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Log cast: Kenshin, Makie
Log date: 2/28/00 
Editor's note: This log picks up where 'kenshin-fight.txt' left off. 

The moonlight flickers over the fallen snow, creating a sheet of
 shimmering sparkles, the wind picking up to swirl streams of loose snow
 between the points of ground where the two kensai stand across from
 each other. The branches of the overhead trees creating skeletal
 shadows on the ground, the long fingers of the shadows shaking and
 trembling with the breeze. The soft hiss, the sound of a light wave
 from the lake slapping against the water's edge, these are the only
 thing to break the silence that follows when Kenshin turns to see the
 woman who approaches him. She knows his name and calls it out, the
 familiar tone carried over to him across the breeze, then her image
 steps out of the shadows and into the moonlight in the center of the
 yard. The dark violet eyes that stare out from a shadow shrouded face
 of Kenshin widen slightly then focus on the image of this woman, Makie,
 the woman who helped heal his wounds after his last battle. For some
 reason the greeting that is hinted on the lips of the rurouni are held
 back, his body stays so very still as he falls into silence. He looks
 her over then frowns lightly, not because of her changed guise from the
 last time they had laid eyes on each other. It is something sensed, a
 feeling, reflected by his quiet tone when he finaly speaks. 
 "Makie-dono, why are you here de gozaru ka? You're..ken-ki..." Just as
 he notes the change in her aura, the faint glimmer of moonlight from
 her weapons catch his eye and he takes a step back, angling his body
 and reaching with his right hand over to his sakabatou. But.. He pauses
 and catches himself, shaking his head and drawing his hand away from
 where it hovered near the hilt. What has happened he wonders as he
 stares to her.

Makie's lips twist into something vague, almost a smile, almost a smirk,
 yet at the same time nothing at all. Merely a twitch of muscle. Her
 eyes remain dark and shadowy, the fighter's spirit that has once more
 dug its angry fingers into her aura holding fast. "Saa... so it's
 Makie-'dono' now, is it?" She shakes her head, a humourless chuckle
 offered up, her head slightly bowed as she focuses her gaze on the snow
 at the rurounin's feet, the almost-smile still hinting at the corners
 of her lips. "I haven't been spoken to so politely in a long time. If
 ever." Looking up again, she tilts her head to the side, ragged hair
 falling over her eyes. The moonlight reflected off of the steel blades
 of her double glaive is captured again in the depthless pools of brown,
 drowning and swallowed up, only the briefest shine betraying that the
 light had ever been refracted in the first place. When Kenshin sees her
 weapons -- when his violet eyes widen, his feet taking him a step
 backwards -- the almost-smile suddenly becomes fully fledged, thick
 with bitterness. What's happened to her indeed? "I suppose I could ask
 you the same thing," she says, still quietly. "But it wouldn't make any
 difference, would it?" Her fingers creep upwards, curling lightly
 around the first section of the tri-staff, not really grabbing so much
 as reassuring herself of its presence, her eyes never leaving the
 rurounin's face. "Please don't get in my way, Kenshin-san. I don't know
 what you're doing here, but it doesn't have to concern you."

Kenshin's deep violet eyes flicker again, widening slightly more then
 slowly thinning as he watches Makie closely, the words and tone she
 speaks for some reason putting him on edge. "Makie-dono, I don't
 understand de gozaru yo.." The light frown returns again, a feeling
 pitting into a hard knot inside of his stomach, a faint tingling at the
 back of his neck. Even the short hairs over his arm seem to rise, but
 why he wonders, it has to be more than just the change in appearance.
 As she reaches for her weapon, is own hand without control of will,
 instinctively reaches over for the hilt of his sakabatou at his side.
 But he doesn't draw his hand away as he did before, this time he slips
 his left hand under to grip the saya and pulls it free from his belt,
 moving it over to be held idly in his right hand. He trusts his senses,
 he doesn't draw the sword but it will be ready. "This is where I live
 Makie-dono,  demo.. why are you here de gozaru ka? What doesn't concern
 me?" His thinned eyes stay on her gaze, the slender hand of the young
 woman's watched out of the corner of that gaze, watched as she keeps
 her hand near the weapon she carries with her.

