The outdoor
hot spring pool was blessedly deserted. Kenshin laid his neatly folded clothes
and swords on the edge of the rock pool, within reaching distance. Long hair
loose from the usual ponytail and dripping wet from the washing, he slowly
lowered his body into the hot spring water. He could not help a small sigh of
pleasure as he leaned against the stone rim, the steaming water reaching up to
his chest. Tightly wound muscles that he no longer even noticed started to
unwind, the heat from the spring seeping inside to thaw the chill in his bones
that he thought would never leave.
His body
still ached from the two days of traveling to reach this place. In the past, it
would have taken him less than a day. He suspected he had not fooled Kyosuke as
to his condition. The sensei who checked him would have a fit if he knew he had
already gone back to work, would have insisted that he was not yet fit for any
exertions. But he had had enough of staying alone in that fishing hut. In the emptiness
of time, his thoughts kept turning to the past, and that was not someplace he
wanted to be.
He critically
examined his newest scars. There was a rather rugged mass of scar tissue on his
right flank, uneven flesh that had healed poorly where the stitching had been
torn open and re-sewn. It was still red and raw looking. He would have to be
careful not to exert himself too much for a while. In comparison, the sword
slash had healed more cleanly. The long wound had closed to a thin trail of
pink raised flesh that ran just below his left shoulder, extending along his
upper arm.
He habitually
flexed that arm, testing it. There was barely a twinge. His body healed fast, a
gift in his line of work. There were older scars on his back and shoulders that
had faded nearly to nothing, slash and puncture wounds that had nearly taken
his life eight months ago.
He had long
since ceased to care about wounds and the scars they left. There was only one
exception to that. The important thing was that they would not detract from his
skills, and aside from the slight stiffness of unstretched new flesh, these
scars were inconsequential.
The hardest
wounds to heal were not the physical ones.
Steam wafted
up in a cloud of fog, misting up the view of the surroundings. It gave the
false illusion of privacy, of being cocooned in one’s own private world, where
the only person who exist was oneself. The night was silent with only the
occasional rustling of leaves and the calls of night birds. Soft ripples and
splashes of water against the rock rim provided a rhythmic, soothing
background. The rest of the world was still waiting out there, but for the
moment, this blessed solitude was enough.
He sank
deeper into the pool, neck-deep in the water and half-floating in the warmth.
He tilted his head up to look up at the stars partially obscured by the rising
mist.
The stars
looked the same now as it had a year ago, two years ago, constant and
unchanging as ever. He had watched them countless times with his parents on
their last summer together, with Hiko just before the fight that had led him
down the mountains. Again, the day before he left for Kyoto with Katsura
Kogoro, and on that blessedly peaceful and seemingly endless night with Tomoe
in their little house.
The stars remained
the same, but he had changed.
Kyosuke’s
words today about Eiji had struck a chord inside him. Only one year difference,
but Eiji was full of... innocence.
That was the only word that he could think of. Eiji had come from a fairly
well-to-do merchant family, and as far as he knew, the boy had lived a
relatively peaceful life before he had joined in the Ishin movement. It showed
in his careless smiles, in the lightness of his steps, the unfeigned exuberance
that he treated the rest of the world with.
He marveled
at it, but he did not envy the younger boy. He had long decided that innocence
required far too high a price to keep. He could not afford to pay that price.
Not when it was weighed against the lives of others.
The day he
consciously made the decision to take up a fallen sword too big for his hands
had been the day he threw away the last vestiges of his childhood. Oh, he did
not have to kill back then, if that was even possible. And fate had interfered
to lend him another lease on life. But physical acts aside, he had been willing
to kill, and it was all that mattered.
To kill to protect.
A very pragmatic solution to a savage
world. He had accepted the necessity since the day he had watched bandits
massacred the slavers and slaves with similar abandon, since three girls who
had barely begun their lives sacrificed themselves to protect him. It was
engraved into him by their blood and he had understood it with the kind of
bone-deep understanding that had shaped his decisions and his life ever since.
He did not
like it, but he accepted it. That was the way it was.
