Ties of Loyalty
By The Unseen Watcher
See previous Disclaimers. Please.
Chapter 7
-----------------------
The three hunters returned to camp that day to find a solid line of opposition arrayed against them. Hostile looks were thrown their way and they instinctively reached for weapons. Smith took it all in and stepped forward angrily.
#What's the problem with you lot Now?! # He demanded, glaring around. #Hey, Heeroshi! Where are you, you lazy idiot?! #
Said spokesman stepped reluctantly forward, bristling at the insult but still wary. Glancing uneasily between the two groups, he cleared his throat. #The men . . . we have decided to 'call it quits' Smithsu-san. # he stated, any diplomacy he had mean to use gone with the man's rudeness.
# They can't quit. # Smith said, scowling around him and fingering one on the six shooters on his hip. Hiroshi hesitated, but dutifully translated to his men. They'd understood his attitude and gesture well enough, and were already muttering amongst themselves. Fear of these foreigners could only hold for so long against the more mysterious and powerful kamis of the forest. Finding out that the legendary assassin was real and after them was the absolute last straw.
Schuster and Spencer backed Smith in a rare show of solidarity. Schuster hefted one of his bombs while Spencer had his dart gun in hand and ready to use at a moment's notice. This caused the men to back up a bit, but their expressions remained set.
Schuster surveyed what would soon become an ugly mob. They were beginning to be more trouble than they were worth. But like it or not, they needed these hireswords for the necessary grunt work. Not to mention as shields and distractions for whatever it was out there gunning for them. He suggested offering them more money. However, before a red-faced Smith could shout him down Hiroshi shook his head.
# No amount of money would be enough. # he said reluctantly, concious of all the attention on him. #One of the men saw the hitokiri himself. #
The foreigners were puzzled. #Hee-to-keere? What's that?! # Smith demanded, not recognizing the word. Hiroshi frowned in thought, then brightened. #In your language, it is word assassin. Very powerful one. # he explained. #This one legendary to our country. Unstoppable. Many believe he is a demon. We cannot face such a one and live. #
The three exchanged skeptical glances. # You're saying that a fairytale is scaring you yellow-bellies?! # Smith asked incredulously.
Hiroshi shook his head. #He was very real. Disappeared, but now he is back. We leave now. # he stated firmly, and the crowd behind him murmered an affirmative.
#The hell you are! # Smith shouted, and the argument erupted further, Smith hurling threats and accusations, Hiroshi standing firm by his declaration. Finally Spencer cut in, his cool voice slicing through the noise.
#I wonder what your employers will do when you tell them that they will not get paid the rest of their money. # he said, his gaze sweeping over the entire group. Hiroshi seemed to slump at that, and translated. An uneasy mutter ran through the ranks of the locals, and there were a few isolated arguments among them. Hiroshi eventually stepped forward again, visibly reluctant. # We have decided to stay for the rest of the day. Then, we are gone. We will spread out, all of us, to cover all ground quickly. # he insisted, peering anxiously at the angle of sunlight.
Spencer nodded, cutting off Smith's protest. # Then we have a bargain. # he said. Schuster only looked on indifferently. As long as he finally got the opportunity to use his bombs, he didn't care about the strategy.
*
The men spread out, each keeping within sight of their fellows, beating the bushes and even going as far as throwing a rock into the occasional tree. The sound of their passage filled the silence of the forest, creating the effect of a marching army.
A few of the more trained ones had the definite feeling that their progress was being watched. Skin prickling, they kept their weapons close.
**
The warrior watched from a large tree, his body angled so that in spite of his coloring it would be very hard to distinguish him from the surrounding bark. It was time to make the final assault. A much more direct one, this time. Soon this would all be ended. Ignoring a stone flung dangerously near his perch, he melted back around the trunk, sliding down until his sandaled feet touched the loamy forest floor, making not even a whisper of sound. Cocking his head to the side, he listened carefully. There, off to the right. There seemed to be a larger concentration of voices. He moved quickly forward, his passage unmarked by so much as the rustle of a leaf.
Himura moved purposely toward the large crowd of men milling about in a small clearing. One eyebrow rose. Surely, they couldn't be so stupid as to stand out in the open in a group, could they? Shaking his head, senses still alert, he moved slowly forward. Sensing no ambush, he couldn't help but smile slightly. This was a rare opportunity, indeed. These men needed a few lessons in tactics. Murmuring to himself, he readied his sword in its sheath.
"Good morning, students, and welcome to the Basics of Hiten Mitsurugi. I'm your teacher, Himura Kenshin." He moved forward, stepping out of the treeline and into the clearing. One man spotted him and a shout went up. Himura had already taken the measure of each man, and made no move as the first charged him desperately. As the man reached him, he vanished, appearing briefly to the side of his opponent, twisting and slicing at the back of his neck. The man went down in a heap.
