Kingdom Come:
Kenshin vs. Sephiroth
Chapter 1The bright summer sun shone down on Tokyo, giving a golden hue to the dust-covered roads and simple wooden shops. The crowded streets of the simple-clothed populous created a blur of vibrant colors and delicately detailed fabrics. A decade of the peaceful Meiji era had been enough to erase most of the memories of the terrible war that had created it, but the fires of those battles still ran through the blood of those who lived through it.
Such a man walked through the crowd slowly. His bright, ember-colored hair caught the sunlight and reflected its warmth. He could easily be mistaken as an adolescent, for he was rather short and had a narrow frame common to men half his age. His soft eyes contrasted the warmth of his hair with their deep violet hue, but were nonetheless gentle. Aside from the sword that hung in a metal sheath from his side, his demeanor spoke only of tranquility.
The man smiled as he walked with his parcels, even though the staff that balanced two large bags of rice on either end dug into his shoulder. Despite the pain, he enjoyed the sunlight and the bustle of the crowd where he could become invisible and left alone with his wandering thoughts.
Stopping at a bend in the road to rest, the man lifted his hand to shade his eyes from the sun and unconsciously brushed the scar on his left cheek with his calloused fingers. He flinched and stared at his hand as if it were a stranger's, unused to the feeling of touch on the cross-shaped marking. The scar was as deep and bright red as fresh wounds though it was more than a decade old.
Memories of his past began to flutter to the foreground of his mind: dark and blood-filled memories of war. He closed his eyes in an effort to keep the images of his past from interfering with his present.
In the darkness behind his eyelids, the man suddenly felt an unfamiliar presence so near that the hair beneath his ponytail prickled like the fur on a cat's back. He heard a voice, as clear and dark as a shadow.
You're not fooling anyone.
The man's eyes shot open, and he was momentarily blinded by the summer sunlight. When his vision cleared, the streets were still bustling with people, the air was still warm, and the mysterious presence was gone.
He did not know it then, but that strange incident was only the beginning; a prelude to the fantastic journey that was to come.
The red-haired man traveled to the outskirts of the city, where the hustle and bustle of the market dwindled into the soft singing of birds and the buzz of cicadas. He slowed to a halt in front of the large gate of the Kamiya-Kasshin-Ryu dojo where he currently resided.
There, in front of the large wooden doors of the entrance, the man paused. The encounter with the dark presence had made his keen senses sharpen with apprehension. He had taken a long trail home, through many winding streets and alleyways, trying to shake the feeling of being followed, but he could not. Even greater than his uneasiness was his will to prevent any harm to the residents of the dojo by some lapse of his judgment or strength.
He considered, therefore, finding another place to stay until he was sure he was not being trailed, but that strategy had already proven to be faulty by a journey that had reached its climax just a few short weeks before.
The red-haired man had been called to Kyoto to protect the peaceful times of the Meiji Era from a madman hell-bent on starting a revolution and establishing his dominion of the strong devouring the weak. Fighting with every ounce of the conviction in his sword and teaming up with a few former enemies had been barely enough for the red-haired warrior to defeat the madman and his league of skilled swordsmen. One of former enemies was even killed in the last battle. What was worse, his friends had become entwined in the confrontation; for, despite his efforts to leave them in Tokyo, they had followed him.
He could still remember the night he said goodbye to the one person it was most painful to say goodbye to: The wind was stirring the dry leaves and the lantern-lit street was shrouded by darkness. It was only she and he beneath the lantern, as his words cut through the night like as sharply as a sword. Though he had feigned acceptance of his path, her tears made his heart ache, as did the way she had called after him as he disappeared into the darkness.
"Kenshin!"
The swordsman was brought back to reality instantly as the doors of the gate slammed open and the woman from his memory appeared before him, not as a vision but as flesh and blood. Unlike the memory, however, her bright turquoise eyes did not shine with tears as she called his name, but glinted with anger.
