Author's note: Work has been absolutely insane lately, and I have had no time to write, plus a freelance writing gig deadline is due, so I just had to leave the last chapter on a nasty cliffhanger for a prolonged period while I attended exceedingly mundane duties. But at last I carved a little time out, so here is a chapter.
Hiko automatically rose and fell rhythmically in the saddle, posting tiredly as the horse trotted steadily underneath him. The jarring pace was playing hell with his half-healed wound, and he had been switching the horse from a walk to a trot, then a canter, varying the pace to keep the beast from tiring itself out too quickly and his wound from flaring up. But there was no getting around the fact that he hurt, plain and simple. The gaping furrow was closing up nicely, but his body had been less than pleased with the duel he had picked with that giant Fuji, and even less with the Kuzu Ryu Sen he'd had chosen to knock his massive opponent to the ground. Then there had been the mess of the Aoiya and fuss and bother of waiting for the idiot to get his ass back from kicking Shishio's.
Hiko twitched uncomfortably in the saddle, trying to ease a growing ache in his rear as his mind spun with a cavalcade of worries and thoughts, primarily centered around the moronic former apprentice he had left behind. The runt had been a stumbling mess of bruises and blood-soaked bandages by the time that dumb rooster-head friend of his had dragged them both home from the battle, nursing his own colorful injuries, and then there was all the wounded at the Aoiya to deal with, not to mention that the building itself had been reduced to a pile of splinters and toothpicks.
What a mess, Hiko grumbled to himself. Well, at least the kid was alive and had done what he had set out to do. Nice of Shishio to catch himself on fire, he thought with a smirk but in all sincerity, Hiko was thankful it had worked out that way. Kenshin had been dead-set on keeping to his vow whatever the cost, and Hiko was relieved that his former pupil had stayed true to his ideals and that the enemy had helpfully taken himself out of the world via unintended self-immolation. Hiko wouldn't pretend that he didn't find Kenshin's vow idealistic at best and stupid at worse, but he couldn't help but feel a small amount of pride at the thought. When the idiot finally woke up, he just might have to mention it to him.
If he ever wakes up, Hiko thought with a frown. After the wounded pair had come stumbling back to the Aoiya, they had been pounced on by practically everybody, and Hiko had been forced to wade into the panicking crowd to drag Kenshin out of the circle of concerned arms before he bled out due to excessive hysteria. Bandaging and dressing the wounds had been more of a matter of trying to find areas on that small body that weren't bleeding, and the kid had passed out into a dead sleep long before Hiko was done patching up all the holes. The idiot had only woken up a few times in the next couple days while his former master watched with scowling worry and stomped around the ruined Aoiya grounds, torn between a fierce desire to return home and an equally strong determination to stick around until he was certain the kid wasn't going to up and die on him.
The again, lurking around the Aoiya had meant Hiko was constantly tripping over those two Oniwaban girls he vaguely recalled were named Okon and Omasu, and both had been highly attentive and flattering in a way that would have been rather welcome a few years ago but now was a tad irritating. Although he'd had made it clear that he was a married man, that hadn't stopped the pair from fluttering around him in those ridiculously skimpy "uniforms" they wore. Shaking his head at the memory, it suddenly occurred to Hiko that one of those scandalous outfits would make a nice anniversary gift for Sako, and his mind danced with a flurry of lewd possibilities. Have to remember to get her one when I go back to check on the idiot, he thought with a smirk.
He'd be back at the Aoiya again, he knew it. Hiko had thought about hanging around until his former pupil was back on his feet, but the moron seemed determined to sleep into the next century and Hiko was practically itching to get back home to his family. Aside from the few hours' reunion he had gotten with Sako and the kids before heading off to Kyoto, he'd been separated from them for over three weeks and he missed them all with an aching, gnawing pain that was slowly driving him crazy, spurred on by a vague, restless worry which was steadily growing as the horse bore him back home, Hiko resisting the urge to goad the beast forward in a dead run the entire way.
