Log cast: Makie, Kenshin
Log date: 2/29, 3/1/00
Editor's note: This is the third and last file in the three episode
series of the battle between Otono-Tachibana Makie and Himura Kenshin.
Makie stays on the ground for a few moments, the hand that gripped her
shoulder moving to splay fingers against her chest, as if doing so
would help her lungs to recover from getting the wind knocked out of
her quicker or make the bitter chill in the air easier to swallow. As
Kenshin turns to face her, the glow of the moon behind him outlining
his silhouette in an ethereal cast, as if someone had taken a piece of
wet chalk and sketched him out against a black canvas, she raises her
gaze slowly from the ground to his face, the harsh gasps of breath she
utters painting grey in the air. The revealed bandages do not escape
her notice either. Dark eyes shift briefly from his face to the expanse
of chest and wrappings revealed by V-opening of his kimono top. Her
breathing returns to normal after a while, though it pauses for a
moment as she holds her breath, then releases it in a light sigh.
Rolling off of her rear end and into a kneeling position, Her head bows
gently; invisible fingers tousle her harshly-cut hair, causing it to
ripple in the breeze, the dark strands playing shadow games across her
porcelain features. "No, I suppose I won't, will I?" she asks suddenly,
her gaze descending from the opening of the rurouni's gi to the ground
at his feet. What this, a change of heart? For a moment, it might seem
as much when indecision takes hold of the young woman, her ken-ki
wavering like a candleflame caught in the breeze, threatening to go
out... Her fingers tighten gently around the sectioned staffs of her
glaive. "Then I will have to go through you." And, just like that, she
flares again, and the woman surges forward, a streak of black, white,
and red, rising to her feet in the same motion, the chain of the glaive
clinking melodically in the air as she spins it, bringing the blade
towards the rurouni in an upward slash, the momentum of both the weapon
itself and her rising motion lending speed and power to the slicing cut.
Kenshin quickly reacts when she strikes, a deep frown forming over his
expression as at first he felt that she might back off, that this could
all be avoided. But now the fight has stepped up to the next level,
anger filling his heart as she betrays the trust he was about to offer
her, his face holding the frown but eyes holding a certain sadness.
There is a bright flash as he quickly strikes out at the blade racing
for him, the moonlight glinting off of both pieces of steel as they
strike together and the loud shimmering tone echos out once again.
Perhaps louder and with more aggression than before. His eye close for
a heartbeat then flash open as he grits his teeth and growls low in his
chest. His eyes lightening more, the violet hue so faint, the eyes
thinning as his dark crimson eyebrows slant downward. He knows he
cannot let this person get by him, to protect over his friends in the
house yards away he must fight back -this- friend. A choice that breaks
his heart as he blocks the upwards strike from the stoic swordswoman.
The force of the strike pushes him back, where he comes to a sliding
halt a few feet away and shakes his head, his grip tightening on the
hilt of his ready weapon. "Gomen nasai, Makie-dono.." He ducks low then
suddenly launches forward in a blur, clouds of snow kicked up in his
wake as he races towards her. "AAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!" His course is a
straight line for her, but then he turns off quickly to try and get
around Makie, to get to her side where he switches the grip on his
sakabatou to his right hand and attempts a hard strike to her back with
the dull edge of his reversed blade.
Sparks fly when the steel of the two blades clash again. The stars from
the heavens above descend to dance between the two, melting the snow at
their feet, the hissing streaks of light reflected in the rurouni's
amethyst gaze as well as Makie's dark one. The emotion is gone from the
woman's face again - the void has once more taken her eyes, the shape
of her expression, the set of her lips. Only haunted emptiness remains.
Does she know the betrayal that Kenshin feels in response to her
actions? Does it affect her in any manner? It's hard to tell; whatever
she feels is carefully hidden behind her porcelain mask. When the force
of her attack, even deflected, forces the rurouni back, Makie presses
onward, blurring forward to meet him as he launches towards her in a
responding attack-- only to move? The manuever catches the girl by
surprise, sandals skidding against the snow as she tries to stop, her
head jerking around to look back at him-- only to hear the clean
whistle of steel slicing through the air, blanking her mind out,
leaving her to instinct. She drops suddenly to her knees, still
skidding a few inches, snow soaking into the folds of her kimono, the
sakabatou's blade sailing past over her head, only a few inches shy of
collision. In the same movement, she twists and whips her glaive about,
aiming it towards the rurounin's shin.
A streak of white light follows just behind the path of the sakabatou as
Kenshin misses with his attack, the force he put behind the strike
throwing him slightly off balance and leaving him open to the strike to
the lower part of his leg. To the side of his shin, striking him hard
but luckily not by the sharp edge of the glaive's blade. But hard
enough still that it takes the rurouni off of his feet and he falls to
the ground on his side, arm hyper extended over his head and the wind
knocked out of him as his body takes the brunt of the power of his
missed strike. He lands and looses snow clouds up, along with chunks of
dug up dirt, his cry silenced as the air is taken or rather, -forced-
from his body leaving him to gasp as he rolls away from Makie. To come
to a stop on his stomach and face down. But he isn't down for long as
his survivalistic instincts kick in and force him up to his knees, no
time given to catch his breath, no time to even get his blurred vision
focused. The uncanny instincts gained when he was hitokiri called up
from within, to rely on his gut instinct rather than physical senses.