"K-Kaoru-dono?"
"Where have you been?"
In her rage, the woman brought her fist down on the crown of his head.
"ORO?" he shouted, "we were out of rice! This one thought-!"
"Maybe next time you'll 'think' to let me know you're going!"
"A simple mistake!"
Kaoru flicked a strand of her black hair from her sweating face. Her training clothes were also soaked in sweat and her wooden sword hung from her limp and tired fingers.
Despite his explanation, her face was still sour, "an errand like that shouldn't have taken more than an hour, and you were gone for two."
The man smiled, ignoring her surly inquisition, "This one must have lost track of the time… another simple mistake."
In order to belay her concern, which he guessed was the current beneath her onslaught of aggression, he avoided telling her about the presence he had felt or that he had purposely taken his time getting back to lose his pursuer. Unfortunately, his efforts had the reverse reaction.
"Kenshin," she said sincerely, "You would tell me if something was wrong, right?"
Kaoru had known the swordsman longer than he realized; long enough to be able to tell when he was hiding something.
The intuitiveness of her question threw the swordsman for only a moment before he regained himself and matched his voice to the sincerity of hers.
"Kaoru-dono," he replied quietly, "There is no need for you to worry. If the time comes, this one will protect you as he always has."
Kaoru's heart pounded, as it did whenever his eyes rested on hers.
There was a moment of suspended silence, a familiar anomaly between them. Kaoru, moved by the particular tenderness of the silence, leaned a little towards him, and held her breath. He too began to lean towards her, slowly.
Suddenly, a loud voice burst out from the distance.
"Hey Kenshin! When did you get back?"
Kaoru cursed in her thoughts as Kenshin turned his gaze from her to the young boy that had come from the dojo to the gate with an impeccable twelve-year-old sense of timing. His wild black hair needed a trim and his maple-colored were eyes bright with anticipation and the never-ending amount of energy common among boys his age. He too was dressed in training clothes.
"Hello Yahiko," Kenshin smiled, "this one brought something from the market for lunch."
"Great, I'm starved!" The boy smiled back, "Kaoru's lesson was so long I could practically hear my stomach eating itself."
"Well maybe if you paid more attention you wouldn't worry over your stomach. How like a child…" grumbled the sword instructor, who was still perturbed over her lost moment.
Yahiko's temper flared in his eyes, "Well maybe if you didn't give the weirdos all the food I wouldn't get so distracted."
"Did I just hear that all the food was gone?"
The three turned simultaneously to see a tall young man who had rounded the bend and entered the gate. His open chest exposed the muscles he developed over years of dueling thugs and his lopsided grin revealed the confidence he had in his fists, or at least it would have if it were not replaced by a frown of disappointment.
"If the food's gone," the youth sulked, "Then what-th'-heck am I going to eat?"
"You could go mooch off of someone else," suggested Yahiko, "Someone who can actually cook."
Kaoru saw the insult in his proposal, and returned fire, "I'll have you know that the 'weridos' like my cooking! Not like some ungrateful, snot-nosed-"
"Who are you calling 'weirdo'? I never said your food was good!" the youth frowned, his own temper flashing in his wild chestnut eyes.
Yahiko shook his head, "Not you, Sanosuke, the two men waiting for Kenshin in the dojo."
"Oro?" exclaimed Kenshin.
"Kaoru didn't tell you?" said Yahiko, suddenly forgetting his anger towards his teacher and putting on a tough expression as he spoke, "There are a couple of bozos here to see you. They say they're here on business, but I don't believe them." With a flash of practiced movement, Yahiko pulled his Shinai from its place tied to his back, "Whaddya' say we go in there and show them not to mess with Japan's best?"
"Tough talk for a little kid," smiled Sanosuke, "Though I gotta' say, I'm in the mood for a little brawling myself."
The fighter's right hand was bandaged from the tips of his fingers to his wrist from his previous fight with a member of the mad man's league, but that didn't halt him from balling it into a fist and cracking his knuckles in his left hand.