A jingle of chains... But Makie doesn't relinquish her weapon from its
 resting place settled casually over her shoulders. It's a dangerous,
 frightening piece of equipment, and yet she handles it with an ease and
 subtle confidence, even when relaxed, as if it were simply an extension
 of herself. The blades are huge, dangerously sharp; the weapon itself
 must be over a foot taller than her if held on end, tip to tip. Just
 looking at it, you /know/ that such an odd weapon should throw anyone,
 let alone a slender woman with such thin arms, completely off-balance.
 Why, of all the weapons in the world, does she carry that one -- and
 why does she have it out here and now? Moonlight glints off of silvery
 steel again, returning focus to the blade, the source of the faint
 noise seen. Makie's turned the blade in her hand up, so the sharp curve
 points heavenward, the tip towards the rurounin. It could be
 intrepreted as an aggressive move, or it could not. After all, besides
 that brief movement, the glaive still rests at ease around her
 shoulders. "There is a woman here by the name of Aerith Gainsborough,"
 she answers after the silence has settled in and stagnated the air, the
 air around the young woman suddenly darker somehow, as if the moon and
 stars have decided to stop shining on her for the briefest of moments,
 only the pure milk-white of her skin keeping her visible. There's a
 sigh in her voice, barely detectable. "Her presence is wanted by
 another. I've come to make sure she goes." 

Kenshin's thin eyebrow lifts in question, studying the weapon behind the
 woman's back, studying the tone in which she speaks. He can't help but
 be suspicious, he knows something is not right. His gut instinct tells
 him so. "You want to take Aerith-dono from here? For what reason de
 gozaru ka?" He slides his foot forward and straightens his back, a
 glance given over towards the house, the lights from inside of the home
 lighting up the yard that surrounds it. But over by the lake, there is
 only the light from the lady lunar overhead. The rurouni turns from his
 glance to look over to Makie, that strange feeling still radiating from
 her, like a unnatural chill that mixes in with the already biting
 breeze. "Makie-dono, you've changed.." Lightly he takes in a breath,
 then releases it, his breath rising like a faint mist. A silence
 settles in for the moment, Kenshin just stares to Makie, studying her
 and then a light breeze begins to surge forth from the rurounin. Flakes
 of snow rolling across the ground in whisps, it is indeed that the
 breeze is flowing from Kenshin. It is a test, part of his skill where
 he sends forth his own ken-ki(warriors spirit) to try and guage his
 opponent. Or rather in this case, a friend who has something changed
 about her.

The sky is mostly clear, only high altitude clouds forming thin, cotton
 like layers break up the austere field of blue sky.  The temperature is
 cool, but not as cold as it has been, the breeze enough to motivate
 enough to wear some sort of protection from the weather when traveling
 out doors.  During the night, the stars give off their continuous glow,
 aided by the moon, their light enhanced by the reflective surface of
 white snow over the surface of the earth.

Makie would be disappointed with the rurounin if he weren't suspicious. 
 When the air around the crimson haired swordsman turns static and
 begins to move, tossing up the crystal specks of snow, swirling and
 dancing at their feet, she simply stands there, looking at him. She
 doesn't so much as blink. The rurounin's ken-ki surges out, testing her
 skill, and the result may well be unnerving. She's powerful, this
 delicate-seeming woman with her skinny arms and slender hands. Within
 that small frame is something dangerous, lightning-quick speed and
 extraordinary skill. The bloodline of the samurai clan, the Harukawa,
 runs true in this woman's veins, perhaps truer than anyone had ever
 dreamed it could. It was more than her brother could handle, after all.
 And it's certainly more than she can as well. Makie closes her eyes
 against the ripple of ken-ki; it's barely detectable, yet she reacts to
 it anyway, both hands grasping the handles of her weapon, the bars
 lifted from her shoulders slowly. Eyes opening again, still steady on
 Kenshin's face, the rueful smile gone from her lips, she repeats
 quietly, "This doesn't have to concern you, Kenshin-san." It's the same
 words as before, but different somehow. Before they seemed more like a
 statement of fact. Now, with her glaive in hand, her dark eyes
 flickering, it seems more like a warning.

