Voila! Up sooner than expected, this is the last chapter of this story! It's finally over! That makes me sad but happy as well! Well, if you've got the time, please read the author's note at the end where I talk about my feelings about this story.
Well then, without further ado, I suppose it is time to move on to the story! Enjoy!
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Saitou stopped in mid-run and stared at the body lying before him. The torso, wrecked with multiple stab wounds. The head, decapitated from the body, the eyes cut out, leaving two dark sockets staring back at him. At his feet, trampled beneath him was the burnt haori of the Shinsengumi.
"O…" his voice was cut off abruptly as his throat suddenly constricted. God, how he had wanted to kill this boy! But now that he was here… He forced himself to look closely at the body. It was lying passively, despite the numerous wounds on its body, despite the horrendous burns all over it, like it had accepted death calmly… resignedly.
It did not move. No matter how long Saitou stared at the torn body, it did not move. The undead should have been able to get up and move around. This one lay quietly at his feet, not a trace of life, unnatural or otherwise within it.
Swallowing hard, shutting his mind from the sight of the dead body, Saitou looked around the tunnel as objectively as possible. Footprints… deep, heavy footprints, on the floor, on the walls… even on the ceiling of the tunnel. There was only one person who moved like this – Soujirou. So Soujirou had slain the fallen captain. Yet… why was Okita not moving anymore? Surely his unnatural life would have allowed him some semblance of motion! It was like his gift had been taken away, like he… he had been punished… punished for a…
Transgression.
Scowling, Saitou spat bloody saliva out of his mouth and slipped a cigarette in, carefully avoiding the cuts on his lips. Something wasn't right. Kenshin was missing when he had wakened up, and now Soujirou had slain Okita, not just incapacitating him, but removing everything. It was almost like Soujirou was the hand of… hand of some god… coming down… taking away what was most precious from the people who denied that god… like…
He jerked in surprise, sending hot ashes floating to the ground, as the sound of stone grinding against stone filled the tunnel. It sounded like a huge door was opening… or like the ground was pulling itself open to swallow the trash that littered the surface.
"Soujirou," he cursed, dropping the cigarette on the ground and grinding it out. He paused when he realized his cigarette had nearly hit his fallen friend. Not that it would have done much damage; the body was already severely burnt, almost beyond recognition. "O… Okita," he mumbled incoherently then cleared his throat. "You… you were…" He sighed and stepped away from the body and finished, "You were one hell of an idiot."
He scowled into the darkness, but did not attempt to take his words back. It was accurate after all, more accurate than saying something like, "you were an honourable man", because he wasn't. All Shinsengumi members were not honourable, at least… not in ways you would imagine. In the end, they were just idiots… fools, fighting for whatever they felt was truly worthy… using any means possible.
A low growl started at the back of his throat. Well, whatever the case was, this wasn't the time for reminiscing. There were monsters out there, real monsters that would not hesitate to rob you of your body, your soul… your dignity. No matter about those trivial things; at the very least, he wanted the town to still be standing when he returned, preferably with real-life people in it. That couldn't be too much to ask for.
Saitou Hajime had never been much of a praying man. Usually, he left such religious matters to his wife. She, he always felt, prayed enough for the whole family to enjoy peace and prosperity for the next ten generations. But in the darkness, all by himself, with one eye missing and the corpse of his best friend thirteen years dead lying at his feet, he found himself invoking the names of as many goddesses or gods he could think of. Not that it was not justifiable. If there was some god within the tunnels that called upon the corpses of dead humans to serve him then it would only be logical to call upon the names of other gods to counter this demon-god, gods that had the decency to stay where they belonged and not come trampling around the human world where they weren't wanted.
Again, the sound of stone grinding against stone.
Shaking himself out of the lethargy brought on by thought, Saitou started to hurry down the tunnel, following the footsteps of the missing Tenken. There was definitely something very wrong here. The boy's footsteps were slow, dragging, and flat… like he was so exhausted his guard had been let down completely. That couldn't be possible, not for a man who could outrun and outfight Battousai. Something had happened to the boy. Something had robbed him of his spirit, of his instinct, of what had made him an excellent assassin.
Hurrying along, puffing agitatedly on another cigarette, Saitou glared at the footprints and found himself dreading coming upon the dead, unmoving body of Seta Soujirou. He had started to… like that boy actually, or rather, he was at the stage where he did not dislike the boy. That boy reminded him of Okita when the captain had been younger, and far more naïve, but already a master at the act of smiling. No one had known Okita had tuberculosis until he had finally collapsed on the battlefield, and was sent to the hospital where he would eventually die. No one had known how much Okita had wanted to end his torturous existence… not until he had begged Saitou to allow him to commit seppuku. No one ever knew what Okita had really been thinking, ever.
Just like Soujirou.
Sure, when Saitou had first seen the boy, he had found his smile and his distinct lack of ki mildly disturbing. However, he would never have guessed what he would uncover during the investigation into Seta's past after Shishio had been defeated. Finding the Seta family estate, bundles upon bundles of rice rotting away in the barn, the corpses reduced to skeleton by time hidden under the floorboards… the bundles of dirty, discarded bandages and the tiny, torn, blood-stained clothes, hidden behind the bundles of rice in the barn. Then there were the whips hanging from the wall of the master bedroom, whips stained with dried blood. Aging neighbours had talked freely of the screams heard in the middle of the night, of the crying and the laughing, the moans that faded into nothingness.
And here, Saitou had once considered the possibility that Soujirou was the runaway, degenerate son of some rich samurai gone merchant.