"Ryu Kan Sen." Himura said softly, stepping into a ready stance. "Be grateful that I'm using a sakabatou." He told the unconscious heap behind him. The pile didn't answer. He shrugged. "Next." He said, sheathing his sword and going into battoujutsu stance.
***
Others were attracted by the shouting, and quickly started to converge on the area. Two completely different shadows heard, and moved forward.
***
Himura leapt over the swings of one mass of men, landing in the midst of a cluster of bamboo near a single fighter. The man swung wildly, Himura easily dodging the blow. The bamboo was not so lucky, several stalks shearing off near their base. Another group began to converge on his new location. The spry redhead dove, rolling forward. As he jumped upright, one hand found a long bamboo stalk. Casually ducking a swing to his head, he spun in his crouch, using the bamboo like a whip, hitting the men surrounding him near knee level at high-speed. The circle collapsed like dominoes, curses and screams of pain following.
One of the fallen men reached out, desperately grabbing him about the ankle in a death grip. Himura swung his saya down, hitting the base of the wrist and numbing the hand. He felt the focus of someone on him and whirled, the hand impeding his movements only slightly.
It was enough. The dart hit his left arm, sending a wave of numbness coursing up the limb. Pulling it out and peering at it curiously he wavered, momentarily off-balance by the sudden sensation as something intangible seemed to drain away at his strength. Blinking to clear his suddenly blurred vision, he saw another group of men closing in, grins of triumph on their faces as they took in his obvious disorientation. On guard, he looked around to see one of the foreigners smiling cooly at him, gun raised for another shot. Kenshin needed a few moments to compose himself. Time the other wasn't going to give him.
Then without warning there came the whistling of air as something impacted along the ground. The surprised foreigner went flying as the ground erupted in a path straight toward him. He landed quite a distance away in the trees. Looking around, Kenshin spotted a familiar figure. He was minus his mantle still, but had on a fresh blue gi. His sword was held ready in his hand, and it was obvious by the look on his face that he had come prepared to create some serious mayhem. Kenshin found himself breathing out a sigh of relief as tension he had not known existed eased. Dark eyes met his own, and his master nodded in acknowledgement before striding forward in pursuit of his departed opponent, casually taking out any who were foolish enough to be in his path. His teeth bared in a vicious smile, Kenshin swung around to face his next targets, who had halted their advance at the appearance of Hiko and were still gaping.
"Now, where were we?" He asked, charging forward before they could answer or renew their attack.
***
Spencer backed to the edge of the cliff, his heel scraping a few rocks off the edge to fall into the chasm below. He had gotten up from his fall quickly, being fortunate enough to land in some relatively cushioning bushes. He'd even retained his weapon. Sensing pursuit, he had chosen a tactical retreat. Running through the forest, he'd pushed through the growth only to find himself on a bare, rocky outcrop overhanging an impressive drop. Swinging around to retrace his steps, he found his escape cut off. Somehow, he wasn't as surprised as he thought he should be by who it was.
Hiko advanced, not even pausing as he batted away the darts with the flat of his sword before they could come near him. When he was close enough, he sliced off half of the gun barrel with one swing of his sword.
Spencer kept the remains of the weapon as a shield, though he knew it would do him little good. Still, his bland expression didn't waver. He had a revolver tucked away that he hadn't used yet. There was no way he could miss at this range.
"Well, my good man. It seems I'm at a bit of a disadvantage at the moment." He said calmly, knowing the tone of his voice cast the illusion that he was unfazed by this turn of events. Hiko only looked at him, his own face revealing nothing. Looking into those dark eyes, Spencer saw that the other was profoundly unimpressed. In fact, he appeared completely uninterested; as if Spencer was wasting his time. This served to internally rattle the Englishman more than any threats ever had. They had been hunting this man for days. How could he take it like someone had interrupted him at tea?
"You may have beaten us for now, but I do hope you realize that we shall return. I am not used to being thwarted in my desires, and I detest this humiliation." Spencer said loftily, one hand slowly reaching for the gun concealed in his sleeve. "You will never be rid of me. No prison can hold me for long. If I am deported, I can easily come back. I am a very rich man, you know, and with money you can buy Anything." Spencer smiled, his eyes veiled as his hands closed on the handle.
Throughout his speech, Hiko only watched him, giving no indication whether or not he understood a word he was saying. Spencer didn't care. Let him die in ignorance.
"You cannot stop us." Spencer said, pulling out the gun and swinging it forward.
Then Hiko was no longer there, and before the smirking Englishman could register that his unsuspecting target was no longer in front of him, there was the crack of a gun going off. Pain exploded in Spencer's chest, and he looked down in open astonishment to see a red spot quickly spreading on his shirt. His useless dart gun dropped from weakening fingers, and his hand went up in a useless effort to dam the flow of blood.
Eyes wide in disbelief, mouth working, he looked up from the horrible vision of his life flowing between his fingers to gaze into the trees. "Schmidt." he managed to croak, before slowly toppling over backwards off the cliff with no further sound.