Which was why
when Hiko Seijurou had offered to teach him that very art of killing, the
choice was a foregone conclusion. ‘Shinta’ was cast aside and re-born as a
swordsman, as ‘Ken-Shin’. Hiko Seijurou had known more than he did at that
time, what the name change had truly meant.
And when he
could no longer stand aside and watch the world fell apart, he had left the
mountains and he had left Hiko Seijurou.
He stared
blindly at the shifting mist, remembering another bone-cold morning mist
surrounding the mountain hut that had become his home for four years and the
man who had become almost like a father to him. Remembering harsh words thrown
at his teacher on their last day together – what
good is a sword kept in its sheath? Wasn’t the whole reason he had thrown
his soul into learning Hiiten Mitsurugi Ryuu was to save the defenseless? To
prevent anymore tragedies like Sakura, Akane, and Kasumi from happening.
Preventing another boy from watching people he cared for butchered.
The world had
been black and white then. So simple, so clear… and so far away from the
reality that he had come face to face with. He sighed, feeling the weariness
that had dragged at him for the last two years.
Katsura-san’s
words, on the day he had asked him to kill for the sake of a new world.
Inevitably, deaths were necessary to bring in change. He was well aware that
the root of the revolution that they were trying to bring about would bring
about destruction of the old world. And yet, there was no point in holding on
to a world that brought pain and misery to so much of its own people. A world
that belonged to the past, a world that would kill off hope for the future was
better off destroyed.
And to do
that, he was willing to kill. He had chosen to become a tool for the
revolution, to become its killing edge, the part that reached out and destroyed
lives to open the road for the new world. If killing the officials could
expedite the new era, then it should be done. If they needed someone to kill,
then he would kill. That had been the reason he had taken up the mantle of
hitokiri. It was the only skill he had, this sword, this body... He had no
other skills to offer, other than a burning desire to help make a difference.
And yet, for
all the perfect reasoning that he had made to himself, he had neglected a very
crucial part out of the equation.
He had forgotten that the enemy was
also living, breathing human beings.
Hiding behind the shield that was
Tenchu, he had consigned their deaths in the name of necessity. And all the
while the people that he had cut down had been no different than himself, no
different than the very people he had envisioned himself protecting.
On that piece
of frozen hell eight months ago, he had been shown with cutting, bone-deep
clarity, how naïve and simplistic his views and beliefs had been. His world had
shattered and nothing looked the same anymore.
The enemy had
faces now, and they haunted his dreams and conscience.
How long can I go on killing?
*How long will you go on
killing*?
With a jolt, he opened his eyes. He
blinked at the mist that blurred his eyesight. Then the barest of smile curved
his lips, a strange mixture of resigned self mockery and bitter-sweet pain. The
parody of a smile did not reach his clouded eyes.
Tomoe. How strange it was that she had
become the voice of his conscience. Or maybe, not that strange at all. After
all, she was the one who reminded him of what he had chosen to blind himself
to. Her voice was always there, a reminder to him. And he could not block this
voice away. Could not. Would not. Because blocking her out would mean blocking
out everything that had happened between them, and he could not do that.
This life that he still lived belonged
to her. She did not kill him even when he had tacitly offered his life to her.
Forgiven him even when he deserved no forgiveness.
And so, he had promised her, he would
find a way. Swore it on her silent form, the white funereal garb he clothed her
in hiding the horrible wound his own hands had given her.
But had he?
He made a choice eight months ago to go
on living, to go back with Katsura-san and back into the madness of Kyoto. He
told Katsura-san that he would protect people now, help people. That it was
what she would wish from him, and what he himself wished from the deepest part
of his soul.
And yet, here he was, with more blood
staining his hands. Still a man-slayer, even if he was no longer a hitokiri
living in the shadows.
Everything had changed. Nothing had
changed.
Kenshin closed his eyes, feeling the
leaden weight in his chest that grew heavier with each day.
*You know what is happening.*
Yes, he
replied to that soft voice in his head. Yes, I know, but what can I do? Tell me, what can I do?
The voice was silent, offering no solutions, no way out.
I know what each death means now, what the value of
each life is. But still, I kill. I wonder, is that not in itself a form of
madness?
