Disclaimer: Watsuki Nobuhiro is a genius because he came up with Rurouni Kenshin. He and others own that property. I do not. I'm just borrowing it for the some fun and will not be making any money off of doing this. So once again, please do not sue, I have no money (I spent it all on Rurouni Kenshin DVDs and manga).
Summary: Kenshin's past comes back to haunt him and a new danger starts to hunt in Tokyo.
Rating: R, swearing, death, murder, blood and all around nastiness.
Warning: I am so not good at writing action. Any constructive criticism or advice is welcome.
A KILLING MOVE
By COLLEEN
Chapter 15
Senses alert the two samurai stalked down the street to the first checkpoint. According to Kenshin's instructions they would have to pass through this and one other position before moving on the contest's finish.
The area they travelled through was vacant of people and if it hadn't been for the noise of their footsteps the road they walked would have been as barren of sound as it was of life. Kenshin wondered at that. The killers knowledge of the city by night must be quite extensive for him to be able to pick such quiet, out of the way places for his games. And speaking of games....
"Compared to the one letter we have seen this game seems much more elaborate than the others, that it does." Kenshin talked to his companion without looking at him; his eyes too busy watching for attacks and possible traps.
"Aa," Saitou replied. His gaze was also busy elsewhere. "You must rate special consideration."
Kenshin grimaced at the remark but didn't contest it. The fact was he attracted those looking to make a name for themselves almost as often as he drew old enemies looking to even a score.
Their instructions brought them to the river that ran through Tokyo. The sound of water rushing against the shore was a welcome distraction to the sound of their footsteps against the hard dirt street.
Their destination stood out starkly in the moonlight and was the only building for any distance along the stretch of riverbank. The dock and boathouse were about midsize but seemed smaller in their isolation. *It is amazing,* Kenshin thought, *how such an empty space seems to teem with danger.*
Saitou was thinking similar thoughts. His normally narrow eyes were mere slits as he surveyed the distance from the last of the city's buildings to the lonely boat dock. A few more steps and they would be open and vulnerable to attack.
With a small movement of his hand the former Shinsengumi captain indicated to Himura that they should split up. Kenshin nodded minimally and as the last building fell away the two men broke into a V pattern so they could approach the solitary structure from two sides.
Both men moved from packed dirt, to grass, to sand. Senses strained to their fullest the two samurai crossed the empty space to the boathouse, their pace cautious but brisk. They reached the building at the same time, each of them stopping before they would have to step up onto the dock's wood flooring.
Kenshin studied the building, noticing that it was half built out onto the water. He also noticed that he had gotten the side with the door.
Saitou took the few steps needed to go around the boathouse and joined Battousai at the entrance. Kenshin stepped forward onto the planking, which creaked under his slight weight despite his caution. Behind him he heard Saitou draw his sword and step into position for Gatotsu. Kenshin placed his hand against the door and slid it open, moving sideways with it so he would be out of the way in case the other swordsman had to use his prepared attack.
Nothing.
Saitou relaxed his stance but did not lower his sword. He stepped past Kenshin and into the building with the smaller man following behind. March 4, 2002
The boathouse was actually empty of boats, empty of everything but for a few containers of rice hidden up in the rafters. That, and the flag.
The piece of cloth, the games proof that they had been there, lay on the floor at the far end of the room. Kenshin studied the space between them and the marker but could discern no traps waiting to trip them up.
Kenshin glanced over at Saitou who raised his eyebrow at the younger man. Kenshin's eyes narrowed back at him, both men's reactions being the closest the two of them could come to a discussion at the moment. Kenshin gave a slight nod and moved towards his dubious prize as Saitou split his attention between the smaller man and the open door.
The boathouse was obviously on it's last legs as even Kenshin's small feet caused the wood flooring to groan in protest. The former hitokiri thought that it was a good thing that Saitou had declined to go after the flag, as the planking was brittle enough that the larger man could easily have fallen through the rotting wood.
Kenshin was smaller and he moved carefully, testing each step as he went.
It didn't help.
Two steps away from the flag the wood under Kenshin's right foot gave way slightly. This would not have been a problem, except when the wood broke the swordsman heard the sound of a wire snapping along with the crunch of rotting timber. A rumbling sound ran up the sides of the building and he turned and looked up in time to see part of the roof's support beam break away and slam into one of the barrels of rice that he had earlier ignored.
Had the wood under his other foot not chosen that moment to give way and briefly trap Kenshin in place his attempt to avoid the huge projectile would have worked. Instead the barrel was shot putted into his chest and both he and the rice slammed through the building's fragile wall and into the waiting river below.
************
Kenshin and the rice hit the water at an angle, the speed they were going causing them to skip once on the water's surface before sinking into the depths at the river's middle.
The weight of the barrel dragged the samurai down several feet before he was able to use the water's buoyancy to twist around so that the rice container and he changed places, placing the barrel on the bottom. He kicked strongly away from the dead weight and swam diagonally with the current until he was able to make the shore.