Hiko had ducked and rolled, putting a thick tree between him and the direction that the malevolent emotions he had felt earlier seemed to originate from. He could feel the other's annoyance as he tried to locate him, and held still, blending into the trees.
He had felt the flicker of triumph in the cool sniper's emotions a split second before he fired. That warning had been all the time he needed to dodge. The same could not be said of the other man. He had taken the bullet meant for Hiko's back. Glancing the way of his departed antagonist, he murmured some parting words, in perfect English.
#I didn't need to stop you. In my experience, men such as you tend to take each other out more often than not. Only a few remain to be taken care of. # he gripped his sword, feeling the presence of the other on the move. Stretching out his senses even more, he sensed it heading in the direction of his former student.
*Time to finish this pathetic game. * He thought grimly.
***
Himura moved among them like a dancing shadow. A painful one at that. The effects of the drug had been lost to the surge of adrenalin and the confidence boost at the appearance of his master. He charged in, hitting an opponent at high speed, then was several yards away, meeting the lunge of a larger fighter and countering with a thrust to his neck. All the time he muttered under his breath. "Ryu Sou Sen, Ryu Shou Sen." Leap forward, dodge, neck strike "Ryu Kan Sen-Tsumuji."
By this time, the remaining men were either running around in a panic looking for a way out or accidentally fighting each other. They managed to get some sense of order, and charge him all at once. Himura raised his sword, swinging it down with incredible force toward the charging line. Men and earth were sent in all directions.
"Dou Ryu Sen." He finished calmly. He looked around at the groaning bodies that littered the trampled clearing. They were all in major pain and wouldn't recover for some time, but were all breathing. Sheathing his sword, he tucked his hands in his sleeves.
"Any questions?" he asked politely.
None were able to comment, and he shrugged, smiling. Suddenly his head whipped up and he jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding a fizzling stick of dynamite that landed where he had just been moments earlier, exploding and scattering the fallen men.
Himura landed several yards away, looked around and scowled. #Don't you even care about your own men?# He shouted angrily in English to the surrounding forest.
A voice answered from the trees. #Vhy should ve? They ver shust hired hands anyvay. Besides, they should be honored to be a distraction for me. Vhat else are they goot for?#
Kenshin eyes narrowed in rage, his form wavering and disappearing completely as another bomb was thrown his way. He moved swiftly, headed in the direction of the voice and the mass of arrogant emotions located there.
He was on Schuster before the man was aware he'd left the clearing. The German only had time for one look of surprise as a figure leapt from the brush in front of him, jumping high into the air, before bringing his sword crashing down on his shoulder. Schuster fell with a gurgle, passing out from the pain. "Ryu Tsui Sen." Kenshin whispered softly, standing over the fallen man, his eyes narrowed and sword leveled at the prone man's throat. His hand trembled slightly, and his face showed an internal struggle.
He was mercifully snapped out of his brief inner conflict by the noise of someone crashing through the trees some distance away, followed by loud cursing. Without a glance at his latest opponent, he took off through the brush. It sounded like the American. He obviously didn't know much about stealth. Kenshin was going to give him a firsthand lesson.
**
Smith was no woodsman. Despite the image of 'rough and ready' he tried to portray, he was very much a city boy. So it happened that when everyone rushed away he had tried to follow. And got lost.
Cursing the bushes that kept him from moving in the straight line he wanted, and nature in general, his hands were full of branches and his attention was on his feet. So when he looked up he nearly jumped out of his skin at the appearance at his side of a redheaded local he'd never seen before. Opening his mouth to angrily cuss the other out for startling him, he looked into the man's eyes. All other impressions faded. Smith didn't realize he was shivering. He felt as though he had plunged in the ocean in midwinter. He managed to open his mouth, but all he could do was gurgle. Those terrible eyes promised just one thing, and with a certainty that nearly turned his bones to jelly. Forgetting bravado and even the weapons by his side, he spun away wildly in an attempt to run. A hard metal object impacting with his temple was the last thing he felt before darkness rose to swallow him as the ground rushed toward him.
***
The men were now in full retreat, the screams of their less fortunate comrades urging them on even faster. Several of them had run into each other, and instinctively clustered together in an effort for maximum defense. Eyes rolled at the slightest sound and knuckles were white as they gripped any weapon that came to hand. Reaching an incline, they gratefully took to it. Down meant off the mountain; away from this place of death and ill omen. The incline turned into an old streambed, and the group moved cautiously down its rocky bottom.
Their attention was behind them, ears straining to pick up any sound. Therefore, the first man didn't notice the trip-wire until he fell over it, cursing. Everyone spun around, gripping their weapons. A soft whoosh came from the trees as a bent pole was released from restraint, and suddenly it was raining sake jugs.
