The outdoor hot spring
pool was blessedly deserted. Kenshin laid his neatly folded clothes and swords
on the edge of the rock pool, within reaching distance. Long hair loose from
the usual ponytail and dripping wet from the washing, he slowly lowered his
body into the hot spring water. He could not help a small sigh of pleasure as
he leaned against the stone rim, the steaming water reaching up to his chest.
Tightly wound muscles that he no longer even noticed started to unwind, the
heat from the spring seeping inside to thaw the chill in his bones that he
thought would never leave.
His body still ached from
the two days of traveling to reach this place. In the past, it would have taken
him less than a day. He suspected he had not fooled Kyosuke as to his
condition. The sensei who checked him would have a fit if he knew he had
already gone back to work, would have insisted that he was not yet fit for any
exertions. But he had had enough of staying alone in that fishing hut. In the
emptiness of time, his thoughts kept turning to the past, and that was not
someplace he wanted to be.
He critically examined
his newest scars. There was a rather rugged mass of scar tissue on his right
flank, uneven flesh that had healed poorly where the stitching had been torn
open and re-sewn. It was still red and raw looking. He would have to be careful
not to exert himself too much for a while. In comparison, the sword slash had
healed more cleanly. The long wound had closed to a thin trail of pink raised
flesh that ran just below his left shoulder, extending along his upper arm.
He habitually flexed that
arm, testing it. There was barely a twinge. His body healed fast, a gift in his
line of work. There were older scars on his back and shoulders that had faded
nearly to nothing, slash and puncture wounds that had nearly taken his life
eight months ago.
He had long since ceased
to care about wounds and the scars they left. There was only one exception to
that. The important thing was that they would not detract from his skills, and
aside from the slight stiffness of unstretched new flesh, these scars were
inconsequential.
The hardest wounds to
heal were not the physical ones.
Steam wafted up in a
cloud of fog, misting up the view of the surroundings. It gave the false
illusion of privacy, of being cocooned in one's own private world, where the
only person who exist was oneself. The night was silent with only the
occasional rustling of leaves and the calls of night birds. Soft ripples and
splashes of water against the rock rim provided a rhythmic, soothing
background. The rest of the world was still waiting out there, but for the
moment, this blessed solitude was enough.
He sank deeper into the
pool, neck-deep in the water and half-floating in the warmth. He tilted his
head up to look up at the stars partially obscured by the rising mist.
The stars looked the same
now as it had a year ago, two years ago, constant and unchanging as ever. He
had watched them countless times with his parents on their last summer
together, with Hiko just before the fight that had led him down the mountains.
Again, the day before he left for Kyoto with Katsura Kogoro, and on that
blessedly peaceful and seemingly endless night with Tomoe in their little
house.
The stars remained the
same, but he had changed.
Kyosuke's words today
about Eiji had struck a chord inside him. Only one year difference, but Eiji
was full of... innocence. That was
the only word that he could think of. Eiji had come from a fairly well-to-do
merchant family, and as far as he knew, the boy had lived a relatively peaceful
life before he had joined in the Ishin movement. It showed in his careless
smiles, in the lightness of his steps, the unfeigned exuberance that he treated
the rest of the world with.
He marveled at it, but he
did not envy the younger boy. He had long decided that innocence required far
too high a price to keep. He could not afford to pay that price. Not when it
was weighed against the lives of others.
The day he consciously
made the decision to take up a fallen sword too big for his hands had been the
day he threw away the last vestiges of his childhood. Oh, he did not have to
kill back then, if that was even possible. And fate had interfered to lend him
another lease on life. But physical acts aside, he had been willing to kill,
and it was all that mattered.
To kill to protect.
A very pragmatic solution to a savage world. He had
accepted the necessity since the day he had watched bandits massacred the
slavers and slaves with similar abandon, since three girls who had barely begun
their lives sacrificed themselves to protect him. It was engraved into him by
their blood and he had understood it with the kind of bone-deep understanding
that had shaped his decisions and his life ever since.
He did not like it, but
he accepted it. That was the way it was.