He killed more people now than he ever
did acting as a hitokiri. Everyday, he struggled with a mind-numbing paradox –
that by trying to save, he killed, causing the very thing that he fought to
prevent. He could feel the rift growing between what he did and what he *knew* -- and it was slowly tearing him
apart.
It showed in each sleepless night,
still preferable to the dreams and nightmares that plagued his rest. It was
there, no matter how much he consciously avoided thinking about it, no matter
how much he drove himself into exhaustion to escape the turmoil that clawed
into his mind and heart.
His eyes were open now, and he could
not go back to the oblivious comfort of before. His eyes were open - and times
were, he felt they would burn and blind him with all that he saw and did.
And the question that twisted inside
him, fueling his indecision and uncertainties.
Had he truly accomplished anything?
Were they truly taking a closer towards
the dream of new world, or was he merely creating more misfortunes on this
world? Had two years of endless murders and butcheries been for nothing?
He had long
since ceased looking too closely at himself, but despite all the inner walls he
hid behind, he could feel the life trickling out of him, draining his emotions,
his feelings, vibrancy... darkening his idealism... until he felt like a
walking husk, mechanically executing moves ingrained into his body, with as
little thought as a clockwork.
How much
longer before there was nothing left inside of him?
Those five months in the mountain had
felt like a breath of fresh air to him, yet it felt like a dream now. With each
day, it lost more of its vitality, like a painting that grew faded with time
and lost its vibrancy and life. The memories of warm contentment and happiness
of that time bled out of him with each passing day. Maybe one day he would
forget it completely.
Nothing but a passing dream.
He found the fingers of his hand
pressing into the white cross-scar on his left cheek, the callused tips digging
hard as if they would tear into the flesh.
I missed the dream…
I missed you…
I need you, Tomoe.
“What an
indulgent picture you make, Battousai-san.”
Kenshin’s
eyes flew open in shock. He shot out of the water, left hand grabbing for his katana.
“Dare-ka!”
A tall, lithe
form separated itself from the shadow of trees in front of him. The slight
illumination cast by the lanterns showed a young man in his early twenties. He
was dressed in dark blue gi neatly closed in front against the chill, and a
matching set of dark blue haori and hakama. The man was no one Kenshin had ever
seen before. Kenshin’s eyes narrowed as he tried to feel the stranger’s
presence. His clothing was not that inconspicuous, how could he have missed
him?
Shock filled
him as he couldn’t feel a thing. Not a ripple of ki that marked a living,
breathing man or animal. Everything living had ki, which meant that the man in
front of him must had mastered the ability to hide his ki completely. He’d
heard of this skill from his shishou, but it was incredibly rare and hard to
master. Hiiten Mitsurugi Ryuu had something equivalent, to be used when its
master wished to dampen down his ken-ki for some reasons. But to eliminate ki
to this extent, and that excellent shadow skill...
“You’re a
ninja. Whose?”
The stranger
raised one thin, elegant brow. He was a slender man with a face that could only
be described as beautiful, framed by neatly short raven-black bangs. His hair
was almost as long as Kenshin’s and he tied it up in a high ponytail, kept
tight with a silver clasp that was the only light in his whole attire. Full
lips curved up in a half-smile that was mirrored in a twisted reflection by the
cold gray eyes.
“I belong to
no one. Who’s your master, Hitokiri
Battousai?”
Kenshin
paused, not expecting a counter question. The other man’s voice was a smooth
baritone, not one he’d heard before among the masked omnitsus working for
Choshu Ishin Shishi.
“Don’t play
games with me. Who are you?”
The stranger
tilted his head to one side, his smile widening as he deliberately looked up
and down Kenshin’s body.
“You do
realize that you’re standing there naked, don’t you?”
That
remainder brought home the realization that he was standing in a barely
waist-high water, without a single stitch on his body. A small part of him
which still cared about such things reacted to that, sending a slight flush to
his cheeks. But the cold, intense concentration that came with the hitokiri’s
mind-set easily pushed the distraction aside.
“Your name,”
he grounded out coldly, “or I’ll hit first and ask questions later.”
“Violent,”
the stranger murmured lightly, “your reputation precedes you.” His smile
widened as Kenshin’s body tensed further, fingers tightening on the hilt of his
katana. “But, since I’ve already known your name...fair is fair.” He dropped
Kenshin a formal bow, the small twisted smile on his face making a mockery of
it, “Hajimemashite, Hitokiri Battousai. You can call me Arashi.”
