Author's notes: Slight delay expected for I'll be busy with a few things but hopefully I can bring it back up to speed by the time I get my new phone (-.-) A lot of writing blocks without my music therapy (more -.-) Please read and review, Thanks.
Chapter 20: Old Rivalries
The night is quiet. The air is still, clean of wind and smell. The short trimmed grass was frozen of motion, its larger counterparts stood in silence. Everything however wasn't a still picture. An ethereal entity floated or more precisely walked across the grass. The grass never twitched, never bent nor crushed to the effect of physics or magic of his simple sandals. Even in spirit form, Kojiro Sasaki still felt real in the world around him, a world which he was born into by the father pen and mother magic. Strangely, his memories of this world he never existed in felt real. So real as though he actually lived in that time. Filled with the clarity of life, he felt no different than any other being.
He felt his heart burn in disappointment. Everything…everything of him was pure…fiction. His body, mind, emotions, desires, love, his soul…was all just a human's creation. What's the point of living in this world, conflicting over interests, over greed, over power, over simple mindless things…when you're not even real? He let out a sigh 'No matter for what's past is past.' There is nothing he can do for the world…not that he will live long enough to change it. He lifted his head high, feeling the soothing powers of the air.
What he has to do now is to fight for his Master. That is his only goal, simple but satisfying to the core. 'It'll be good to do battle with Saber and that Archer again.' The moment called for his attention. He and Kel'Thuzard's minions have been out on scouting runs in and around the city, night after night. Done in the deepest depths of secrecy, no one in the city would be able to find their scouts. Unless they wanted to be found that is. Kojiro felt temptation pull at him sometimes. He wanted to be found, by a Servant. Then he can enjoy the times of battle alone with his foe. Match strike by strike, cut by cut and take his opponent down. The victory of battle is one of skill, bravery, wisdom and cold sweat.
Just then, his paranormal senses came alight. He naturally turned into his physical form. His senses probed around with invisible hands, never seen nor felt, just know. "Show yourself. I know you are there." His declarations went unanswered. To an observer, Kojiro would look either options of insane, paranoid, superstitious or downright stupid. Maybe there's no one at all. Maybe he was getting paranoid. Kojiro sharpened his eyes 'Never fail to trust your instincts'.
It was an old lesson learnt; forged stronger by every recurrence of that mistake in his written youth. His words were unanswered, not unheard. It was normal in battle not to answer an enemy's call, especially in the times of stealth from the foe. The time was better spent, analyzing, determining and taking action against the visibly unaware enemy. This, Kojiro knows and now plans his own countermoves.
True to his thoughts, a blade shot out from behind a tree. Kojiro flicked it aside with a twist of his wrist. The strike felt simple…too simple for a Servant to use. What mischief does this invisible servant has in mind? The repelled knife stabbed the soil as he replied against the attack "Don't bother hiding. I know where you are." He faced the assassin's tree before slicing the air before him. As commanded by his katana, the tree toppled in half, a clean and crisp cut. As he expected, there was nothing extra. The assassin has moved again.
He felt the air with his senses. He lost track of that invisible entity. It was ever elusive, just within reach but it slickly slipped away from it. He needed to put the attacker into his reach. He lowered his blade and focused more of his power into the spiritual senses. Yes, it worked. He got a solid hold on the target…right behind him! He spun, raising his blade. Metal met metal with sparks of fire. The balance of life is now on the tipping edge, ready to lean towards both ways.
Kojiro now had a good look at his foe. He was pure black. Only the black eyes and little yellow flesh were visible. The rest was wrapped in black cloth. Those entire simpleton but important details like his size, height, and features were all hidden away by the black fabric from head to toe. He couldn't distinguish the intricate details of his enemy's fatigue. Or maybe it's just one big piece of clothing. He doubted it and rummaged through the pages of his memory of similar fatigues. Yes, there it is; the fatigues of a ninja.
Kojiro turned his focus to the weapon. It was curved blade twenty two inches in length. It was made from the purest of carbon steel with the great traditional arts of Japanese craftsmanship. Just like his katana, only being a shorter brother…the wakizashi. The samurai took the initiative in breaking the standstill. He slowly lowered his resistance, his sword bending back till it could even touch his shoulder. The ninja now will be thinking of something but Kojiro will do his first. He pushed back, breaking the standstill completely. Thrown off balance, the ninja started to lunge forward with an adjusting foot into a stab. His wakizashi however is shorter than a sword, making it rather ineffective from Kojiro's leap. Kojiro stopped his leap back and now counterattacked with a slash.