The men shouted, scrambling to get out of the trench as a hail of pottery fell. Some didn't make it to the sides, felled by the heavy containers as they impacted and shattered on their heads. However, most made it to the sides, grasping the nearest branches that hung down in an effort to pull themselves out. One tug showed one man his mistake as a string attached to one branch was shaken loose, slithering up the tree like a thin snake. They looked up in time to see two poles swing down from both sides of the trail, several sake jugs tied to it like party streamers. The two traps met, breaking men and pottery.
Amidst the strong smell of sake, those still conscious scrambled down the embankment, shouting in panic.
***
Himura looked around. The locals had finally decided to take his warning seriously, and were making swift tracks away. Stepping away from the unconcious body of his most recent opponent, he scanned the area carefully.
There. Not that far away to his left fled the man that was the yakuza who had been collaborating the most with the hunters. He had played an important role in starting this whole mess, and held a great deal of the responsibility for this attack. It was he who must have led them here, to this forest. It was he who had helped them hurt one of the few people that he could consider family.
Eyes narrowing and changing color, he moved forward to intercept him.
**
Hiroshi paused, leaning against a tree for a moment to catch his breath. In all the confusion, he had a good chance of getting away. The bosses could stuff this job. Nothing was worth this. Straightening, he managed to take one step forward before a well-placed foot impacted with his side, and he found himself pinned to the tree, something undeniably sharp pricking at the soft skin of his throat. Looking up the length of the blade, his eyes widened and his heart froze.
***
The target had to be close by. All the noise seemed to originate from this area. Carefully scanning about, Schmidt kept his rifle up and ready.
***
"Please! I was only doing what I was paid to do! It's my boss's fault! He took the foreign dogs' money! It's death or worse to disobey a yakuza boss!" Hiroshi babbled, swallowing involuntarily against the sword at his throat, feeling the razor-sharp edge lightly nick the flesh there. A corner of his mind noted crazily that the edge seemed to be on the wrong side of the weapon. The greater, more survival inclined part of his brain kept its' opinions to itself and didn't blurt it out loud.
The amber eyes less than an inch from his seemed to smolder with an inner fire of their own in the half-light of dusk, narrowing even further as the face moved even closer, and a voice hissed. "You think that excuses you from your part in this? I'm tired of stupid justifications! You led them here. You Helped them hurt him!"
Hiroshi's eyes widened. "So this IS about that psycho potter?!" He blurted, then immediately wished he had kept quiet. The eyes before him were now burning with rage, making them appear to be two glowing slits of gold. Hiroshi was aware of the sword pressing forward even more insistently, and felt the warm trickle of escaped fluid drip down his neck.
"NEVER." The Battousai said, emphasizing each word "SPEAK.SO.ABOUT.MY.SHISHOU.AGAIN."
Hiroshi's face now resembled old tofu. His mind gibbered in complete panic. The guy was the Battousai's Master?! What had he gotten himself into? He should have listened to his mother and become a cloth merchant.
He was dead. "Onegai, Battousai-sama. Make it quick." He said, closing his eyes to block out the sight. He doubted that the enraged assassin would grant him even that. He had never been this scared in his life. Not when he'd fought his way up the yakuza ranking; not even when he'd faced a boss after a failure. Here was certain, painful death literally staring him in the face.
There was silence for so long that Hiroshi risked cracking an eye open. The amber had momentarily retreated from his captor's eyes, replaced by a flat purple that was no more reassuring, but appeared more thoughtful.
"I will give you the same choice as the others." The man before him said softly, his voice slightly higher than before. "You can stay here with your foreign employers and share their fate, or you can leave, and never come near here again. You should also find a new line of work." He added.
Hiroshi blinked. What? He was being given a chance out of this? What was the man playing at? NO one just let someone go, not after what he'd done to him. His eyes widened. Was the manslayer letting him go now, in order to slowly hunt him like they had been doing to his master? It would be quite the irony. Cautiously, he decided to test this unfamiliar ground.
"What if I stay?"
The warrior looked at him coldly, his eyes flashing between those mad colors again. "Then I will break every bone in your body and leave you to the forest." He stated, as if declaring that he'd try a new recipe for dinner that day. Hiroshi swallowed again. "I think I'll leave." He squeaked. He'd try to get a head start.
He felt the strange katana ease from his neck. Afraid to move for a second, he cautiously straightened. Not taking his eyes off the being before him, he took a few tentative steps. When the other didn't casually gut him, he felt a slight flicker of hope that hew would actually live through this and started walking away, keeping his movements slow and his hands in plain sight. He looked away from his former captor for a moment to take his bearings, then turned back, only to find himself alone.
Unable to take the tension any longer, knowing that those eyes were still watching him, he broke into a run away from that nightmare place.
For now, Hiroshi just concentrated on Away. Later he'd decided to veer around Kyoto and head for Aizu. With luck, his employer would think he was gone with the rest of them.
----------------------
Credit goes to Jason M. Lee for the bamboo idea. Sorry I couldn't expand on it more. Sake torture is still owed to Firefury. Thanks for all your patience. I hope you get what you hoped for.
There's more, there's more! Read on!