Kenshin
frowned at that. Arashi. Storm. “That’s not your real name.”
“But it is
all that I will give you,” the person calling himself Arashi retorted. “Or are
you going to try to force it out of me, Battousai-san? I’ll warn you first
you’ll have a hard time doing it.”
Kenshin’s
face remained impassive as his thoughts churned. Enemy, or ally? He seemed
completely at ease here, which seemed to indicate that he was working for Ishin
Shishi. But the hostile attitude...
A soft patter
of footsteps sounded from behind him, a familiar pattern. Kanzaki.
“Himura, did
you... Ah, Arashi, there you are. Katsura-san is looking for you.”
The young
omnitsu did not look away from Kenshin as he answered, “Just enjoying the quiet
night, Kanzaki-san.”
“Sou-ka...,”
Kanzaki looked back and forth at the two men facing each other, a lop-sided
smile quirking his mouth, “This is the first time you two have met, isn’t it?
Well, Himura, meet Arashi. You can drop the sword, he’s one of us.”
Kenshin
slowly lowered his still sheathed katana, keeping his eyes on Arashi. Ishin
Shishi he might be, but ki or no ki, he could still sense the hostility coming
off from the other man. Kenshin got off the hot-spring pool and started pulling
on his clothes. To his consternation, Arashi kept gazing at him the whole time,
the small smile on his lips aggravating him.
He had to let
go of his katana to dress, but he’d be damned if he’d let his guard down with a
man he did not trust within reaching distance.
“Weren’t you
called?” he said pointedly, not bothering to be polite.
Kanzaki
smirked and motioned laconically at Arashi with his head, “Come on, you’re
making him nervous. You really don’t want a nervous hitokiri at your back.” The
last was delivered in a darker undertone. Kenshin did not react outwardly, but
inside he flinched.
He still remembers. Of course he would. Do you
expect him to forget and forgive? You’ve lost any right to his trust. A sharp flash of memory - a katana bathed in blood quivering a
finger’s width away from Kanzaki’s throat, a red droplet welling up where the
tip had pressed against the throat before he had recovered enough sense to rein
it in. The other man’s wide eyes and furious shout - Snap out it, damn you! Are you trying to kill us too?!
Not
intentionally, no. But that was not a very good reason at all. And an apology
was far too meaningless to give for something like that.
Arashi gave
Kenshin a final mocking bow, then followed Kanzaki towards the main building.
For a while, Kenshin just stared at the spot where he had stood. Then tying his
hakama, he walked towards the trees where Arashi had appeared. Squatting down,
he touched the grassy ground. There was just the barest of indentation on the
grass. If he did not see the man standing here just now, he would have sworn no
one had passed here.
Damn, he’s good. I wonder which omnitsu group he
belongs to. I’ve never seen him before in my life, why the animosity?
The man had walked on light feet, with
a spare economy of movements. He would be fast. Most probably agile too - he
had the build for it and there was a smooth grace in his limbs. The eyes caught
at his thoughts. Deliberate arrogance and veiled insults aside, his eyes had
held a confidence that was impossible to fake. He had seen enough of the false
ones to know the difference.
He remembered the long-haired omnitsu
from eight months ago, and the clawed man who tore his shoulder. They were
fast. Would this one be faster? If he dropped out of a tree behind him, would
he be able to catch him in time? For that matter, with that excellent blending
skill, would he able to sense him in time?
Kenshin shook his head almost angrily.
Damn it all, he was not in enemy camp, yet he still felt like he was.
Katsura-san wanted him to relax and catch some rest, but he would never get any
rest this way. He had to stop viewing and analyzing everyone like a potential
enemy.
Like a hitokiri.
Thoughts turning darker again, he
sighed and grabbed his swords. He might not be one anymore, but he was finding
out that the mind and the heart was not so easily convinced.
***
The sake had helped to warm Kyosuke up
and relax him, and he indulged himself in a little whistling as he walked
towards the bath-house. It was always nice to meet old friends, and he had been
in the Ishin movement long enough to make a lot of friends.