Saitou, meanwhile, had collected the flag by moving out onto the rotting wood as far as he dare before reaching out with his sword to snag the annoying piece of red fabric. He dragged it back to where he could safely pick it up then, with prize in hand, left the boathouse. He followed the river downstream, figuring that, dead or alive, Battousai would end up being dragged by the current for a ways.
He found the redhead a few metres down river, just as he was pulling himself out of the water. Kenshin's little used blue gi and grey hakama were soaked through even worse than his usual clothing had been after the dunking that he'd received earlier this evening. His hair had escaped its tie and lay plastered mop like over his face, shoulders and back. He grabbed a handful of it and started to wring it out, looking up at Saitou as he approached. The undercover policeman took in the sopping wet swordsman and felt his lips lift in a smirk but refrained from saying anything.
Kenshin threw him an extremely pissed of look and said, "say it."
"Hn, you look like a drowned red rat." Saitou replied.
Kenshin glared at him even though internally he was surprised, having expected the man's trademark 'ahou'. Said man simply smirked at him again before handing the redhead the flag and turning to head off towards the next checkpoint. Kenshin stuffed the piece of cloth into his sleeve and trailing water from his gi and pants slogged off after the other samurai.
************
The watcher couldn't stop smiling.
He was so happy. The boathouse trap was something he had set up weeks ago; just something to keep him busy in between hunts. At the time he really didn't know why he had started making traps as he had always preferred his sword to trickery but somehow the games had started to need something more.
He needed something more.
He needed to take strong, intelligent prey and outwit them. For awhile stalking and killing them had filled the empty space inside of him but it was taking more and more each time to keep him interested.
And he needed to be interested, so the first trap, the thin wire noose had taken form in his mind. After that hidden traps, traps that would confound the best of prey had taken root in his thoughts until he had finally given in and started to build them. At the time he didn't know why or how he would use them.
Then Battousai had come.
The watcher sighed happily at the thought. Yes, it seemed that fate knew he would have this chance and had pushed him to create the weapons he would need against this man. He felt his persistent smile widen. Even though he had learned much about how to hunt the most interesting of game it seemed he still had more to learn. Most students would be unhappy to find that there were lessons still waiting for them, but not him. While the Hitokiri Battousai would, in a way, be his graduating piece there would be other things to test himself against. As long as he remained open to new ways to hunt there would always be something to keep him interested.
There would always be something to fill the emptiness.
************
Zenko stood on the roof of the building where he had last seen his killer. He looked down into the open space between the warehouses to see the woman in the sea green kimono looking back at him.
He shook his head at her. She screwed her face up in a grimace and looked around a bit before motioning to the dead gangster to join her down on the ground.
Arriving back at her side he was intrigued to find her crouched down over something lying on the ground. His eye caught a flash of light off of metal as she reached out and picked up a thin piece of looped wire. She stood up to study the noose, turning it this way and that so that it caught the light. She held up a length of it to her eyes and nodded at what she had found.
"They have been here, even if they are not here now," she said. She held up the length of wire that had caught her attention so Zenko could see where it had been stained with blood.
"Great, so where did they go?" The gangster's tone was equal parts annoyed and pissed off.
"I don't know, but maybe he does," she said, while pointing at something in the darkness. Zenko squinted in the direction she indicated, trying to see whom she was talking about. He gave a quick curse and backed up as part of the night broke off and threw itself at him.
The Sea Green Lady smirked at the younger ghost as he panicked for a moment and tried to physically fight off one of the low power phantasms that he had told her about earlier. The entity, not much more than a black smudge in the air, whirled around them twice before heading off a few feet from them. It stopped and hung in the air as if waiting for them to hurry up and follow it.
"Stupid ghost, what's it trying to do?"
"I believe it is trying to show us where everyone has gone." The Sea Green Lady said. She bowed to the spirit. "Our thanks for your help."
The dark stain in the air seemed to bow back at the Lady before twirling around and heading off towards the river. The Lady and Zenko followed, albeit with a good deal of cursing from the gangster.
The three of them travelled the same path that Kenshin and Saitou had taken earlier. This time the trip would have been soundless were it not for Zenko's gripping. The phantasm led them to the booby-trapped boathouse and the Lady and the gangster stepped into the building without a moment's hesitation. Unlike the two samurai before them the ghosts' trip across the wood flooring was without a single creak or groan.
The two spirits looked out onto the water through what was left of one of the boathouse's walls. Not sure what had happened they looked at each other, shrugged, and headed out of the old building to see if they could learn anything from the other ghost. Unfortunately their guide seemed had deserted them while they had been inside.
"Son of a bitch." Zenko started off on another swearing jag while the Lady searched along the riverbank. It didn't take her long to find where Kenshin had pulled himself out of the water. She grabbed the gangster, who was starting to repeat himself anyway, and together they followed the trail that the swordsman's soaked clothing had left behind.
End of Chapter 15