Reeling from dizziness and swaying, he shakes his head and stands,
staring over with a unfocused gaze and taking a battle stance. Drawing
his blade to the front as he widens his footing, digging in firmly and
getting his whits with what little time he knows he has. His right arm
aches from being stretched, his chest burns and head throbs. Unsure
fully of Makie's position he rushes forward to the spot he remembered
her being just seconds ago, lifting his sakabatou over his head with a
two handed grip and then strikes the ground with aggression. The Hiten
Mitsurugi Ryuu - Do-Ryu-Sen, the attack of the Earth Dragon, the power
at the point of impact where the sword strikes the ground, breaking
apart the ground and sending chunks of rock and frozen dirt forward
towards his opponent. He is not sure where she is as he is still
recovering, so he calls upon this wide range attack to buy him some
time. To attempt this if she is still where he remembers.
Perhaps to the rurounin's good fortune, Makie has not moved far from her
original position. The metal rod of the glaive strikes against
Kenshin's shin and ricochets, a snap of her wrist furthering the
movement and bringing it back to smack into her open, waiting palm,
fingers curling over it. She watches as the crimson haired swordsman
rolls out of the way, slowly rising to her feet again as she does so,
ignoring the wet chill that creeps into her knees where they met the
cold, frozen ground. She frowns as the rurounin gets to his feet again,
almost immediately after being knocked to the ground. "Hnh," she
murmurs through closed lips, fine eyebrows drawing together to shoot a
line over the bridge of her nose, her perfect mask marred with
frustration and bemusement. As Kenshin settles back into a ready
stance, she starts towards him again, taking her time, letting him
recover, believing that he won't do anything until she's within reach
of his sword. Her arrogance, her loss, for when Kenshin executes the
Do-Ryu-Sen, she is once more taken completely off-guard, and with far
less time to react. She jerks her glaive up, crossing the two blades in
front of her face to serve as shield, clods of dirt and rock
ricocheting off of the steel, her feet moving into a wider, firmer
stance against the onslaught. But the twin blades offer meager
protection at best as a shield - projectiles escape between the cracks,
between the edges, raining against her face and body. But that's not
the real danger: while she can stand up against the rain of rocks
against her slight form, backing away slowly as she does so, the clods
of frozen dirt that strike the flat side of her blades end up
exploding, flinging cold dust into her face and eyes. Crying out
sharply, a hand goes to her face, dropping one of the blades and
jerking out of the way of the remaining barrage of stones. But once
she's out of the way, she doesn't move, shoulders hunched forward
slightly with the back of her hand pressed to her eyes, the girl left
temporily blinded.
Kenshin lowers his head as the attack follows through, a free hand
reaching for his face to clutch as he takes in a deep much needed
breath, despite the burning in his chest and aching in his upperbody.
His vision focuses and some of the diziness fades, only the sore after
affects felt from the fall now. Having regained some of his senses, he
lifts his face and gaze to look over to Makie, drawing his sword up and
dropping back into a battle ready stance. The sakabatou gripped firmly
with two hands now, a single step taken forward, snow crunching
underfoot, the chill in his cold feet ignored as he readies to move in
on Makie again for a follow up. But he pauses, the tip of his sakaba
lowering slightly, his guard still up but the pause given as she is
blinded. "Makie-dono, turn away now.." is called over in a low tone,
his movements halted as he stares to the other fighter in this battle.
The stern tone of his expression has lifted just slightly, still the
hurt of having to fight her is there, along with the determination to
try and stop her, but for a moment something else mixes into his gaze
as he sees the image of another for a fleeting moment in time. The
image of Makie fades to be replaced by another, the image from before,
the woman with stoic guise and dark hair, dressed in a pure white
kimono. Kenshin blinks and shakes his head, to regain his composure. He
cannot be distracted, but was that faint second of distraction noted?
Makie doesn't answer the rurouni's low request. Her hand stays pressed
to her eyes, breathing raggedly. From the slight distance between the
two kengou, it might seem as if the temporary blindness was the only
injury sustained by the rain of dirt and stones. Then spots of red
begin to show up on her arms, the milky perfection marred by scrapes.
None of them are too serious, not painful enough to impede her
movements, but as Makie draws her hand away from her eyes, blinking
carefully so as to regain her vision painfully and slowly, her
attention is drawn to the crimson rivulets darting down her snowy skin.
She stares for a moment at the scrapes with a mixture of astonishment
and disbelief, then looks up again towards Kenshin only to see a
similar expression written across his face. The distraction is indeed
noted, as well as the emotions thick behind his pale violet gaze. She
frowns quietly; a step is taken forward, then another. Blood drips from
the scrapes on her arms, dotting the snow, already dirtied and tossed
about in the wake of Kenshin's technique. There's silence for the
briefest of instants. Then her glaive screams through the air in a
horizontal swing, as Makie twists her body and arches outward with the
weapon one-handedly, handling it like one would a whip, using the
height of the glaive to close the distance rather than her body. "Don't
turn your eyes away, Kenshin-san!"
Kenshin's eyes flash and widen as she launches into her attack again,
the scream of steel ripping through the air heard so very clear in his
ears. Quickly he steps back and raises his sword, tightening the
muscles in his arms and wrist to take the full effect and shock of the
impact of the blade when it hits. There is a loud sharp clang as the
two blades hit, sparks flowering out everywhere, speckles of melted
snow surrounding the two fighters in the clintch. He even gets pushed
back slightly, his feet digging into the ground beneath him to keep him
steady, his arms bending a little from the force. Kenshin's eyes thin
and then he pushes forward with his blade, to try and push back Makie's
weapon and buy him room for his next move. His body flickers into a
blur as he launches skyward, his sakabatou held out to the side, the
air howling around him as he climbs up higher. His battlecry roaring
out. At the peak of his climb he flips, gripping his sakaba with both
hands and holding it over his head, then he freefalls towards Makie at
the same blurring speed used to gain such height. In an attempt to
strike Makie down with this one solid hit, launching into the Hiten
Mitsurugi Ryuu - Ryu-Tsui-Sen, but if missed he may be left dangerously
open.
As the rurouni pushes her glaive back, Makie slides back a step,
reasserting her grip upon her glaive, white knuckled, her mind already
spinning in circles, readying to renew her attack. Except the rurouni's
not there anymore. There was a brief flash of crimson and white, and
now he's gone, leaving her to stop and stare at where he had been
standing a moment ago. She blinks once, then twice, then rapidly, her
head turning, her guard failing as her concentration shatters almost
audibly. Crystalline shards of thought scattering, the melodic
cacophony of her concentration being tossed to the wind. "Nani--?
D-Doke da? -!!" Then the sound of someone's kiai draws her attention...
up? Her chin lifts, her gaze shifting, and then with widening eyes, she
stares as the rurouni propells himself upward to an inhuman height...
and keeps going. The grip on her glaive suddenly goes slack, the woman
just staring upward, time dragging to a lulling halt for the briefest
of moments... She whispers faintly, "... chikushoume ..." Then time
screams back into play, bringing with it the red-haired rurouni named
Himura Kenshin, coming straight down toward her at impossible speeds.
The Here and Now backhands her across the face; her eyes snap wider
than before, then her arms blur upwards, taking her glaive with them.
At the last possible instant, the twin blades cross above her head. But
she isn't ready, and from such a height, at such a speed-- Makie's
meager upper body strength gives away beneath the force of the Hiten
Mitsurugi Ryu - Ryu-Tsui-Sen, the twin blades just barely catching the
sakabatou before it strikes her. But... that's not enough. She stops
the sword from hitting her, but God help her if it isn't enough. Her
knees buckle, as do her arms, then an explosion of sound and color
preceding a blackness over her vision as the technique is completed.
Even caught by her glaive, even braced as she was for it, Makie is
pitched to the ground, the screaming sound of steel clawing against
steel breaking through the air, flat against her back, the back of her
head colliding with the frozen dirt hard.
The technique roars through its course like a raging river, the intense
aura of ken-ki mixed in with the harsh battlecry, sparks flying heavily
and the ground underneath the two fighters bodies exploding from the
force of the impact. Loose snow, darkened by ripped up soil, spouts
upwards in a wide cirlce around the imediate area of where they stand.
The attack finished, the target of this assault falling back to the
ground, Kenshin pushes upward and flips, to land a respectable distance
away. A silence almost as deafening as the roar of the attack befalls
the area, the only sound is the soft hiss of the wind through the ice
covered branches of the trees nearby, the soft lapping of waves against
the shoreline. A faint mist creeps in from over the lake, carrying with
it the chill of the night, moving onto the shore and surrounding the
two that are here. The silence lasts a little longer, then the soft
panting is heard as Kenshin stays in his landing position, kneeling
over on one knee with his sakabatou in one hand. Stuck into the ground
and used for support. His shoulders rise and fall as he takes in deep
breaths, his face hidden by layers of dark crimson hair that have
falling to the sides of his face, the details of his expression hidden
in shadow. He stays like this for what feels to be long moments in
time, as if time had stopped, as if it isn't even a factor for the two.
His heartbeat is felt strong from within his chest, heard within his
ears, the hot racing blood pumped through his veins. The moonlight
casts a spotlight on the players of this stage, sharp shadows
stretching out over onto the sparkling snow along side them. There is a
soft jingle and then Kenshin pushes himself to his feet with some
effort, a quiet wince heard as he does so, his still healing body
having taken some damage from the technique. He rises to his feet and
lifts his face, the shadows falling away as the moonlight illuminates
it, a pale mask with a stern expression etched there. The crossing scar
seems to glow as the moonlight catches it, his thinned eyes catching
that moonlight as well and alit with the fires of this fight. His dark
shadow reaches towards Makie when he is standing at his full height,
his footing steady, shoulders square and rising and falling, eyes aglow
with a sharp golden hue.
For a long while after the manuever has ended, Makie simply lies there
on the ground, heedless of the dirty snow sinking into her kimono,
chilling her skin. She's flat on her back, the middle section of her
glaive digging into her spine, the other two still clenched firmly in
her hands, thumbs tracing the line of the staffs, the two blades still
held above her in a high x-block, deflecting an attack that's no longer
forthcoming. She stays like that, unmoving. Then closed eyes slowly
crack open, her senses screaming, her vision a sea of blackness and
stars... no, wait, that's the sky. The night sky. Her brow wrinkles,
then she frowns, eyes squeezing shut and blinking open again. Then her
arms go slack, bringing with them the two sections of the glaive,
thump!ing into the snow-strewn dirt mutedly. Her body relaxes, just for
a moment, exhaling a misty breath. Then, with effort, she pulls herself
off the ground, a shaking hand going to her forehead, index finger and
thumb pinching the bridge of her nose. She'd stay like that were it not
for the shadow that descends over her form. She goes still, then lowers
her hand and lifts her gaze, chin tilting slightly as she looks towards
the rurouni, meeting his ...golden eyes? No, something's not right.
Reflexively, her fingers tighten over her glaive again, though she
doesn't yet move. "Kenshin-san?"
