Armour-piercing Shuriken
A Night Out
Softly.
On padded feet.
She moved.
He was moving as well.
On a headlong collision course with her.
Only, her training would have her prepared to avoid that.
At all costs.
But then, she had not expected his training to warn him of her presence.
But it did.
A katana was drawn.
Its metal blade making the distinctive brush with the scabbard.
He froze in position.
She did too.
Their eyes met.
Nobunaga Akimura was astounded to be staring at a decidedly feminine form.
Likewise, Satsura Oichi was surprised, not to be staring at a male, but to be staring at one so young.
He could not have been much older than she was.
And in fact, he was not.
He was fifteen.
As quick as lightning, with her head making its ruling over her heart, she darted away, somersaulting onto the rooftop of the house next to her and making her getaway.
Nobunaga Akimura, of the lineage of one of the most prestigious and honoured samurai families, could only watch her shadow fly away.
His operative was compromised.
She had seen him on his most secret mission ever.
His eyes narrowed.
Girl or not, honour or not, the goal of the Shinsengumi would not be compromised.
She would have to die.
But first, he had to accomplish his mission.
Prying eyes would pay.
But he had no time for that now.
A few streets away, a young man stood in the deep recesses of the shadows.
Guarding.
Guarding an influential royalist.
And this young man was the feared hitokiri, the Battousai.
He was waiting. Watching.
For the appearance of the man whom he knew would come.
A lone assassin.
Of the Ishin Shishi.
He heard nothing.
But he felt something.
The presence of a fighting spirit. A strong one.
With a body finely attuned to minute changes in surroundings, having been trained in haragai, the hitokiri awaited.
Right hand on sword hilt.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Soft, hurried footsteps.
And a figure that accompanied them.
Were met with cold reception.
Sword against sword.
Had Nobunaga not already drawn his katana, it would have been impossible to deflect or block the blow.
Here was the man who was truly as fast as lighting.
The Battousai.
His heart sank.
The wild-eyed man called the Battousai knew that his opponent trembled in fear.
If not visibly, then at least mentally.
Nobunaga steeled himself.
Prepared himself for a battle.
One that he could not, would not, lose.
No matter the odds.
A fight.
She knew it.
She paused.
Stealthily, curiously, she walked toward the scene.
A man with a scar on his cheek.
A sharp intake of breath.
The Hitokiri Battousai.
And he was fighting with the man she had just seen on the streets.
The Battousai felt the presence of another.
Another with the spirit, the wa, of a warrior.
But he remained concentrated on the fight at hand.
Anything else he would take in his stride.
And so the duel continued.
And a man whose life hung in the balance, on the outcome of a duel he did not even realise was being fought, slept on peacefully.
Undisturbed.
----------end of chapter three----------
Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin does not belong to me...
Author's Note:
Things begin to happen. All is vague and unclear. So the story moves.
Thank you DiaBLo, StoneFox, Nigel, cookies and aga_xris for reading and reviewing!
~rurouni
1 May 2003