Saitou did not know who was the one who had actually killed the Seta family, but he could guess how it had come about. One of the dead corpses had a sword next to it with the Seta name inscribed on it. Another had a shovel dumped unceremoniously across his stomach. They could have been trying to defend themselves. Saitou thought otherwise. Even if he wasn't a "Battousai" predecessor or otherwise, he still knew a little of how Shishio thought. Never would that man reveal himself to the family, if, as the evidence suggested, he had been hiding in their barn. No. The sword and the shovel were meant for someone else, someone incapable of defending himself – at least as far as appearances went.
The tunnel turned left abruptly. Saitou followed suit, still following the weak, almost indistinct footprints.
There was nothing wrong with disciplining a child. Saitou always believed a good whack or two would set a child on the right path. However, no matter how strict he was with his children, he had never drawn blood or even bruises from either one of them before, not even when he was teaching them how to use a katana. That took an incredible feat of gentleness for a man as well-trained in the katana as he was, and he knew his eldest son had come to realize that. The younger children were still terrified of him, but they would understand. He wondered if Soujirou had felt any kind of gratitude for the family that had taken him in, if Soujirou had felt that he had deserved the torture they dealt out because they had been "kind" enough to take him in.
Left. Why were the footprints so certain? There was no sign of Soujirou stopping to ponder which direction to take. It made him wonder, it made him doubt.
An abrupt right. Saitou was practically running now, cigarette left dangling in his mouth, hand clutching his katana.
Straight on. Straight on. Then left.
Saitou skidded to a stop, feet kicking up dust. There was a whole crowd of undead facing him, weapons drawn. Behind them, was a huge stone door. There was no question which way Soujirou had went. The only question was why there was no mutilated or dead undead lying around.
Scowling, Saitou drew his katana and pointed it at the undead. "Move or you are going to regret it," he snarled. He didn't expect there to be a response, and he didn't get one. Roaring in anger, he charged forward, clearing a path almost all the way to the stone door. Then he stumbled.
Cursing, he stared at the ground. Soujirou's clothes, even his undergarments were lying trampled beneath his feet. He stared in disbelief. What the hell was Soujirou doing running around totally naked? Did he think he could fight better with his clothes off? Or had he hoped to stun the undead crowd into shock with his striptease and then sneak past them? He barely had a chance to ponder that before he found himself having to dodge a sword – a sword with the Seta name inscribed on it.
"Bullshit," he swore loudly at the coincidence.
The man leered at him and licked his sword. "Terrified, Enemy of the Home?" he taunted. An obscene gesture graced his hand and he laughed, eyes fixed condescendingly on Saitou's face.
"Terrified my ass," Saitou shot back impatiently. "Where the hell's Soujirou? I'm sure you know who that is."
At the mention of that name, silence fell over the crowd again and they started to back away from him. "Why do you…?" the man questioned hesitantly. "The Head Priest has no wish to see you, not anymore."
Head Priest. Saitou's lips drew into a harsh, thin line. Damn! He knew this was going to happen! He just knew it! They should never have brought that boy along! He should have stayed in the Kamiya dojo, and if the women they couldn't stand the sight of him turning into dust, that was their own problem! But of course, that stupid boy had to insist, he just had to insist…
"Open the doors," he ordered. "I'm going in."
"We cannot do that. The Head Priest is receiving orders from our god." The man licked his lips, appearing uncertain and restless now. It was to no surprise that Saitou found himself deciding that he had enough of this stupid tunnel, with its stupid god and its stupid followers.
"Then move away!" he roared, spinning around to face the door. He dragged his katana into the Gatotsu position, ignoring the undead who were struggling towards him, protesting that he was disturbing their god in his rituals. Eyes narrowed, a scowl fixed firmly on his face, he plunged forward, bracing his arm to take the impact.
The impact was hard, much harder than what he had expected. The results however, were exactly how he expected them to be.
The door shattered upon impact, raining heavy blocks of stone down on the undead zombies. They howled and screamed in agony, but always still advanced towards him, trying to cut him down with spade and rake. Saitou ignored them and charged forward, dodging the stone rain, blinking angrily, trying to see through the dust.
The tunnel ran past him in a blur, his lack of sight boosted by a missing eye and the general darkness around him. He caught glimpses of blue rock; he heard running water in the background. Then something made him froze.
A huge arch, like those found in front of temples but much larger, ran across the vast cavern within the cave. Twisted, misshapen rock formations curved impossibly around the twin pillars of the arch. It had to be old, he realized, so old that rock could grow around it. But it was tough, made of a kind of stone he had never seen before. It was a black that shone in the dark.
The reason for the unnatural shine was obvious however. Beyond the arch, further into the tunnel, he could see a white glow, like someone had decided to bring the sun into the tunnel. Instinctively, he knew exactly what that was, and that it was nowhere as cheerful as the sun.
Hesitantly, Saitou drew his sword and walked forward. The light grew stronger and stronger, and Saitou realized it wasn't a steady beam of light. It flickered, it pulsed and it jumped… like the air around the undead. He broke into an all out run, blood tingling with excitement. His prey was at hand. Be it man, beast or god, evil was evil, and he would deliver justice. He thundered around a bend.
And that was when the roaring started.
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His katana clattered to the floor as he threw his hands up, futilely trying to block out the thunderous roar. His hands barely even muffled the terrible sound that was thundering, pulsing deep with his skull. Growling, at the back of his throat, he charged forward, feeling his heart start to race. It wasn't excitement that drove him, not any more. It was terror, a sheer, utter terror, like none he had ever felt in his entire life.
He wanted it to end. He wanted it to end. He wanted it to end. He wanted it to end.
"You!" he roared.
He was so going to kill this thing. God, he was so going to kill this thing.
"Sto…"
Saitou skidded to a stop, still clutching his ears. He stared in disbelief, blood dripping down his ruined eye, the furious bright light turning his face white.