Kenshin just stands there over Makie, his shadow enshrouding her in
darkness, his form sillhouetted by the full moon behind him. From out
of the mask of pale white, almost ghostly in it's guise, stares forward
the thinned piercing golden eyes of Kenshin. Unmoving. Silent. The
breeze blows across him and takes with it the strands of his dark
crimson hair, contrasting sharply with his pale face, drifting to the
side like the loose fabric of his clothing. His soaked purple kyogi,
blood stained hakama pants, damp socks and dirt etched wooden sandles.
He doesn't move, not even a shiver as the chilling breeze whips around
him. He stays silent and simply stares, the rage of the hitokiri
finding the surface of this man who fights hard to keep the demon from
his past down. The sadness in his heart, memories this fight causes,
having to make the choice of one friend over another - these break down
his barriers and allow the rage to well up from his soul. The sakabatou
is held firmly in his right hand, the shimmering reversed blade held
groundward and it is after another long moment in time when Kenshin
breaks his gaze and looks away.
Though the hitokiri doesn't shiver, Makie does. It's a barely noticeable
action; if asked, she'd blame it on the snow that soaked through her
kimono. But she'd be lying. Something's woken up inside the rurounin,
something as dark and frightening as her own demons. But hers reawoke
on a dark back road surrounded by men with the ill intent. This man's
demon... well, we know whose fault this is, don't we? Her eyes widen
imperceptively, staring with morbid fascination at the liquid amber hue
that Kenshin's eyes have become, the warm amethyst orbs she had been
more familiar with long gone. A pang of guilt worms its way into her
throat, just before she swallows it. Unsteadily, bracing her glaive
into the ground for support, she rises slowly to her feet, her own dark
eyes watching the snow until she's standing again. Then, looking back,
her eyes settle upon his face just in time to see his shift away. A
clink of chains; she holds the glaive in a two-handed grip again,
sandals sliding against the slick ground to put distance between
herself and Kenshin. Her voice quiet. "I'm not the only one changed
now, am I?"
Kenshin doesn't answer the young woman. The wind changes direction
slightly, to cast his crimson hair in the opposite direction, his
clothing hugging his slender form and flapping with the breeze. The
soft jingle of his sakabatou is heard as he lifts it slightly, his head
bowing to look down to the blade, then one hand steadys his saya as he
reaches over and resheaths his weapon. Clicking it into place with a
single light tap on the end of the hilt. His head shakes and he reaches
behind him, to the band that holds his long crimson hair into a
ponytail, reaches for it and then pulls on it to allow the strands to
fall about freely and be taken up by the wind. The band is cast to the
ground, where it is skidded along the snow by the breeze and dropped
into the glassy surface of the lake. Light series of ripples circling
out from where it touches the waters surface. Kenshin shakes his head
then turns it slightly to look over his shoulder to Makie, though his
golden eyes do not meet with her face. His tone low and reserved,
almost cold in that right when he speaks. "I do not understand what is
going on with you Makie, I cannot understand. But know this, it is not
the thrill of this fight that has driven the 'rage' to the surface de
gozaru yo. I have been faced with making a hard decision, but I will
stand by it to protect over my friends. Even if I must fight off
another who I care about de gozaru." His words trail off with the
breeze, his left hand moving to grip his saya again, a step taken to
turn back and face Makie. And when he does, his gaze finds her again
for the moment, then breaks away as he takes in a breath and slowly
releases it. The tired showing in his expression. "I cannot let you
pass, if you try.. Know I will defeat you de gozaru yo. Gomen nasai..
Makie-dono..."
Makie smiles oddly, head canting slightly to the side, her breathing
slightly ragged, though now it's beginning to calm some, to even out.
As the hitokiri sets loose his hair, the crimson strands free to the
wind, the young woman shifts the glaive to a one-handed grip, her empty
hand reaching up absently to her own hair, rubbing awkwardly at the
back of her neck. She still hasn't gotten used to the feel of a bare
neck. Her hair hadn't been especially long, but it had been a
respectable length. The butchered cut it's in now is shameful. But
then, what part of Otono-tachibana Makie isn't? "I wish I had known
more people like you, Kenshin-san," she murmurs softly, her eyes
somber, melancholy. "Maybe then things would have been different. Maybe
I would believe what you fight for." She shakes her head, hand dropping
from the back of her neck, though her own shoulders square as well. Her
fingertips found something amidst the windblown strands. Metaphorically
speaking, of course; but whatever it is she found, it seems to have
pieced back together what shattered when Kenshin descended from above
and slammed her into the ground. Meeting his gaze as it turns back to
hers, her eyes deepen, blackening slightly, swallowing the light. "But
it's a little late to stop now, hm? Might as well finish it." A spark
of moonlight dances off the tips of her blades, first one, then jumping
on to the other, as she lifts them slightly. Then, softly, she laughs.
Bittersweet and humourless, the melodic sound rings false in the air.
Bowing her head slightly, eyes half-lidded, her sandals already
whispering across the dirt to find a more comfortable stance, Makie
replies quietly, "You can apologize after you've beaten me,
hitokiri-san. I'm not dead yet."
Kenshin's eyes narrow as she talks with him, the mention of his former
title. It causes the sharp colour of his golden gaze to deepen more,
like a fire that has gained in intensity, fuel renewed to the dying
flames. It is not fully Makie's doing that causes the anger to rise to
the surface, it is anger within himself for allowing it to be there in
the first place. It is guilt and sadness that has built up, kept under
a cover, hidden behind walls that he has carefully built up to protect
himself. It is instances like this one that plays out here that
crumbles those walls. When it does, he has little control, he slips
into another mode. Another frame of mind, another shell. Fading into
the stream of time and whisked away to his painful past. Drowning in
it's strong current. The reflection of moonlight, shimmering from
Makie's weapons lights up his face again. Bringing light to this
situation and how it must end. The words she said still echo in his
mind, 'Maybe then things would have been different. Maybe I would
believe what you fight for.' His eyes slowly close and he takes a step
back, sliding that foot back so that he can angle his body, turn his
side to face her and ready. One hand firmly holds his saya in place,
his right hand moving to hover just inches away from the weapon's hilt.