He turned a corner and nearly walked
head-on into Kanzaki who was coming from the opposite direction.
“Kanzaki-san,” he cheerfully called out
as the other man laid a steadying hand on his shoulder. “You missed the sake,
should’ve come sooner. Where’ve you been?”
Kanzaki grimaced, “Running errands,
fetching people, that sort of things. Katsura-san wanted to talk to Himura.”
Some of the warm contentment fled from
him, sobering him up. “Why?” he asked anxiously. “Not another mission so soon?
I don’t think he’s even fully recovered yet. You know he was hurt badly from
the last one.”
Kanzaki nodded curtly, “I know. But
most don’t. You’re in charge of supporting him, so you’d know, but remember not
to talk to the others about the extent of his wounds. His reputation has been a
useful thing in the past, it won’t be good for morale if the men know the
‘invincible Hitokiri Battousai’ was almost killed by that Okita Souji.”
Kyosuke nodded slowly, understanding
but not liking it one bit. “I won’t. But didn’t the Shinsengumi say anything?”
Kanzaki gave a lop-sided smirk, “They
said their Okita Souji had defeated ‘the red demon’ and the corpse is now
fish-bait. It’s on the streets everywhere.”
Kyosuke stared at him in consternation,
“Wait a minute, that’s not true!”
“Don’t worry. There’s another rumor
that said Himura Battousai not only soundly defeated the First Troop Captain,
but also that the whole First Troop was useless enough to let one man escaped
free from their midst.”
“Eh??”
Kanzaki grinned at Kyosuke, “Don’t look
so surprised. There’s always at least two sides to everything, remember? And
it’s not like it’s a complete lie... It’s got as much truth as theirs does.”
“…we’re the ones spreading them?”
“Now you’re catching on.” Kanzaki
grinned wider at Kyosuke’s rueful look, then he sobered up.
“Not that there’s much exaggeration
needed… to fight Shinsengumi’s ‘Ten-sai’ Okita Souji to a draw, with a wound
like that…”
He turned to Kyosuke with a troubled
look in his eyes. “Kyo… how long have we known each other?”
Kyosuke blinked, caught off-guard by
the sudden change of topic. “Et-to…five years now, I think.”
“Five years,” Kanzaki said quietly.
“And in these five years, have I mistreated you, or lead you wrong?”
“No,” Kyosuke replied, thoroughly
mystified now.
“So. You trust me?”
Kyosuke grinned at him, still not
catching on but on firmer ground. “Of course I trust you, Kanzaki-san. You’ve
saved my life so many times already.”
“Alright. If I give you an advice now,
will you listen to me?”
“Yes?”
“Stop being so close to Himura.”
Kyosuke blinked. “Eh?” Kanzaki was
staring at him intensely, without a trace of humor in his eyes.
He struggled for a few seconds before
finally coming out with a word. “Why?”
Kanzaki’s brows made a climb for his
hairline, “I would’ve thought that would be obvious.” He tilted his head then
continued in a thoughtful tone, “But for you… maybe not. You’ve always been the
trusting type.”
“Himura is not a bad person,” Kyosuke
said rather defensively.
The older man shook his head with a
slight air of exasperation. “That’s beside the point. That’s not why I want you
to stay away from him.”
“Huh?” Kyosuke was starting to wonder
if he’d drunk too much sake after all.
Kanzaki threw his hands up, “Mattaku!”
He walked over to a nearby large stone, no doubt an important part of the
refined garden, and sat himself carelessly over it. Leaning back, he continued
in a calmer tone. “Kyo, I’ve been an Ishin Shishi far longer than you have,
almost eight years now. I’ve seen people come and go, and over the years I’ve
seen more than a few hitokiri. Do you know how long they work in that kind of
line?”
“Uh... I have no idea... but they can’t
have continued for too long,” That kind of life must had taken quite a toll on
a person. Kyosuke had only to look at Kenshin to have some idea of the kind of
stress it must have put on a person.
Kanzaki nodded, “Right. In fact, they
usually don’t survive more than three years.”
Kyosuke stared at the older man, “That
short?”
