Author's Notes: Okay people, I heard somewhere that the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu was the 'sword for the innocent', so I put that in here, okay? Tell me if I'm wrong or not and I'll edit it when I find out, okay? Anywayz, I have this chapter to page 4 right now and I must end. I have Geometry homework. I'll write more before I post it, and I will go through the whole thing to see where I can add things in. This chapter has a lot of Kenshin's thoughts told from a different point of view, not as if he was saying them in his mind. They are told as if I am looking at him and am describing them to you. Just to clear up any possible confusions! Oh! And this is an Alternate Timeline, where I've pushed everyone back into the war but kept their same ages. Anywayz, on with the chapter!
Breaking Through
Chapter 2- Training With Two
Battousai walked out of the Inn, his mind set on training that day away from the rest of the assassins. He didn't know exactly where he wanted to go, though. He remembered some words from his master, Hiko Seijuro. 'Kenshin you baka deshi, train somewhere that you won't get your sword caught on someone's clothing!'. That had been preceded by a long thousand swings as punishment. Kenshin had made up his mind, and decided to find a deserted field nearby to practice in. He wouldn't be a threat there.
Kenshin turned a bend, his mind wandering as he walked through paths that were hidden as trees and other forms of foliage grew over the deserted runs. He walked through the course with practiced precision, not missing a single curve in the road.
Two hours had flown by when he finally stopped. Kenshin took in his surroundings, his mind processing every spot that an enemy could use to sneak up on him. The field was open, filled with lush green grass that blew gently with the slight wind that traveled across the expanse of land. There were a few stones sticking up here and there, masking the appearance of a gentle field. Around the edges trees of all forms lined the area, forming small shadows as the sun rose higher into the sky. He gazed up at the cloudless light that filled the sea colored sky.
This was much different than what he was used to. The light of the day contrasted sharply with the dark he was used to, to the extent that it hurt his eyes. No matter to him, he needed to train and that was the only reason why he had gone two hours out of his way to get here. Hand on the hilt of his trusty katana once again; he stepped out into the rich green field, imagining that he was swimming the string-like grass as he trained.
He stopped in the center of the field, where his position was the safest. The Battousai took one more look around himself, checking for people crouching behind rocks or disappearing behind bushes and large sakura trees. The gentleness of his surroundings were haunting to him, so much different from the dark, bloody things he had become accustomed to. But yet, the tranquility of the small oasis was not unwelcomed by the hitokiri. Even past the haunting vibe it seemed to give off, he somehow managed to find some comfort in the serene feel of the area. The grass licked teasingly against his ankles where he stood, and for one the Battousai didn't grin in earnest at the strange things he found here. Instead, he kept a steady gaze, no grin
came to his face, but his eyes reverted from cold amber to alert blue.
Taking his position in the perfect form he needed, his sword was drawn, hacking away at invisible enemies and grass. The speed with which he drew was god-like in fashion.
He drew the sword back, twisting his body in an awkward angle and swung his weapon toward the ground, dirt spitting up where the blade had been dragged across the ground. Battousai practiced like this for a while, not doing any special movements, just warming up so the stress his body would feel would not attack unmoved muscles. Finally he drew his sword back, jumping up into the air at a height that most would say was impossible. He flipped around, holding his blade down horizontally and flew down onto a tree that had grown close to the center of the prairie. Battousai caught himself in his landing, and turned away, listening as the tree fell about into two pieces, each hitting the ground at separate times.
"Ryu-Tsui-Sen." he told himself out loud as if refreshing his keen memory. "Dragon Mallet Flash, to hammer an enemy by using your weight while diving from the sky."
He held his sword out again.
Another twist of his body produced the Ryu-Kan-Sen-Tsumuji, a faster version of the Ryu-Kan-Sen.
"Dragon Wind Up Flash, dashing at an opponent without gravity and sending a direct blow below the skull." he recited in his memory, pretending his master was there to reprimand him if he got something incorrect.
His heart still wasn't thumping to the extent most would figure it should have by now. He as used to this kind of training, and to him, it was a lot more lenient than how he had been originally trained. He performed another deadly attack, the Ryu- Sho-Sen.
"Dragon Rising Flash. To rise and attack the opponents vital points on the way up." he told himself before repeating this particular move a few more time to have the maneuvers intact in his mind for later reference.
Battousai performed a Do-Ryu-Sen, which was an attack toward the ground, sending debris flying towards the enemy for a long distance attack. He stood after that, took in one deep breath, and continued with his katas, extending his sword arm and forgetting his surrounds. For once Battousai dropped his guard, feeling safe in the brightly lit field as he fought with invisible enemies. Every attack was precise and would have proven deadly if performed upon an actual human. Sweat dripped slowly from his brow, cooling him off as he continued relentlessly in his practice.
"Up, down, to the left." he told himself, trying to imagine three enemies coming at him at once.
His sword flew around in a flurry of awesome speed. He stopped only for a split moment, and then continued on, racing through his attacks like his sword burned his calloused hands. His mind was completely set on his art.
In a fraction of a second, he spun again, attacking from his left side where he had lost sight of any possible threat in his imaginary fight. He brought his sword down as a fake and then up again, as if to slice through the opponent's throat. But instead of slicing through air like had been, he met resistance. And not the resistance of a tree branch or anything small, but a strong resistance that fought back with him.
He spun and pushed the resistance down, holding the person to the ground with his weight as he hovered over top of them, his sword pressing roughly against theirs. His eyes had been shut and his senses had been blocked, so Kenshin cursed himself for not preparing himself for someone to sneak upon him. He opened his eyes, which grew wide with his discovery.
There was a young woman, a sword of wood drawn in her defense, staring at him out of shock. His blue eyes were quickly shielded with unforgiving amber.