"No one is fighting anyone," interrupted Kenshin, almost pleadingly, "Just wait outside while this one talks to the weir- the people."
Sanosuke yawned and leaned against the gate.
"In other words, you want them all to yourself," he frowned, "How boring."
The red-haired man only smiled, though his friend's assumption was half correct. If the strangers had anything to do with the presence he had felt earlier, he wanted to keep his friends clear of the danger it presented.
With that purpose, Kenshin took fateful steps towards the dojo.
The two strangers stood within the thin walls of the dojo, uncomfortable in their heavy blue suits that trapped the sticky summer air against their skin. The younger, narrower of the two paced and adjusted the goggles strapped across the top of his head. The fancy bifocals acted more as a hair accessory than eye-protectors. He began walking around the perimeter of the room, investigating the cracking white plaster that served as the walls, the coals in a sandbox that served as an oven, and the papier-mâché that served as a door. He shuddered despite the heat.
"Can you imagine living like this?" he asked aloud, "No air conditioning, no in-door plumbing, no cell-phones; not to mention the god-awful food!" he spat, trying in vain to get the taste of Kaoru's cooking out of his mouth.
His partner stood still, arms crossed over his broad chest and examining the room without being as conspicuously foreign. He pushed up the sunglasses on his nose and frowned.
"Rheno, when he gets here, just let me do all the talking," he said sternly.
The thinner man's brilliant green eyes flashed with playful smugness as he replied, "Sure thing, partner, I'll just smile and nod no matter how ridiculous you sound."
At that moment, the man they had been waiting for entered the room.
"This one is sorry to have kept you waiting."
Rheno instantly forgot the promise he had made to his companion,
"Wow," He blurted, "You're a lot shorter than I thought you'd be."
The larger man slapped his forehead with frustration.
Kenshin stared at the strangers in matching suits. The man who had spoken to him had hair as red as a cherry that spiked in a thousand curved shapes. Beyond the porcupine spikes, the bright hair ran down his back in a thin ponytail. The other man was hairless, and his dark skin shone with perspiration. Colored lenses covered his eyes, but the design of the glasses was like nothing he had ever seen. The man's ears were covered with piercings, silver rings that shone in the sun.
Yahiko's expression of "weirdo" seemed to suit them better than Kenshin expected, and made him instantly cautious.
"Please excuse my partner, Mr. Himura," said the larger man at last, "My name is Rude, and I - we represent the Shinra Power Company."
Kenshin frowned suspiciously, "This one has never heard of such a company."
"Didn't the girl tell you?" spoke Rheno, "we're –uh- European, but we're looking to expand our market."
"In any case," continued Rude while shooting a warning glance at his partner, "We're here because our boss has taken an interest in your skills."
Kenshin eyes narrowed slightly.
"My skills?"
Rude nodded taking a step towards Kenshin, "we understand that several years ago you were an asset to the Ishshin Shishi patriots in their victory in the Meiji Revolution as the Hitokiri, Himura Battosai. We require your training as an assassin to confront an evil that threatens our company, our city…"
"…And maybe even our world."
Rude glared at Rheno for his sarcasm.
Kenshin's narrowed eyes closed.
"What you know about this one's past and how you know it is of no concern to this one. However, what you are asking this one to do is. Please inform your boss that the title Hitokiri has been removed from this one's name."
He bowed to strangers as a terse form of farewell and made his way towards the door. Rheno saw his paycheck slipping away, and made one last desperate attempt to catch it.
"You say that, but you destroyed Shishio Makota as favor for your friends in the government, right? Isn't that the definition of a Hitokiri?"
Kenshin spun on his heels in wide-eyed surprise at the mention of the name of madman he had risked his life and the lives of his friends to defeat just weeks before.
Rheno offered a sly smile in retort of Kenshin's surprise.