Which was why when Hiko
Seijurou had offered to teach him that very art of killing, the choice was a
foregone conclusion. 'Shinta' was cast aside and re-born as a swordsman, as
'Ken-Shin'. Hiko Seijurou had known more than he did at that time, what the
name change had truly meant.
And when he could no
longer stand aside and watch the world fell apart, he had left the mountains
and he had left Hiko Seijurou.
He stared blindly at the
shifting mist, remembering another bone-cold morning mist surrounding the
mountain hut that had become his home for four years and the man who had become
almost like a father to him. Remembering harsh words thrown at his teacher on
their last day together – what good is a
sword kept in its sheath? Wasn't the whole reason he had thrown his soul
into learning Hiiten Mitsurugi Ryuu was to save the defenseless? To prevent anymore
tragedies like Sakura, Akane, and Kasumi from happening. Preventing another boy
from watching people he cared for butchered.
The world had been black
and white then. So simple, so clear… and so far away from the reality that he
had come face to face with. He sighed, feeling the weariness that had dragged
at him for the last two years.
Katsura-san's words, on
the day he had asked him to kill for the sake of a new world. Inevitably,
deaths were necessary to bring in change. He was well aware that the root of
the revolution that they were trying to bring about would bring about
destruction of the old world. And yet, there was no point in holding on to a
world that brought pain and misery to so much of its own people. A world that
belonged to the past, a world that would kill off hope for the future was
better off destroyed.
And to do that, he was
willing to kill. He had chosen to become a tool for the revolution, to become
its killing edge, the part that reached out and destroyed lives to open the
road for the new world. If killing the officials could expedite the new era,
then it should be done. If they needed someone to kill, then he would kill. That
had been the reason he had taken up the mantle of hitokiri. It was the only
skill he had, this sword, this body... He had no other skills to offer, other
than a burning desire to help make a difference.
And yet, for all the
perfect reasoning that he had made to himself, he had neglected a very crucial
part out of the equation.
He had forgotten that the enemy was also living,
breathing human beings.
Hiding behind the shield that was Tenchu, he had
consigned their deaths in the name of necessity. And all the while the people
that he had cut down had been no different than himself, no different than the
very people he had envisioned himself protecting.
On that piece of frozen
hell eight months ago, he had been shown with cutting, bone-deep clarity, how naïve
and simplistic his views and beliefs had been. His world had shattered and
nothing looked the same anymore.
The enemy had faces now,
and they haunted his dreams and conscience.
How long can I go on killing?
*How long will you go on killing*?
With a jolt, he opened his eyes. He blinked at the
mist that blurred his eyesight. Then the barest of smile curved his lips, a
strange mixture of resigned self mockery and bitter-sweet pain. The parody of a
smile did not reach his clouded eyes.
Tomoe. How strange it was that she had become the
voice of his conscience. Or maybe, not that strange at all. After all, she was
the one who reminded him of what he had chosen to blind himself to. Her voice
was always there, a reminder to him. And he could not block this voice away.
Could not. Would not. Because blocking her out would mean blocking out
everything that had happened between them, and he could not do that.
This life that he still lived belonged to her. She
did not kill him even when he had tacitly offered his life to her. Forgiven him
even when he deserved no forgiveness.
And so, he had promised her, he would find a way.
Swore it on her silent form, the white funereal garb he clothed her in hiding
the horrible wound his own hands had given her.
But had he?
He made a choice eight months ago to go on living,
to go back with Katsura-san and back into the madness of Kyoto. He told
Katsura-san that he would protect people now, help people. That it was what she
would wish from him, and what he himself wished from the deepest part of his
soul.
And yet, here he was, with more blood staining his
hands. Still a man-slayer, even if he was no longer a hitokiri living in the
shadows.
Everything had changed. Nothing had changed.
Kenshin closed his eyes, feeling the leaden weight
in his chest that grew heavier with each day.
*You
know what is happening.*
Yes, he replied
to that soft voice in his head.
Yes, I know, but what can I do? Tell me, what can I do?
The voice was silent,
offering no solutions, no way out.
I know what each death
means now, what the value of each life is. But still, I kill. I wonder, is that
not in itself a form of madness?