By The Unseen Watcher
See previous Disclaimers. Please.
Chapter 7
-----------------------
The three hunters returned to camp that day to find a solid line of opposition arrayed against them. Hostile looks were thrown their way and they instinctively reached for weapons. Smith took it all in and stepped forward angrily.
#What's the problem with you lot Now?! # He demanded, glaring around. #Hey, Heeroshi! Where are you, you lazy idiot?! #
Said spokesman stepped reluctantly forward, bristling at the insult but still wary. Glancing uneasily between the two groups, he cleared his throat. #The men . . . we have decided to 'call it quits' Smithsu-san. # he stated, any diplomacy he had mean to use gone with the man's rudeness.
# They can't quit. # Smith said, scowling around him and fingering one on the six shooters on his hip. Hiroshi hesitated, but dutifully translated to his men. They'd understood his attitude and gesture well enough, and were already muttering amongst themselves. Fear of these foreigners could only hold for so long against the more mysterious and powerful kamis of the forest. Finding out that the legendary assassin was real and after them was the absolute last straw.
Schuster and Spencer backed Smith in a rare show of solidarity. Schuster hefted one of his bombs while Spencer had his dart gun in hand and ready to use at a moment's notice. This caused the men to back up a bit, but their expressions remained set.
Schuster surveyed what would soon become an ugly mob. They were beginning to be more trouble than they were worth. But like it or not, they needed these hireswords for the necessary grunt work. Not to mention as shields and distractions for whatever it was out there gunning for them. He suggested offering them more money. However, before a red-faced Smith could shout him down Hiroshi shook his head.
# No amount of money would be enough. # he said reluctantly, concious of all the attention on him. #One of the men saw the hitokiri himself. #
The foreigners were puzzled. #Hee-to-keere? What's that?! # Smith demanded, not recognizing the word. Hiroshi frowned in thought, then brightened. #In your language, it is word assassin. Very powerful one. # he explained. #This one legendary to our country. Unstoppable. Many believe he is a demon. We cannot face such a one and live. #
The three exchanged skeptical glances. # You're saying that a fairytale is scaring you yellow-bellies?! # Smith asked incredulously.
Hiroshi shook his head. #He was very real. Disappeared, but now he is back. We leave now. # he stated firmly, and the crowd behind him murmered an affirmative.
#The hell you are! # Smith shouted, and the argument erupted further, Smith hurling threats and accusations, Hiroshi standing firm by his declaration. Finally Spencer cut in, his cool voice slicing through the noise.
#I wonder what your employers will do when you tell them that they will not get paid the rest of their money. # he said, his gaze sweeping over the entire group. Hiroshi seemed to slump at that, and translated. An uneasy mutter ran through the ranks of the locals, and there were a few isolated arguments among them. Hiroshi eventually stepped forward again, visibly reluctant. # We have decided to stay for the rest of the day. Then, we are gone. We will spread out, all of us, to cover all ground quickly. # he insisted, peering anxiously at the angle of sunlight.
Spencer nodded, cutting off Smith's protest. # Then we have a bargain. # he said. Schuster only looked on indifferently. As long as he finally got the opportunity to use his bombs, he didn't care about the strategy.
*
The men spread out, each keeping within sight of their fellows, beating the bushes and even going as far as throwing a rock into the occasional tree. The sound of their passage filled the silence of the forest, creating the effect of a marching army.
A few of the more trained ones had the definite feeling that their progress was being watched. Skin prickling, they kept their weapons close.
**
The warrior watched from a large tree, his body angled so that in spite of his coloring it would be very hard to distinguish him from the surrounding bark. It was time to make the final assault. A much more direct one, this time. Soon this would all be ended. Ignoring a stone flung dangerously near his perch, he melted back around the trunk, sliding down until his sandaled feet touched the loamy forest floor, making not even a whisper of sound. Cocking his head to the side, he listened carefully. There, off to the right. There seemed to be a larger concentration of voices. He moved quickly forward, his passage unmarked by so much as the rustle of a leaf.
Himura moved purposely toward the large crowd of men milling about in a small clearing. One eyebrow rose. Surely, they couldn't be so stupid as to stand out in the open in a group, could they? Shaking his head, senses still alert, he moved slowly forward. Sensing no ambush, he couldn't help but smile slightly. This was a rare opportunity, indeed. These men needed a few lessons in tactics. Murmuring to himself, he readied his sword in its sheath.
"Good morning, students, and welcome to the Basics of Hiten Mitsurugi. I'm your teacher, Himura Kenshin." He moved forward, stepping out of the treeline and into the clearing. One man spotted him and a shout went up. Himura had already taken the measure of each man, and made no move as the first charged him desperately. As the man reached him, he vanished, appearing briefly to the side of his opponent, twisting and slicing at the back of his neck. The man went down in a heap.