The hand around his saya flicks a thumb up to inch out the sword, to
prepare it and have it ready. He takes in a deep breath and releases a
quiet sigh, settling into the 'Battou Jutsu' stance.. Lightly his gaze
flickers over towards Makie, slight like the flame of a candle,
settling to her face and trying to read her eyes.
Makie knows well the feeling of losing control. But unlike her crimson
-haired opponent, she relishes it. Oh yes, she hates herself for it
afterwards, but when she's fighting, when control slips and all that's
left is the blades singing in her hands, she exists in a state of
nothingness. The abyss. The void. Where she is nothing, and nothing can
harm her, not even memories or ghosts from the past. When the young
man's amber gaze lifts to her eyes, he will find a similar pain, a
similar hurt and guilt for this situation among others. Looking back
towards him, the odd smile never wavering from her lips, the
swordswoman bows her head again, strands of hair dancing in the faint
breeze. "You really are like my brother, Kenshin-san," she says softly,
her voice scarcely a whisper now. "He wanted to do the right thing too.
I just hope he wasn't as a good as a person as you are." How's that for
cryptic? Looking up without moving her head, her eyes visible from
beneath the curtain of dark hair, she pauses, then releases the one
section of her glaive, keeping the other tight in her slender fingered
grasp. The blade swings downward, a streak of silver steel, before
hitting the dirty snow with a muted *thwock!* It's then that the
emotion dies from her eyes, and the emptiness engulfs. For a moment,
standing there, she really might be that figure that so haunts Kenshin,
dressed in white with a face that never changes. Even fighting, Makie
moves with a grace that befits a lady of samurai bearing. Her glassy
eyes and porcelain face... Her skin seems to glow subtly in the
moonlight, the blood from the gashes on her arms the only imperfections
seen, tracing rivulets of crimson that seem black in the light. Her
eyes are empty again; only the sword remains now. "Are you ready now,
hitokiri-san?"
Kenshin doesn't answer as he locks gazes with her, the features of his
face becoming sharper, more stern. The colour in his eyes deepens and
he thins them, his expression serious, full of concentration with the
shadow of regret. The images of this scene will forever be captured in
the mind of Kenshin, painted on a dark canvas, the lifeless look in her
eyes as she stares at him. The tone she speaks in will always be heard
like a sad tune, a melody that grips at the heart and sends chills down
your spine. Another slow deep breath is taken in, then released in a
cloud of mist, his fingers curling around his saya. His right hand
hovering, waiting, so near the hilt of his sakabatou. The fight is
almost over, but how will it end? How could it, in any way that the
result could make right what has happened? Two friends fight each
other, over another friend. Bitter choices made. It all comes down to
the next actions, so Kenshin prepares. His body, and mind. Then he
waits, quietly, gaze locked to the other.
Silence seems as good as an answer as any other. "Then resign yourself
to your fate," Makie whispers. Just like before, at the beginning of
this confrontation, she holds one end of the glaive out to the side,
the blade suspended between her fingers. Just like before, she lets it
drop, the silver sheen echoing its path downward with agonizing
slowness. As the young woman blurs forward, the weapon's blade skids
along the snowy ground as if it were simply a tagalong item, not meant
to be there -- until she comes within range of the hitokiri. Then, her
body twisting with the movement, head ducking slightly as she whips the
glaive up and over her head, the blades singing a high-pitched song of
terror and death as they spin over her head. Skidding forward, she
jerks her shoulders to the right, throwing the spinning circle of metal
into a sharp angle, the blades aiming to slice open the kengou's chest
from shoulder to hip.
The blades of Makie come screaming for the rurouni, his eyes narrowing a
look of determination intensifying as he tightens the grip on his saya
and his right hand blurs. Reaching for the hilt of his weapon, curling
fingers around it's grip, the muscles in his arm coiling up and
tightening considerably. There is a silence that follows for a brief
moment, everything falling into slow motion, only the sound of a faint
heartbeat is heard. Everything flickers and then reality comes
screaming back in the form of Kenshin's battle cry as he launches into
the 'Battou Jutsu'. "AAAAAAHHHHHHH!" But as he does, he changes
footing, stepping out with the left foot instead of the right as with a
normal battou jutsu, betraying the true technique that he executes
rather than just a simple counter for her strike. The Hiten Mitsurugu
Ryuu Ougi (Succession Techniue) - Amakeku-ryu-no-Hirameki. The light
reflecting off of the approaching blades shimmers over his form, his
right arm tensing then quickly starting to draw his sakabatou for the
final strike. Tears streaming from his eyes as he launches into this
move. A strike that he is commited to, the most powerful of any of his
moves that he can execute, the strain so powerful from the technique
that it can destroy the body of the one executing it. Everything
flickers into slow motion as he draws the blade, his gaze lifting and
meeting with Makie's, the roar of power around his body collapsing the
air around him. Then something strange happens, the cry dies away and
his expression changes. The rage of the hitokiri fading away and the
pale violet returning. He just stares into her gaze as the winds of his
ken-ki swirl around him. Time stops and everything fades into white.