Within a dark hole… bright… lurid… glaring… blinding… huge in its monstrosity, enormous… like it would swallow the world. Limbs… limbs extending out, probing, exploring, feeling… like a child, a mere child… but so bright… so terrible… a horror like none the world had ever seen…
Saitou felt his jaw drop. What was this monster? What was it? How could any living thing look like this? It was huge, monstrous beyond imagination, reaching out towards…
"Soujirou!" he screamed.
The boy was kneeling before the monster, his head bowed, as its limbs touched him. Everywhere the monster touched, his flesh loosened and sagged, and sometimes even dropped off. The white robes he was wearing were being stained an odd, pinkish colour.
"Soujirou!" Saitou shouted again, pushing forward, trying to make himself heard over the roar of the monster. "Soujirou!" He stumbled violently. The ground was starting to shake, falling, breaking apart.
The monster was rising.
"Seta Soujirou!" Saitou screamed over the wail of earth and wind. "Soujirou!"
The boy was now kneeling upright, his back straight, staring up at his master. It was out of the hole, roaring, screaming in triumph.
Saitou reached for his katana, but it was not there. Screaming curses, he charged forward, ignoring the pebbles that cut deep into his skin, drawing blood. The boy was so far away! How could he…? His ankle twisted under him, and he fell heavily. He felt rather then heard the sharp crack of bone breaking as he sat down heavily on it. He couldn't move. With his ankle broken, he wouldn't be able to move, wouldn't be able to perform Gatotsu, wouldn't… A mad terror seized him and he almost froze. However, before it could overwhelm him, he felt it being forced back by sheer, white hot fury at the thought of dying within this corpse infested hole.
Roaring, he charged forward, ignoring the feeling of bone tearing through flesh, ignoring the terrible, destabilizing pain that tore through his leg. He would be damn if this monster took over the world! They of the Shinsengumi… screw the Shinsengumi! He was not going to let this thing make zombies out of his wife, his children… his nemesis even. It wasn't worthy enough! He would stop it!
It was floating above him, shaking the whole foundation of the cavern with its sheer presence.
"Soujirou!"
Like magic, the white-clad shoulder was suddenly in front of him. Stumbling, falling over, Saitou's arms shot forward and wrapped around the boy. "On your feet!" he screamed. "Hurry! We have to get out of here!"
The boy didn't react, continuing to kneel there, his eyes fixed on the monster.
"Sou…" Saitou jerked back when he felt soft, rotting flesh beneath the boy's clothes. The monster's limbs were still wrapped around him, still wrapped…
Saitou drew back his arm and delivered a shocking punch to one of the limbs then watched in disbelief as the flesh from his knuckle slipped off his bones like a piece of silk. Then the pain hit and he doubled over, screaming into the shrieking wind and ground.
A sword. Shishio's sword.
His hands shot forward again and he drew the sword from Soujirou's belt. Screaming, still screaming, he attacked the limbs wildly, hacking at it violently, unseeingly.
A limb swept down and plucked the sword out of his hands.
Then it was in front of him and he was looking directly into the white light. His eyes widened, seeing blankly past the white light, seeing what it wanted him to see. Slowly, his hands rose to his head. He touched his temple… then his forehead.
A wordless scream of horror erupted from him, and he stumbled backwards, arms wheeling. Spinning around, he found himself looking into an immeasurable depth of darkness, a dark cavern that seemed to plunge forever into nothingness.
He would have jumped, he knew. He really would have jumped, if a hand hadn't shot out and grabbed onto the back of his jacket, pulling him back even as he started to topple over the edge and into the darkness.
"Saitou!"
Saitou turned around again, struggling out of the hand that clutched to his jacket. It seemed to take hours for his terror-crazed mind to register what he was looking at… who he was looking at. "B… Battousai?"
Kenshin stood before him, his back to the monster just a few feet from him, red hair flaming in the glaring light. "We have to get Soujirou out of here!" he screamed over the roar of the monster.
"Don't…" Saitou spluttered. "Don't look at that thing! Whatever you do, don't look!"
The monster roared. Its limbs shot out again, reaching for Kenshin.
"Dodge!" Saitou roared, and together, they jumped, flying as far as they could.
Rolling, they scrambled to their feet. "We have to get out of here!" Kenshin yelled. "We can't fight it! We have to run!"
"Soujirou…"
Kenshin spun around again. "Soujirou!" he screamed. "Soujirou! What's wrong with you?" He started back but Saitou grabbed onto his shoulder.
"He's taken! We have to go!"
"No!" Kenshin shoved Saitou away, just as another huge tremor ran through the cavern.
Both men tumbled to the ground and lay there, clutching the shaking earth desperately as huge cracks erupted and spread. The monster roared, rising higher and higher, a humongous monstrosity of light and pain.
"Soujirou!" Kenshin howled. "Soujirou!"
The boy was looking at them.
Both men stared back at him as he stood in front of the monster, blue eyes vacant and blank but fixed on them. Black locks whipped around his face, turned into sharp little razors by the cutting wind.
"Soujirou! Come here!"
Behind, the monster thundered closer.
"Soujirou!"
The boy blinked. Then his hand reached into his kimono and traced the scar that ran from his shoulder to his waist. "Himura-san," he said suddenly, softly, but somehow audible over the chaos. "Himura-san." His voice broke. "Oh, Himura-san." Tears suddenly streamed down from the glittering blue orbs. "Save me," he whispered.
Then he was engulfed in the white light.
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Soujirou covered his ears and wailed, clutching his ear-lobs until he felt that they may drop off. Around him, the wind howled, whipping into the white robes, tearing the fabric and cutting through his skin. He couldn't see anything but a white, throbbing light, swirling around him. "Himura-san!" he screamed. "Saitou-san!"