He killed more people now than he ever did acting
as a hitokiri. Everyday, he struggled with a mind-numbing paradox – that by
trying to save, he killed, causing the very thing that he fought to prevent. He
could feel the rift growing between what he did and what he *knew* -- and it was slowly tearing him
apart.
It showed in each sleepless night, still preferable
to the dreams and nightmares that plagued his rest. It was there, no matter how
much he consciously avoided thinking about it, no matter how much he drove
himself into exhaustion to escape the turmoil that clawed into his mind and
heart.
His eyes were open now, and he could not go back to
the oblivious comfort of before. His eyes were open - and times were, he felt
they would burn and blind him with all that he saw and did.
And the question that twisted inside him, fueling
his indecision and uncertainties.
Had
he truly accomplished anything?
Were they truly taking a closer towards the dream
of new world, or was he merely creating more misfortunes on this world? Had two
years of endless murders and butcheries been for nothing?
He had long since ceased
looking too closely at himself, but despite all the inner walls he hid behind,
he could feel the life trickling out of him, draining his emotions, his
feelings, vibrancy... darkening his idealism... until he felt like a walking
husk, mechanically executing moves ingrained into his body, with as little
thought as a clockwork.
How much longer before
there was nothing left inside of him?
Those five months in the mountain had felt like a
breath of fresh air to him, yet it felt like a dream now. With each day, it
lost more of its vitality, like a painting that grew faded with time and lost
its vibrancy and life. The memories of warm contentment and happiness of that
time bled out of him with each passing day. Maybe one day he would forget it
completely.
Nothing but a passing dream.
He found the fingers of his hand pressing into the
white cross-scar on his left cheek, the callused tips digging hard as if they
would tear into the flesh.
I
missed the dream…
I
missed you…
I
need you, Tomoe.
"What an indulgent
picture you make, Battousai-san."
Kenshin's eyes flew open
in shock. He shot out of the water, left hand grabbing for his katana.
"Dare-ka!"
A tall, lithe form
separated itself from the shadow of trees in front of him. The slight
illumination cast by the lanterns showed a young man in his early twenties. He
was dressed in dark blue gi neatly closed in front against the chill, and a
matching set of dark blue haori and hakama. The man was no one Kenshin had ever
seen before. Kenshin's eyes narrowed as he tried to feel the stranger's
presence. His clothing was not that inconspicuous, how could he have missed
him?
Shock filled him as he
couldn't feel a thing. Not a ripple of ki that marked a living, breathing man
or animal. Everything living had ki, which meant that the man in front of him
must had mastered the ability to hide his ki completely. He'd heard of this
skill from his shishou, but it was incredibly rare and hard to master. Hiiten
Mitsurugi Ryuu had something equivalent, to be used when its master wished to
dampen down his ken-ki for some reasons. But to eliminate ki to this extent,
and that excellent shadow skill...
"You're a ninja. Whose?"
The stranger raised one
thin, elegant brow. He was a slender man with a face that could only be
described as beautiful, framed by neatly short raven-black bangs. His hair was
almost as long as Kenshin's and he tied it up in a high ponytail, kept tight
with a silver clasp that was the only light in his whole attire. Full lips
curved up in a half-smile that was mirrored in a twisted reflection by the cold
gray eyes.
"I belong to no one.
Who's your master, Hitokiri
Battousai?"
Kenshin paused, not expecting
a counter question. The other man's voice was a smooth baritone, not one he'd
heard before among the masked omnitsus working for Choshu Ishin Shishi.
"Don't play games with
me. Who are you?"
The stranger tilted his
head to one side, his smile widening as he deliberately looked up and down
Kenshin's body.
"You do realize that
you're standing there naked, don't you?"
That remainder brought
home the realization that he was standing in a barely waist-high water, without
a single stitch on his body. A small part of him which still cared about such
things reacted to that, sending a slight flush to his cheeks. But the cold,
intense concentration that came with the hitokiri's mind-set easily pushed the
distraction aside.
"Your name," he grounded
out coldly, "or I'll hit first and ask questions later."