Kenshin's grip changes on his sakabatou and he draws it, but not to
strike, the succession technique is canceled and his blade is held
infront of his chest, to protect his chest and heart. The strain is
seen on his face if quick enough to catch, to break out of the move is
like being struck full force with it, you have to absorb all of that
power. All he can do is close his eyes and bare down for what happens
next. There is the cocaphony of metal striking metal repeatedly,
wildly, then the spray of blood and shredded clothing that falls to the
snow covered ground. The rurouni is struck by the attack, then thrown
back into the nearby lake. His body hitting the water and a large spray
of water that spouts up and smashes against the shoreline.
The explosion of ken-ki hits Makie like a gale wind, the sheer force of
such a powerful technique stopped short of execution clawing into her
senses, stirring up a mixture of snow, dirt, and blood spraying from
the rurouni's wounds as her glaive bites into his flesh with metal
teeth. Rather than catching the weapon as the speed of her own attack
sends it spinning in a complete arch, she instead twists her body so as
to hold it to the side of her, letting the circle continue without
risking harm to herself, her hand now left free leaping up to her face,
her arm blocking the force that kicks the injured rurouni back, dirt
and snow raining against her, followed then by the water from the lake
as it shoots upward as the lake's surface is broken by the figure being
pitched into it. Her throat thick, she realizes she should feel some
form of satisfaction for having gotten her attack through... but the
flash of pale amethyst once more replacing the liquid amber hue that
his eyes had assumed, it stays with her even as she closes her own eyes
against the splash of water against her face. She knows what he did. He
stopped. He /stopped/ the technique, and took the full force of both it
and her own attack upon himself. Fingers tightening around her glaive,
forcing its spin to a halt, the bloodied blades sway back and forth
lifelessly, red liquid seeping down its edge to splatter against the
dirtied snow, soaking it a colour as bold a shade as that of her
kimono. He stopped... he LET her hit him! The scene seems suddenly,
frighteningly, silent once the splash of the rurouni colliding with the
water has died away, leaving Makie to slowly straighten from her
defensive stance, her arm lowering from her face, dark brown eyes
gazing uncertainly out towards the water, her face a blank with
surprise and uncertainty. He stopped...
Kenshin's body floats over the surface of the water, on his back, face
pointing skyward with eyes closed and arms limp to his side. The
sakabatou still held firmly in one hand, the shredded shards of his
kyogi top floating along side of him like ribbons, what little is left
of the garb on his body doesn't even resemble any style of clothing.
Just liiking to be shredded ribbobs as well. His body floats limply,
slowly drifting out towards the center of the lake, then as the wind
picks up and creates a wave, his body rolls into the shallower water
just a few feet from the shoreline. Rolling into a crumbled ball, face
down, no sound made since he was thrown into the water. The waves
strike up against his body, half in the water, half in the mud of the
river banks. For a long time, until Makie makes a sound or perhaps the
down rurounin, silence settles in only broken by the quiet wind.
A little girl faces off against her opponent, the wooden bokken held
firmly in her small hands, her delicate face a blank of emotion. The
young man she faces is her elder in both age and experience, and yet he
is the one that is bruised. The room they stand in is alive with
motion, the surrounding observers all calling out and jeering, enjoying
the show. They all stink of cheap sake, the room thick with the smell
of it. Someone calls out, and there's a blurring motion as her opponent
comes towards her, his own bokken raised over his head. Her stance
shifts, her own bokken moving -- and the dull sound of wood striking
flesh slaps the background noise into silence. The little girl lowers
her sword, her eyes impassive as she watches her brother drop his
weapon and double over, sinking to the floor with a low groan...
The glaive hits the ground with a muffled sound, the clatter usually
associated with dropping one's weapon swallowed by the cushion of snow.
Makie's fingers have gone limp, her porcelain skin ashen. Horror fills
her eyes with memory and the Here And Now, the brief surge of battle
dying away as quickly as it came as she watches the rurouni's body wash
ashore with morbid, deathly silent interest. He stopped. He /stopped/.
Shaking hands slowly go to her face, pressing against her temples,
clawing fingers through her hair to push the ragged strands back from
her eyes as they squeeze shut, bile rising in the back of the young
woman's throat. She should leave now. She has a reason for being here,
a reason for fighting this man, for hurting him-- but what was it? It
had to have been important; there had to be some justification to this,
but-- what was it? Eyes opening again, Makie stares as the rurouni
curls into a ball in the mud, slowly untangling her fingers from her
hair. Then, lowering herself carefully, she retrieves her glaive with
one hand before starting towards the fallen figure, her wooden sandals
making wet squelching noises against the dirty snow and blood-strewn
earth.
Kenshin doesn't move as the wind blows over his body, light flakes of
snow collecting over his fallen form, the moonlight shining a spotlight
over him and casting him in a light blue glow. The fingers that are
curled so tightly around the hilt of his sakabatou relax and fingers
fall limp, a slow breath released and his chest falls as his shoulders
slump. He doesn't move other than that though.. The waves lap on shore,
a soft almost pleasant tone, if the air wasn't so thick with the stench
of combat it would be almost serene and relaxing in it's own right.
Joining in with the soft sounds of the waves, the light hiss of the
wind, are the sounds of songbirds on far off trees. Singing out a sad
song into the cold night air, as if to add the soundtrack for the event
that has just taken place. The serene befalls the area and then there
is a quiet gasp, the sound of movement in the water and the fallen
rurouni stirs lightly. His body shivering, shoulders rising as he
starts to breath again.