"They will help you no longer."
"No!" Soujirou squatted down, curling up protectively. "Go away!"
"It is over, boy!" The voice changed… it sounded like Shishio.
"No!" Soujirou moaned. "No!"
"You will listen to me!" Yumi's voice.
"No! No! Himura-san! Save me! Saitou-san… Saitou-san…" Soujirou threw back his head and screamed, "Okita-san!"
Warm arms wrapped around him.
Startled, Soujirou lifted his head, and found himself staring into the most beautiful black eyes he had ever seen, eyes that were boring right into him, drilling into him, into his soul.
"What are you afraid of?"
"I… I can't… I can't…"
"Fight it. You can fight it."
"I can't…" Soujirou sobbed, clutching to the warm figure. "I can't! My sword can't be drawn!"
"Yes it can."
"No, it can't! You don't understand…"
"Yes it can."
Soujirou stared into the steady gaze, tears dripping down the side of his face. "But…" he whispered.
"Don't worry. I am here." The eyes glowed with a sort of black light, pulsating, vibrant, real. "Try it. If it is your will, draw."
Soujirou's hand reached towards the handle of his sword.
"It is your sword to draw or not."
His hand touched the handle loosely.
"You are its master, and only you can command it."
Slowly, he ran his hand down to its customary position.
"Fight."
His grip tightened.
"If you will die…"
"Then I will die like a warrior!" Soujirou howled and pulled at the sword as hard as he could. The sword slid out smoothly, gleaming wickedly like a smile in the light that whirled around them.
Screaming, Soujirou shot forward. The warm arms have vanished, the black eyes were gone, but he didn't need them anymore. He knew exactly what he had to do.
Out of the light, he sprinted, running as fast as he could for the walls of the cavern. Without breaking a pause, he sped up the walls. Twisting, turning, he leapt from rock to rock, jumping higher and higher. He was flying, leaping up into the air, reaching the monster, rising like an angel of destruction.
He had never felt so exhilarated, so free before.
With one final leap, he thrust himself off the rock and shot towards the bright monstrosity that hovered near the ceiling of the cavern. For a moment, he was suspended in mid-air, the sleeves of the white haori spreading out, fluttering, as he soared towards the monster. He looked down, and saw Kenshin staring up at him, his mouth wide open. His amethyst eyes glowed in the light, and Soujirou saw rather than heard him shout his name.
Then he was on it.
Screaming a wordless battle-cry, he drove his sword down again and again and again, all the time grinning broadly with true enjoyment.
The monster howled, rearing back, roaring in agony. It bucked and flew about, crashing into the walls of the cavern. Huge chunks of rock hurtled down, breaking up the cracked ground even further. The whole cavern was collapsing, but Soujirou didn't stop. On and on, his sword continued to pierce the monster, a blow for each person who had suffered under this monster.
It roared and tossed upwards suddenly. Soujirou almost lost his footing, saving himself only by driving his sword deep into the monster and clinging on. A thick, rancid smell rose from the wounds but Soujirou ignored it, climbing back to his feet, his eyes flashing like sapphires in the sun. He laughed in excitement as he charged upwards, dragging a huge slit in the monster with his katana. A sour smell rose from the wound, but Soujirou sped on, dragging his katana forward, forward, forward, momentum doing half the job for him.
Turning an abrupt left, Soujirou continued dragging the terrible wound through the monster, his katana glowing in the light as it did its duty.
"Kill me!"
"No! You will not touch me!"
"Destroy me!"
"My time is not up yet!"
"Send me into darkness!"
"I shall shine forever!"
"Yes, I will," Soujirou whispered, drawing his katana fluidly up into the air. "I will destroy you." He stared down, deep into the monster, waiting patiently for it to reveal what it wanted to.
Then he saw it, a little ball of light within the monster that had not been there before. It pulsed rapidly, in terror, in recognition of what it had done to itself.
"Thank you," Soujirou murmured. "I shall end your pain now." And then he dived, shooting through the monster, for a moment, becoming one with his katana. Just as his katana pierced through the heart of the monster, he whispered a quick thanks to the one who had given the monster its weakness.
Then the monster was falling, still howling and roaring as it fell, but it was no longer a cry of triumph, it was a death-cry. Soujirou smiled widely, truly, for the first time in his life. Yet again, the tears came as he fell with the monster, but these were tears of joy, joy and relief. He didn't bother to wipe away this tears, he bore them with pride, they a badge of his freedom.
As they reached ground level, Soujirou lifted his head and looked at the world once again. As bleak as this tunnel was, it was still the real world… and of course there were those two. Kenshin and Saitou had scrambled onto solid ground and were now staring at him, mingled expressions of shock, agonized disbelief and respect.
"Soujirou!" Kenshin shouted. "Jump! Jump this way!"
Soujirou smiled at him and shook his head. No longer did he wish for a smile that hid his feelings. He wanted this smile to reassure Kenshin, to let him know that this was alright. This was where he would finally rest. He thought of opening his mouth, of shouting at Kenshin to go home, that it was all over, but he doubted that he could be heard over the monster's death-cry. Then the ground vanished and he was falling, falling into the bottomless darkness.
As he fell, he felt the cool air sweeping past him, felt the odd sensation of free-fall, felt his katana still clutched tightly in his hand – and he smiled serenely.
It was finally all over.
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"I don't… believe it!" Kenshin shouted, punching the ground in mindless grief, as tears spilled down his face. "How…? How could this…" He broke off into a choked sob, and pressed his forehead to the cool ground.