As he pushed the horse into a gentle canter, Hiko tried to shove away the quiet anxiety chewing at his innards. He had never been gone from his family for this long before, and he missed them more than he could put into words, but the steadily increasing worry building up inside him was troubling him deeply. He tried to brush it aside. There wasn't anything to get in a bother about: Sako was more than competent with a blade and anyone who tried hurting her or the kids would swiftly find himself very dead. She had the Yamatos nearby if she got lonely or had trouble keeping track of both kids by herself. His woman was anything if not competent, and Hiko had full confidence in her ability to keep everything running smoothly while he was gone. Hell, he'd probably come back to find out she had sold off all the pottery he had in stock and decided to use the proceeds to build an annex on the house with her own hands. There wasn't anything he needed to worry about, but Hiko found himself unconsciously urging the horse forward faster and faster.
It's not like I was doing any good back at the Aoiya, he grumbled to himself. In fact, it had been damned dull hanging around waiting to see if the kid was going to wake up or not and dodging those two cooing women after him. After several days, Hiko had finally gotten sick of waiting and decided to head home. That doctor lady had shown up and was doing a good job watching after Kenshin, so Hiko had taken his leave after promising to come back in a few weeks and see how his former apprentice was doing, spurred forward by that nameless anxiety which was stubbornly refusing to be quieted and demanding action.
There's nothing to get in a bother about, Seijuro, Hiko told himself. Stop being so damned fretful. Sure, he'd left Kenshin swaddled head to toe with bandages and completely comatose, but the kid was strong enough. He'd pull through. Hiko's children were at home and being carefully watched by Sako. Everything was fine. But as the miles passed, Hiko's troubled mind became only more agitated, plagued with a growing worry that ate at his innards. By the time he finally reached the village near his house, he was pushing the horse forward and he left the village at a slow gallop, the horse' hooves thundering on the ground as Hiko's brows furrowed deeply.
Something is wrong.
His frown sharpened as his senses clamored a warning, and this time he didn't push the thought away. He'd learned a long time ago to trust his gut instinct and as the horse's long stride ate up the ground, he goaded it forward into a dead gallop.
Something is wrong.
Trees flashed by, familiar glens and rocks beckoning him home, but Hiko spared them barely a glance, eyes fixed ahead and alarm coursing through his veins. Through his narrowed glare, he saw the distinctive bend in the road which signaled that his front walkway was only a few yards ahead.
Blood.
His sensitive nostrils took in the scent, and animal instinct seized control.
Sako. The kids. Blood.
The smell increased as the horse skidded around the bend and Hiko's narrowed eyes fell on a horrific scene in front of his house.
Bodies everywhere, blood and spilled innards splashed wetly across the grass, destruction and chaos ravaging his front lawn. And in the middle was a small, black-haired figure clad in blue hakama and gi, lying like a castoff doll on the blood-slick grass.
Hiko's bellow of agony split the air, echoing through the trees as he raced the horse forward, then leapt off in one swift movement. Reason gone, madness seized him as he tore across the grass towards his woman, screaming her name in shock and blind, searing pain.
Little Kazue was at her mother's side, crying loudly as she tugged at Sako's clothing, her small hands red with blood and tears running down her terrified face. But in his agony and shock, Hiko barely registered his daughter's presence, his feet seeming to be made of lead, belying his attempts to get to Sako, and time hanging suspended as he raced across the lawn towards his wife. Falling to his knees and calling Sako's voice over and over again, Hiko frantically lifted her in his arms, insanity grabbing control as sheer panic rolled through every vein.
No! No, no, no, no, NOOOO!
But as he clasped her motionless body to his chest, Sako's head moved slightly and she gave a tiny moan, barely perceptible in the clamoring bellow of his voice calling her name out. Hiko froze, then pulled her head up to his ear, feeling relief course through him as he felt her breath brush against his skin. Alive. The word reverberated in his core, but the blood caked on her skin and clothing did little to dispel his mad frenzy. Blood everywhere, in dried rivulets down her arms and legs, smeared across her face, coagulating in a pool underneath her small frame.
"Daddy!" Little hands pulled at him anxiously, and Hiko was suddenly aware of his daughter's tear-streaked face and terrified cries. He swept her up in one arm, keeping the other one around Sako, rocked with confusion from the twin demands of the dying wife and panicking daughter in his unsteady arms. Another wail caught his attention and Hiko's head snapped around to see Kenichi crouched at the edge of the stairs, one little hand reaching out for his father as he crawled forward, tears streaming down his face. Before Hiko could react, Kenichi's body titled forward, then he fell down the stairs with a heart-jarring thud, bouncing painfully on each step to fall in a crumpled heap of screams in the dirt below.
