddenly, rustling and the sound of crushed grass could be heard from behind his head. Yankee jumped to his feet and within seconds pulled out his pistol only to be staring at Souji, his grin enormous. Unlike his partner, the samurai had not reached for his weapon that was usually attached to his hip. In fact, the katana was no where to be seen nor was its saya, the word the American learned was for its wood holder, which was usually tied to the belt of the other's blue kimono (again, another word he recently learned, because apparently calling them 'dresses for men' earned an a death glare from Souji).
Now at ease, the cowboy shoved his gun back into its holster and without anything for his hands to clasp onto, the fell to his sides. Souji seemed...off, but not in a bad way that indicated he was disgruntled at the American. Possibly, it was the setting sun shining directly at him, but the officer had a glow to him that was peaceful and at ease. He walked over to the cowboy and sat down next to him, his face looking at the sun that was nearly set. The deep purples and rich blues replaced the warm colors of the sky, but the port and its lanterns glistened. The commotion of Kyoto was in the distance, and while the urban night would have enticed to two to leave the cliff and to find the nearest bar for drinks, Yankee could tell that tonight was going to be more relaxing.
The samurai's kimono and hair blended seamlessly with the dark setting as if he was a part of the beautiful nature that surrounded them. The cowboy, not wanting to continue standing awkwardly and out of place, turned around and walked over to his friend, soon sinking to the ground next to the samurai. The blond realized how little time they spent today; other than eating their breakfast communally and the quick glances they shared throughout the police force's headquarters, they hadn't interacted that much. Of course, Yankee wasn't going to cry about it, for Souji expressed to him in the morning how he was required to travel outside of the confines of the city that day and wouldn't be back until hours later, but he had spent so much of his time in the past few weeks with Souji that such a drastic change felt monumental. It felt almost as if he lost his pistol or his prized horse back in the U.S. had been taken from him.
It didn't take long for Yankee's silent reflection to have been broken by the enthusiastic police officer. "ああ、夜空は素晴らしいです。郊外への旅行中に京都が恋しかった。" the samurai said in one breath, his cheerful demeanor shining through the tone of his voice. Although Yankee couldn't understand all of the words Souji had spoken, his voice and gentle chuckle that he added to the end of his sentence made the cowboy blush. They created their own language, something the cowboy would have never expected to have happened to him in a million years; he had created a connection between someone so amazing yet foreign that was maintained only their strange ability to communicate with minimal words. "日本語を練習しましたか？" asked Souji, now facing the American.
Nervously, the cowboy replied, "Huh, nah." His hands were playing with the dry grass again, also noticing Souji doing the same, which was unusual since the samurai was a normally calm person who relished stillness and all things 'zen-like.' Their hands were mere centimeters apart, the space becoming shorter and shorter between them. Rushing to get his focus back onto the conversation, Yankee spoke up.
"It's hard, ya know? A whole 'nother alphabet! There ain't no translator here!" he huffed like a stubborn child. "But you know what, Souji, this place doesn't feel too far from home. I mean, it is far from home, but I feel happy here. Of course I miss the ranch and my old partners back in the States, but something about this place feels right. I wouldn't mind staying here for a while, traveling up north or something." Fireflies now surrounded the two, creating a dance of moving lights that moved like a heart. "Souji, what was that sentence you tried to teach me the other day? You never translated it or explained it for me."
"ええと、私はあなたに何も教えたことを覚えていません。" exclaimed Souji, whose eyebrows furrowed in confusion and drew on a pouty face. Suddenly, the light went on in his brain, and a dashing grin appeared on his face. "覚えてるよ！はい、その文、あなたはそれを非常によく言いました！あなたが私の言語をほぼ理解していることに感銘を受けました。" Souji turned to his friend, inching himself closer but still leaving a space between them. His legs, covered by the large hakama, were brushing up against the jeans of the cowboy, and his hands were placed on his knees.
"That's great and all, but can you tell me what it means?" The American felt red in the face, averting his eyes to glance over his shoulders to prevent himself from staring at his partner. He was never one to blush, being that he was a rough and tough man from the Western frontier of the States, who dealt with rugged animals and hardened criminals in order to survive; he dared to never let his emotions, especially ones like these, get to him, but it was hard when Okita Souji looked at him. "I hope you didn't make me say something embarrassing. I'd strangle you if you did."
"いいえ、もちろん違います！" said the police officer, who said while releasing a laugh, only this time it wasn't a mocking laugh or a laugh that one made when a hilarious joke was told, but a laugh of nervousness and reassurance. Reassuring that he too was nervous and felt just as flustered as the cowboy. "翻訳が違うだけで、英語で説明する方法がわかりませんでした。私はその言語で最高ではありません。また、言うのはたわごととして難しいです。"
"Well, Japanese words are hard to say to. You don't need to feel ashamed, I got the same problem!" It was obvious the American only caught the last part of the sentence, or at the very least misinterpreted the first half. The Yankee-Okita language was admirably good, but not fool proof, as seen by the plethora of times when they couldn't communicate things properly, often resulting in mix-ups and mishaps. "Can you describe what you said to me, please?" The cowboy now had the courage to face his opponent, noticing the tinge of red on his cheeks in the purple night, which he found odd. Souji, from what he gathered, only blushed this way around him, but that wasn't noticeable to the blue-eyed man until now. Come to think of it, did Souji ever look this bashful in front of anyone but him? Sure, he was a nervous and awkward wreck around women, but he wasn't timid in the least bit. He was quite charming around them and protected them, but never took interest in them or their assets the way Yankee did.
"らせん状の花びらのように感じるとき、それはあなたが得るときのその感覚です。"
"Pardon?"
"あなたが誰かを見るとき、あなたは全世界を見ることができることを知っています。"
"Huh, I don't get it."
"あなたはとても絶望的なヤンキーです。"
"Hey, I understood part of that!"
"いいでしょう、あなたはそんなばかなので、見せてあげましょう！" and with that, Souji leaned in and brushed his lips against Yankee. The kiss was rather innocent with no movement of the lips, showing his inexperience, but Yankee was stunned regardless. It took him a minute for his paralyzed brain to process what just happened before he closed his eyes and pushed forward to press deeper. Soon, they drifted apart to gasp for air and took a deep, thoughtful look at each other in the dark. "Yankee," Souji began to say in English, further shocking the American, "I feel love for you." His English wasn't perfect and his voice was shaky from fear and from the kiss that lingered on his lips.
"Souji, 私もあなたを愛してます。あなたは家のように感じます。"
The two proceeded to lock fingers and connected their lips, sealing an eternal love.