Truth
Kenshin tried to focus and failed. In the past, he had managed to stand up and fight while cut down and exhausted, his will had carried him through pain and loss. Yet now he was unable to forget the anxiety in his stomach. He couldn't let something like this distract him. She wasn't a harmless little child with an umbrella anymore. She wasn't a foolish teenager who hadn't thought things through. 'Swordsman is just a pretty word for killer,' she had said with quiet certainty, as someone who knew those words held true first and formost for themselve. Someone who, having tasted blood, purposefully decided to draw a killing sword. Still, he couldn't banish the bitter taste of shame and guilt in his mouth. He was the one who taught her this truth. He had made her pick up that sword. He hadn't realized, at that time, that there was more than one way to destroy a life. He had learned that too late. In the snow of Otsu.
Don't think about that now!
She chose that instant to move, as if she knew... Kenshin, off-rhythm, jumped and evaded the blow, but she followed instantly with a second attack. He barely blocked it and stepped back.
Focus!
Her blade kept chasing him and Kenshin kept dodging and blocking, not making a single move to retaliate. He couldn't possibly end this without landing a blow, but his body refused to strike, defending, retreating, remembering with burning ache that he didn't want to hurt that person anymore. Her haunted eyes staring straight at him... He avoided her thrust by a hair's breadth, stepped back again. Behind him was the river, he couldn't keep doing this much longer. Why did his sword feel so heavy? She was faster than the last time he'd fought her. But worse than that, her chaotic ki sent his sixth sense completely astray. He could find no clear pattern in her moves. Since he failed to predict her, all he could do was rely on his superior speed to avoid her, but if he kept losing his balance like this… Sano's voice snapped at him.
"Kenshin! What the hell are you doing?"
He saw it too late, as she made a downward strike to the right while he was awaiting her on the left. All he could do was spin to avoid a fatal blow, but he couldn't prevent the blade from slaying his shoulder. He fell on one knee and parried in time the second attack. Their blades locked against each other. Yoko kept pushing, trying to break his stance. Kenshin braced himself to push back despite his injured muscles. The burning pain spread from his shoulder in his whole body, and his mind slowly cleared up. It was like the ache was taking everything else away, old fighting reflexes overcoming the guilt. He had to win. He had promised!
He gathered his strength and in one smooth move, pushed her away and stood up. She stumbled but managed to regain her footing. Kenshin mirrored her formless stance, holding his sword casually with one hand.
Here and now, there was only the duel. He had to end it first. The rest could be sorted out later.
Breathing hard, he focused on the situation. He couldn't predict her. Fine. It was a little bothersome, but it had happened before. He could handle it. All he had to do was to take the initiative and land a blow.
Finally bracing himself, he slayed at her, and it was Yoko's turn to evade his blade. Bit by bit, stroke by stroke, Kenshin regained his lost ground, forcing her into retreat. She never used her katana to parry, he noted; she dodged, jumped, escaped him always, never raising her blade for defense, only for attack. That she could defend herself from him in this manner for that long was somewhat irritating. Was she trying to mock him? But her eyes were blank, devoid of any hint of a joke or a game. He had a flicker of memory, a sword he had shattered to pieces together with the man holding it. And suddenly, he understood. Yoko had seen it and remembered it. She knew him. She feared him. Consciously or not, she had built her entire style of fighting around that fear. Kenshin paused, feeling nauseous. Just how bad could one scare someone without even intending to? Had the gods any more horrendous games to play with him?
His ki flared with anger. Anger with himself, with fate, with the person who had lost herself that deeply. As she slayed at him, he jumped in the air and fell back on her, ready for Ryu Tsui Sen. But she shifted stances in an instant, just before he landed, and struck him on the back. Because he had no foot on earth yet, he could not dodge properly. He landed on his feet despite the pain. A minor cut once again, nothing truly dangerous, but she'd hit him for the second time. That was beyond annoyance. How had he allowed that? Sooner or later, the blood loss was going to weaken him. He couldn't indulge in many more missteps.
"You killed my brother with this move," she reminded him casually. "You thought I would forget it?"
