yasuhiro nightow

When you became a bounty hunter you had expected adventure. Not mourning another failed hunt while you sulked in a bar. You sigh when the hear a loud voice across the bar and see an eager blondie in a red coat is- wait. Red coat? You quickly fumble for the sun bleached wanted poster you’d kept in your pocket since you had seen it hung up. “Vash the Stampede 1,000,000,000 double dollars” you gently reach of the rifle behind your back. maybe you weren’t such a bad bounty hunter after all.