The ninja pushed hard on his front foot, backing away from the sudden slash. A back flip followed and ended with a knife flying for Kojiro's eye. Kojiro bent low, letting it fly overhead into a miss. He rose to his full height, the blade's tip raised to chest level, protecting himself from any tricks under the ninja's sleeve. Now with enough distance, he now fought in psychology warfare "I presume you are the servant Assassin?" Being a ninja, a secretive unit of assassins, saboteurs, and mayhem makers, it was hard to doubt the characteristic this servant would be.
The ninja vanished from view in the blink of an eye. It was as though he was never there. 'Is this an illusion or cloaking technique?' Kojiro questioned. He pushed his senses to full. Yes, he felt the ninja right where he was standing. 'Concealment technique it is and quite a good one too.' He said to the ninja unseen by the naked eye "Invisibility is your specialty. A forte of the ninja it is"
The unseen ninja answered "Your senses are excellent. We do even in this battle of skill. He turned quiet for a beat "That is, in this part of it." His voice wavered at the final syllabus as though being distorted. It felt as though it was being heard from two directions. It gave Kojiro an odd feeling as he added more focus to his senses. The ninja's presence has disappeared…wait. It wasn't a vanishing act, just a change in position right behind him!
Kojiro spun on his heels, his hands moved on its own. To the Japanese warrior, those hands are a part of him yet felt like another living being itself. They moved with the right speed, the perfect precision. They moved so fast, he could just see a blur of movement. A dagger was struck away in midflight before another fellow dagger joined it and another and another. He spoke as the exposed ninja continued throwing useless daggers at speeds no normal human can match "Remember my name Assassin. I am Kojiro Sasaki and your life is at an end tonight."
The ninja mused over the death threat "Kojiro Sasaki…" He stopped throwing daggers before adding "Here's my opinion." The assassin evaporated away to reform right before Kojiro's eyes. His eyes glinted with murderous intent. His words reached Kojiro's ears before they were even formed "Remember Fuma Kotaro."
"NIGHT STRIKE!"
Kojiro's spine worked on its own. It sent strong impulses through his nerves down to his feet. His muscles tightened and pushed antagonistically with one another, propelling his entire self to a strong leap backwards. His arms turned to self defence mode, slashing the air. As he came to a stop a good distance away, the other senses came with bulks of messages.
First was strong red warmth. Second was the exposure, one felt between air and flesh. The third sense brought the most undesired element of pain, lots of it. He looked down to the source of pain, his chest. Sliced from four directions, the cuts depicted the shape of a cross. Fabric was shredded; blood was fresh and oozing from his wounds. The injury however…was superficial in spite of much blood. Kojiro was lucky, very lucky to have received a light injury for a strike as devastating as his own ultimate. Without that jump, he would probably be chunk of meat right now.
Fuma Kotaro let out a snort "You are exceedingly lucky against my attack. For I have committed a mistake in seeking more pain of yours. Even a blow such as that would have killed if it was struck to your neck as intended."
Kojiro ignored the pain as the blood oozed faster with rising adrenaline. He had no doubt of Fuma's words. Though his wounds now are superficial but they would have brought fatality if it was indeed struck to his neck. This and the ninja's lust for blood have given him an indirect opinion. Kojiro was considered unworthy, unskilled to have been played around as a mere sacrificial lamb. This angered Kojiro as his honour took up the stakes. How dare Fuma Kotaro insult him! A samurai of honour! Unlike himself! An honourless ninja who resorts to dirty tricks to complete his mission! A disgrace to the clan of warriors! He raised the katana to his side "This is going to be very enjoyable." He bent his posture forward, the katana now straight with his shoulders "You've shown me your ultimate moves." He surged forward in a single stride "It's time I return the favour."
He began his orchestra of movements with a powerful slash. It threw the winds into a sharp knife. Fuma took a deep breath before letting out a sharp bellow "Ki!" The wave of sound met wave of air. They obliterated one another, leaving nothing but invisible destruction. Kojiro swung again as he pushed forward in closing the gap. Fuma ducked, letting the sharp air to slice overhead. The ninja raised his figure back up, flinging a sharp knife. Kojiro twisted his torso right, feeling the soft yet sharp winds of metal cross by his chin. Another knife was already on its way as he returned to his posture. Kojiro brought his katana up front. He forced a stop with his right foot. With only a foot on earth, he hit the knife with ease. Now he took it to the next level. With his single feet, he used it as a pivot to spin. His speed was right, swordsmanship at the level of utter perfection to return the knife to its sender. Fuma Kotaro leaned his neck left, avoiding a stab in the head.