Saitou watched his nemesis vent his grief onto the blue stone then stoically lit up a cigarette. "He would have died anyway," he said quietly. "It was better this way. Let him have the death he yearns – a warrior's death."
"It… isn't… fair…" Kenshin grounded out.
"No," Saitou murmured, thinking of the blood-stained whips, the burning fortress on Mount Hiei and the falling figure smiling at them before it vanished into the darkness. "No, it isn't."
Slowly, agonizingly, Kenshin lifted himself off the ground and wiped his tears off on his shoulder. His chin trembled for a moment but he steadied it. "We should get back," he mumbled. "Kaoru… Yahiko… they will worry…" He lifted his head high, a symbol of his dignity, but he looked like he had aged decades in those few hours.
"We have to make sure the undead that were on their way to town didn't cause too much damage," Saitou agreed.
Quietly, they advanced forward. It had seemed to take forever to reach the monster, but the journey out had been so… quick. It felt like mere minutes before they had reached the open air, where the cool breeze swept the smell of death and decay away.
"A funeral…" Kenshin said suddenly. "For Soujirou. We… we have to. It's only right…" He paused. "When he was… fighting… he looked… free… he looked… happy…"
"He was," Saitou replied. "He was."
"We must put him to rest… a funeral for him…"
"And for Okita," Saitou said quietly. "He was… killed by Soujirou. I do not know if Soujirou had been in his right mind then, but if he hadn't… yet he had still killed Okita… it means… I have wronged my friend."
Kenshin was quiet then he nodded. "For both of them," he said softly. "The two Soujirous."
"You knew?"
"Yes."
The rest of the journey was made in peace and silence.
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"Good morning, sir!"
"Good morning, sir!"
The two police guards did not look surprise as the police chief swept past them without an acknowledgement. They were used to being ignored by Goro Fugita. What they were not used to were the bandages that were wrapped around their chief's head. They had never seen the man injured before. But, they knew better than to ask questions. You just don't go probing into your superior's affairs and hope to escape unscathed.
Leaving the two useless bums behind him, Saitou slunk into his office and shut the door, wedging it shut. Sitting at the table, he allowed himself a moment of weakness, and slouched onto the table, cupping his face delicately with his hands.
He couldn't believe he was back at the office again, just another ordinary day. It seemed so surreal after what had happened the day before… hell, just ten hours before.
When him and Battousai had arrived at the Kamiya dojo, that stupid red-head had almost freaked at the sight of dozens of lifeless bodies lying about on his front yard. A quick inspection of the house had proved that the Kamiya dojo occupants were safe, having had the sense to hide in the bathrooms out back.
After having their wounds wrapped up by the skillful female kitsune there, Saitou had left his nemesis to the luxury of sleep and had left for his office to order some men about before going home. Well… attempting to, at least. He had ended up collapsing at the doorway of his home, scaring the wits out of poor Tokio and his younger son.
Okita had been right; Tokio hadn't been very pleased with his missing eye. His eldest son had inquired anxiously if his father was going to be alright, if his father was going to die. His younger son made a comment about how cool his father would look with an eye-patch then had cringed, expecting a blow to the ears. All Saitou had done was to pick up the boy, prop him on his uninjured lap and tell him solemnly that the boy would be given the important mission of finding an eye-patch that was cool enough for the chief of police. Tokio had looked at him strangely but merely smiled and nodded when the younger boy had asked eagerly if he really could choose his father's eye-patch.
That didn't mean he was going soft though. He wanted his children to have at least some happy memories with their father… a luxury some people never got. Darn! What he meant was, the whole world was one big bully anyway, so what was the use of being a bully to your own family when there were others out there who were more than willing to do that job for you?
Groaning, Saitou straightened his back and told himself to stop thinking and actually do some work. He took a deep breath to calm the pain that was threatening to overrun his mind. A missing eye and a broken ankle really weren't wounds to be laughed at. Tokio had practically threatened to tie him up and lock him in the closet if he tried to go to work. Even though he had brushed her aside, he knew she was right; there was no way he was going to be able to put his all into work today, but that did not mean he wasn't going to work at all. He just needed a little time to rest… A knock on the door left him with absolutely no choice in that matter.
"Come in," he growled.
His secretary came in, a folder in his hands. "We have a report from the Sixth Division, Goro-san," he reported, sliding the folder onto Saitou's desk.
Giving a noncommittal grunt, Saitou flipped the folder open and dragged out the messy report. Dead bodies had been found littered all over town… the government was going to issue an announcement later the day that this had been the prank of some crazed Bakufu supporter… nothing he didn't expect. He sat up straighter as he read on. A body had been found floating down one of the water canals. It had been identified as Usui, ex-Juppongatana. An underlined postscript marked that the division had made sure this one was truly, truly dead. Saitou sighed and closed the folder. Thank god for sensible men.
"That's it," he said. "Tell the men that they have done well, and that such excellent work will be noted during the next round of promotions."
"Sir?"
"What?"
"Well… you…"
"What?"
"Um… nothing…" the secretary backed out of the room and closed the door, but not before shooting Saitou a suspicious look, like he feared the bandages were a sign of some terrible head trauma that was severely affecting his boss's sanity.
Saitou sank back into his seat. Well, it wasn't like he would be lying. They had been rather sensible men, and they had dealt with all this supernatural nonsense in a very down-to-earth, business-like manner which had impressed him. Obviously such men deserve a promotion of sorts, or at least a pay increase, which was least likely to happen than a promotion actually.
Honestly, he was curious how long his generous mood was going to last.
His door burst open as a junior officer came tearing into the room. "Goro-san! Goro-san!" he shrieked excitedly. "I have great news! Really great news!"
"Keep it down, you moron," Saitou snapped. Okay, apparently not very long. "What is it?"
