This fic is AU, set mainly in Singapore. If you haven't heard of it, its okay. 1942-1945 was when the Japanese occupied said country during world war two. Just some background if you didn't understand. Now, please read, and review! Thank you!
End Game
Prologue
December 8, 1941, Singapore
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Kamiya Kaoru?"
That. That was a good question. Of course, the person who posed the question did not know what was going on in the 20-year-old's mind. She didn't know either. All she knew was that she had to get back home; she had to warn her father. Fueled by adrenaline, she raced through the familiar streets of the town, now all but destroyed by the consecutive bomb blasts.
Just don't let me be too late.
But she was. The bicycle repair shop and the apartment above had caved in, and everything within a one mile radius had been mercilessly annihilated. Debris and corpses were strewn everywhere, and what used to be a busy, bustling town had turned into a ghost city, bathed in the pale dust of plaster and concrete. She stood there, staring at what used to be her home, the sounds of the sirens, shouts and alarms distant.
Suddenly, a second wave of tremors shook the earth and she snapped out of her trance.
"Tou-san!" She screamed and ran into the bicycle shop, pushing away the overturned bicycles and blocks of concrete blocking the entrance, regardless of how badly the chains and wires were cutting into her slender fingers.
She would search the entire house if needed, just as long as she could find her father, or some confirmation that he was safe.
But she didn't have to search the whole house.
In the living room, under the grand piano she loved so much, was her father.
"Tou-san?" There was no response.
"Tou-san?" She was right beside him now, shaking him gently. "Come on, I know you can hear me. Stop playing tricks on me already! It's not funny!" She tried to sound indignant, hopeful that it would draw out some response from the man, waiting for his half-chiding, half-affectionate knuckle rub on her head.
However, his eyes remained firmly shut. She touched his cheek. It was so cold, so unlike the warmth that she normally associated with the man. Then, she realized the trail of blood coming from his forehead and the sides of his mouth was staining his face an ugly red. Ripping off part of her sleeve, she wiped the blood away clumsily.
"Sorry Tou-san. I was never lady-like…I could never do things like the other refined Japanese women could do…See? I can't even wipe this off properly…You must come back to teach me! I promise I'll learn! I promise, tou-san, wake up!"
Maybe it was the blurring of her vision by the tears that kept flowing which hindered her.
Before she could finish her task, the ear-splitting sound of a fighter jet streaking through the air was heard. Jerking her head up, she was about to run when she heard the explosion, only a few feet away.
Debris came flying at her from all angles, and she reflexively put up her arm to shield her face. Thus, she did not see the broken bicycle that came flying at her with the force of a small bomb, driven by the impact of the shelling. Or it could have been the thick grey cloud of smoke that obscured her vision. Or her tears.
The only thing that registered before she met darkness was a searing pain on the left side of her face.
Another night. Another black envelope. Another assignment.
The moon was swathed by the many dark ominous clouds in the midnight sky, allowing only a few streaks of moonlight through. But that was fine; he could see perfectly well in the dark. In fact, it was even an advantage- this way, the assignment wouldn't be able to see him. Battousai glided along the streets, blending into the shadows as he enjoyed the unwavering silence of the area.
Arriving at the location, amber eyes widened in surprise as they took the scene in. The whole building was destroyed, as was everything around it.
I guess that means no assignment tonight.
He swept a casual glance around the area and was about to turn around when he suddenly sensed something. It was someone's ki. Weak, but definitely there. Something in there was still alive. Narrowing his eyes, he moved towards the source of the ki, hand resting casually on the hilt of his katana.
Then, as if by the will of the Gods, the clouds shifted, and a beam of moonlight fell upon a particular area, not far from the ruined grand piano.
There, beneath the thin layer of plaster and other demolished pieces of furniture, a bloodied hand stuck out, clutching a piece of white cloth stained with blood, refusing to relax, to die, to give up.
A finger twitched once.
End Game
Chapter 1: Back to the Land of the Conscious
Kaoru came back to the world with the conscious feeling of a slight pressure on her left thigh. Registering the presence of a person in front of her, her eyes remained shut as she moved her right hand past the slit in her skirt, trying to feel for the dagger she had strapped to her right thigh, which currently seemed to be missing. Going for the alternative choice, she instinctively fisted her hand, a natural reflex sending it straight at the person's face…
Only to be stopped by a hand around that said fist.
She stared at the man kneeling in front of her, her eyes wide with disbelief. Without even looking up, he spoke, his voice rich and dark.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
She dropped her arm in surprise. The pressure on her thigh returned, and she looked down, realizing that he was only bandaging a wound. She blushed, embarrassed. And here she thought he was a pervert…
As she her brain slowly woke up, she finally understood that her life would never be the same again. Her father was dead- her kind, loving and warm guiding light had gone out forever. Mostly, all she felt was shock at her situation. Automatically deciding to deal with her heart (which was now in extreme turmoil) later, her mind independently started to absorb information from her surroundings.