Tore into shreds from a frantic determination to save all three of his family members at once, Hiko was blindsided by desperate, blank panic, shock rolling over him and with it an overwhelming sense of helplessness. Unbidden, the plea rose to his mind.
Help.
Someone. Anyone.
"Hiko-san!" A scream of shock rushed through the air towards him and Hiko whipped around to see the entire Yamato clan standing at the edge of the walkway, Yoko's hands clasped to her mouth and Obata frozen in shock. Their three children were in a handcart, and six little eyes stared in round fear at the scene before them.
Hiko had never, ever been more glad to see anyone before in his life. "Obata! Yoko! Please!" His voice was high-pitched and desperate. "Sako is... Kenichi, I...! I need help!"
The shock broke in an instant as Obata and Yoko raced forward, leaving their children behind in the cart and nimbly avoiding the bodies and blood as they galloped towards Hiko's crouching frame. Without a word from either one, Yoko snatched Kazue from Hiko's arms, then ran to comfort Kenichi as Obata fell on his knees by Sako's side, eyes scanning her.
"She's badly wounded. Get her inside," Obata said in a voice that was surprisingly calm and commanding. Hiko mutely obeyed, carefully lifting Sako in his arms as Obata lead the way into the house and opened the door, his eyes narrow and purposeful. Inside, Hiko gently arrayed Sako on the futon, wincing as she moaned in pain and cursing himself for his clumsiness. As he carefully scanned Sako, taking in all her wounds and assessing the damage, Obata appeared at his side, his hands full of bandages and supplies. Jerking his head at Hiko, he said, "Undress her. We need to see how many wounds she has."
Normally, Hiko would have gouged out the eyes of any man who wanted to sneak a peek at his woman unclothed and something inside him him rebelled at the idea of being ordered around in his own house, but in the shock and horror of the present situation, it was a tiny comfort to be told what to do by someone who was masterfully seizing command of the situation. Carefully, Hiko pulled off Sako's torn garments with the assistance of Obata, exposing several deep, painful-looking cuts that they began cleaning with water from the full bucket inside the house. Despite his desperate concern for his wife, Hiko spared a glance at the door as a noise caught his ear, and he saw that Yoko was entering the house with all five children, Kazue and Kenichi snuggled in her arms, and he shot her a quick look of thankfulness.
His hands quick and practiced, Obata threaded a needle and moved towards Sako's deepest cut, but Hiko reached out his hand impatiently, determined to heal his woman himself. "Hiko." Obata's voice was deep and commanding but ringed with kindness. "My friend, your hands are shaking. Let me do this." His words became grim, "I've had a lot of experience sewing up sword wounds."
Hiko clenched his fist but he withdrew his hand and watched anxiously as the other man began to sew shut Sako's wounds, wincing to the core every time she twitched or moaned in pain. Time passed, each second as long as eternity as Obata carefully closed up all of Sako's wounds with even, neat stitches. Outside, the sun was dipping towards the horizon as Hiko kept his eyes fastened on Sako, his hands gently sponging away dried blood from her small body and night-dark hair. As Obata stitched methodically, Hiko followed behind him bandaging the newly sutured areas, all the time cursing his callused, hardened fingers against her fragile, damaged flesh and the tremble that refused to leave his hands, much as he ordered his body to be steady.
At the hearth, Yoko busied herself with the five children., her voice low and soothing as she began feeding them dinner. Sako had apparently left a meal cooking before her battle, because the smell of burnt soup was hanging heavily in the air, but Yoko was dishing out something from a pot Hiko didn't recognize. With a start, he realized that the Yamatos had brought a meal with them, likely for his family, and the gesture startled him, but he had no time to consider it. It was enough to see that Kenichi and Kazue had stopped crying and looked calmer; assured that his children were being cared for, he turned his full attention to Sako.
By the time the two men had finished their work, calmness was beginning to seize control of Hiko again, the rock-steady nerves of a true swordsman were regaining their foothold once more. Sako's breathing was shallow but steady, her chest rising and falling. Hiko knew she was badly wounded and the sword cuts were deep, but they had not struck anything vital. She was was holding strong. But the small, bandage-wrapped frame on the futon reminded him pointedly of Kenshin, and a low growl of impotent rage and helplessness escaped his lips.