"Ryu Kan Sen." Himura said softly, stepping into a ready stance. "Be grateful that I'm using a sakabatou." He told the unconscious heap behind him. The pile didn't answer. He shrugged. "Next." He said, sheathing his sword and going into battoujutsu stance.
***
Others were attracted by the shouting, and quickly started to converge on the area. Two completely different shadows heard, and moved forward.
***
Himura leapt over the swings of one mass of men, landing in the midst of a cluster of bamboo near a single fighter. The man swung wildly, Himura easily dodging the blow. The bamboo was not so lucky, several stalks shearing off near their base. Another group began to converge on his new location. The spry redhead dove, rolling forward. As he jumped upright, one hand found a long bamboo stalk. Casually ducking a swing to his head, he spun in his crouch, using the bamboo like a whip, hitting the men surrounding him near knee level at high-speed. The circle collapsed like dominoes, curses and screams of pain following.
One of the fallen men reached out, desperately grabbing him about the ankle in a death grip. Himura swung his saya down, hitting the base of the wrist and numbing the hand. He felt the focus of someone on him and whirled, the hand impeding his movements only slightly.
It was enough. The dart hit his left arm, sending a wave of numbness coursing up the limb. Pulling it out and peering at it curiously he wavered, momentarily off-balance by the sudden sensation as something intangible seemed to drain away at his strength. Blinking to clear his suddenly blurred vision, he saw another group of men closing in, grins of triumph on their faces as they took in his obvious disorientation. On guard, he looked around to see one of the foreigners smiling cooly at him, gun raised for another shot. Kenshin needed a few moments to compose himself. Time the other wasn't going to give him.
Then without warning there came the whistling of air as something impacted along the ground. The surprised foreigner went flying as the ground erupted in a path straight toward him. He landed quite a distance away in the trees. Looking around, Kenshin spotted a familiar figure. He was minus his mantle still, but had on a fresh blue gi. His sword was held ready in his hand, and it was obvious by the look on his face that he had come prepared to create some serious mayhem. Kenshin found himself breathing out a sigh of relief as tension he had not known existed eased. Dark eyes met his own, and his master nodded in acknowledgement before striding forward in pursuit of his departed opponent, casually taking out any who were foolish enough to be in his path. His teeth bared in a vicious smile, Kenshin swung around to face his next targets, who had halted their advance at the appearance of Hiko and were still gaping.
"Now, where were we?" He asked, charging forward before they could answer or renew their attack.
***
Spencer backed to the edge of the cliff, his heel scraping a few rocks off the edge to fall into the chasm below. He had gotten up from his fall quickly, being fortunate enough to land in some relatively cushioning bushes. He'd even retained his weapon. Sensing pursuit, he had chosen a tactical retreat. Running through the forest, he'd pushed through the growth only to find himself on a bare, rocky outcrop overhanging an impressive drop. Swinging around to retrace his steps, he found his escape cut off. Somehow, he wasn't as surprised as he thought he should be by who it was.
Hiko advanced, not even pausing as he batted away the darts with the flat of his sword before they could come near him. When he was close enough, he sliced off half of the gun barrel with one swing of his sword.
Spencer kept the remains of the weapon as a shield, though he knew it would do him little good. Still, his bland expression didn't waver. He had a revolver tucked away that he hadn't used yet. There was no way he could miss at this range.
"Well, my good man. It seems I'm at a bit of a disadvantage at the moment." He said calmly, knowing the tone of his voice cast the illusion that he was unfazed by this turn of events. Hiko only looked at him, his own face revealing nothing. Looking into those dark eyes, Spencer saw that the other was profoundly unimpressed. In fact, he appeared completely uninterested; as if Spencer was wasting his time. This served to internally rattle the Englishman more than any threats ever had. They had been hunting this man for days. How could he take it like someone had interrupted him at tea?
"You may have beaten us for now, but I do hope you realize that we shall return. I am not used to being thwarted in my desires, and I detest this humiliation." Spencer said loftily, one hand slowly reaching for the gun concealed in his sleeve. "You will never be rid of me. No prison can hold me for long. If I am deported, I can easily come back. I am a very rich man, you know, and with money you can buy Anything." Spencer smiled, his eyes veiled as his hands closed on the handle.
Throughout his speech, Hiko only watched him, giving no indication whether or not he understood a word he was saying. Spencer didn't care. Let him die in ignorance.
"You cannot stop us." Spencer said, pulling out the gun and swinging it forward.
Then Hiko was no longer there, and before the smirking Englishman could register that his unsuspecting target was no longer in front of him, there was the crack of a gun going off. Pain exploded in Spencer's chest, and he looked down in open astonishment to see a red spot quickly spreading on his shirt. His useless dart gun dropped from weakening fingers, and his hand went up in a useless effort to dam the flow of blood.
Eyes wide in disbelief, mouth working, he looked up from the horrible vision of his life flowing between his fingers to gaze into the trees. "Schmidt." he managed to croak, before slowly toppling over backwards off the cliff with no further sound.
