Authors notes: Standard disclaimers apply... I don't own RuroKen, I am not Watsuki, I don't own anything... though I wish I'd own Saitou =^^=.
I am not a native speaker, so if you find any mistakes, you may keep them.
This one shot is a scene-interpretation from the manga, volume 7, often misjudged in my opinion. The translation is taken from Maigo-chan to have a common basis for everyone.
Hunting Season I – Hot Day
The noon's sun was glistening and hot, standing in her zenith, the white stones on the street reflected its light, burning my eyes. Even the ever active cicadas kept still, sparing their energy and effort for a less hostile time of the day.
No tree was near offering relief, the air was scintillating from the heat, blurring my view. The destructive sun. A brief smirk crossed my features: the sun as the real killer, the cause for more deaths as I was held responsible for. But lingering my thoughts about the true purpose of the sun wouldn't get my job done and determined I pushed my cap deeper into my face, relaxing my eyes from the blinding light.
The heat was a little inconvenience, but nothing that would distract me from starting my hunt, it was useful. Noon was the perfect time with everyone being sleepy from lunch, the temperature adding to the effect. Breaktime. Resting. No one would voluntarily be in action at a time like this.
Under my perfectly fitting suit I felt sweat running down my back, along the well hidden wooden stick with its heavy metal content. A lifelong habit, having a sword handy on my back while working under disguise, it had served me well so far. One could never foresee what obstacles lay ahead. I had gotten used to the stiff and heavy object as if there was nothing.
In contrast, the wooden box I was carrying on my back that I had chosen for disguise and memento reasons wasn't that comfortable. For the surprise effect this was an necessary evil, once I was inside, I would use the first occasion to get rid off it.
Time was pressing but if everything ran accordingly to my plan... I couldn't allow myself a delay anymore. Everything was well planned, everyone except one person had stepped out. The perfect time to set up my trap to catch him, to make him react as I wish, he was a mere puppet in my hands. I anticipated the upcoming fight, I didn't have a real challenge during the last years... about ten years. But this one kept promises, being a real trial, a score never settled, there had never been a winner or loser in our fights, we had never the chance to fight them till the bitter end.
Once having learned about my new job, to find him, to recruit him, the temptation to pick up my sword and run directly to him, challenging him, had been close. But the most anticipating moment in a hunt was the foreplay. Taking the time to web a net, to set up traps luring the prey into it, feeling the adrenalin slowly building up until the level was on its maximum, unbearable to endure, the tickling everywhere in the body when the time to strike had come.
Anyway, I have never been one for acting hot blooded, it would have spoiled all my fun. Like a seduction of a woman, the anticipation in a hunt had to build up, the longer the delay the more tempting it got. I took my time plotting and now the perfect time had come.
The hunt for Battousai had started. The decoy had to be placed.
I step short, I had nearly missed the house, lingering, lost in my considerations.
Large stone walls and a huge wooden entrance secured the houses inside from outside intruders. The sign right beside the entrance gave the occupation and name of the inhabitants away: The Kamiya Dojo. The sign was old, but looked after. The inhabitants treasured what was theirs, I appreciated that thought.
Countless times I had observed the setting secretly, prying inside in unguarded moments, trying to gather as much information as possible from the inside. I knew what was awaiting me.
I raised my hand to open the door and before I even touched it, I heard his voice inside. Nothing less could be expected from a capable fighter, his spirit was on high alert. I had been counting on a more lazy attitude, I had to be careful not to underestimate him. From the very first day, Battousai had a knack for picking only the best of their subject.
"Who are you?"
He was rude, nothing else to be expected from a child of the streets and the revolution. Who could have taught him? All he had been learned was how to survive on his own.
In his own, rude way, he was perceptive, I doubted that I'd be able to fool him for long and I put on my friendly, commercial smile. Firstly, I had to get rid of this cumbersome medicine box, I set it down on the ground. It constrained my movements considerably and I would need to fight him, it was inevitable, there was no way to avoid it. "How do you do? I'm a peddler from Tama; I have some unusual medicines called Ishida powder." Going along with my part western style disguise I took of my cap. "My name is Fujita Gorou."
He was suspicious, I felt him tensing, he had good instincts. Today's job was a piece of a cake considering what was coming the next days, but I shouldn't led my guard down. After all, there seemed to be a grain of truth in the rumours I had heard about him. Not that I gave much about rumours. People liked to exaggerate after a lost brawl. It didn't make them look as if they were the weak losers they were actually. Never underestimate your opponent. While his brain progressed the information I gave him, I continued. "How about it? Ishida powder works on bruises, even broken bones . . ."