Mud squelches wetly beneath Makie's feet as she leaves behind the frozen
dirt for the moister edge of the lake. She pauses a few strides from
him, her own appearance weathered and beaten. Blood continues to drip
down her arms, her kimono wet and soiled with dirt, the dull ache of
her injured shoulder beginning to set in now that her adrenaline is
dying from her system, aggrivated by the wet cold of their
surroundings. The Void has died from her eyes, leaving behind a pair of
painfully bright orbs, their brown centers like polished stones, no
less unreadable than before, but no longer so empty. She stands there
for a moment or two, watching the rurouni as he finally breathes. Then
she moves again, quiet steps taken toward the fallen swordsman, until
she's paused again beside him, knees bending to take the young woman
into a crouching position, the hand that doesn't hold her glaive
reaching out lightly to his shoulder.
"M-makie-dono.." The soft shakey voice of the rurouni speaks, muffled as
his head is bowed down, the sound of the water splashed and mud heard
as he begins to move. His arm tucks in and hand presses flat against
the ground, to push himself up somewhat, then his leg tucks in to do
the same. Moving slowly and labored. His body is battered, bared pale
skin the colour of cyan from the moon's light seen to have small cuts
and scrapes over it's surface, goosebumps forming as the wind kicks up
again and blows over his soaked form. His bowed down head, with loose
strands of crimson falling to the sides of his face, lifts and he
speaks again. Raggedly with a light wheeze, "..you are..okay de gozaru
yo..." He coughs hard and makes it to his knees, mud soaked hand moving
to clutch his stomach, lines upon lines of thin cuts covering his form.
Even having sliced off a few of his bandages, leaving the stitches that
the young woman beside him had sewn to be bared. Blood runs from these
wounds and soaks into the snow mud mix where he kneels, running down
into the water to stain it a light murky crimson. As beaten as he is,
he lifts his face to gaze up to Makie, his face lifting from the
shadows and dark violet eyes focusing on her. He looks to her and
stares, then a certain familiar warmth mixes in with the pained
expression on his face, his eyes thinning and head tilting to the side
as a bit of relief begins to show on his face there.
Horror spreads across Makie's face as she stares into the rurouni's
violet eyes. After all she's done, after all that she's put him
through, forced upon him, there's still warmth there. There's still
relieved. He's /relieved/ that she's all right. Had the situation been
different, she would have killed him without a second thought, and for
the stupidest of reasons! So she could kidnap a girl she had never met
for a man she barely knew. The hand on Kenshin's shoulder tenses, ready
to draw back. If only there were anger in those amethyst depths. Anger
she can understand. Bitterness, betrayal, fury, retribution... "Why?"
she chokes out suddenly, her voice thick, her eyes widening to take in
the entire sight of him. The pale cast of his skin, the minute cuts
lining his body like patchwork, the blood dripping through his fingers
from the wounds that she herself had dressed only to break open again.
She drops her glaive again, the weapon falling to the mud with a
sickeningly wet plop!, and moves her other hand to him, until she grips
him lightly by his shoulders, both supporting him as well as holding
him in place, liquid glazing over her eyes as she stares back at him.
Her voice comes out broken, confused. "Why did you stop? Why didn't you
move out of the way?!"
Kenshin bows his head to Makie as he takes in a deep breath, grimacing
slightly, his hand moving up to his chest as pain courses through his
battered form. He looks down to the dropped glaive on the ground,
slightly sunken into the soaked mud, her weapon having fallen over his,
crossing over it and leaving the moonlight to shimmer off of both steel
surfaces. He says nothing as he recovers, taking it easy for the
moment, slumping down into a seated position from his kneeling state
and letting his shoulders sink as he lets out a worn out sigh. "I do
not understand why you were here de gozaru yo.." he remarks with a
light breathless tone, "..but there was conflict in your eyes.
Whenever..a warrior is given orders by someone, they switch into a
mode..." The wind picks up, flakes of loose snow drifting past him, the
tattered ribbons of what is left to his kyogi taken up and left to flap
in the wind loosely. His hand lifts to brush away his crimson strands
and expose his face, keeping his expression open for her to see as he
looks back and says quietly. "Makie-dono.. is my friend de gozaru yo.."
He watches her then starts to slump over from exhaustion..
Makie's hands lift from his shoulders lightly as the rurouni slumps
forward. Knees sliding against the mud, she leans forward to catch him,
her waiflike arms surrounding the swordsman and keeping him from
planting his face into the lakebed, at the same time holding him in an
awkward sort of hug. A strangled noise rises in the woman's throat,
released as a sob that she just barely manages to swallow in time. "But
I would have killed you!" she blurts. "Don't you understand? I would
have killed you, and never have thought twice about doing it!" That's a
lie and she knows it. Yes, she would have killed him if given the
chance, in a blink of an eye-- but she would have hated herself for it.
His face would have joined the ranks of those in her heart that she
would never have forgiven herself for. Like her brother. But for all
the guilt she would carry, that would never make Kenshin any less dead.
Eyes squeezing shut against her tears, her tone drops, thick with self
-hatred. "I'm not a warrior, Kenshin-san. I just kill things." Eyes
opening again, glassy in the starlight, she shifts her weight, head
bowing slightly as she struggles to find her feet, still keeping the
rurouni from falling forward. A shaky breath drawn and released slowly.
".. ... can you stand?"
Kenshin shakes his head, his breathing shakey as he answers in a quiet
wary tone, a whisper that just barely carries over the sound of the
breeze. "..iie, I will need a moment to recover de gozaru na...." He is
so worn out that he can barely keep his head up, close his fingers into
even a light ball, move from his seated state in the mud. After a
moment to rest it might be a different story. He thinks for a moment,
pondering over what she had just said. That she would have killed him.