"Makie-dono is different now, I don't know what has happened to you
 since we last were together.." His words trail off for the moment,
 carried away with the swirling breeze that moves across the two of
 them, the pause in his speech as his eyes move over to the young
 swordwoman's hands that grip the weapon that is with her. ".. I sense
 that you are dark now, so I cannot allow you to take Aerith-dono away
 de gozaru yo." The hand that holds his saya firmly lifts slightly, a
 quiet jingling sounding out, but that is the only movement he makes in
 response to the warning from Makie. Silence falls over the yard again
 as a standoff seems to have arisen. Kenshin cannot allow his friend to
 be taken away, but there is a fear inside that he will have to fight
 another, to have to make a choice within a few moments. He doesn't
 move, doesn't speak, his gaze steadying on the form of his friend
 across from him, eyes thinning and expression taking on a grim serious
 tone.

Makie smiles then, fleetingly. "I haven't changed, Kenshin-san," she
 corrects softly, lashes drifting down slightly to frame her eyes, the
 brown of her irises melding with her pupils until all that is left is a
 pair of opaque, unreadable orbs. Her grip on the weapon shifts; one
 hand remains fixed around the staff, the other moving to hold the
 blade, suspending it between her index and middle finger, holding it
 out and behind her. "I've just finally understood what everyone's been
 trying to tell me all along." She releases the blade, hand still
 extended, time slowing. Silver steel blurs through the air, painfully
 gradual, like the movement of a pendulum falling back-- then time snaps
 back into play, seconds screaming past in a blink of an eye, the
 woman's body turning with a sharp jerk of her arm. The weapon's course
 changes drastically from a downward arch to a horizontal one, as
 Makie's sandaled feet slide against the snow into a deeper stance,
 shoulders rolling slightly as she brings her glaive around in a circle,
 the blade diving towards the rurounin's upper arm. 

Kenshin blinks then his eyes widen, the violet colour shifting into a
 deeper hue, his pupils shrinking down considerably. The blade that
 races towards him seems to slip into slow motion, all sound dying out
 and a crushing silence settling in, the sound of his heartbeat and
 heavily pumping blood flooding his ears. Everyting fades away..
 Silence, and then everything flashes back in as the howl of Makie's
 glaive ripping through the air is heard, the razor sharp killing blade
 streaking towards Kenshin. Instinct kicks in and the rurouni leans his
 body back then leaps, the tip of the blade just missing him, the blade
 only slicing through kicked up snow from when he moved. He lands a few
 feet away, near the edge of the water, so close that one foot is in the
 lake. In shock, Kenshin can only stare at Makie, his eyes wide and body
 stopped over slightly, his saya switched and held in his left hand
 securely, his right reaching over to grip the hilt of his sakabatou.

The blade sings through the air, slicing through the empty space left
 behind as Kenshin leaps into the air, making a complete curve before
 the handle of the staff section slaps back into Makie's hand, already
 outstretched to catch it, her fingers curling over the cold metal. She
 doesn't move though, not yet. Even with the rurouni's eyes upon her,
 blank with disbelief, she doesn't meet his gaze. She instead stares out
 straight in front of her, her expression impassive. "My brother was a
 swordsman too," she say suddenly, her voice soft, speaking to 
 red-haired rurouni without looking at him. "He wasn't meant to be, but
 he worked very hard. So hard that he was chosen to be the heir to the
 dojo." She bows her head slightly, looking to her weapon, then up
 again, turning her head slowly to look back towards Kenshin, a faint,
 tired smile worming its way over her lips. "He would've been about your
 age, I think." There's a pause as the woman grows still again, a breeze
 whispering through, tugging at the folds of her red kimono, running
 invisible fingers through her short, ragged locks of hair. Then finally
 she turns to face the rurounin, her melancholy smile fading again in
 light of something harder. She lifts up her tri-sectioned glaive again,
 watching her friend-turned-opponent's face. "Please, Kenshin-san. Do
 not make the mistake of believing that I will not kill you if you get
 in my way."