"That man was just an annoying neighbor kid with a sling-shot compared to-"
"-That's enough, Rheno." Rude clutched his companion's shoulder, crushing it in his grasp. He then turned to the swordsman, whose jaw was still slack with shock, "I'm sorry to have disturbed you Mr. Himura."
With a bow of his own, Rude shoved Rheno out the front door, ignoring his partner's cries of protest and pain as he held a death clutch on his shoulder.
Kenshin closed his mouth long enough to frown deeply. He could devise no possible way a company from Europe could know about a battle he had completed so recently that his wounds still ached, when most of the island of Japan knew nothing about his venture.
He was filled with a sense of foreboding, but something else bothered him even more: the feeling he was being watched.
"You can come out now," he said aloud, "They're gone."
Kaoru, Sanosuke, and Yahiko tumbled to the dojo floor from a nearby door, and Kenshin could not help but smile as they attempted to untangle themselves.
"I told you those guys were trouble!" shouted the boy as he freed himself from the pile, "I bet they're not even from Europe!"
"And how many Europeans have you seen, pip-squeak?" Insulted the youth, "There's bigger problems than that here, they knew about Kenshin."
"They didn't know anything more than you all know about this one." Interjected the red-haired man, "and it doesn't matter, anyway. They've gone."
Kaoru stood as well, expression twisted with concern, "Kenshin, it's as you said; it doesn't matter if something like Shinra Power Company exists, or whether or not they know everything about you… whatever their motives, they looked like the kind of people that wouldn't take 'no' for an answer."
Kenshin's confident smile was not enough to reassure her.
"I'm afraid Kenshin Himura has turned down your commission."
Rude hid his cell phone in his gloved palm in a secluded alley of the Tokyo market place while Rheno stood at the entrance of the passage, keeping a sharp eye on the bustling crowd and trying his best to be inconspicuous.
"Really?" said the low voice on the other end of the phone, "That must mean Rheno couldn't keep his mouth shut."
"Tell him it wasn't my fault!" shouted Rheno instinctively.
Rude heard an unpleasant chuckle buzz in his ear.
"It doesn't matter," said the voice, cracking with the bad reception, "I imagine convincing Kenshin Himura to join us will require something… a little more personal."
Rude's eyes grew wide, though the man on the other end could not see his surprise, "Are you asking us to arrange a meeting?"
He heard no response but the soft bleeps of an ended call.
Rude wiped the sweat from his face and took a few deep breaths to steady himself. It was often hard to distinguish the president's well-coordinated plans with his out of the blue notions, a trait that was somewhat irksome to his employees.
"Rheno, let's go. We have a long night ahead of us."
The grand splendor of Hollow Bastion had long since faded as the crumbling castle in the distant horizon attested to. However, some of the town had been made livable due to the hard work of the Hallow Bastion Reconstruction Team. Everywhere one turned in the city, there was construction machines and fresh paint. The headquarters of the H.B.R.T. looked ordinary enough, a small cottage in a line of cottages with the same white walls and red-orange roof tiles as every other house on the cobblestone street that were recently constructed. The inside of the base, however, was a different story.
The house was borrowed from a wizard, whose knickknacks and curios filled almost all the empty nooks and crannies. Despite the nearly over-whelming mess, a large computer managed to become the highlight of the small house. It was shoved in the farthest corner of the large space, but the importance of it filled the room. The black monitor was glowing with electric green numbers and figures that pulsed in time with a small but penetrating beep.
At the keyboard of the super computer sat a man in his middle age, scratching the short blonde stubble on his chin and cursing around the long toothpick wedged between his teeth. He was no schmuck when it came to the sophistications of building and piloting ships of fantastic shapes and functions, but when it came to computers he was as lost as a rat without a nose. He was an engineer, not a programmer.
Despite punching in all the equations he had in his arsenal, the numbers on the monitor continued to flash incomprehensively but with a definite sense of urgency.
The older man cursed again, slamming his fist on the keys.
"Squall! Will you get over here and fix this piece-a-crap?"