"It's Okita Souji's grave," the junior officer reported. "His body has been returned!"
"What?"
The junior officer grinned at Satiou's astounded look. "Yes sir," he said cheerfully. "His sister, Mitsu-dono discovered it, sir. She went to his grave and found that someone had lay Okita Souji's body beside his grave, arranged all neatly and stuff, with his sword by his side. Though the body was in terrible shape mind you. It looks like it had been burnt and there were all this slash marks. Seems someone had their fun with it… meaning no disrespect to the dead, sir. It sure got the lady fired up though. Mitsu-dono was very… eh… firm about insisting that you personally find the person who desecrated her brother's grave, Goro-san. She said something about eh… what was it? Gatotsu them to hell was it?"
Saitou grunted again, staring at his table. Well, Okita's body had returned. That was great, but who had did it? Who could have returned to the tunnels to look for Okita's body? Battousai? But he couldn't have known exactly which tunnel Okita was in. Frowning, he pressed his fingertips together and dismissed the happily grinning policeman.
Well, whatever the case, Okita had been returned to his final resting place. Whoever had done it had obviously treated Okita with respect; that was all he needed to know. He didn't need to catch that person then. He only arrested people to punish them, not to thank them.
A scream.
Instantly, Saitou was on his feet, his spare katana clutched in his hands. Adrenaline pulsed through his body, forcing the fatigue and the pain to the back of his mind.
Striding forward purposefully, ignoring the wretched pain in his ankle, he yanked open his door and headed for the source of the commotion, the coroner's room.
"What is it? What's going on?" he snapped, stepping into the coroner's doorway, ready to Gatotsu the nearest threat with all the efficiency of the Chief of Police.
An officer stumbled past him before throwing up in a corner.
"Well?" he shouted.
A crowd started to gather and he glared at them impatiently, tapping his good foot against the floor.
"Inside…" the officer who had thrown up gasped, pointing with one finger. "The… water tank…"
Scowling, Saitou stalked into the room and approached the water tank, briefly aware that he was invading the coroner's privacy. Where was the coroner anyway? Wasn't he supposed to be here?
He found his answer when he looked into the water tank.
The coroner was floating facedown in the water tank, his blood turning the water an opaque red. As Saitou stared, a pair of eyeballs floated past, lolling helplessly in the water. Saitou swallowed dryly and started to back off.
Something beneath the water surface caught his attention.
Saitou hesitated then leaned nearer the surface of the water. At first, he couldn't see much with the rippling of the water surface. Gritting his teeth, he leaned closer until his nose was almost touching the water. There was some dark, indistinct shape beneath all the red. He adjusted his head again, trying to get a fix on something that would tell him what he was looking at. Then suddenly, he realized what he was looking at.
The half-formed shape of Kamatari's face and torso.
Drawing a deep breath, Saitou backed off again. The eyes were staring up at him, a maniacal grin plastered on the dead face. Dark hair floated like worms, the only sign of life beneath the bloody water.
Hands trembling, Saitou lit up a cigarette and stepped towards the doorway of the coroner's office. "You," he croaked (albeit, rather stoically). "You and you. Get in there and clean out the water tank. There are two bodies in there. Take the coroner's body out and get some family down here to take care of it. The other one… take it out and burn it."
"Burn it? But sir, surely that body is evidence…"
"Burn it!" Saitou snapped. "Erase all trace of it, do you understand? And if you feel bad about it, go down to the nearest temple and get some priest to do whatever rites or blessings over it."
"Yes sir."
"In fact… even if you don't feel bad about it, go grab the priest."
"Okay, sir."
"We got some pretty superstitious people here after all."
"Yes sir."
"Don't want to keep the morale down…"
"Absolutely, sir."
He walked down the corridor, his limp now obvious. Home. He was heading home… he didn't have the strength to maintain the facade of calmness any longer. Never before had he ever taken leave for anything before, but right now, there was a huge hole in his face and his ankle was broken. If that didn't warrant a day off, he didn't know what would. Besides, if his superiors had a problem with him, he would just Gatotsu them. Not very good for the résumé, but currently he did not have the patience to deal with any bureaucratic bullshit.
He was going to go home and teach his son the proper way to use the katana. He was going to eat his wife's home-cooked soba and then probably make another baby. That was exactly what life was all about; learning to survive, surviving, eating and reproducing. Everything else was just there to keep all the many high-strung humans from going crazy with boredom. After all, there were only so many babies you can make before impotency strikes. Then you need something extra to do.
For him, that extra thing was eliminating evil, even if he hadn't struck impotency yet.
Right now, his mind was clear and he was focused on exactly what he needed to do. Eliminating evil could wait; he was going to make the new baby girl Tokio so badly wanted. If all his dead Shinsengumi friends had a problem with him abandoning his duty of Aku Soku Zan, well screw them. They were already dead; they didn't need to eat or make any more babies. He was still alive, and he was going to do exactly those, and he was going to enjoy it. After all, life was only so long, and he was glad to be alive.
Truly, truly glad.
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"Then I'm off, Kenshin!" Kaoru called cheerfully, slinging Kenji on her back with a sling.
"Ok," Kenshin acknowledged, smiling. "Tell the doctor to be gentle with Kenji; you know how he cries when he's frightened."
"I'm sure the doctor remembers," Kaoru replied, laughing. "Well then! Bye!"
"See you later."
As soon as his wife and child had disappeared out of the doorway, Kenshin's smile dropped and he sat down heavily on the stairs to the dojo. How odd that things should be back to normal so soon after such a terrible tragedy had happened! He discovered he had really underestimated the ability of his family to rebound from tragedy. Just a mere ten hours after they had almost been torn to pieces by raging zombies, they had resumed their normal daily schedule, with Yahiko heading out to give kendo lessons, and Kaoru taking Kenji to visit the doctor. Only him… he was the only one who was still affected by what happened just the night before.