"Iie Makie-dono de gozaru yo.." The rurouni straightens his back, rising
 out of his stooped over position, the jingling of his sword heard as he
 releases the hilt and just holds the saya in his hand. "I will not let
 you get past me.." He takes a few steps forward, keeping his face
 tilted downward, his gaze lifted though to meet with the young woman's,
 the light sounds of splashing as he steps out of the shallow water
 along the shoreline. "And I will not let you take my friend de gozaru
 yo. Gomen ne, please understand." Slowly he walks towards Makie,
 stopping a respectable distance from her, placing himself between her
 and the house where his friend sits inside. Humbly he bows his head,
 keeping his head bowed for the moment as the silence settles in, then
 lifts his face and gaze to look to Makie. His expression hidden by the
 shadow of his long bangs, but deep violet eyes seen easily through the
 darkness.

While the rurounin's eyes can be seen through the black of night,
 Makie's cannot. In fact, the majority of her is blocked out by shadow.
 What is visible, the ethereal ashen cast of her skin, seems to glow
 faintly in the moonlight, like an apparition of sorts. Maybe she is, so
 to speak, for there certainly is something about this woman that is not
 all there. Perhaps it's the blank nothingness in her enshadowed gaze,
 eyes too old for a woman so young, having seen and did far too much for
 even her to comprehend fully. All she has -- all she's ever had -- is
 her music and her fights. Her music was always a release of sorts; in
 singing, she could remember everything and let it go, lost innocence,
 granting that she ever had any to begin with, put to melody. But
 fighting was, is, an escape. She doesn't have to let anything go when
 she fights. She forgets everything, all that matters being the blood
 pounding in her ears and the dance of blades in the air. "I didn't
 think you would," she murmurs, more to herself than to the rurouni,
 when he refuses to stand down. But that's the way it always works,
 doesn't it? She single-handedly managed to destroy her family; why not
 her friends too?  Her sandals move slickly against the snow-strewn
 ground again, widening her stance to something more stable, positioning
 the sections of the divided staff of her glaive to follow the line of
 her arms, the center behind her so that the weapon seems to wrap
 around. She moves forward-- one step, then another, before things begin
 to blur again. Except this time it's not the weapon, but the woman
 herself, as she flies forward to close the distance between herself and
 the rurouni, glaive whipped out from behind one-handedly. Its chain
 clanks loudly, betraying the movement a split second before it's
 executed. Twisting her body for leverage, she stabs the glaive forward,
 her front hand releasing the weapon once it's moving while the other
 keeps it going from behind, the sharp point of the blade aimed for the
 swordsman's midsection.

Kenshin's eyes focus on the blade that races forward for him, the glint
 of moonlight reflecting off of the steel blade's surface shimmering in
 his eyes, reflecting on his face. He takes in a deep breath the moves!
 The sound of a shortbattle cry sounds out as he lifts the saya in his
 left hand, his right switching over to partialy draw his sakabatou. He
 holds the sword still in it's saya virticaly, stepping back and to the
 side as he moves his weapon around to meet with the glaive that streaks
 towards him. His teeth clentch together tight as he flexes his arms,
 preparing for the strike that happens in the next hearbeat, the blade
 of the glaive striking against the blade of his own partialy drawn
 sakabatou. -CHIIIIINNNG- The reverberating sharp tone of metal against
 metal echos out, the sudden steely sound startling nightbirds perched
 on a branch on the trees nearby and sending them to fly off. He blocks
 the strike and lets the power behind the strike, the momentum to push
 him back and away from Makie where he comes to a sliding halt leaning
 over. He freezes in place, staring to the ground and taking in quiet
 breaths, then he lifts his gaze and stands upright. The look he gives
 her is determined, his eyes thin as he resheaths his sakabatou and then
 holds it to his side, locking his gaze to Makie and shaking his head.
 "Makie-dono, please do not do this. I will be forced to stop you de
 gozaru yo. You cannot win over me.." His tone is quiet and apologetic,
 for a moment his gaze taking a sadened tone as he just watches his
 friend turned foe.