The previously mentioned man worked in a calm silence, ignoring her presence (as much as he could- he was bandaging her after all), and Kaoru took the opportunity to observe him despite the dull throbbing in her left cheek and various parts of her body, where she guessed the more severe areas of her injury were. She didn't really mind the pain. After all, she had endured far worse injuries…
He was dressed in a traditional black gi and grey hakama, his fiery red hair tied up in a samurai topknot. Amusedly, she wondered if she was transported back to the Bakumatsu, or if the man was a real stickler for tradition. She didn't see many people wear such clothing, and even if she did, she would think that they were crazy. Many anti-Japanese sentiments were spread around ever since they invaded China, and to wear something like this in the open, it was plain suicide.
She then focused her gaze on his face, craning her neck and upper torso to sneak a glimpse at his eyes which were covered by his long flame-colored bangs. The searing pain in her side then decided to thoughtfully inform her of its existence, causing her to shift her gaze to something else, namely the cross-shaped scar that adorned his left cheek. I wonder where he got that. She stifled the sudden strange urge to reach out to caress it, to feel the harsh lines engraved there.
Whoever did it had a lot of hatred for this man…
He knew she was staring at him.
Smiling slightly, he continued his work on her thigh, and his thoughts wandered.
Why did I bring her here anyway? I could've just left her to die… It must have been because she was Japanese. I couldn't just leave someone from my homeland die, could I?
But some part of his mind, the part that he loathed, told him that it didn't matter if she was Japanese or Chinese. He would have brought her here to be treated anyway.
Shut up! It wasn't as if I wanted to personally treat her anyway. I was going to bring her to the doctor and leave her there…
-----Flashback-----
Shit. That person underneath was still alive. Moving towards the pile of debris, he quickly lifted the heavier pieces off the body. A small cough could be heard, and for some reason, he was relieved.
It was not long before everything was thrown to the side. Bending down, he looked at the person he had just saved, and gasped at what he saw.
Blood blotted her whole body a deep red, and it was still flowing freely from a few major injured areas. There were many small in rips in her shirt and skirt, and her feet were red and raw. Her long raven tresses were dyed white by the dust from the debris, and spread like a halo around her head. In the moonlight, the blood glistened and she looked abnormally pale, giving him the image of a fallen angel, one that was brutally hurt before she fell. He clenched his fist, amber eyes aflame.
Another small cough brought him to his senses. A trail of blood dribbled from her lips as her body shivered from the sudden exposure to the night breeze. With uncharacteristic gentleness, he lifted her up bridal style and ran towards the headquarters.
I'll pass her to the doctor. They can decide what to do with her.
However, instead of being able to leave her at the doctor's, whose hands were full with other more severely injured soldiers, he was given a medicine box and sent off with brief orders on how to treat her wounds.
He stared down at the unconscious woman in his arms, her head resting on his chest. A deep sense of foreboding arose from somewhere inside him as the woman mumbled something in her unconscious state.
What am I supposed to do?
-----End Flashback-----
And so he ended up treating her wounds. The bandages were wrapped rather crudely, but it was the best he could do. He was an assassin, not a nurse! At least he managed to prevent infection from setting in, due to the fact that most of her injuries were rather minor cuts and abrasions, but there were a few deeper, more serious ones that would not stop bleeding, like the one at her right side, left cheek, and left thigh. Luckily, nothing was broken… Or at least he thought so.
That reminded him of his task, and he refocused on the bandage. He watched with a morbid fascination as blood seeped through the fresh bandage again. Every time he thought the bleeding had stopped and proceeded to wrap bandages around the wound, the damn thing would start bleeding again. It was like a sick sign, telling him that he could never escape it.
It was true though. Blood was everywhere. He tasted it in his food, felt it on his hands, heard it dripping off the tip of his katana, saw it on the dead bodies of those he had slain, and smelt it everywhere, on everyone. Everyone, except this woman. That didn't make sense. She was bleeding like crazy, for goodness sake! Still, he couldn't help but feel that there was something curiously different about her.
The faint scent of jasmine wafted in the air, and he felt himself relaxing. He removed the bandage and applied more pressure to the wound.
He then started wandering about her. Who was she anyway? He had found her in the home of the man he was supposed to assassinate. Was she his sister? His daughter? Or an unfortunate passer-by?
He would get his answers. And then he'll send her on her way, and never see her again. Yeah.
Applying the finishing touches to the dressing for her wound, he stood up and spoke suddenly.
"That's the last of your injuries. You may stay here until you recover." Was it her, or did his voice sound lighter, more devoid of the darkness from before?
She raised his head to look at him, wanting to thank him for his kindness, and to inquire about her situation in general. Kaoru was still very confused. She had many questions- her mouth just hadn't caught on yet.
Amethyst orbs tinged with amber met startled sapphire spheres swirling with mysterious hints of silver.
Time stopped.
AN: Twile wrote this. Pickle is just posting it (after editing) because she forgot to tell twile about her setting up this account. Aww. Twile knows a little jap. Anything wrong, scold her. Thank you! Suggestions are welcome, if you want. If you need more background info, just post your Questions in your review (heh, heh: hint hint), and we'll try to answer. Twile takes history. She should know.