"Violent," the stranger
murmured lightly, "your reputation precedes you." His smile widened as
Kenshin's body tensed further, fingers tightening on the hilt of his katana.
"But, since I've already known your name...fair is fair." He dropped Kenshin a
formal bow, the small twisted smile on his face making a mockery of it,
"Hajimemashite, Hitokiri Battousai. You can call me Arashi."
Kenshin frowned at that. Arashi. Storm. "That's not your real name."
"But it is all that I
will give you," the person calling himself Arashi retorted. "Or are you going
to try to force it out of me, Battousai-san? I'll warn you first you'll have a
hard time doing it."
Kenshin's face remained
impassive as his thoughts churned. Enemy, or ally? He seemed completely at ease
here, which seemed to indicate that he was working for Ishin Shishi. But the
hostile attitude...
A soft patter of
footsteps sounded from behind him, a familiar pattern. Kanzaki.
"Himura, did you... Ah,
Arashi, there you are. Katsura-san is looking for you."
The young omnitsu did not
look away from Kenshin as he answered, "Just enjoying the quiet night,
Kanzaki-san."
"Sou-ka...," Kanzaki
looked back and forth at the two men facing each other, a lop-sided smile
quirking his mouth, "This is the first time you two have met, isn't it? Well,
Himura, meet Arashi. You can drop the sword, he's one of us."
Kenshin slowly lowered
his still sheathed katana, keeping his eyes on Arashi. Ishin Shishi he might
be, but ki or no ki, he could still sense the hostility coming off from the
other man. Kenshin got off the hot-spring pool and started pulling on his
clothes. To his consternation, Arashi kept gazing at him the whole time, the
small smile on his lips aggravating him.
He had to let go of his
katana to dress, but he'd be damned if he'd let his guard down with a man he
did not trust within reaching distance.
"Weren't you called?" he
said pointedly, not bothering to be polite.
Kanzaki smirked and
motioned laconically at Arashi with his head, "Come on, you're making him
nervous. You really don't want a nervous hitokiri at your back." The last was
delivered in a darker undertone. Kenshin did not react outwardly, but inside he
flinched.
He still remembers. Of course he would. Do you expect him to
forget and forgive? You've lost any right to his trust. A
sharp flash of memory - a katana bathed in blood quivering a finger's width
away from Kanzaki's throat, a red droplet welling up where the tip had pressed
against the throat before he had recovered enough sense to rein it in. The
other man's wide eyes and furious shout - Snap
out it, damn you! Are you trying to kill us too?!
Not intentionally, no.
But that was not a very good reason at all. And an apology was far too
meaningless to give for something like that.
Arashi gave Kenshin a
final mocking bow, then followed Kanzaki towards the main building. For a
while, Kenshin just stared at the spot where he had stood. Then tying his
hakama, he walked towards the trees where Arashi had appeared. Squatting down,
he touched the grassy ground. There was just the barest of indentation on the
grass. If he did not see the man standing here just now, he would have sworn no
one had passed here.
Damn, he's good. I wonder which omnitsu group he belongs to.
I've never seen him before in my life, why the animosity?
The man had walked on light feet, with a spare
economy of movements. He would be fast. Most probably agile too - he had the
build for it and there was a smooth grace in his limbs. The eyes caught at his
thoughts. Deliberate arrogance and veiled insults aside, his eyes had held a
confidence that was impossible to fake. He had seen enough of the false ones to
know the difference.
He remembered the long-haired omnitsu from eight
months ago, and the clawed man who tore his shoulder. They were fast. Would
this one be faster? If he dropped out of a tree behind him, would he be able to
catch him in time? For that matter, with that excellent blending skill, would
he able to sense him in time?
Kenshin shook his head almost angrily. Damn it all,
he was not in enemy camp, yet he still felt like he was. Katsura-san wanted him
to relax and catch some rest, but he would never get any rest this way. He had
to stop viewing and analyzing everyone like a potential enemy.
Like
a hitokiri.
Thoughts turning darker again, he sighed and
grabbed his swords. He might not be one anymore, but he was finding out that
the mind and the heart was not so easily convinced.