But Kenshin's quiet words fall on deaf ears. Even as he resheathes his
 sword, Makie is still moving, from one attack to the other with
 graceful fluidity. There's no stopping here, no margin for error. She
 can't pause, because then she risks breaking her concentration, and if
 that goes, so does the fight. And she can't lose, she /can't/. Kenshin
 may not want to fight her, but he's the only obstacle between her and
 the house and the target inside. If he doesn't want to fight, that's
 fine, he doesn't have to and she certainly won't make him. But he WILL
 get out of her way. The blade collides with that of the rurouni's
 sakabatou; hissing between her teeth, she digs her heels into the 
 snow-slickened ground and jerks her glaive back, the weapon snapping
 back the way it came, up and around to fall back into her empty,
 outstretched hand. There's not even a half-second's respite before her
 front foot is moving forward, her body spinning on the ball of her
 foot, glaive held diagonal with the blade sweeping up again from below,
 an angle cut streaking forward with the intent to slice open his chest
 or embed in his side. Perhaps sheathing his sword wasn't the greatest
 of ideas; friend or foe, this woman isn't stopping. 

Kenshin's eyes flash then narrow, the wind picking up for the moment and
 rustling his feathery bangs, the moonlight reflected off the coming
 blade again lighting up his face, exposing the grim stare that is
 waiting for Makie. A slight step back taken, his saya held in one hand,
 he swings it down to block the rising glaive from striking his chest,
 but the tip of the glaive's razor sharp blade hits his hip and draws
 blood. But better than the result of it slicing open his side or
 perhaps digging into his chest, so with the blade blocked, his right
 hand quickly reaches for the hilt of his sheathed sakabatou. The
 rurounin's eyes widen as he lets out a long battecry, drawing his
 sakabatou in a flash and spinning around, to gain torque and add power
 to the downward strike he attempts for Makie's shoulder when he comes
 around from the spin. "aaaAAHHHHH!" Blood flecks out from the wound as
 he turns, the pure white snow stained with crimson, the strike of Makie
 and then the counter strike from Kenshin all happening in a matter of
 split seconds. 

Makie's brows furrow lightly when her blade strikes the saya instead of
 flesh. Even if the tip drew blood anyway, she seems displeased with the
 results, though the expression is fleeting, barely noticeable. Her face
 takes on a distant expression, as if she were seperated from her
 movements. It makes her difficult to read, rather as if she was running
 completely on autopilot. Perhaps she is. Kenshin's kiai startles her,
 but not so badly that she doesn't think to counter the strike coming
 towards her shoulders.  The advantage to fighting with two weapons, or
 at least a two-bladed weapon, is being able to attack and defend on
 multiple fronts. The one blade is still against the rurouni's saya; the
 other, lifeless a moment before, snaps upwards to block the downward
 strike. The manuever is too awkward though, so the block collides
 against the metal staff of the glaive rather than the blade, bringing
 the sakabatou dangerously close to the hand that grasps the weapon
 itself. An inch or two closer, and she might have lost a finger.
 Swearing silently, she suddenly jumps back again, taking her glaive
 with her, trying to move temporarily out of the rurouni's range.

