Eternal Samurai Read Online Free Page B

urban combat. Graphic novels from Japan—rare and expensive—crammed into two shelves. With an odd nostalgia, Tatsu leafed through a couple. It had been years since he had read a manga.
    A tall, steel cabinet took up the balance of the wall. The doors hung ajar. Compulsively tidy, Tatsu moved to close them. Kuso ! At least half-a-dozen guns, a vicious-looking bayonet and a row of serrated survival knives were racked above cleaning paraphernalia and dozens of boxes of ammunition.
    The man was either seriously paranoid or seriously prepared for a war. And didn’t give a shit for any gun-control laws. Black-market arms dealer? The idea was absurd. There were easier, less instant-death ways to make money in this city. Another thought gave Tatsu a flare of hope: Bana was one of those covert vampire hunters. Now that would explain the mini-arsenal.
    With exaggerated care, Tatsu closed the cabinet doors and fired a quick glance over at the couch. Time to get the hell out before the dangerous drunk woke up and started shooting.

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    Three
    A fter dragging Bana home, Tatsu was too wired to sleep. The rich coffee made him jumpy. He sat on his only chair and stared out the rain-drenched window of his shabby room. A feeble dawn light fought its way through the grey clouds. The gloomy view reminded him how far he was from the warmth of New Mexico, his home for the last thirteen years. Couldn’t believe only a few weeks ago his life was normal, his dreams about to be realized.
    And the word vampire only existed in the news about distant places.
    An unassailable loneliness made itself known with gut-wrenching insistence. What the hell was he doing here anyway?
    With no warning, the loss of his one and only love crashed over him. Sage Neztsosie, the beautiful Navajo boy who took his heart. Who showed him the way of loving men.
    Salty drops slid over Tatsu’s lower eyelids. Shamed, he dashed them away. Foolish to grieve over a love that was never meant to be. A love forever lost in the unreachable past.
    Santa Fe, The Pueblo Sovereign State, 2012
    Rumors flew through Santa Fe Industrial High about the school’s newest quarterback, Sage Neztsosie. School directors, desperate for a star player, lured Sage off the Shiprock Reservation with promises and bribery. They overlooked his juvenile criminal record and granted him a full scholarship.
    From the minute he arrived, the Navajo created his own brand of anarchy. He sped into the school parking lot on his battered motorcycle with one of his many friends clinging like a monkey on the back. Brakes squealed and people yelled as Sage blithely ignored all driving regulations. One afternoon, the principal caught the Navajo rappelling down the back of the high-school stadium. Before the homecoming game, the janitor found Sage dancing naked in the end zone of the football field. Sage claimed he was doing it for victory. More than once, he faced expulsion for smoking on school grounds. Yet, no matter how often he broke the rules, he always charmed his way out.
    Nobody escaped falling under the spell of this beautiful, copper-skinned boy with his mobile mouth and blunt teeth that flashed often in a brilliant smile. High cheekbones and sultry eyes the color of dark chocolate gave his face an exquisite cast. The crook of his nose only enhanced his bad-boy glamour. Guys wanted to be like him, girls dreamed of doing him.
    Tatsu’s life was the opposite. He was the only twelve-year-old in the school. Newly arrived from Japan and still in shock from the loss of his family, Tatsu was bugaisha, an outsider. His genius mind coupled with his polite, shy manners, guaranteed he was the target of every bully and made high school a living torment. His exotic, pretty face meant the faggot slurs began on his first day. It took all his self-control to ignore the vicious taunting. Even when physically attacked, he refused to use his knowledge of secret Budo techniques to defend himself. His grandfather would be