Hiko had ducked and rolled, putting a thick tree between him and the direction that the malevolent emotions he had felt earlier seemed to originate from. He could feel the other's annoyance as he tried to locate him, and held still, blending into the trees.
He had felt the flicker of triumph in the cool sniper's emotions a split second before he fired. That warning had been all the time he needed to dodge. The same could not be said of the other man. He had taken the bullet meant for Hiko's back. Glancing the way of his departed antagonist, he murmured some parting words, in perfect English.
#I didn't need to stop you. In my experience, men such as you tend to take each other out more often than not. Only a few remain to be taken care of. # he gripped his sword, feeling the presence of the other on the move. Stretching out his senses even more, he sensed it heading in the direction of his former student.
*Time to finish this pathetic game. * He thought grimly.
***
Himura moved among them like a dancing shadow. A painful one at that. The effects of the drug had been lost to the surge of adrenalin and the confidence boost at the appearance of his master. He charged in, hitting an opponent at high speed, then was several yards away, meeting the lunge of a larger fighter and countering with a thrust to his neck. All the time he muttered under his breath. "Ryu Sou Sen, Ryu Shou Sen." Leap forward, dodge, neck strike "Ryu Kan Sen-Tsumuji."
By this time, the remaining men were either running around in a panic looking for a way out or accidentally fighting each other. They managed to get some sense of order, and charge him all at once. Himura raised his sword, swinging it down with incredible force toward the charging line. Men and earth were sent in all directions.
"Dou Ryu Sen." He finished calmly. He looked around at the groaning bodies that littered the trampled clearing. They were all in major pain and wouldn't recover for some time, but were all breathing. Sheathing his sword, he tucked his hands in his sleeves.
"Any questions?" he asked politely.
None were able to comment, and he shrugged, smiling. Suddenly his head whipped up and he jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding a fizzling stick of dynamite that landed where he had just been moments earlier, exploding and scattering the fallen men.
Himura landed several yards away, looked around and scowled. #Don't you even care about your own men?# He shouted angrily in English to the surrounding forest.
A voice answered from the trees. #Vhy should ve? They ver shust hired hands anyvay. Besides, they should be honored to be a distraction for me. Vhat else are they goot for?#
Kenshin eyes narrowed in rage, his form wavering and disappearing completely as another bomb was thrown his way. He moved swiftly, headed in the direction of the voice and the mass of arrogant emotions located there.
He was on Schuster before the man was aware he'd left the clearing. The German only had time for one look of surprise as a figure leapt from the brush in front of him, jumping high into the air, before bringing his sword crashing down on his shoulder. Schuster fell with a gurgle, passing out from the pain. "Ryu Tsui Sen." Kenshin whispered softly, standing over the fallen man, his eyes narrowed and sword leveled at the prone man's throat. His hand trembled slightly, and his face showed an internal struggle.
He was mercifully snapped out of his brief inner conflict by the noise of someone crashing through the trees some distance away, followed by loud cursing. Without a glance at his latest opponent, he took off through the brush. It sounded like the American. He obviously didn't know much about stealth. Kenshin was going to give him a firsthand lesson.
**
Smith was no woodsman. Despite the image of 'rough and ready' he tried to portray, he was very much a city boy. So it happened that when everyone rushed away he had tried to follow. And got lost.
Cursing the bushes that kept him from moving in the straight line he wanted, and nature in general, his hands were full of branches and his attention was on his feet. So when he looked up he nearly jumped out of his skin at the appearance at his side of a redheaded local he'd never seen before. Opening his mouth to angrily cuss the other out for startling him, he looked into the man's eyes. All other impressions faded. Smith didn't realize he was shivering. He felt as though he had plunged in the ocean in midwinter. He managed to open his mouth, but all he could do was gurgle. Those terrible eyes promised just one thing, and with a certainty that nearly turned his bones to jelly. Forgetting bravado and even the weapons by his side, he spun away wildly in an attempt to run. A hard metal object impacting with his temple was the last thing he felt before darkness rose to swallow him as the ground rushed toward him.
***
The men were now in full retreat, the screams of their less fortunate comrades urging them on even faster. Several of them had run into each other, and instinctively clustered together in an effort for maximum defense. Eyes rolled at the slightest sound and knuckles were white as they gripped any weapon that came to hand. Reaching an incline, they gratefully took to it. Down meant off the mountain; away from this place of death and ill omen. The incline turned into an old streambed, and the group moved cautiously down its rocky bottom.
Their attention was behind them, ears straining to pick up any sound. Therefore, the first man didn't notice the trip-wire until he fell over it, cursing. Everyone spun around, gripping their weapons. A soft whoosh came from the trees as a bent pole was released from restraint, and suddenly it was raining sake jugs.