Kojiro took the offensive with a jump straight to the sky. He gave death from above with a slash. Fuma hopped aside from its reach. The earth took the consequence, its soil split open. The ninja counterattacked. With Kojiro in the air, his projectile weapons would be more probable in hitting him. Instead of knives, Fuma Kotaro threw several small objects. Ones Kojiro could not distinguish in an eyelash. With dodging mostly thrown out of the equation, he repulsed the pocket-sized missiles. His blade told the answer. Small, sharp, hexagon shaped shurikens, another classic of the ninja.
Kojiro's landing never stopped the next move, a lunge of stab. Fuma moved right, the katana's smooth curve nicking the barest of fabrics. The ninja counterattacked with the wakizashi, aimed for the arms. With the shorter blade, the ninja could chop his foe's arms off. That would cripple Kojiro and end the battle. Events however, turned unfortunate for the ninja. Before his attack came to a bloody end, Kojiro's arms turned into a blur of purple light. His arms were gone in an instant, now by the samurai's side. The katana simmered brightly in the same blur of speed as it was raised upwards. Kojiro yelled as he let out his ultimate strike
"SWALLOW'S STRIKE!"
The blows came, hard and fast. They came from three directions, cutting off all paths of escape even for the small agile swallow. There was almost no way to dodge this strike. The strikes sounded painful. Fuma Kotaro was thrown back, rolling twice before coming to a painful stop. Kojiro let out a breath of relief. He did everything right, bringing dangerous results. His move has worked flawlessly this time. For the first time did this move work beyond the world of words.
The smaller ninja coughed blood as he struggled to his feet. On his knees, Fuma gave a chuckle that came with a bloodied cough. "Swallow's strike indeed…" He let out another cough "Graceful, fast and efficient." He lifted a foot "If it weren't for my weak magic protection…" Blood mixed with spit drooled forth from his lips. Fuma added "The irony of something so frail turn so significant."
Kojiro agreed "It's unfortunate for the living." He lifted the katana to the height of his hips. "Now take your stand and let us end this battle." With such severe wounds, the ninja doesn't stand a chance. If Fuma Kotaro is as honourable as the Japanese warriors are, he will take his last stand and fight to the death. If he was cowardly as the ninja's reputation dictate, he will then run and Kojiro shall pursue and hound him down like an animal.
Fuma rose to his feet almost like a drunkard. His injury was clearer, still evident in the night. His fatigue had deep cuts, revealing bloody red wounds. They were as long as his cuts, causing havoc for the victim. The injured warrior smiled "Final battle…we shall have it." He drew his knife from his hidden arsenal. "But I will take you down with me." The ninja disappeared for a fraction of a second and reappeared eye to eye with Kojiro. "Say goodnight."
Kojiro felt a hand grip his katana tight before feeling cold metal thrust into his abdomen. It went into him smoothly like a hot knife through butter. Warmth and pain spilled out into his surroundings. Kojiro felt frozen for a second as the shock of events took its place. He felt as though his body wouldn't respond no matter how much his mind commands it to do so. The knife now felt sharp as it was thrust deeper into him. He felt its jagged edge grind against his muscles as they made headway into him. The stabbing motion stopped as it reversed in direction. The intruder pulled itself free, drawing more warmth away from his body.
The ninja faded as things start to slow down. Red began to creep into his vision as Kojiro stared down at the red stained garbs he wore. The red essence spread further and further, reminding numb Kojiro of the danger he's in. He felt his heart beat, loud as though they were right by his ears. His breath was ragged and beastlike from the perspective of his hearing. His ears warned of a loud slow yell behind. Then his other senses jabbed with electrifying pulses of warnings equally dire. His hands moved to meet their warnings. They disobeyed the body's lack of orders, acting to protect it at all costs for without the body there can be no arms. His neck jerked hard to the right. His eyes gave information his arms will need. Through the swordsmanship granted by the pen or by the barest luck of life, he done it. The wakizashi was held back from the final blow.
Kojiro stared eye to eye with Fuma Kotaro. Fuma's eyes gave hints of surprise. Then they turned into the sharp glares of irritation. All of a sudden, they turned back to surprise. It never stopped, growing greater by the millisecond. Then the scream came, loud, lots of fear to be truly terrifying. After that was bright yellow-green light. The finale was heat, red hot heat like…flames? Now, Kojiro felt the clock of time tick back to normal. Fuma Kotaro let out a scream as his entire self burned away to floating embers. These embers quickly faded away to bright sparkles and now ….Kojiro is alone in the battlefield.