Burying his head into his hands, Kenshin sighed deeply. Poor Soujirou! He had known all along that either way, Soujirou would have died in the end, but to see him going down like that… it tore at his heart even though he knew it shouldn't. Either way, the only thing he could do for the boy now was to arrange a decent funeral for him. If possible, he had wanted some of Soujirou's family to be present, but when he had asked Saitou for such information, Saitou had told him to forget that. He wondered why.
"Himura-san. Oh, Himura-san. Save me."
Kenshin rubbed his face with his palms. Those words would haunt him forever, he knew. Twice! Twice, Soujirou had asked for him to save him! Twice, he had failed him!
"Kenshin? Are you okay?"
Snapping out of thought, Kenshin dropped his hands and snapped on a smile. "Ah… Megumi-dono! Yes, I am fine!" He climbed onto his feet and grinned stupidly.
Megumi smiled at him, but worry tinged her eyes. "I see," she said.
"Yes," Kenshin confirmed, aware that his tongue was running away with itself. "I am just off to do the laundry. The sun is out today, which makes it perfect for laundry-day, that it does."
"You must be kidding me!" Megumi snapped, her good-nature fading behind the concern that leapt onto her face. "Kenshin, please look at all the bandages covering you! You should be in bed! Besides, your ankle is broken, isn't it? I know I have already set it, but that doesn't mean you can go running around as you please! Leave the laundry to me! I demand you go straight back to bed now!"
"Ah… well now, Megumi-dono… you are a guest…"
"Now!"
"Yes ma'am!"
Chuckling helplessly, Kenshin wandered off, leaving Megumi to the laundry. Yes, of course, his ankle was broken. It had snapped when that monster had grabbed him in the dark, just before he had struggled free and ran, blood streaming down his face. The bone had indeed been broken cleanly; Megumi had told him that last night. Before she did, he hadn't even been aware that it was broken.
He didn't know how to tell Megumi that he couldn't feel any pain at all.
It wasn't like his leg was totally numb. When he pinched it, he could feel the pain, but he couldn't feel any pain from the broken ankle. Most disturbingly, when the bone had accidentally snapped apart again, he had been able to push it back into position without feeling any pain.
Much like Soujirou had done with his neck.
Almost hysterical from exhaustion and panic, he had pulled out his katana and cut his finger on the sharp edge. The sight of a single drop of blood sliding down his finger had filled him with immense relief. That was helped by the fact that he had been more than willing to devour the simple meal Megumi had prepared for him last night.
Still, that did not explain his sudden immunity to pain from broken bones. He did not think he was one of the undead; after all, that monster had been destroyed by Soujirou. Yet, somehow…
A sudden chill ran through his body.
What if the monster hadn't died?
What if it was still alive?
What if… he was already a slave?
What if one night he would wake up in the middle of the night and slaughter his…?
"Enough," he muttered, trying to rub away the goose-bumps that now littered his arms. He had made it back alive. The monster was dead; all the lifeless bodies discovered in town confirmed that. If the monster hadn't died, those zombies would still be walking around. Grief and fatigue were taking a toll on his imagination. Megumi was right; he needed to rest and regain his strength.
Slowly, he slid the door to his bedroom open and stepped in. He would sleep now, he decided, and when Kaoru came home, he would greet her with a feast grand enough to rival the king's. For that, he would need to rest.
Smiling to himself, he shut the door.
Rest; we need it all the time, so much so that in the end, it is all we ever do.
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Epilogue
The hooded figure glided out of the shadows gracefully as the women left the grave, one talking angrily at the top of her voice while the rest patted her and tried to calm her down. His eyes glittered under the shadow of the hood as he watched the angry woman shout furiously about vandals and disrespectful teenagers while an elder woman put an arm around her and tried to pull her off the middle of the road. She was a truly beautiful woman, with long black hair and flashing blue eyes. There was the same bone structure of the face as her brother, and the same nose shape. It was an odd twist of fate however, that her brother was prettier than she was. Or perhaps, it was age that had dampened her beauty; maybe when she was younger, she had been as pretty as her brother… as pretty as him.
The group of women turned the corner of the mud road, and he heard the woman's voice break suddenly into sobs. It was thirteen years; will the pain ever end? He wondered if anyone had cried when he had died, if anyone would rejoice if they knew he had returned.
Quietly, he stepped in front of the grave. The women had, together, buried the body, sobbing promises to return with a priest to placate his angry soul. Somehow, he did not think the dead man's soul needed much placating. He had probably died amused rather than angry; amused by all the puzzles he had left behind for the living to solve.
The living were the ones who were furious with the dead, or for himself, furious and grateful.
Too many times, Okita Souji had saved him; from falling, from fear… from death.
The figure raised his hands and pushed the hood back, revealing ebony hair and gleaming blue eyes.
He had so many questions. What had been the monstrous being that had been within the caves? Was it really a god? Was it a demon? Was it even something that could be named? Even though he had been with it… been a part of it for a while, he had failed to glimpse anything from it. Okita Souji knew, he suspected. Perhaps not at first, but later, he had known. Okita Souji had, at the last part of his un-life, become part of the monster. He must have saw something just before he crossed the threshold. He must have seen past time, past space, into the beginning when the monster had first come to being.
That was how the monster could have been destroyed. By itself, it was immortal, indestructible. But when Okita's soul merged with it, had entered it, it had absorbed the man's vulnerabilities, had become human. Okita Souji had become the monster, had overrun its immortality, and rendered it useless – had driven it to its death by giving it the one thing that it had lacked – a heart.