Kenshin swings his sword down, keeping commited to the strike and
 movement, then swiftly pulls his sword back and too in turn, takes a
 slight hop back out of fighting range. Landing from the hop stopped
 over slightly he straightens his back and lifts his gaze to keep an eye
 on the other's movements, saya in one hand and newly repaired sakabatou
 with in the other. The moonlight traces a path along the edge of the
 reveresed blade, a thin bead that this time is able to trace a path to
 the tip of a full blade. Kenshin's eyes burn with a determined fire,
 his expression grim however as he doesn't want to fight with this
 person, but he senses something dark within and cannot allow his
 friends inside the house to be exposed to this. The blood drops from
 his side and to the ground, he doesn't move from his spot, hand lifting
 to tuck the saya under his belt and hold it secure. Then his right
 hand, sakabatou ready, reaches over to resheath the blade as he slides
 a foot back and turns his body to angle towards Makie. Settling into
 the 'battou jutsu' stance. Kenshin closes his eyes for a brief moment,
 sliding the sakabatou into it's saya then tapping the end of the hilt
 once, drawing the hand away to hover so very close to that hilt. His
 eyes open and look over to Makie, his head shakes and he stands ready.

Something dark indeed. The void has taken the young woman's mind,
 leaving behind only the fighter. It's really such a pity that such pure
 talent was wasted; had her family been more understanding, had she
 oppurtunity to learn self-discipline, had she been born a boy, she
 would have made a fine samurai. Two minutes into the fight, and Makie's
 already let the fighter's frame of mind take over. Do or die. But the
 effect it leaves upon the young woman is devastating. Her eyes seem far
 too bright, far too haunted and empty of emotion. Stare too long into
 the abyss and the abyss will stare back; she looks as if stared too
 long and got swallowed up instead.  Shoulders shaking slightly, Makie
 flicks a glance briefly to the rurouni's face, reasserting her hold on
 her glaive, making sure her hands are evenly spaced before coming in at
 him again. Her speed is uncanny, nigh inhuman; while her thin build
 doesn't allow much in the way of upper body strength, it more than
 makes up for it in raw dexterity and quickness of movements. At first,
 as she darts forward, it may seem as if she's going to try and slash at
 him with her glaive again-- that's what she's hoping he'll think, at
 least. But then, at the last moment, her body suddenly twists, weight
 thrown downward and the blade with it, slamming it into the frozen dirt
 for leverage as she executes an odd sort of modified
 handstand/cartwheel with the embedded glaive as her support. The rest
 of her body archs through the air, holding fast to the glaive, a
 sandaled foot blurring through the air. With Kenshin standing at an
 angle to her, she's aiming to kick him in the back of the head. In
 truth, fairly easy to block or dodge -- so long as he sees it coming. 

Kenshin meets his gaze with Makie and his thins more, the fire of the
 battle burning within those eyes, his expression reflecting that as he
 readies for the attack to come. Then it happens, Makie moves and so
 does Kenshin's hand, quickly moving to grip the hilt of his waiting
 sakabatou, fingers curling around and tightening. The muscles in his
 arm and wrist tightening strongly, the key to the attack is to judge
 the attack and distance of the opponent and then draw the blade quickly
 to counter. He readies, waiting, the split seconds it takes for her to
 cover ground moving in slow motion. The rurouni is ready for what she
 has for him, but that is when she changes the course of her flowing
 blurring movement and it snaps Kenshin out of his ready state.
 Distracted? His gaze darts to find hers and that is when he sees the
 almost stoic look in her glassy eyes - time fades away for the moment
 as the face of another flickers into view. The face of a beautiful dark
 haired woman, dressed in a pale violet and white kimono, her face
 expressionless but oh so flawless. A dolls face that has never held a
 smile. Except for one time.. A face that is from the depths of his
 past. The face fades away and Makie's fades back in, moving in and out
 of the shadows the moon creates in the open back yard of the flower
 shop, his senses slowly returning as he realizes what she is up to!
 With little time he twists his wrist and grips tight, quickly moving to
 draw his gaze but instead is struck along side of the head by a kick
 from her. His eyes slam shut and he reels from the hit, hand falling
 from the hilt of his sakabatou as he stumbles to the side and lands on
 one knee, shaking and clutching his dizzy head. "Ah huh..." 