A tall young man was reclining on a couch in the large living room, cleaning the barrel of the revolver that served as the hilt of his wide curved blade. He dropped his task to make his way over to the struggling man; his ocean green eyes were as sharp as flint but the rest of his narrow face had been nearly expressionless for as long as anyone could remember.
"Is the town's security system malfunctioning again?" asked the young man as he approached.
"Naw, that things' fine. There's something new here… some kind of alert."
The sharp eyes of the young man examined the monitors, face remaining impassive.
"It's a data stream. It means we're in."
The older man stared at the youth, teeth gritting in irritation, "'In'? What's that supposed to mean?"
The youth sighed, perturbed in his eyes and his voice but in no other feature, "It means we've successfully hacked into the Shinra Power Company's mainframe and have access to their files. The alarm means that new information is being sent to them, and thus sent to us."
The old man's jaw went slack, and for a full minute he stared at the youth beside him before he could speak again.
"Shinra? The Shinra?"
"I was a little surprised myself. I'd rather focus our resources on restoring this town, but a friend of ours told me that whatever Shinra was up to would affect everyone. If it wasn't for that, I wouldn't have wasted the effort."
The blonde man sat in awe for a moment longer, but slowly a hardened grin curled across his hairy face, "Well then, I reckon we ought to check out what that lunatic has been up to for the last couple-a-months."
"Not here," replied the youth, "the alarm means there's new information, but we can't access it from here by any means. To hack into a network as complex as Shinra's, I had to use the other computer."
After the youth dismissed the alarm, the two men rose and headed for the door.
"I'd take your staff if I were you, there's still Heartless throughout the construction site," said the youth to the older man. He reassembled his own weapon with ease, clicking the various parts of the revolver into place over the wide, shining blade.
"Good. I could use the exercise anyway."
The older man picked up his weapon from the side of the computer and swung it a few times, feeling it's weight in his hands.
The young man balanced his gunblade across the leather jacket on his shoulders and opened the large wooden door.
"Oh, Cid, one more thing," said the young man, "I told you, it's not 'Squall' anymore… it's Leon."
Night fell swiftly in Tokyo. The fog of twilight darkness covered the streets and coated the buildings with a thick coat of black shadows. All was quiet in the city, but on its outskirts, the night was anything but calm.
Rude and Rheno crept through the darkness; the clear light of the full moon guiding their steps and shining off their skin.
Approaching the Kamiya dojo, the pair leaned against the clean white walls that encircled it. They slid stealthily along the enclosure, slowly approaching the gate.
"Remember," whispered Rude, "We're in and out as quickly as possible. Our only allies are the element of surprise and that it's two against one,"
"Right," Rheno rolled his eyes, "it doesn't matter that we're technologically advanced or that we're taller by about six inches just so long as we startle him."
"Will you take this seriously?" Rude shouted as quietly as his temper would allow, "We're dealing with an ex-assassin with amazing skills. We underestimate him, we die."
"Seriously? If all that stuff our boss said about him is true, I doubt breaking and entering is the best way to face him."
Rude stared accusingly over his sunglasses' frames "'If'? If his skillsaren'twhat were described, why is Shinra wasting his time?"
"All the more reason this plan stinks."
Rude rubbed his temples; trying scrub out any brain cells being infected by Rheno's stupidity.
"Then next time you make the plan."
The gate loomed ahead of the two of them, catching the moonlight and casting a shadow on their advance. Silently, the two leapt in front of the large wooden doors and wasted no time laying a simultaneous kick to the center of the frame. The gate swung open, barely attached to its hinges.
Rude instantly took charge, directing his partner with a harsh whisper.
"You check the west side of the house and I'll check the-."
As the dust from their destruction settled, the men noticed a rigid form lit by the warmth of the single paper lantern. The form's eyes gleamed with wild aggression and its bandaged fist was raised in confrontation.