Finished at last with his suturing, Obata finally put down his needle and peered at Hiko closely, noting the animal snarl emanating from the sword master. "She's lost a lot of blood, Hiko," he said quietly. "But we got to her in time." Putting a firm hand on Hiko's shoulder, he continued, "She'll be alright, Hiko. She needs to rest but she's strong. She will be recover."
Taking up one of her hands between his own, Hiko did not move his eyes from her face as he gently stroked the back of her hand, feeling the soft skin against his fingers and her hard calluses brushing his palm. "I never should have left her," he said darkly, cursing himself with every breath.
"Hiko." Obata spoken firmly, almost harshly. "Don't. Do not play the blame game. You'll just drive yourself mad. What happened happened. The point is, she survived..."
Hiko cut him off, shaking his head. "She didn't want me to go."
"She didn't want you to go because you were injured," Obata insisted. Waving a hand at the unconscious woman, he said, "We visited the house the day after you left and she told us what happened. Her whole concern was for your safety. In fact, she was kicking herself for not going in your place. She knew the right thing to do was to help everyone at the Aoiya, she just didn't want you doing it injured."
"I should have been here," Hiko pronounced heavily, feeling the contrary tug of twin obligations yanking him in different directions. His promise to Kenshin. His duties as the protector of his family. Both tearing him up inside, leaving nothing but raw emotion and a crushing sense of failure in their wake. If he'd only come home sooner, it would have been him who had faced the bastards that tried to kill his family, his body shielding his wife and children from harm. Instead, Sako had borne everything on her small frame, the deep wounds scoring her body mocking him for his failure to protect her.
My fault.
My failure.
Mine and mine alone.
Obata sighed deeply, and the two men said nothing for several moments, silence as thick and heavy in the air as smoke. Somewhere in the distance, Hiko was dimly aware of the happy sound of children laughing as Yoko pranced around them, Kenichi's bright babble filling the house with lightness. But his mind was consumed with thoughts that bounced erratically inside his head, dashing about frantically without any cohesion. Finally, a relatively clear thought broke through the swirling morass of scattered cogitations, and his eyes swung around to peer at Obata.
"Where did you learn all this?" he demanded, watching narrowly as the other man methodically gathered up the scattered medical equipment, splattered with blood and gore.
Obata's frame stiffened a trifle. "A Shishi foot soldier who's not too good at inflicting wounds better know how to patch them up," he said quietly, something like grim humor hovering in his voice.
"You were Shishi?" Hiko questioned incredulously. He hadn't spent much time in Obata's presence aside from the occasions the Yamato clan had descended upon his house and he'd been forced to play host to the other man while the women chatted inside, but Obata had never struck him as much more than a cheerful farmer and family man, and their brief conversations had been centered on trifling small talk like the weather and local news. Sure, there was a cast to Obata's body that indicated some martial training, but he was no swordsman, Hiko was sure of that.
Obata's smile was a touch rueful. "Not a very good foot soldier, I admit. Any battles I survived were probably out of sheer luck rather than any skill I can claim to have with a naginata. I always wanted to be a doctor, but my family never had the money for my schooling." His hands were busy but his voice continued grimly. "So being young and stupid, I got swept up with the Shishi and found myself learning how to sew up sword wounds and deal with broken bones on the battlefield." He dusted his hands off firmly. "Bloodshed gets tiring after awhile. I prefer growing crops."
Hiko stared at the other man, feeling confusing and self-reproach rising in him. Obata had never been much more than an amiable nuisance Hiko had been forced to put up with during visits, and he had never paid the man much attention. But Hiko's mind flashed with realization as his eyes swept the house, taking in Yoko's bent frame as she brushed a loving hand over Kazue's dark hair and Obata as he stood tall and steady, in control of the situation and keeping chaos at bay. Hiko knew that he would have been in quite a fix without their assistance, and he thanked the gods for their fortuitous arrival on his doorstep several hours ago. Gratefulness surged over him as he recalled events over the past year and a half the Yamatos had lived as their neighbors, the cheerful kindness the other family had offered and the unfailing assistance they had given as he and Sako had navigated parenthood and dealt with all the horrors the last couple weeks had shoved at them.
Gods.
If I had only come home sooner.
If I had only left yesterday.
If...
If I hadn't decided to come home when I did.
Agony seized Hiko as his stomach rolled in realization of what would have happened had he delayed his journey by another day. Sako would have very likely died from blood loss in the front yard, and he would have come home to a dead wife. God knows what would have happened to the kids.
But.
The Yamatos had come. They would have found Sako and cared for her and the children, he knew that. In fact, Hiko realized with a frown, what the hell had he done with himself the past several hours? Obata and Yoko had marched right into the thick of things, taking control and making order out of chaos while he had mutely followed Obata's directions, meekly letting the farmer direct him about.
Why?
Because...he trusted them, Hiko realized. Because...
Because they're my friends. The thought bounced around inside Hiko's innards, sharp and penetrating. He'd been a one-man army for most of his life, damned proud of his self-reliance and scorning the company of others. But Kenshin had started the breaking-down process, worming his way into Hiko's life and heart, then ripping it all to shreds when he'd up and gone, leaving Hiko with an even fiercer determination to stay detached and separate, not willing to risk the pain of separation again. He'd maintained that stance for years until Sako showed up and began steadily infiltrated his emotions and thoughts, breaking down the walls he had built up and forcing him to face issues like need and want and trust, leaving him damned vulnerable in a way that alarmed him. And now this, to be reliant on the help of two people as his wife lay broken and bleeding in his arms and his children wailed in pain. Hiko had never, ever thought he would be this needy, and the vulnerability of it hurt his pride deeply but brought with it a strange relief and healing.
Friends. Feeling emotion choking his throat, Hiko said hesitantly, "Obata." The other man turned towards him, eyes clear and full of a strange understanding. "Thank you." That damned moisture was in his eyes again. Must be the smoke from the fire, Hiko thought as he blinked it away.
Obata nodded firmly, a flow of unstated words passing silently between the two men. Finally the farmer turned towards the door. "We should get rid of the bodies," he said quietly. "They'll scare the kids." Hiko nodded darkly and stood to his feet as cold, blazing anger rose up in him. The two men stalked out the door, shutting it firmly behind them to shield their families from the chaos and destruction outside.
The sun was nearly finished its journey for the day, and brilliant colors streaked across the sky as the two men stomped heavily across the dark grass, their faces hard and determined. The encroaching night threw heavy shadows across the front lawn, casting murky images and distorting the bodies lying like broken rocks on the blood-slick grass. As Hiko surveyed the battlefield, for one heart-stopping moment, he had a vision of Sako charging across the grass like a demon, her small frame leaping and slicing as he had seen her do a thousand times, eyes intent and blazing, but this time, men about her, enemies that were his by right. Opponents he should have fought, but he had instead left for his wife to battle, a fight that had brought her near death.
Gritting his teeth, Hiko violently forced the vivid images from his mind and made himself concentrate on surveying the bodies before him with a detached, professional mindset. To his relief and no small amount of pride, the grisly evidence left behind bore proof to Sako's exceptional skills. One tall body lay crumpled on the ground, bloody wounds etched heavily across it. Three heads were tossed aside, shorn off at exact angles. Half a torso sagged on the ground, sliced completely in two from shoulder to hip, the neatly bisected flesh testimony to the precise skill of the hand that guided the sword which had cut the body in twain. Two other torsos, the upper parts sliced off at a completely flat plane, lay on the ground, the eyes still frozen in shock and their lower bodies collapsed and coated with blood. All overwhelming evidence of a master swordsman's work.
However, it was somewhat of a pity Sako had done her work so thoroughly. Hiko would have relished the chance to seize a still-conscious attacker and torture him until the bastard spilled out who had sent them. It was possible that a roving band of thugs had descended upon his house, intent on killing his family and stealing what they could. But Hiko had a deep-seated suspicion that the men had been sent by someone. He'd accumulated enemies over the years, and he didn't have to look far to find someone who wanted to test the supremacy of Hiten Mitsurugi, although most potential opponents with a grain of sense knew well enough not to risk it. No, the men were on a mission. And whoever sent them was a walking dead man. With any luck, they'd boasted to Sako about who they were working for and when she woke up, he'd make her tell him. And then all of Japan would know the full wrath of the 13th master of Hiten Mitsurugi and tremble at it.