***
The sake had helped to warm Kyosuke up and relax
him, and he indulged himself in a little whistling as he walked towards the
bath-house. It was always nice to meet old friends, and he had been in the
Ishin movement long enough to make a lot of friends.
He turned a corner and nearly walked head-on into
Kanzaki who was coming from the opposite direction.
"Kanzaki-san," he cheerfully called out as the
other man laid a steadying hand on his shoulder. "You missed the sake,
should've come sooner. Where've you been?"
Kanzaki grimaced, "Running errands, fetching
people, that sort of things. Katsura-san wanted to talk to Himura."
Some of the warm contentment fled from him,
sobering him up. "Why?" he asked anxiously. "Not another mission so soon? I
don't think he's even fully recovered yet. You know he was hurt badly from the
last one."
Kanzaki nodded curtly, "I know. But most don't.
You're in charge of supporting him, so you'd know, but remember not to talk to
the others about the extent of his wounds. His reputation has been a useful
thing in the past, it won't be good for morale if the men know the 'invincible
Hitokiri Battousai' was almost killed by that Okita Souji."
Kyosuke nodded slowly, understanding but not liking
it one bit. "I won't. But didn't the Shinsengumi say anything?"
Kanzaki gave a lop-sided smirk, "They said their
Okita Souji had defeated 'the red demon' and the corpse is now fish-bait. It's
on the streets everywhere."
Kyosuke stared at him in consternation, "Wait a
minute, that's not true!"
"Don't worry. There's another rumor that said
Himura Battousai not only soundly defeated the First Troop Captain, but also
that the whole First Troop was useless enough to let one man escaped free from
their midst."
"Eh??"
Kanzaki grinned at Kyosuke, "Don't look so
surprised. There's always at least two sides to everything, remember? And it's
not like it's a complete lie... It's got as much truth as theirs does."
"…we're the ones spreading them?"
"Now you're catching on." Kanzaki grinned wider at
Kyosuke's rueful look, then he sobered up.
"Not that there's much exaggeration needed… to
fight Shinsengumi's 'Ten-sai' Okita Souji to a draw, with a wound like that…"
He turned to Kyosuke with a troubled look in his
eyes. "Kyo… how long have we known each other?"
Kyosuke blinked, caught off-guard by the sudden
change of topic. "Et-to…five years now, I think."
"Five years," Kanzaki said quietly. "And in these
five years, have I mistreated you, or lead you wrong?"
"No," Kyosuke replied, thoroughly mystified now.
"So. You trust me?"
Kyosuke grinned at him, still not catching on but
on firmer ground. "Of course I trust you, Kanzaki-san. You've saved my life so
many times already."
"Alright. If I give you an advice now, will you
listen to me?"
"Yes?"
"Stop being so close to Himura."
Kyosuke blinked. "Eh?" Kanzaki was staring at him
intensely, without a trace of humor in his eyes.
He struggled for a few seconds before finally
coming out with a word. "Why?"
Kanzaki's brows made a climb for his hairline, "I
would've thought that would be obvious." He tilted his head then continued in a
thoughtful tone, "But for you… maybe not. You've always been the trusting
type."
"Himura is not a bad person," Kyosuke said rather
defensively.
The older man shook his head with a slight air of
exasperation. "That's beside the point. That's not why I want you to stay away
from him."
"Huh?" Kyosuke was starting to wonder if he'd drunk
too much sake after all.
Kanzaki threw his hands up, "Mattaku!" He walked
over to a nearby large stone, no doubt an important part of the refined garden,
and sat himself carelessly over it. Leaning back, he continued in a calmer
tone. "Kyo, I've been an Ishin Shishi far longer than you have, almost eight
years now. I've seen people come and go, and over the years I've seen more than
a few hitokiri. Do you know how long they work in that kind of line?"
"Uh... I have no idea... but they can't have
continued for too long," That kind of life must had taken quite a toll on a
person. Kyosuke had only to look at Kenshin to have some idea of the kind of
stress it must have put on a person.
Kanzaki nodded, "Right. In fact, they usually don't
survive more than three years."
Kyosuke stared at the older man, "That short?"