“There are a few rare exceptions but,”
Kanzaki spoke the words slowly, “within three years most of them would be dead,
killed by enemies. One or two managed to quit and work as something else. The
rest...something went wrong, in here,” he lifted a finger to tap the side of
his head lightly, “...nothing that anyone else can help with.”
His snort was devoid of any humor,
“Thing is, it’s usually the smarter ones, the ones who seemed quite the decent
guy, who would turn out the worst. It’s almost as if, the brighter the light
is, the darker the shadow is when they turn.”
Kyosuke’s heart felt as if it was being
squeezed in a fist, “You’re saying...Himura...”
Kanzaki looked away. “I’ve seen better
men than him who didn’t survive. I don’t think he’d be any exception.”
“But he’s not a hitokiri any longer.”
Kyosuke protested, trying to find some logic that would break through the
dreadful feeling of premonition Kanzaki’s words was giving him. “You said some
of them managed to quit...”
“You think so?” Kanzaki peered at him
from the corner of his eyes. “Once a hitokiri, always a hitokiri. It’s not
something that you can just shed off like an old skin. It’s a mind-set, a way
of looking at things, an instinct. And if you think Himura is not one anymore -
just look at the way he fought, the way he held himself apart from the rest of
us, in or out of battle. A hitokiri is always alone, even among a crowd.
Especially in a crowd.”
Looking at Kyosuke’s stricken
expression, Kanzaki sighed softly, “I know why you... He does look a bit like
Takeshi, doesn’t he...? About the right age too. But they’re not the same
person, Kyo. And if you get too close to him, you’re going to end up killed.”
Kanzaki looked away, “Or worse.”
It’s not the appearance...it’s their heart...
“Kanzaki...,”Kyosuke asked in a small
voice, “...what happened to those hitokiri? The ones who didn’t quite...?”
Silence. Then - “We did the only thing
we could, before they did even more damage.”
The silence was thick enough to
suffocate in. Then Kanzaki softly said, “You’ve never seen... there’s nothing
as frightening as a man who’d lost himself to the madness... A few of them just
seemed to lose their will to live, but some of them...their eyes can give you
nightmare for years, especially if it was someone that you’ve known before...
“
Kyosuke stared at Kanzaki. The other
man still had his head turned away from him, but something in his voice...
“...do you know anyone...? Was one of
them your friend?”
“Hah... we’re talking about you,
remember? Don’t try to change the subject.”
Am I? Or are you the one who doesn’t want to talk about it?
“Look here.”
Kanzaki was tapping the front of his
throat. Kyosuke squinted but could not really see anything. “What?”
Kanzaki’s smile was mirthless. “You
can’t really see it, but I was this close,” he separated one thumb and
forefinger halfway along his neck side, “to paying a visit to the beyond. And
so were about five of my men.”
Kyosuke had a sinking feeling that he
knew what Kanzaki was going to say. He asked anyway, “Why?”
Kanzaki leaned back against the rock,
gazing up at the night sky, “It was about three months ago, we were guarding
some of the big shots, one of them was Sakamoto Ryoma.” At Kyosuke’s blank
look, Kanzaki shook his head ruefully, “…never mind. Anyway, we had a run of
really bad luck during that time, ended up getting chased by a whole bunch of
soldiers. We split up, half of us drawing the attention to let the ones
guarding the leaders escape. But we got cornered and surrounded. I thought that
was it...”
When Kanzaki did not continue, Kyosuke
nudged him none too gently, “Then?”
Kanzaki glared at him but continued
talking, “Himura was one of us. All of us were wounded at that time and getting
weaker, but he...he just seemed to get even faster and more fierce...” The older
man’s voice was getting softer, almost reflective. “If you could’ve seen his
eyes then... it was as if he wasn’t really seeing us, recognizing us... just
enemies, and him the only person left...” He stopped. “He killed all of them
you know. In the end, it was ten against one and it didn’t make any whit of
difference. He just went through them as if they were straw dolls standing
still waiting to be butchered.”
“I made the mistake of trying to pull
him away from the place. He’d had his katana against my throat before I could
even blink, I’ve never seen a man move that fast before.” Kanzaki smiled
grimly. “He was almost too far gone to recognize me. The blade was already
kissing my throat before he stopped.”