They stood there like that for a moment or two; Battousai's katana pushing roughly on it's broadside against the young woman's bokken. He took in her profile, quickly assessing if she would pose any form of a threat. Her muscles on her upper arms were clearly toned by the fact that he continually added pressure and she didn't pull back. She wore a beige gi and darker brown hakama pants, to allow her better free movement than a restricting kimono would. Her dark ebony hair was pulled back in a high ponytail much like his own, her azure eyes glaring back at him.
If he wasn't mistaken, he would say she was giving him the same intense look of assessment that he was giving her. Battousai's pride didn't let him back down from the woman or become the first to speak on his own behalf. He waited for the young beauty before him to make the first statement. If he had to, he would stand there all night waiting.
All the young woman did was stare back at him and huff, gripping her bokken tighter. Battousai just glared at her, no hint of an agitated grin or amused smile crossing his features. He was surprised that she was standing there glaring at him like that. Park of him wondered if she had any clue as to his identity. The red hair must not be enough for her to see who he truly was. He briefly wondered if the trademark scar was showing.
"Why are you on my property?" she asked him, her voice soft and yet commanding.
He looked at her. "Your property?"
She rolled her eyes. "That's what I said, isn't it? Besides, why are you practicing on your own? It's much more efficient to train with someone else."
He glared at her. "Because I never have."
"Why this field, then? Why not at your home?" she questioned him, pulling her bokken back slowly. "I don't understand."
"Would you rather practice at your home or in some place where you won't break something?" he asked her, annoyance creeping into his voice as he did.
She shook her head. "I own a dojo."
Battousai had to keep a good check on his emotions. "What do you teach?"
"Kamiya Kasshin Ryu." she replied. "The sword that protects without killing."
He grinned at that. "Kenjutsu is an art of killing, nothing can change that."
"I've done perfectly fine my own ideals. I don't know what yours are, sir, but I know that mine are just as effective as any other!" she stated angrily, her grip on her bokken tightening.
"I use the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, Heavens Flying Honorable Sword flow, sword for the innocent." he responded slowly. "It uses god-like speed to kill, as I'm sure you noticed."
The woman just glared at him. "It wouldn't have to kill."
"That's is what it is meant for." he told her. "That is how I will use it."
Battousai was intrigued by this young, naïve woman. He decided that now was a good time to show her the scar marred his skin. He moved his crimson hair away from his left cheek to expose the cross-like shape. Her eyes flew to the scar, as expected.
"Is your scar supposed to scare me?" she asked him, crossing her arms and tapping her foot impatiently. "If you want to use my field to practice, I'd suggest you ask now before I forbid you from it."
He glared at her, weighing his options. He could hold her at sword point and tell her that he would do as he pleased. But that held no true hope, for she would immediately know who he was and he wouldn't kill her. That would mean she'd be open to tell who ever she wanted that she knew exactly what the Battousai looked like. After a deliberation within himself, he decided the best thing to do was ask.
"May I come here to practice?"
She gave him a once over look as if assessing him. "I don't see why
not but if I find you out here when I come to practice, I expect some verbal interaction. I can't stand people who refuse to talk. I'd also like to challenge you to a friendly spar."
Kenshin was taken aback. She was asking the Battousai to spar with her? Did this woman have some strange death wish? Or maybe she just didn't realize who he was yet. He shook his head, deciding that he could really do no harm on the young woman if he held back during the sparring.
"Now or later?" he asked.
"Later." she told him. "I didn't bring an extra bokken and it isn't fair to spar in a friendly way with two different weapons, one metal and one wood."
"I have a wakizashi." he informed her.
"Of which I will not use."
"What is your name?" he asked her suddenly without thinking.
"Kamiya Kaoru."
The woman spun and left, not bothering to say goodbye or to ask Kenshin his own name. That was partly a relief on his part. Should he tell her if he was Kenshin, or should he give her some other name? She as bound to ask someday. Eventually he pushed the thoughts from his mind. There was no reason to trouble himself with something such as this since it had yet to happen.
To amuse himself he spent some more time practicing. The sun was starting set in the west, which meant that soon the light abyss he had found soon turn to dark, like everything else in his unforsaken life. These troubling thoughts began to cloud his mind again, diverting his attention away from his training again. It seemed as if no one wanted him to train today.
He continued with his crisp, clean movements, precise and accurate as he swung the burden around. Funny he had never really pictures his weapon of choice as burden before, but now it appeared to him as if that was the best explanation for something that could kill and add to his sins, burdening his life with more guilt everytime he dove, spun, sliced, and heard the wind travel across the blade with a hissing sound as it sliced the life out of the air, and sometimes, people if he was on a mission that was sent to him in those hellish black envelopes.
The dark thoughts began to fill his head and he slowly began to wonder, why hadn't he lashed out on the young woman? What had compelled the hitokiri to back down and let someone sneak up upon himself so easily, especially someone with the ki of a warrior held within the petite womanly physique? Was he finally falling over the edge, just because of a week's vacation? Was he losing his touch? Or did that woman mask herself from him and attack? Was she that skilled?
His head started to ache as the questioned began to build, causing an overload in his mind. But his thoughts refused to stray back to his movements that masked his lack of concentration. They stayed put on the image of the young woman. Her glossy hair, intense eyes, determined expression and compassionate nature. And the questions continued to haunt him.
Would she have acted that way if she knew of the hitokiri he truly was? Would she have acted on impulse as she had with him, feel at an almost ease like she had around him? Would she have challenged him as thoughtlessly as she just did a mere few minutes ago? Upon realizing who he was, would she have continued to fight back or fallen back in a shaken terror like so many men? