It was a bright, clear night in
the streets of Tenkyo's only major city. Early as it was, the streets
remained crowded from the day. The people moved with the gait of the
truly carefree. Food peddlers hawked their wares, largely ignored by
all but the hungry. A few children ran quickly about, heedless of their
mothers. And why not? The stars shone brilliantly, unhindered by
clouds, and the moon was beautiful. It didn't matter if the political
atmosphere was getting tense; these people new that life was good and
were determined to live it.
Then she broke through the window.
Suzuka landed heavily on her feet with a grunt, not minding the raining wood around her. A decided tingle ran all the way through her body, starting at the hands and feet, and moving to the head. A most unusual feeling, two parts elation and one part fear, ate at her nerves. This man with the scar… he was good.
Looking up at the now destroyed outer wall of the building, she could see him. His eyes stared down at her with such hate. Suzuka felt that odd sensation of joy and terror again run along her spine. She smiled. This could be fun.
The man still looked down at her with piercing eyes. He very carefully, with great precision brought his sword up. And sheathed it.
Suzuka stood confused. What was he…? She barely had time to bring her sword up. "Iai," her voice sounded. Then steel impacted hard wood. The scarred bodyguard now stood down on the street with her, his blade brought crossways from its sheath. The two of them stood there for an eternity, making a cross with their swords.
The moment broke, the two duelists pushing off one another. "Jutsu," her own words echoed back.
He was fast. Suzuka had to admit that. Taking a traditional seigan stance, she analyzed her attack strategy. He seemed to prefer cuts across the body, instead of downward cleaves. Sacrificing power for speed. And he was lightning fast with that blade. If she brought her sword out of its perpendicular angle, he would cut her in half. Suzuka had a minor reach advantage, due to her size and blade length. So, keep him at a distance.
Keeping her bokuto out in front, Suzuka charged. Within a foot of the bodyguard, she led with a thrust. She hadn't expected it to work and wasn't disappointed. He dodged easily to her right, trying to put his sword between her ribs.
She didn't let him. Suzuka moved her own blade down, deflecting his and almost cutting him in half. The bodyguard leapt backwards, saving his skin at the cost of his shirt.
"I can see you're a master." The words were softy, almost shy. But laced with hate and ice.
"You're not so bad yourself." Suzuka's words were meant as a taunt. He didn't go for it. They sat there, each one looking for an opening in the other's defense.
A bead of sweat rolled into Suzuka's eye.
She flinched.
At speeds nearly godlike, her opponent closed the distance. His cold yellow eyes narrowed. His blade once again came across. Suzuka moved to block, but met only air. In a flash of panic, she leapt back, hoping against hope.
Something brushed against the front of her kimono. It started near her midsection, moving upwards between her breasts, and clipped her chin. The bodyguard stayed in his stance, sword upraised over his head, held only in the left hand. Suzuka's respect for—and frustration with—him increased. His cut across had been a deception. Only Suzuka's instincts had saved her from certain disembowelment.
The bodyguard shifted stances once more. His forward leg held none of his body weight, all of it having been transferred to his rear leg. The sword was held casually in one hand, the other gently cupped against its back.
Suzuka charged. Her opponent would most likely try for a downward cleave this time. He had deceived her once, using a technique he hadn't before. As such, it meant he was taking this fight seriously, and he would soon bring his entire arsenal to bear. Let him think she had fallen for his little ruse. She wasn't about to be taken down by some two-bit bodyguard.
His sword came down. Reacting instantly, Suzuka stepped into his open side, deflecting the downward blade, using hers brought overhead. Quickly reversing her own sword, she meant to cleave his shoulder in two. It was not to be as he jumped backwards.
The two once more stared each other down. A brief piercing whistle reached their ears. Shit! The city's policing agency was coming. Neither sword fighter saw the prudencey in sticking around. Suzuka took to the rooftops as her adversary did the same.
Suzuka finally jumped down to earth some blocks away, landing in another alleyway. She surprised a prostitute and client. She paid them no mind. Walking out into the street, the assassin's mind swirled in images of red-headed swordsmen. And ways to kill them.
Kenshin opened the sliding door to the Seiga safe-house. It was a worthless little inn, run by a nosy woman who insisted other call her Sakarin. Kenshin was quite certain that dear Sakarin's name should have been 'Mama-san.' That is, if any of his comrades' claims were to be believed. Still, it was safe and it was warm.
"I see you're alive, Mr. Himura." Kenshin gazed at the hideously ugly woman with his usual blankness. Sakarin was unfazed. She went on. "Go take a bath. I don't want my sheets smelling of a man who's just come back from a cheap whore."
Biting back a rude comment, Kenshin instead explained. "I got into a fight. They were better than I expected."
"Even worse. You've never tried to remove bloodstains have you?"
"I told you, they were better than I expected."
"They're alive?"
Kenshin nodded. "Some woman with dark hair and a white kimono. She used a bokuto." He immediately found himself under the intense scrutiny of Sakarin's eye. She turned his head to either side, examined his neck, even opened his hakama to look at his belly. Done, she stepped back and stared up into his face.