"There are a few rare exceptions but," Kanzaki
spoke the words slowly, "within three years most of them would be dead, killed
by enemies. One or two managed to quit and work as something else. The
rest...something went wrong, in here," he lifted a finger to tap the side of
his head lightly, "...nothing that anyone else can help with."
His snort was devoid of any humor, "Thing is, it's
usually the smarter ones, the ones who seemed quite the decent guy, who would
turn out the worst. It's almost as if, the brighter the light is, the darker
the shadow is when they turn."
Kyosuke's heart felt as if it was being squeezed in
a fist, "You're saying...Himura..."
Kanzaki looked away. "I've seen better men than him
who didn't survive. I don't think he'd be any exception."
"But he's not a hitokiri any longer." Kyosuke
protested, trying to find some logic that would break through the dreadful
feeling of premonition Kanzaki's words was giving him. "You said some of them
managed to quit..."
"You think so?" Kanzaki peered at him from the
corner of his eyes. "Once a hitokiri, always a hitokiri. It's not something
that you can just shed off like an old skin. It's a mind-set, a way of looking
at things, an instinct. And if you think Himura is not one anymore - just look at
the way he fought, the way he held himself apart from the rest of us, in or out
of battle. A hitokiri is always alone, even among a crowd. Especially in a
crowd."
Looking at Kyosuke's stricken expression, Kanzaki
sighed softly, "I know why you... He does look a bit like Takeshi, doesn't
he...? About the right age too. But they're not the same person, Kyo. And if
you get too close to him, you're going to end up killed." Kanzaki looked away,
"Or worse."
It's
not the appearance...it's their heart...
"Kanzaki...,"Kyosuke asked in a small voice,
"...what happened to those hitokiri? The ones who didn't quite...?"
Silence. Then - "We did the only thing we could,
before they did even more damage."
The silence was thick enough to suffocate in. Then
Kanzaki softly said, "You've never seen... there's nothing as frightening as a
man who'd lost himself to the madness... A few of them just seemed to lose
their will to live, but some of them...their eyes can give you nightmare for
years, especially if it was someone that you've known before... "
Kyosuke stared at Kanzaki. The other man still had
his head turned away from him, but something in his voice...
"...do you know anyone...? Was one of them your
friend?"
"Hah... we're talking about you, remember? Don't
try to change the subject."
Am
I? Or are you the one who doesn't want to talk about it?
"Look here."
Kanzaki was tapping the front of his throat.
Kyosuke squinted but could not really see anything. "What?"
Kanzaki's smile was mirthless. "You can't really
see it, but I was this close," he separated one thumb and forefinger halfway
along his neck side, "to paying a visit to the beyond. And so were about five
of my men."
Kyosuke had a sinking feeling that he knew what
Kanzaki was going to say. He asked anyway, "Why?"
Kanzaki leaned back against the rock, gazing up at
the night sky, "It was about three months ago, we were guarding some of the big
shots, one of them was Sakamoto Ryoma." At Kyosuke's blank look, Kanzaki shook
his head ruefully, "…never mind. Anyway, we had a run of really bad luck during
that time, ended up getting chased by a whole bunch of soldiers. We split up,
half of us drawing the attention to let the ones guarding the leaders escape.
But we got cornered and surrounded. I thought that was it..."
When Kanzaki did not continue, Kyosuke nudged him
none too gently, "Then?"
Kanzaki glared at him but continued talking,
"Himura was one of us. All of us were wounded at that time and getting weaker,
but he...he just seemed to get even faster and more fierce..." The older man's
voice was getting softer, almost reflective. "If you could've seen his eyes
then... it was as if he wasn't really seeing us, recognizing us... just
enemies, and him the only person left..." He stopped. "He killed all of them
you know. In the end, it was ten against one and it didn't make any whit of
difference. He just went through them as if they were straw dolls standing
still waiting to be butchered."
"I made the mistake of trying to pull him away from
the place. He'd had his katana against my throat before I could even blink,
I've never seen a man move that fast before." Kanzaki smiled grimly. "He was
almost too far gone to recognize me. The blade was already kissing my throat
before he stopped."