His senses turned confused. How did his enemy, who was so close to killing him to have died a catastrophic death by a mere parry? Was it even his doing in the first place? Is it something or someone else's work? If so…why isn't he dead in these seconds of thought? All the while, acting almost frozen stiff like an idiot. Any enemy even with poor aim would have no trouble finishing him off. He scanned his surroundings with his realized senses. His muscles tensioned as he prepared for the second battle of the night. With his wounds however, it wouldn't be much of a fight especially with a Servant fresh of any injuries or fatigue.
His eyes then caught the perpetrator, distant but directly ahead of him. He lowered his katana and relaxed his guard, only a little. He wasn't exactly comfortable meeting the Caster Kel'Thuzard. As Kel'Thuzard approached, Kojiro felt anger grow from the deepest depths of the soul. The undead Caster has interfered in his battle. He has disgraced the code of the samurai! He felt ashamed to have received Kel'Thuzard's assistance. Even though he may need it should the battle have prolonged but honour upholds above all else. Even death… He must uphold the bushido, as required by his masters and the masters before him. It was his battle! His skills are the ones that will determine his own life and death! Never shall he leave it to any others for it is dishonour to grant such a burden to others.
Kojiro growled as they entered conversation range "Why did you interfere in my battle?!" His voice hissed burning rage, only kept in check by his mind. Just barely in control.
Kel'Thuzard was indifferent, facially or his voice. "It's only a tactical sense that I assist in killing that servant."
Kojiro refused that explanation. He already went this through with Kel'Thuzard once in the first few days since they met. He knew Kel'Thuzard knew of this. Why he chose to go against his wishes is the question at hand. "It was my battle! I will never accept assistance in my battle." He glared lasers at the soft glowing eyes, propelling them into a battle of hard against the soft "You already knew that."
The Caster answered with amusement "Your living honour demands skill, not victory." He added with a tone of seriousness "I am the undead. I do not give any pittance to your honour." His eyes glowed brighter "I only do what I must to fulfil my Master's commands."
Kojiro's anger had not subsided. Not even a bit in this heated argument. Before he could lash out with words, pain struck him. His wounds demanded attention. Kojiro tried to shun any reaction but a few were out of his grasp. Caster noticed the sharp twitch of the Assassin. Kel'Thuzard's neck twitched as though he heard an inaudible voice and stated "You should…no, are ordered to return to our Masters. I do not seek to bring you to the undead."
Kojiro grit his teeth. He felt a word was missing, the word 'Yet'. How can the dead not seek to bring more of the living to their ranks? It was only his Master restraining from so. He barbed "Like how you will turn this dead foe into your dumb mindless beings?"
Kel'Thuzard flexed his fingers as he gave it a wave in the air. "There is no corpse to make it possible. I however will absorb his remnants of mana." He ordered as he pointed towards Kojiro "Now go…I will continue the Master's will." With the twich of a finger, few undead arose from the depths of soil and served the will of the Swarm. More joined from the dark streets, almost silent except for the soft patters of flesh and bone.
Kojiro had enough of the undead and faded into his spirit form. Kel'Thuzard disgusts him and he want not a sight of him as much as he can avoid it. He turned and left the scene of battle doing so on his own initiative, not on the directive of Caster.
-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-
"Has your search brought results tonight?"
Kel'Thuzard answered, serious and precise "Nothing useful for us." He stood tall in a simple room. The floor was a deep red carpet with simple geometric designs. If it was living, it would have felt the cold evil chill from the blue energies of his nonexistent feet. The room was small, large enough to squeeze in a bathroom, a desk, a chair and a bed. The light fixed by the door was dim yellow, putting the room in between light and dark.
On the chair, John nodded "So our scouting has been not much use." He tinkered in his mind for a moment "I want you to work harder on getting that Intel. Kill any expendables for energy if needed." He gave eye contact with his servant "Try to be discreet, we can't have the public or other Masters know about it."
Kel'Thuzard said obediently "I shall obey. Are there any further orders?"
John stood up before plopping back first onto the simple white bed "We'll be moving out to our new base of operations tomorrow night. Be prepared." He let out a breath of relief. This room isn't exactly very comfortable to live in for a long time. He'll be glad when he relocates to his new base of operations.
The Servant acknowledged "I will continue your will."
He turned for the door when his Master called "Wait a second." Kel'Thuzard turned to face his Master again. His face was indifferent, lacking the muscles to form any expression. John gave a grin, a grin of ideas "What are my current tactical options?"
"We may continue to reconnoitre and gather resources. Our second option is to conduct diplomacy and search for allies before we backstab them." His eyes flared a little as he let it hung for a second "Our final choice is to attack again, directly or by surprise."
"I've guessed just as much. Now…" John gave a mischievous smile "How soon can you prepare option three?"