The men shouted, scrambling to get out of the trench as a hail of pottery fell. Some didn't make it to the sides, felled by the heavy containers as they impacted and shattered on their heads. However, most made it to the sides, grasping the nearest branches that hung down in an effort to pull themselves out. One tug showed one man his mistake as a string attached to one branch was shaken loose, slithering up the tree like a thin snake. They looked up in time to see two poles swing down from both sides of the trail, several sake jugs tied to it like party streamers. The two traps met, breaking men and pottery.
Amidst the strong smell of sake, those still conscious scrambled down the embankment, shouting in panic.
***
Himura looked around. The locals had finally decided to take his warning seriously, and were making swift tracks away. Stepping away from the unconcious body of his most recent opponent, he scanned the area carefully.
There. Not that far away to his left fled the man that was the yakuza who had been collaborating the most with the hunters. He had played an important role in starting this whole mess, and held a great deal of the responsibility for this attack. It was he who must have led them here, to this forest. It was he who had helped them hurt one of the few people that he could consider family.
Eyes narrowing and changing color, he moved forward to intercept him.
**
Hiroshi paused, leaning against a tree for a moment to catch his breath. In all the confusion, he had a good chance of getting away. The bosses could stuff this job. Nothing was worth this. Straightening, he managed to take one step forward before a well-placed foot impacted with his side, and he found himself pinned to the tree, something undeniably sharp pricking at the soft skin of his throat. Looking up the length of the blade, his eyes widened and his heart froze.
***
The target had to be close by. All the noise seemed to originate from this area. Carefully scanning about, Schmidt kept his rifle up and ready.
***
"Please! I was only doing what I was paid to do! It's my boss's fault! He took the foreign dogs' money! It's death or worse to disobey a yakuza boss!" Hiroshi babbled, swallowing involuntarily against the sword at his throat, feeling the razor-sharp edge lightly nick the flesh there. A corner of his mind noted crazily that the edge seemed to be on the wrong side of the weapon. The greater, more survival inclined part of his brain kept its' opinions to itself and didn't blurt it out loud.
The amber eyes less than an inch from his seemed to smolder with an inner fire of their own in the half-light of dusk, narrowing even further as the face moved even closer, and a voice hissed. "You think that excuses you from your part in this? I'm tired of stupid justifications! You led them here. You Helped them hurt him!"
Hiroshi's eyes widened. "So this IS about that psycho potter?!" He blurted, then immediately wished he had kept quiet. The eyes before him were now burning with rage, making them appear to be two glowing slits of gold. Hiroshi was aware of the sword pressing forward even more insistently, and felt the warm trickle of escaped fluid drip down his neck.
"NEVER." The Battousai said, emphasizing each word "SPEAK.SO.ABOUT.MY.SHISHOU.AGAIN."
Hiroshi's face now resembled old tofu. His mind gibbered in complete panic. The guy was the Battousai's Master?! What had he gotten himself into? He should have listened to his mother and become a cloth merchant.
He was dead. "Onegai, Battousai-sama. Make it quick." He said, closing his eyes to block out the sight. He doubted that the enraged assassin would grant him even that. He had never been this scared in his life. Not when he'd fought his way up the yakuza ranking; not even when he'd faced a boss after a failure. Here was certain, painful death literally staring him in the face.
There was silence for so long that Hiroshi risked cracking an eye open. The amber had momentarily retreated from his captor's eyes, replaced by a flat purple that was no more reassuring, but appeared more thoughtful.
"I will give you the same choice as the others." The man before him said softly, his voice slightly higher than before. "You can stay here with your foreign employers and share their fate, or you can leave, and never come near here again. You should also find a new line of work." He added.
Hiroshi blinked. What? He was being given a chance out of this? What was the man playing at? NO one just let someone go, not after what he'd done to him. His eyes widened. Was the manslayer letting him go now, in order to slowly hunt him like they had been doing to his master? It would be quite the irony. Cautiously, he decided to test this unfamiliar ground.
"What if I stay?"
The warrior looked at him coldly, his eyes flashing between those mad colors again. "Then I will break every bone in your body and leave you to the forest." He stated, as if declaring that he'd try a new recipe for dinner that day. Hiroshi swallowed again. "I think I'll leave." He squeaked. He'd try to get a head start.
He felt the strange katana ease from his neck. Afraid to move for a second, he cautiously straightened. Not taking his eyes off the being before him, he took a few tentative steps. When the other didn't casually gut him, he felt a slight flicker of hope that hew would actually live through this and started walking away, keeping his movements slow and his hands in plain sight. He looked away from his former captor for a moment to take his bearings, then turned back, only to find himself alone.
Unable to take the tension any longer, knowing that those eyes were still watching him, he broke into a run away from that nightmare place.
For now, Hiroshi just concentrated on Away. Later he'd decided to veer around Kyoto and head for Aizu. With luck, his employer would think he was gone with the rest of them.
----------------------
Credit goes to Jason M. Lee for the bamboo idea. Sorry I couldn't expand on it more. Sake torture is still owed to Firefury. Thanks for all your patience. I hope you get what you hoped for.
There's more, there's more! Read on!