His gaze lifts to find Makie's as she holds him, his hand lightly
moving to her side as he responds to her statement. "..but you didn't
Makie-dono.. I am still alive..." A light sigh escapes his lips as he
slumps over again, his head falling forward as the mist from his breath
rises up into the night air. "..I did not fight a killer tonight
Makie-dono, I fought a warrior... " His hand at her side, to weak to be
kept there, falls limp to the ground. "..what will you do now though de
gozaru ka? I cannot stop you from carrying out your task.." There is a
sharp cough, then he continues. "..though I think you will make the
right choice..."
Makie closes her eyes again and shakes her head, long lashes flickering
lightly as a breeze sweeps over the bruised, bloodied, and soaking wet
pair, causing an icy finger to be dragged up their spines. It's cold
out here, a fact only worsened by the exhaustion and injury they both
sustain. When he speaks of fighting a warrior, tears smart her eyes
again. "Uso yo, Kenshin-san," is all she says, her tone dropping
another few decibels until it's too low to be read. Of all the things
that she could ever be told, that is the one belief she will never let
go of. Once a woman lets herself fall, she has no right to dream. She
gave up that right when she first picked up the sword. Warriors fight
with honor; there's none of that left in her now. "Uso yo." Opening her
eyes again to gaze up at the stars, she settles back after a long
moment, on her knees now in front of the rurouni, her hands creeping
back to his shoulders to hold him steady. Briefly, she looks down to
where the rurouni's hand had touched her, a glint of gold showing up
amidst the mud. Her hairpin. Chin tucked to her chest, she kneels there
in silence for a long time, then finally looks back to his face, her
eyes somber. "There's no right or wrong choice in this, Kenshin-san.
Otono-tachibana Makie admits defeat. Until I can beat you in a fight, I
have no right to finish my task, and..." Here a broken chuckle is
offered up, a hoarse parody of laughter. "I am too tired to fight
anymore today."
Kenshin nods lightly, lifting his face again, lifting his gaze to focus
his deep violet eyes on her face. His response to her laughter is his
expression and gaze growing warmer. A sigh is released, tired and wary,
then he straightens his back to attempt to sit up straight now that
some of his strength has returned. He took the brunt of not only her
attack, but the power focused into his own succession technique. The
power released with no where to go but be absorbed by himself. His held
tilts to the side and a hidden smile is there on his face, to worn out
to really even manage it as of yet, but there is no anger what-so-ever
in his eyes as he watches her. He lifts his face to gaze past Makie and
over towards the house, his look considering then he looks back to her.
"Makie-dono, you should probably get going.. I am not sure if anyone
will come out of the house to look for me de gozaru yo.." This time
when he returns his gaze to her, he gives a smile, though weak and
tired, it is honest.
And Makie returns the smile in kind, though hers is uncertain, wary and
almost frightened. As if it represented something she wasn't sure she
was ready to accept. As the rurouni straightens, she keeps her hands on
his shoulders a moment later, then lifts them slowly, ready to catch
should he topple over again. When it appears that he won't, she drops
her hands to her lap, then thinks better of it and reaches to touch her
glaive, her attention briefly distracted by what Kenshin had noticed
before. The blades of her glaive crossed over the scabbard of his
sakabatou. She hesitates before curling her fingers around the cold
metal staff, returning her gaze to the rurouni's face. She chuckles
weakly, "Yes, I should, shouldn't I... But only if you promise you
won't bleed to death out here." There's humour in her tone, but it
doesn't reach her eyes. The brown orbs remain somber, the meaning
behind her words serious even if her tone isn't.
Kenshin breaks his gaze with Makie to reach over for his sakabatou, his
hand slipping under the hilt to curl fingers around, then he lifts the
blade and starts to sit up even more. There is a light jingle, a quiet
sigh from Kenshin as he uses his sword to steady himself and pushes up
to his feet. He stands hunched over, both hands over each other other
the end of the swords hilt, breaths taken in while he gets used to
standing. "Hai Makie-dono, I promise de gozaru yo.." He smiles to her
and gives a light nod, still worn out but having the strength to stand.
A quick look over towards the house, to see if anyone has stepped out,
then he looks back to the other kensai and gives a respectable bow of
his head. "Take care Makie-dono..." The wind brushes his soft bangs to
the side, causing them to sway, causing the ribbons of tattered
clothing to flow to the side gracefully. He watches her quietly for a
long moment, the warmth from his gaze nevering wavering. Not even in
the chill of this night.
Makie's deep brown eyes watch the rurounin as he struggles to his feet.
She too stands up, her tired body protesting, though she pays it no
heed. She rests her weapon's three sections over her shoulders again,
in much the same way she first appeared with them, turning the blades
outward from her so as not to risk further injury by accident. "You
too, Kenshin-san," the swordswoman murmurs softly, gaze dropping, the
same wind that feathers the rurounin's hair and ruined clothing
ruffling her own ragged locks, shadows dancing against her moon-pale
face streaked with dirt and blood. "Maybe next time we meet, one of us
won't end up bleeding, ne?" She cracks a rueful smile at that, then
shakes her head as she turns away, sandals making faint squish noises
against the lakeside mud. The scene moves full circle this way, as she
walks away from the lake where she first found the rurounin earlier
this evening. They began here, and so it was ended here, and as Makie
moves farther away, the shadows of the garden gradually swallowing her
whole once more, until she vanishes completely all together.
[end.]
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