All this he knew, in the brief moment when he had been a part of the monster, a part of Okita Souji. What he didn't know, he had guessed.
A soft breeze stirred, gently brushing through his mass of black hair. He brushed them away, blinking away the specks of dust that got into his eyes. A tear ran from his eye to the side of his lip. He licked it. It was warm and salty.
Yet, there were still things he had never figured out. Like why Okita Souji had killed him in the first place. He had said it was very hard to explain, he had said he would tell him when they met in hell… he had said a lot of things but never the answer. Okita was good that way, always going in circles. Yet, he had suspected that Okita had always been telling him the answer, had never hidden anything, just… never saying it directly. He would never have guessed if he hadn't met that woman though.
Talent runs in the family; but so does personality. Personality was what affected how much the monster controls you. Only those who saw value in death would have been free of the monster. Had Okita seen… a shade of himself in him? Had Okita… guessed at his heritage? He himself was guessing at his heritage. He had never known his mother, had always been told his mother was a whore his father had slept with one night, but supposing… supposing… it hadn't been a whore. What if it had been a young woman, struggling to find enough money to take care for her younger brother dying of tuberculosis… meeting a rich rice merchant… already married, but still young, still virile. Then the rice merchant had died, and she had been exiled… but they had kept her son because he was their own flesh and blood. Supposing…
He shook his head and laughed weakly. Honestly, he would never know the answers to that particular question. The one person he would have dared ask was six feet under, nothing more than a mere shell. The real Okita was now buried under tons of blue mountain rock, dead, perhaps having left for a better world, a world that he deserved.
Then there was a question of why he was still here. He should have been buried with Okita, buried with that monster, buried under those tons of blue mountain rock as well. Yet here he was now, standing before the grave of his saviour, head bowed, pondering over the mysteries the fallen captain had left behind.
Perhaps… perhaps he had been different somehow, like Okita had been different. Maybe something inherent in him, in his destiny had saved him. Or perhaps… it was the monster that had brought him back. As they had fell, he had felt Okita's presence within the monster growing, expanding, overwhelming the creature from within. At the very last moment… it was almost like it was Okita that was falling beneath him, and not the monster. Perhaps, as the monster had absorbed Okita's vulnerabilities, Okita had absorbed the monster's powers. Perhaps the monster had the power to bestow an unnatural life, but as Okita… the life it had bestowed had become… real. Perhaps, in the end, it was the very monster he had destroyed that had given him back his life.
He laughed again, this time, a little wildly, and ran a hand through his hair resignedly. This was the question he would never find the answer for, he knew. The others… Usui and Kamatari… had remained dead after the monster died. Was it because their allegiance had been to that monster, while his allegiance had been to his own monster? He would never know, and perhaps that was for the best. There were forces out there to be reckoned with, he now knew, forces that were beyond the control of mere humans. Sometimes, it was better if such forces and humans never crossed paths. From such meetings, only disaster could occur.
Gently, his hand brushed his left wrist. It was still sore, and ached when it was cold, a dull reminder of the events that had happened. But beneath the pain… he pressed his fingers against the inside of his wrist. The steady beat of his pulse greeted the touch. He gave his lower lip a gentle nibble and tasted salty, metallic blood in his mouth. He was alive, truly alive, not a living zombie, but a living human.
True tears ran down his face as he gave a low bow to the grave before him. Okita Souji had given him a second chance in life, a chance to discover for himself what he truly believed, what he truly wanted to live for. For that, he would be forever grateful.
Seta Soujirou straightened up and lifted the hood over his head. "Goodbye," he murmured softly. "I'll be back next year, if I don't die before then that is… but I think… even if I do die… if you want be back, you will have me back now, wouldn't you, Master?"
Then he turned his back on the grave and stared ponderingly at the mud path under his feet. He knew that Kenshin and Saitou thought he was dead, and he knew that it must be hurting them to think that he had sacrificed himself for them. Yet… he did not want to tell them he had survived, not now at least. To tell them would mean tying himself to them, would mean having to account himself to them. That would be nice one day, to have people who cared enough to want to know what you were doing. But now… now what Seta Soujirou needed was not a family to stay in, but the freedom to find out what he wanted, what he needed.
Thus it was that he set out on the mud path, his back straight, a figure with the world at his feet and everything to live for.
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A/N: For all of you who found this part a little confusing, you can mail me and ask me questions. It should all be made clear in Soujirou's thoughts before Okita's grave. However, I've just like to point out that Soujirou's explanations are the way he perceived what happened; the reader can come up with opinions of their own, especially in regards to why Okita did the things he did. If you have any ideas, please feel free to mail me as well! I would love to hear from you guys!
I would also like to point out also, that I hoped I didn't screw up the fight between our boys and the monster. In my opinion, describing the monster would just ruin everything, so I tried to give Saitou's point of view in fragments, and leave the rest up to the readers' imaginations. I'm not sure how that turned out, so of course, you can tell me in your reviews.
Honestly though, this was a really fun but really difficult story to write. I tend to lean more towards humour, but I really, really wanted to try writing a horror story, especially one with a supernatural twist. I'll probably try it again and again, until I get sick of writing this genre. As if that would ever happen! It's just like a roller-coaster ride; it's scary, terrifying, not good for heart problems and asthma, but you just keep doing it again and again because there's a thrill in it. That's how I feel about this story. It was one good roller-coaster ride, and I would really love to get into the front seat again and again.
Ah well, enough about my thoughts! It's time to leave yours! Please leave a review and tell me how you felt about the story! Thanks a lot for joining me on this journey, and I hope you guys get to hear more from me soon!