"But
he… stopped, didn't he?" Kyosoke asked tentatively, his mind still reeling with
the picture the words had painted.
"Oh, yes. That time. The next time? I'm not so
sure. And I don't intend to test it. I'm telling you this Kyo… I will never
trust him at my back, and it has nothing to do with skill. He isn't trained to trust, to work inside a
group. His instincts are all wrong. Better for us that he work alone."
Kyosuke shook his head, trying to come out with
something, anything that can give voice to the sense of unease that had grown
as he listened to Kanzaki. "That's… it's not… Kanzaki, I know you know more
about these things than I do. And it's not that I don't believe you… I do! But
that just doesn't sound… right. Kenshin isn't…" He grappled with himself, wishing
that he was better at words than this. He could not explain it to Kanzaki, but
what he felt was wrong. Wrong.
"You still don't understand." Kanzaki raked a hand
across his short cut hair, "I don't know how to explain this better, damn it,
I'm not good with words. But listen…"
"Some people can do this job and walked away in one
piece. Some couldn't. And I'm telling you… Himura is *not* in the first group."
When Kyosuke turned aside in confusion, Kanzaki
grabbed his arm, the strength of the grip underscoring the urgency reflected in
the man's words. "Listen to me, Kyo! Bottom line is… he's going to lose it one
of these days. And I don't want you to be anywhere near him when that
happened."
Kyosuke stared at Kanzaki, feeling daunted by the
conviction in the other man's eyes. "I… I understand. And thank you… for
telling me all this." He smiled tentatively. "I know you're doing this for my
own good. I promise, I'll be more careful. But Kanzaki… I can't just… walk
away. I can't. It's… " He exhaled, shaking his head. "Everybody, no matter who,
needs someone to talk to. A friend. You say he's going to self-destruct, but if
no one is there to warn him when the time comes… And if I knew it before hand
and do nothing, then I might as well be the one that wield the sword." Kyosuke
smiled but his eyes were glazed with sadness. "And I can't do that, Kanzaki.
Not again. I'm sorry." With a final clap on Kanzaki's arm, he turned away from
the small garden.
Kanzaki continued staring long after Kyosuke's
broad back disappeared around the bend before exhaling loudly. "Kuso… I don't want to say this to you,
Kyo… your heart is always too big for your own good, but… Himura Battousai is
well on his way down the Shura path - and kami-sama help him, because I don't
think anyone can. Not even you."
***
Somewhere else in the night, a man was running
through a forest. Branches and knotted undergrowth tangled his feet and several
times he almost fell down. But he kept going, his breath coming in great gasps
as he threw fearful looks behind.
He could no longer hear the sound of fighting
behind him, and there were no signs of pursuit. But they would try to catch
him, he knew that. And if he were captured, then no one would know of what
happened today. He gritted his teeth and re-doubled his efforts.
Katsura Kogoro must be informed.
Sakamoto-san,
please wait for me.
High above him, hidden among the thick branches,
two figures stood against a tree trunk and watched him run.
A lilting, feminine voice asked, "Is this all right?"
"Just fine, don't worry about it."
The woman held up something in her fingers that
caught the faint moonlight and glinted with a wicked edge. It was a small
kunai.
"Do you want to make it look more authentic?"
The
man's grin was lost in the dark shadows. "Very well. Go ahead."
As the woman vanished after the fleeing man, a low
growl sounded from higher above in the branches, sounding rather dissatisfied.
The man chuckled softly. "I know… I'm sorry, but
you'll just have to wait another day for a hunt."
"I promise, this little bait will bring in a much
more satisfying prey."
END
***
Notes:
1. The title comes from a medical term à Cognitive
Dissonance = 'an unpleasant state where one simultaneously holds 2 ideas /
opinions that are inconsistent with each other'. I'm sure you can see where
that applies here ^_^
2. Japanese terms:
Ten-sai = genius/prodigy
Mattaku = something like 'oh for goodness sake…'
Shoji = the rice-paper panels in Japanese houses
that act as walls and doors
3. Kanji for names:
Arashi = storm