Almost effortlessly, Makie finishes the manuever, feet landing lightly
 on the ground after kicking the rurouni in the head. She straightens,
 flipping her hair back reflexively to keep it from her eyes, though now
 it's too short for it to make any difference either way. She releases
 her glaive and regrabs it for a better grip that doesn't threaten to
 twist her wrists out of joint; with some effort, she manages to jerk
 the blade out of the frozen dirt, a light spray of snow and cold soil
 tossed up in its wake. She turns then to face the fallen swordsman, her
 expression cold, unwavering from its utter lack of feeling save in her
 eyes. The brown-black depths are alive with emotion, bright
 determination intermingling with unhappiness and discontent. She takes
 a step forward, glaive in hand, and begins to bring the blade up in an
 arching slice towards the young man's side...
... and stops. Kenshin is not the only one that suffers from memories
 that refuse to die. The young swordsman's shaking figure, bent inward
 as he holds his head, why does that--? Makie stops, a chip beginning to
 show in her perfect mask of calm. 'My brother was a swordsman too... He
 would've been about your age, I think.' Weren't those her own words,
 spoken only minutes ago before the fight began? Ten years old, a bokken
 in her hand, a girl-child knocked her older brother off his feet with a
 single stroke ... 

A strong, cold wind blows through, not a cloud left in the sky.  From
 rooftops and tree branches, patches of snow fall, sometimes landing on
 the heads of those below. And along the ground, small crystals of ice
 are scraped from the snow banks to blow through the air, sometimes
 making it hard to see if one is attempting to look in the direction
 from which the wind is blowing.  The night isn't much different, the
 wind much colder than during the day, temperatures dropping far below
 freezing. 

"Get up," Makie says suddenly, her beautiful voice thick and hoarse. She
 steps away again, shaking slightly as well, though she struggles very
 hard not to let it show. Her grasp on her tri-sectional glaive shifts
 again, pointing both blades down to the ground. She takes a deep
 breath, then another step back, giving the rurouni space before
 repeating, her voice raising. "Get up, Kenshin-san, or give up."

A quiet voice calls out from the face that looks to the ground, "Iie,
 Makie-san. I will not de gozaru yo.." The deep violet eyes of Kenshin
 lift as his face does, one eye closed as he grimaces from the throbbing
 at the side of his head, his hand covering the light bump there
 slipping down to the grip of his sakabatou as he pushes himself up from
 his kneeling state. He rises and stands, moving his hand for only a
 moment to brush off the snow and dirt from his hakama pants, then he
 grips the hilt of his sakabatou and draws the reversed blade, taking a
 step back to turn his body to face Makie's. "I am forced to turn you
 back Makie-dono, gomen nasai de gozaru yo." Doublechecking his saya at
 his side, tucked under his belt, he looks over to Makie to meet gaze
 and then drops into a battle ready stance. Turning more so that he now
 faces his left side to Makie, tilting the tip of his sakabatou downward
 as he grips it firmly with both hands. A biting wind streaks past them,
 kicking up swirls of pure white snow, the air cold but the blood of the
 warrior hot. His expression deepens with determination, the pitch of
 his voice lowering as he calls over over the wind, pushing back the
 bite of the cold. "Ikuze, Makie-dono.."

Some of the emptiness in Makie's eyes has been filled. Somewhere around the
 moment that Kenshin was startled, something shook her profoundly as well; her
 perfect mask has been damaged, some of the uncertainty beginning to bleed
 through. It's miniscule, barely noticeable, but betrayed by the slightly
 tighter grip she holds on her glaive, the tensing of her jaw as she grits her
 teeth lightly. Then she swallows and her face relaxes, but the crack in the
 perfect porcelain face is still there, visible in her eyes. She smiles
 though, humourlessly and ever so faintly, as the redhaired rurouni finds his
 feet again, settling back into a ready stance. "Hai," she breathes softly in
 reply, a mist of crystallized air escaping her lips with the syllable. She
 raises her glaive... then, without preamble, blurs forward again, one blade
 held up and ready at her side while she attacks with the second, the blade
 streaking forward in a sheen of moonlit silver.