"You fought Twilight Suzuka and lived?" Wonder filled her voice.
Kenshin shot up straighter. Now that he thought about it, the woman did fit Twilight Suzuka's description perfectly. Right down to the mole on her cheek. And her swordwork… Kami-sama! It had to be her!
Then she broke through the window.
Suzuka landed heavily on her feet with a grunt, not minding the raining wood around her. A decided tingle ran all the way through her body, starting at the hands and feet, and moving to the head. A most unusual feeling, two parts elation and one part fear, ate at her nerves. This man with the scar… he was good.
Looking up at the now destroyed outer wall of the building, she could see him. His eyes stared down at her with such hate. Suzuka felt that odd sensation of joy and terror again run along her spine. She smiled. This could be fun.
The man still looked down at her with piercing eyes. He very carefully, with great precision brought his sword up. And sheathed it.
Suzuka stood confused. What was he…? She barely had time to bring her sword up. "Iai," her voice sounded. Then steel impacted hard wood. The scarred bodyguard now stood down on the street with her, his blade brought crossways from its sheath. The two of them stood there for an eternity, making a cross with their swords.
The moment broke, the two duelists pushing off one another. "Jutsu," her own words echoed back.
He was fast. Suzuka had to admit that. Taking a traditional seigan stance, she analyzed her attack strategy. He seemed to prefer cuts across the body, instead of downward cleaves. Sacrificing power for speed. And he was lightning fast with that blade. If she brought her sword out of its perpendicular angle, he would cut her in half. Suzuka had a minor reach advantage, due to her size and blade length. So, keep him at a distance.
Keeping her bokuto out in front, Suzuka charged. Within a foot of the bodyguard, she led with a thrust. She hadn't expected it to work and wasn't disappointed. He dodged easily to her right, trying to put his sword between her ribs.
She didn't let him. Suzuka moved her own blade down, deflecting his and almost cutting him in half. The bodyguard leapt backwards, saving his skin at the cost of his shirt.
"I can see you're a master." The words were softy, almost shy. But laced with hate and ice.
"You're not so bad yourself." Suzuka's words were meant as a taunt. He didn't go for it. They sat there, each one looking for an opening in the other's defense.
A bead of sweat rolled into Suzuka's eye.
She flinched.
At speeds nearly godlike, her opponent closed the distance. His cold yellow eyes narrowed. His blade once again came across. Suzuka moved to block, but met only air. In a flash of panic, she leapt back, hoping against hope.
Something brushed against the front of her kimono. It started near her midsection, moving upwards between her breasts, and clipped her chin. The bodyguard stayed in his stance, sword upraised over his head, held only in the left hand. Suzuka's respect for—and frustration with—him increased. His cut across had been a deception. Only Suzuka's instincts had saved her from certain disembowelment.
The bodyguard shifted stances once more. His forward leg held none of his body weight, all of it having been transferred to his rear leg. The sword was held casually in one hand, the other gently cupped against its back.
Suzuka charged. Her opponent would most likely try for a downward cleave this time. He had deceived her once, using a technique he hadn't before. As such, it meant he was taking this fight seriously, and he would soon bring his entire arsenal to bear. Let him think she had fallen for his little ruse. She wasn't about to be taken down by some two-bit bodyguard.
His sword came down. Reacting instantly, Suzuka stepped into his open side, deflecting the downward blade, using hers brought overhead. Quickly reversing her own sword, she meant to cleave his shoulder in two. It was not to be as he jumped backwards.
The two once more stared each other down. A brief piercing whistle reached their ears. Shit! The city's policing agency was coming. Neither sword fighter saw the prudencey in sticking around. Suzuka took to the rooftops as her adversary did the same.
Suzuka finally jumped down to earth some blocks away, landing in another alleyway. She surprised a prostitute and client. She paid them no mind. Walking out into the street, the assassin's mind swirled in images of red-headed swordsmen. And ways to kill them.
Kenshin opened the sliding door to the Seiga safe-house. It was a worthless little inn, run by a nosy woman who insisted other call her Sakarin. Kenshin was quite certain that dear Sakarin's name should have been 'Mama-san.' That is, if any of his comrades' claims were to be believed. Still, it was safe and it was warm.
"I see you're alive, Mr. Himura." Kenshin gazed at the hideously ugly woman with his usual blankness. Sakarin was unfazed. She went on. "Go take a bath. I don't want my sheets smelling of a man who's just come back from a cheap whore."
Biting back a rude comment, Kenshin instead explained. "I got into a fight. They were better than I expected."
"Even worse. You've never tried to remove bloodstains have you?"
"I told you, they were better than I expected."
"They're alive?"
Kenshin nodded. "Some woman with dark hair and a white kimono. She used a bokuto." He immediately found himself under the intense scrutiny of Sakarin's eye. She turned his head to either side, examined his neck, even opened his hakama to look at his belly. Done, she stepped back and stared up into his face.
"You fought Twilight Suzuka and lived?" Wonder filled her voice.
Kenshin shot up straighter. Now that he thought about it, the woman did fit Twilight Suzuka's description perfectly. Right down to the mole on her cheek. And her swordwork… Kami-sama! It had to be her!