He greeted his teeth. He'd been a fool. Ryu Tsui Sen, Ryu Shou Sen, every step he had made in front of Yoko had engraved itself on her mind. And combined with her unusual ability to read him... He had to be more careful. But that disturbing ki that didn't make sense, because of it, his instinct was flawed, he was making the wrong decisions. It felt like he was lost in fog, like back then…
Blinded by rage and physical wounds, numbed by the freezing snow, when he…
'Even if I can't use my senses correctly, all I really have to do is concentrate on hitting you.'
He chased the vision from his mind. No time to think about that!
No need to think about anything.
So she could predict him? Fine. He could live with that. He sheathed his blade for Battoujutsu, breathing deeply. Even if she could predict this one, it wouldn't help her. The sheer speed of the blade was unavoidable. Evading it was possible, but not while stepping in to land a blow.
She watched his stance and Kenshin saw a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. She had, after all, an old scar on her chest to remind her of the trajectory of that particular move.
Now try and get in my range if you dare…
Sano fidgeted on his log. He didn't like this at all. Kenshin wasn't someone who would normally get easily hurt, but right now he wasn't his normal self. Sano wished he could stand up and smack him on the head until that red-haired idiot found his brain back. Yoko had managed to unbalance him. Kenshin now finally seemed to have gotten serious, but he was far from calm. It was something strange and frightening to see this first class swordsman lose his footing…
He had taken the stance for Battoujutsu, though, and Yoko had paused just outside of his range. As skilled as she was, she was still slower than Kenshin. There was no way she could land a blow against the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu drawing techniques. What would she come up with?
Yoko smiled. And then she just charged.
Sano could hardly see it happening at all. She ran at Kenshin, foolishly unguarded, then suddenly switched her katana to her left hand; and as he started to unsheathe his sword, she raised her right wrist to block it.
With her wrist alone?
Then Sano realized. Of course, she had daggers in her sleeves! And when it came to parrying, a short blade was much more efficient and sturdy than a long one. While Yoko blocked Kenshin's sword with the dagger, the katana in her left hand stroke upwards at full strength and Kenshin fell to the ground.
He didn't stand up again.
Sano jumped on his feet. How bad had been the hit? This couldn't be! This man wasn't that easy to kill!
Yoko walked towards the unmoving body, panting. But she had to stop midway. The ex-fighter-for-hire was standing between her and Kenshin, his fists clenched. She lowered her katana and frowned.
"This isn't your fight, Sano. Don't get in the way."
"I know that. But do you honestly think I'm going to stand by and watch him die without doing anything?"
"You can't fight me bare-handed."
He crossed his arms and merely stood there, as unmoving and stubborn as a mountain.
"If you're so sure about that, then what are you waiting for?"
She had a cold smile.
"You have a good friend," she said, looking past Sano. "Now hurry and stand up. Or are you going to let him fight in your place?"
Sano, perplex, looked behind him. Kenshin was getting back on his feet, helping himself with his sword. He wasn't in particularly good shape, but obviously he had once again avoided the worst of the blow.
"Get out of the way, Sano." The wanderer's voice sounded strange. It was low and hoarse.
"Kenshin…"
"It's alright. I can read her now."
Kenshin's sharp eyes were staring straight at his opponent with such intensity it seemed he couldn't see anything else anymore. Sano couldn't help but shiver. He slowly stepped back to the side, unable to put a name on his worries. Kenshin had somehow shifted from his hesitant state to something else, equally unpleasant. It couldn't...
"I couldn't see where she was," Kenshin muttered. "On the left, on the right? And do you know why? Do you know where she is?"
"Kenshin…" Sano whispered, unsure what he should do.
"She's on the edge. Just like me."
"I don't understand what you…"
"Musouken. It's Musouken, 'the sword of the empty mind'. Fighting without thinking. Except her mind isn't empty. It's broken and scattered and it doesn't make sense. No focus. No discipline. You're just tiptoeing at the edge of insanity and holding to your basic fighting instinct. Something like that will not defeat me."
"Finally," Yoko answered softly. "I've been waiting."
She swung her blade to clean it from the blood, and shifted to an attacking stance.
"Shall we dance together again, Himura-san?"
Kenshin breathed deeply.
Deeply and slowly.