"Took you long enough," smirked the youth with feathery, umber-colored hair, "Kaoru thought you might come back, so I figured I might as well entertain myself. I didn't think you'd make me wait all night."
Rheno smirked as well, shoving his hands into his pockets in an air of aloofness. "I didn't know an assassin like the legendary Battosai needed a guard dog. You must be one of the strays he took in."
The youth's smile faded.
"I'll let you in on a little secret," he frowned, "There are two things that get me riled-up, idiocy and cowardice. You seem to have plenty of both."
Rude straightened his tie, returning his tone to a professional manner, "What can we do to pacify you?"
"Well, since you asked," The youth cracked his knuckles, "unless you have a bottle of sake in your pockets, I'd say you have a pretty good chance of getting your teeth knocked in."
Rude frowned, raising his fist and bracing himself.
"We haven't been introduced," smirked the youth to his opponent, crouching in a modified fighting stance, "My name is Sanosuke, the stray with teeth."
With his words as the signal to begin, the fighters launched themselves forward and the gap between them closed quickly. Each man landed a solid blow on his opponent's shoulder. Sanosuke used the range of his free arm to punch Rude's jaw. The large, bald man was unprepared for the force of the blow and spiraled backwards. Sanosuke did not waste a moment; taking a stride forward he landed another hard blow to his opponent's chest.
"Hey, you're good," shouted Rheno from his view nearby.
Hand clutching his aching shoulder, Sanosuke grinned.
"Why don't you come over here and see for yourself?"
Rude was quick to regain his balance. Ignoring the throbbing pain in his chest and head, he reeled back and struck Sanosuke's side while he was distracted, missing his ribs by less than an inch. Sanosuke gritted his teeth and continued to swing his fists towards his foe, striking more often than his opponent countered.
They did not notice that Rheno was circling the battle.
Kenshin found himself lost in the same gloom as the darkness beneath his eyelids during his trip to the market, only his eyelids were so heavy that they would not open to free him.
In the obscurity, he was met with images that had haunted his sleepless nights for nearly ten years. Memories of his past: nights filled with silent death and blood and days filled with screams and tears.
The sounds of scuffle suddenly erupted louder than the other noises. He recognized the familiar sounds of fists connecting with their targets and muffled gasps of pain mingled with shouts of triumph. The noises were close.
Kenshin's eyes finally found the motivation to open and release him from his nightmares. The sounds of a fistfight were too close to mistake as a fragment of the images in his head.
He rose out of bed, already dressed in preparation for the return of the strangers that he predicted was eminent before Kaoru had warned him. Tying his sword to his waist, the man ran out of the room and dashed out the back entryway into the recess of night.
Before he could run to the courtyard, a cloud covered the light of the full moon and he was drenched in darkness. The air grew suddenly cold, and the wind picked up at his ankles. His senses sharpened in alarm, and he turned at once to see a figure looming in the inky blackness.
The figure's long white hair cascaded smoothly around his impressive frame and narrow face. His emerald eyes flashed despite the darkness, catching some spark of the power within him. A long, black-leather coat swirled about him in the wind that ruffled the black feathers of a single wing protruding from his shoulder blade. He floated above the rooftop of the dojo, staring down at the swordsman before him and wielding a blade longer than any Kenshin had ever seen.
Kenshin knew at once that the figure was the presence that he had felt but could make no move to question it or challenge it. Frozen in awe, he could do nothing but stare.
The figure of a man looked at Kenshin as a raven would gaze at the condemned and when he spoke his voice was like the lowest note of a cello, the very voice that had accosted the darkness behind his eyelids.
"I wonder if you have the strength to challenge every evil. Your charade of rurouni may deliver you from your torment, but I will make you see the truth; you're no hero, and you're not fooling anyone."
The figure grinned slowly, cruelly.
"I look forward to seeing you again. Kenshin Himura."
The moon broke free of the cloud that had consumed it and soft light trickled down from the sky. The figure vanished as silently as he had come, leaving Kenshin alone with the sounds of battle.
