Eternal Samurai Read Online Free

would have been happy to lend a hand. Not now. Let the drooling idiot trying to prop himself against the table leg get his own ass home.
    “You look like an honest guy. Bana’s not a bad sort. Just loses it sometimes. He only lives around the block. Here’s his address,” Doris scribbled something on a blank order ticket and shoved it into Tatsu’s hand. She crouched, fumbled through the man’s jacket pocket, removed a couple of crumpled bills and held them up. “’Sides, he’s buyin’ your drinks fer the next two weeks.” She winked. Before another protest left Tatsu’s lips, she dashed away to the other end of the bar yelling out an order.
    He glared down at the semi-conscious man sprawled over the fallen chair. Kuso . Tatsu zipped his jacket, grabbed Bana under the armpits and hauled him to his feet. He hitched the man’s arm over his own shoulders, took a firm grip on the thick wrist and aimed for the exit.
    The freezing rain drenched them within seconds as they stumbled into the street. Tatsu hunched into his collar as cold water ran down his neck. Bana mumbled something, maybe a thank you, maybe a protest. Tatsu was struggling too much with the man’s unwieldy body to care. Then to Tatsu’s alarm, Bana started singing, or rather slurring some sort of Gaelic ditty, off-key no less.
    Sweat broke out on Tatsu’s forehead despite the cold as he lugged the heavy man along the slippery pavement. And with every unsteady step, the weight on Tatsu’s shoulder seemed to increase until it felt like he was hauling a horse—a wet, drunk, singing horse—up a steep, rain-slick hill. Mochiron , of course, Bana’s home had to be at the top.
    Ten cold, wet minutes later, they arrived at Bana’s home. “Ish right up here,” Bana wagged an unsteady finger in the direction of a narrow stairway between two small shops. “Upsie stairsie.” He lurched forward, tripped on the bottom step and sat down with a thump. He did not look the least inclined to move.
    Chikusho, this just gets better and better. Tatsu hauled the drunk to his feet, tightened his grip around the man’s waist and began the climb. Twice Bana swayed backward and nearly tumbled them both down the stairs. When they reached the apartment door, the man fumbled in his pocket, managed to extract a loaded key ring only to drop it. Tatsu propped Bana against the wall but the man’s knees gave way, and he slid ungracefully to the floor.
    Tatsu looked at the deadbolts punctuating the peeling wood. Kuso , what the hell? Three fucking locks? He tried several keys before finding the right ones. Grunting more with exasperation than effort, Tatsu lifted Bana under the armpits and maneuvered him into a darkened vestibule. Kicked the door shut behind them.
    The loud slam jerked Bana from his stupor. Muttering something about needing another drink, the sotted man staggered up to the bar in the living room. He pulled out a bottle, unscrewed the cap and began gulping from the mouth.
    “Mr. Bana, maybe you shouldn’t drink any more.” Tatsu reached for the bottle.
    “Ish Bana … jush Bana.” The man clutched the bottle to his chest with both hands and leaned forward with a sloppy, wet-mouth grin. He hiccupped once then vomited over Tatsu’s jacket.
    “Shit.” Tatsu jumped back trying to avoid the putrid mess as it landed on his chest.
    “Opps. S’my bad,” Bana’s grin held no real apology. He weaved over to the couch, reaching it just as his brain lost communication with his muscles. With a grunt, he collapsed, dropping the bottle. Its amber contents soaked into the plush carpet. Uncaring, Bana rolled to his side and fell asleep.
    Tatsu yanked off his foul-smelling jacket. He found the bathroom and scrubbed the disgusting mess off with soap and a towel. The stink of vomit didn’t worry him but it would attract predators. At least the old leather was waterproof. He left it to dry over the shower head.
    On the couch, Bana was swimming up out of his alcoholic