Finally, he could understand what he was fighting against. It was like some sort of devilish wind. She didn't have any safe footing, she just went from a fall to another, like someone jumping from rock to rock down a cliff. She had no balance at all, in her stance or in her ki, which was why all her moves felt so wrong. The only reason she didn't tumble was because she kept running, running on the edge of sanity and madness, running from an unsteady stance to another. What a reckless style…
Such an unstable form would crumble at the smallest error.
Don't think.
He had to run after her, follow the track of her moves in the always moving pattern of her ki. She was fighting purely on instinct, so his instinct would answer to her moves. All he had to do was trust his sixth sense, even though it appeared to betray him. Abandon himself completely to it. He could do it. He had to let himself fall in that inner emptiness. This place of darkness where you sink inside of yourself.
Don't think about anything.
Ten years ago, it had been obvious. Ten years ago, he knew how to close his eyes and dance blindly on his own burning rage. Ten years ago, the darkness was easy to find. Memories of purple blood on white snow, of beloved names muttered by dying victims, of wounded men finished off in front of their screaming daughters. Until everything died out in his soul. When the only reality left to him was the weight of the sword in his hand, then…
Dance.
There was nothing but the duel, and nothing could end it but death.
With the strange relief he could only find in the sword, he danced with her the brutal dance of murder, taking on her insane rhythm. Forward, thrust, backwards, to the side, block, counter attack, backwards, spin, slay… As if some choreograph had planned it in advance so that the blades would swing an inch from the skin without ever touching it. Step after step, he was catching up, pushing her at her limits.
He blocked a blow from the side and as he pushed Yoko back, her feet finally lost their tempo. A half-a-second mistake, hardly an opening at all, but his sword entered it with frightening accuracy and hit her at the shoulder; she lost the grip on her sword and fell on her back. He slayed to finish her for good, but she jumped back on her knees and parried with one of her daggers. She threw her second knife at his throat; Kenshin had to break his stance to evade it. She used that opening to jump out of his range and grab her katana; she raised the blade just in time to block Kenshin's sword again. Finally, he thought grimly, she had been forced to use her sword to defend. As he stepped back, he noted that she had shifted her blade to her left hand again. It was no trick this time. Her right shoulder was hurting. Now that she had lost the flow of the duel, he would not let her have it back. Time to finish this.
As she charged him once more, he ducked to strike at her throat with a Ryu Shou Sen. She saw it come, but while evading him, she once more lost her balance. He moved instantly to take advantage of it, attacking with a thrust at the throat. She stepped away but the blade scratched her left shoulder. Blood suddenly tainted the torn kimono.
Blood?
He froze. Brutally sobered by the sight of what he had nearly done, his shivering hand stopped in the middle of his move.
He had attacked with a thrust. It was the best move at the time and fighting completely on instinct, he had used it without even thinking. How had it happened? How had he lost track that much? He never used this kind of attack anymore. With a thrust, it didn't matter on which side was the blade. Sakabatou or not, it was a killing move.
He stayed there, cold sweat running down his spin, with the feeling that the ground was disappearing under his feet. He was slipping away. Why? Why now? He couldn't let that happen!
"KENSHIN!" Sano yelled.
"Step back!" Yoko ordered, stopping the street fighter who was rising again. "I told you this wasn't your fight!"
She turned back to Kenshin, holding her sword defensively in front of her. No more casual stance. She was hurt and exhausted and most of all, her dance had lost its rhythm. Even so, he could see in her eyes that she would not concede the match yet.
"You know, what oaths you swore or whether you break them or not is of no concern to me. But I won't allow you to spare me once more. If you want to live, you will have to kill me. It's your choice."
The strange choice of words snapped Kenshin out of the fog in his mind. What had she said just now? 'I won't allow you to spare me once more.' Yes, Kenshin had spared her once, in that dark alley. Even at that time, the darkest hours of Hitokiri Battousai, when the light of life had seemed so far from him it was unreachable, he had thought "she's a witness" and still never considered killing her. Because she was only one small girl, and if he had done many disputable things as a manslayer, killing off children certainly wasn't one of them. Was she angry about it? That he had let her live?
Long ago, as a child, Kenshin had been saved by Hiko Seijuro. So he had learned that strong people could go out of their way to protect weaker ones, and it had become his truth. Then he had met another boy, Seta Soujirou, who had been left alone to save himself. This one had learned that strong men were beasts feeding on the weak, and that he had to become a beast himself in order to live, this also had become his truth. Yoko had neither been saved, nor could she save herself. She had been spared. She, too, had learned a truth from that night, as she had nearly lost her life.