Kenshin's eyes flicker, reflecting the image of the fast approaching Makie as
 she races towards him, thinning as he readies then launches forward to meet
 with her. His own form a blur of movement, snow and dirt kicked up as he
 launches himself forward, the howl of the two fast moving bodies crying out
 into the air, mixing in with his powerful battlecry. The first attack is
 carried out, his sword twisted and then thrusted forward to meet with the
 blade that reaches out for him, a sharp reverberating tone echoing out once
 again as steel meets steel, sparks flying and pouring to the snow covered
 ground. The snow melted away partialy by the sparks. "AAAAAHHHH!" The
 rurounin grits his teeth as he pushes against Makie's blocked attack, trying
 to push her away and get into position for some form of counter. Quickly he
 again twists his wrist and angles the reversed blade so that if points
 downward, then he jerks the end of the hilt upwards to attempt a strike to
 her shoulder then in keeping with the movement, circle the blade around for a
 second attempted strike to her side with the dull part of the sakabatou.

Makie curses silently as her attack is parried, her momentum so great that she
 finds it difficult to stop abruptly, especially when her sandals slide across
 the snow instead of digging in for a foothold. Perhaps she should be grateful
 that the end of the hilt of Kenshin's sakabatou keeps her from sliding smack
 into the rurounin-- except, considering the manuever hurts like hell, she
 probably won't have time to thank him. A sharp, painful cry splits her lips
 as the tsuka slams into her shoulder, all but knocking it out of the socket.
 Her body twists with the blow, saving her that at least, one hand releasing
 her glaive as it goes to the injured shoulder. Then a moment too late, she
 sees the second strike come around -- "N-Naze? -!!" Then the wind is knocked
 out of her as the sakabatou strikes her midsection instead of her side. She
 meant to twist away from any oncoming attacks, but instead managed to take it
 in the worst possible place: the solar plexus. "/GUH/--" The force of the
 blow coupled with the loss of air sends her skidding backwards. Her sandals
 kick up snow, then give away beneath her, until she falls rather
 undignifyingly on to her rear, one hand managing to keep hold of her glaive
 while the other grips her shoulder. She doesn't move for a moment, bracing
 her knuckles into the snow as she gasps for breath, her eyes widened to their
 limits.

Kenshin finishes through the circling movement of his strike, pausing for a
 moment and freezing in place as Makie's body free falls away and to the
 ground, the mist from her forced out breath rising into the air before 
 dissapating into nothingness. He keeps the position then turns his body
 to face her as he draws his blade in, angling the tip downward as he takes a
 light step to get into position. The blade is held secure with both hands,
 his body still, making no move upon Makie while she is down and recovering.
 He says nothing, doesn't move, breathing controled and quietly. The wind
 picks up and rustles the loose fabric of his hakama pants and kyogi top, the
 baggy sleeves of his kyogi billowing with the breeze and the front of the
 tunic opened slightly. Revealing the still bandaged frame of his upperbody,
 still healing from the wounds that this woman he fights with had nursed for
 him. The moon shines down behind Kenshin, sillouhetting his form, hiding many
 of his features in dark shadow. Only one feature can be seen as he looks down
 to Makie - those thinned deep violet eyes - thinned and determined, a mix of
 his warriors spirit and regret within the strong passionate gaze. As he lifts
 his face, the shadows break away and reveal his expression. Thin lips pressed
 together in a firm line, jaw set, a stern look that also holds remorse. "I
 hate to have to fight you Makie-dono.." he says in that low tone, his words
 serious, "..but you will not step past me de gozaru yo!" Upon finishing his
 statement, his eyes switch to a lighter hue, to a brighter violet than
 before. Then his eyes thin.

[to be continued.]