Rude was tiring under the Sanosuke's offensive series of attacks. The youth could see his opponent's fatigue and hammered away, despite being heavily bruised himself. A path to Rude's jaw opened and Sanosuke threw all of his weight into an uppercut punch that sent Rude reeling.
He was about to land his finishing blow, when a sudden strike to the back of his head sent his vision spinning. He collapsed with a muffled thud.
Rheno stood over the unconscious young man, brandishing his metal baton in triumph and taunting his felled prey, "like I said, you're good… but not that good."
Rude stumbled forward; his dark face was swelling in shades of red and sunglasses broken beyond repair. He cast the remnants of his shades aside, revealing a dark purple bruise engulfing his left eye.
"We need to move, now," he said sternly, "We've been compromised."
"Relax," replied Rheno, "maybe nobody heard us."
As he spoke, the paper lantern's warm glow flickered and disappeared; the courtyard was lit by the moon's pale blue light alone.
A soft sound of tapping resounded in the distance breaking the stillness of the night and growing closer. Someone was running towards them, but the encroaching shadows that surrounded them hid the attacker from view. Rude and Rheno stood back to back, searching the darkness desperately for the threat.
Just as it seemed the footsteps were upon them, they stopped.
A second passed like an eternity, when suddenly the light of the moon was eclipsed, casting a shadow over them.
Rude looked up and saw the silhouette of a man in the white circle of moon.
He pushed Rheno out of the way as Kenshin dove from the sky, sword drawn and aimed at the crowns of their heads.
Despite the movement of his targets, the swordsman continued his decent, crashing to the cobblestone ground with a force that shook the ground. When he straightened from the crouching position of his decent, a small fault appeared where his sword had struck the stony earth.
Rheno and Rude stared in astonishment.
When they saw the ex-assassin last, his eyes had been gentle and calm, albeit suspicious. In the soft moonlight his eyes were still calm, but they were somehow even narrower than before, and brighter.
"Whatever you hoped to achieve, there will be no victory for you tonight," he said gravely, "Leave and tend to your wounds."
"Unfortunately for you, Mr. Himura," Rheno snapped mockingly, "I'm not hurt, and defeat is not an option."
Kenshin sheathed his sword.
"You're giving up with one retort?" Rheno sneered, "You must not be the hitokiri we want after-."
His comeback did not have time to completely escape his grinning lips before Kenshin had made his move.
In an instant, the red-haired swordsman had gone from being three yards away to being two feet away. Rheno, barely comprehending the speed of his attacker, did not have a chance to react. Kenshin did not hesitate.
Crouching low, and firmly gripping the handle of his sword, the cold metal of his blade flashed like a lightning bolt, too swift to last longer than a moment. Before Rude could blink, Kenshin was behind his opponent, sword brandished in the light of the moon.
A moment passed. Rheno's baton snapped in twain. The Shinra employee spun to attack his assailment, but suddenly his chest ripped with pain and he could not breathe. He collapsed.
Kenshin hardly flinched during his opponent's decent, but when the young man's body was still, the swordsman turned slowly to Rude. His eyes were all but glowing with anger.
"Whatever your reasons," he said with unnerving equanimity, "this one will not lend the skills of his sword to your cause. This is your last chance to leave while you can still walk."
Rude clamped his jaw shut, an action that irritated the newly formed bruise on his chin. He raised his baton slowly, his shoulders and biceps aching with the effort.
"I'm afraid neither of us has a choice in the matter."
Kenshin's bright eyes suddenly burned, "But there is a difference between the two of us… This one shall not fail."
With a fluid motion Kenshin sheathed his sword and leapt forward. Rude tried to brace himself, and even prepared for a counter-attack, but it was no use. The swordsman was upon him in an instant, and unsheathed his sword with such force that it sent the injured man into a staggering crash with the ground.
Kenshin was about to examine the damage when he heard the click of a gun's hammer.