She had learned about being powerless. And that truth was now keeping her in the dark. She hadn't come here to kill, although she might herself believe it to be so. Truly, she had come here to die.
Kenshin's heartbeat steadied. Now he knew how to bring her back. He had to give her another truth. He had to show her how hopeless the road she walked was, and help her find another one. Every drop of blood dripping to his feet would be worth it if he could achieve that.
"No one will die today," he told her with quiet confidence.
Yoko had a disenchanted smile.
"Let's find out how you keep that promise."
Kenshin didn't answer, focused on his stance. You had to believe. That was essential. Strength was useless if you didn't believe. Yoko didn't believe in anything, not even in herself. She'd managed to unsettle him, but it was over now.
You will kill me or die? Let's see how you keep that promise, little girl. I'm much stronger than I was at Toba-Fushimi, you know. My heart is stronger. What about yours?
Kenshin prepared himself for Kuzu Ryu Sen, one of the last techniques his master had taught him. It was an attack you couldn't parry or dodge. No matter how good you were at predicting moves, it didn't let you anywhere to run to. There was only one move that could defeat it, and it did not allow for doubt or resignation.
Let's see how far you can go without faith.
He charged. The exchange was so fast that even Sano could hardly see it. Yoko, hit nine times by Kenshin's sword, was thrown to the ground. Kenshin lowered his sword, staring thoughtfully at his left wrist. A small red line was dripping blood. This woman… she had managed to land a blow. It was only a small cut, but it was dangerous. A little more, and his artery could have been cut. She had used the same strategy than at Toba-Fushimi. She'd decided to step into his attack and take the blow, trying to inflict a fatal wound.
"I must admit it, you are skilled," Kenshin said.
She tried to move but gave up. She had difficulty to breath because of the injury to her throat and she probably had one or two broken ribs on top of that.
"Still… Not fast enough…" she whispered.
"Your speed doesn't match mine, that's true, but that's not the reason you lost," Kenshin stated. "As long as you fight the way you do, you can never beat me."
"What… do you mean?"
"I mean that you fight striving for death rather than life."
"You make me laugh," she hissed. "What do you mean, striving for life? The aim of a duel is to destroy your enemy. Anything else… is secondary."
"No! Staying alive is top priority in a battle. If you die, you've lost, it's as simple as that. If you fight all your duels having already thrown your life away, you just step in battle as if you had already lost. Because you gave up on yourself, you were not able to defeat this attack."
"Empty talk," she retorted angrily. "What decides a battle isn't will or determination, it's strength. If having the determination to live was enough, my brother would still be here. My father would have stood up and killed you. The will to live doesn't save anyone. In the end, there is only death. You're the one who taught me that, fifteen years ago."
Kenshin's hand tightened on the hilt of his reversed-blade. She still hadn't seen it, the way out of the darkness. It would take more than a duel. But swordsmanship was his language, and how else could he show her how mistaken she was? He sheathed his sword, swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth, and walked away.
"I'll go call a doctor," he sighed.
"Where are you going?"
He turned back and watched with slight amazement Yoko standing up again with the help of her sword.
"You can't keep fighting," he protested. "You can barely stand."
"You don't understand," she replied, both of her hands clenched on the katana's hilt. "I've been chasing you for fifteen years. Ever since that night, I never stopped running after you. All my life… watching your back…. You won't get rid of me unless you kill me."
Kenshin had a faint, nearly imperceptible smile.
"You're just as stubborn as he is."
Sano walked to Yoko and pulled gently the sword from her fingers.
"In case you're wondering," he told her, "he means me. Com on now. It's over."
As if removing the katana had cut all the strings that were holding her upright, she collapsed in his arms.
"Obstinate woman," Sano sighed. "What the hell am I supposed to do with you?"
Author's note: Don't worry, this sounds like a sort of bitter end, but obviously it's not over. As we all know, the most stubborn of the lot is in fact Kenshin, not Sano ^^
This chapter was tough on me. Fighting scenes are so very hard to write. I hope you enjoyed it. Many thanks to my readers, especially those who take the time to leave a word. I'm glad to share this story with you.