“But he…
stopped, didn’t he?” Kyosoke asked tentatively, his mind still reeling with the
picture the words had painted.
“Oh, yes. That time. The next time? I’m
not so sure. And I don’t intend to test it. I’m telling you this Kyo… I will
never trust him at my back, and it has nothing to do with skill. He isn’t trained to trust, to work inside a
group. His instincts are all wrong. Better for us that he work alone.”
Kyosuke shook his head, trying to come
out with something, anything that can give voice to the sense of unease that
had grown as he listened to Kanzaki. “That’s… it’s not… Kanzaki, I know you
know more about these things than I do. And it’s not that I don’t believe you…
I do! But that just doesn’t sound… right. Kenshin isn’t…” He grappled with
himself, wishing that he was better at words than this. He could not explain it
to Kanzaki, but what he felt was wrong. Wrong.
“You still don’t understand.” Kanzaki
raked a hand across his short cut hair, “I don’t know how to explain this
better, damn it, I’m not good with words. But listen…”
“Some people can do this job and walked
away in one piece. Some couldn’t. And I’m telling you… Himura is *not* in the
first group.”
When Kyosuke turned aside in confusion,
Kanzaki grabbed his arm, the strength of the grip underscoring the urgency
reflected in the man’s words. “Listen to me, Kyo! Bottom line is… he’s going to
lose it one of these days. And I don’t want you to be anywhere near him when
that happened.”
Kyosuke stared at Kanzaki, feeling
daunted by the conviction in the other man’s eyes. “I… I understand. And thank
you… for telling me all this.” He smiled tentatively. “I know you’re doing this
for my own good. I promise, I’ll be more careful. But Kanzaki… I can’t just…
walk away. I can’t. It’s… “ He exhaled, shaking his head. “Everybody, no matter
who, needs someone to talk to. A friend. You say he’s going to self-destruct,
but if no one is there to warn him when the time comes… And if I knew it before
hand and do nothing, then I might as well be the one that wield the sword.”
Kyosuke smiled but his eyes were glazed with sadness. “And I can’t do that,
Kanzaki. Not again. I’m sorry.” With a final clap on Kanzaki’s arm, he turned
away from the small garden.
Kanzaki continued staring long after
Kyosuke’s broad back disappeared around the bend before exhaling loudly. “Kuso… I don’t want to say this to you,
Kyo… your heart is always too big for your own good, but… Himura Battousai is
well on his way down the Shura path - and kami-sama help him, because I don’t
think anyone can. Not even you.”
***
Somewhere else in the night, a man was
running through a forest. Branches and knotted undergrowth tangled his feet and
several times he almost fell down. But he kept going, his breath coming in
great gasps as he threw fearful looks behind.
He could no longer hear the sound of
fighting behind him, and there were no signs of pursuit. But they would try to
catch him, he knew that. And if he were captured, then no one would know of
what happened today. He gritted his teeth and re-doubled his efforts.
Katsura Kogoro must be informed.
Sakamoto-san, please wait for me.
High above him, hidden among the thick
branches, two figures stood against a tree trunk and watched him run.
A lilting, feminine voice asked, “Is
this all right?”
“Just fine, don’t worry about it.”
The woman held up something in her
fingers that caught the faint moonlight and glinted with a wicked edge. It was
a small kunai.
“Do you want to make it look more
authentic?”
The man’s grin
was lost in the dark shadows. “Very well. Go ahead.”
As the woman vanished after the fleeing
man, a low growl sounded from higher above in the branches, sounding rather
dissatisfied.
The man chuckled softly. “I know… I’m
sorry, but you’ll just have to wait another day for a hunt.”
“I promise, this little bait will bring
in a much more satisfying prey.”
END
***
Notes:
1. The title comes from a medical term à Cognitive Dissonance = ‘an unpleasant state where one
simultaneously holds 2 ideas / opinions that are inconsistent with each other’.
I’m sure you can see where that applies here ^_^
2. Japanese terms:
Ten-sai = genius/prodigy
Mattaku = something like ‘oh for
goodness sake…’
Shoji = the rice-paper panels in
Japanese houses that act as walls and doors
3. Kanji for names:
Arashi = storm