From the pieces left behind, it was a little hard at first glance to get an accurate body count, but a second look told Hiko that his wife had faced seven opponents. The fact that she was still alive bore testimony to her fierce determination and meticulous attention to her training. He had at times cursed her stubbornness, and in the same breath admired the unshakable commitment she had given to her blade, and after their marriage he had been proud of the way she had kept to her practice even with the demands of motherhood. Without Sako's indomitable spirit, there would have been eight bodies in the grass, or even worse, three small ones. Instead she had defeated all her enemies with the exacting skill of a true warrior.
As Hiko and Obata moved among the bodies, grimly gathering up the pieces and dragging them off into a clearing to burn them, Hiko's eyes continually swept the damage in front of him. It was inexcusable that Sako had been left to fight this battle. As her husband, it was his duty to protect his family from any danger. But still...
You trained her for this.
She fought well.
But still...
Never again. I will never leave her to fight alone again.
Vowing this to himself, Hiko threw a bloody head onto the pile of dead flesh, ignoring the smears of crimson on his hands. The bastards didn't deserve a proper burial. He'd burn them unceremoniously and dump the ashes down the privy when he was done. He'd briefly thought about simply dragging their bodies into the forest for the animals, but he didn't want anyone coming across the rotting corpses and being traumatized. Let them burn.
Back and forth the men trudged, intent on their grim task. But as a full moon began rising on the horizon and throwing its beams across the battlefield, Hiko paused before one body and examined it intently. It was a tall, strong-looking fellow that even in death emanated a cold, menacing chi as if palpable evil had been so much a part of him in life that it clung to him like a stench even when the spirit inhabiting the body was no longer present. The man was on his stomach, caked blood sticking to deep cuts on his arms and side and with hate-filled disgust, Hiko roughly kicked the body over on its back. The dead flesh rolled over sluggishly, arms flopping limply and eyes staring blindly into the early stars.
What the...? Hiko thought with a grunt, then froze in dumbfounded astonishment as the full moonlight fell upon a great, bloody furrow scored deeply across the chest in a perfect angle from hip to shoulder, exposing white bone and the spongy pink of lungs as heart blood spread like a dark stain across the fabric of the man's clothing.
Oh. Gods. Hiko's heart stopped.
The Amakakeru Ryu No Hirameki.
She did it.
She mastered the succession technique.
Without me teaching her. With just seeing it a few times.
She did it.
Hiko's knees buckled under him, and it took all his power to stay upright and hold back the trembling that began coursing through his body along with a sudden elation. Sako had done it, mastered it perfectly on her first try. She hadn't fully perfected everything in the Hiten Mitsurugi curriculum and hadn't even attempted the Kuzu Ryu Sen because she had never been ready for it. But here, undeniable proof that Sako had learned the ogi and on her own power without being taught. He'd only explained the basic concepts and shown her how it was done. Somehow from that brief demonstration, she had grasped the entire thing and on the first attempt had etched it into the body of the man at his feet, a last desperate act to save her children and herself.
She did it.
It was what she had always wanted, Hiko knew this. It had killed him to release Sako from her apprenticeship, and he had never forgotten the shame-filled, agonized look she had given him over their first awkward cup of sake together. The hopelessness and despair in her eyes had sliced him to the core and even though marriage and children had wiped away her tears and filled her with new life, Hiko knew that Sako still regretted not being able to finish her training, suspected that she fought with herself against the feelings of weakness, much as he tried to encourage her, to stand guard over her so that she never needed to fear any danger ever again. But in the end, it had not been his own hand that had protected her and the children, but her own. And she had accomplished what she had set out to do four years ago.
Three masters of Hiten Mitsurugi living at the same time? the sudden thought poured into Hiko's mind as grabbed the dead man's ankle and dragged the bastard to the pile of bodies where Obata was waiting with a jar of oil and a flaming torch in his hand. Grimly, they poured oil over the bodies and set them on fire, watching as the flames licked across clothing and hair and rose up into the night sky. The blaze burnt away evil and scoured Hiko's land, purifying it once again for his family as he observed silently, eyes narrow and watchful in the darkening night.