"Hold it, hold it. I don't live here. They're all out now."
Yes, I knew it, that was exactly the reason I was here. "Oh, I see. That's too bad."
By now the given information should have reached his brain behind the thick skull, processing it together with his observations and coming to a result. Coming up with a conclusion he stared at me, suspicion arising. Finally. He was growing cautious.
"Hey, you. What's with those slanty eyes?"
"These? Ha ha, I was born this way." Great. The information processing took some more time but now he got attentive, waking from his sleepy noon mode. Battousai's instincts picking up the right persons around him was still intact. Maybe it wouldn't be such a hard task to lure him out of the shadows as I had assumed.
"Then what about these?" He grabbed my hand and I didn't put any resistance in it as he turned it around to come to the correct conclusion. "You're no medicine peddler; those are shinai calluses. Who are you?"
The Hunt was in progress.
Perfect. I dropped my facade and let him experience my spirit, I wasn't hiding and holding back anymore. "You're a clever man, Sagara Sanosuke. So Battousai's not home. In that case," I reached behind, drawing the sword I had concealed under my suit. "I'll just have to leave him a present."
"You were hiding that thing . . . That's what you came for from the start. All right! I accept! I'll ask who you really are with my fists!"
His spirits were high, but I would show him his place soon. I licked my sword, soon it would taste his blood. But he wasn't aware of it. Yet.
He threw a punch at me, I was actually forced to take a step back. Interesting, I haven't been forced to step back lately. He was good material to work with and it was the time to take him his hot-blooded juvenile mischief.
As the dust cleared I smiled and I could see his surprise that his attack didn't affect me more. He needed a lesson in containing his emotions, too. He was an open book. "I see. You have a good punch. You deserve the rumours that say you're a great fighter."
His face dumbfounded. I could have told, that he was only used to the Meiji. He was way too young to have real battle experience, to have looked at death many times, to have been threatened with it countless times. Nevertheless he was a raw diamond, not imaginable what Hijikata would have made of him if he would have joined us. He would have made it among the best fighters, but here he needed to learn where his place was: beneath me. "But these are rumours from the Meiji world of peace. In Kyoto during the Bakumatsu, a punch like that would mean nothing!"
I attacked at low speed, still he seemed not used to such a determination, he wasn't capable of blocking or evading. Right handed he was? I aimed for his right shoulder, stabbing my sword deep into it. I wasn't going for a kill, I was up for a trap. For a more tempting fight.
The force of my attack made him smashing through the dojo wall, my blade snapped from the impact and the strong muscles around it. I should have known... this metal was good for nothing. The next time I'd bring a real sword along, for Battousai I would need it. I threw the remains into a corner. "It's convenient to carry a swordcane, but they're about as strong as toys. The Japanese sword is, after all, the best--"
From a corner of an eye, I noticed a movement. Was he yearning for death? He addressed me, fury reflecting in his eyes. "Where're you going, you slit-eyed bastard. We're not finished yet."
The wound on his shoulder, the tip of my sword still sticking in it, was bleeding heavily. Nevertheless he was back on his feet. Impressive, but not the wisest idea. By now he should have an idea of my strength. "You show good spirit. But it'd be better if you just went quietly to sleep. The wound is not life-threatening, but it's deep."
"Shut up! I may be wounded, but your sword's broken! The fight starts here!"
This was yearning for a quick ending before I'd have to injure him seriously. Without much effort I blocked the punch he threw at me and I aimed for his right shoulder. I felt the resistance of his muscles as I pushed the remains of the swordcane deeper in his flesh. "Sleep."
Holding his wrist and smashing with my other hand his head to the ground with force, making sure he would pass out from pain and blood loss. This had taken a little more time and effort than I had assumed, I'd have to give him this credit. Maybe I'd have a chance to teach him a lesson or two in the near future. First lesson: stay down when it is wise. You don't have to prove that you are the strongest, you know it.
I shot a last quick glance around, checking my trap. The wooden box was an eyecatcher with the traitorous sign on it. I'd given the information Fujita Gorou and Ishida, Sagara would pass it. The obvious signs of my attack, the way I held a sword and wielded it: the dojo wall and Sagara were proof of it. Did I have done too much? Was this too obvious? No, Battousai had lived in peace so many years, his senses had dulled, buried deep in his mind. He couldn't afford to ignore this attack. But would it be enough to lure him out and would he draw the right conclusions?
With a quick look I checked my suit. Not one drop of blood on it, I could even pass Battousai and his friends without them noticing my intentions and getting suspicious.
In addition, Tokio would be pleased that there was no blood on my suit she'd have to clean.
As a matter of form, I left closing the entrance carefully behind me.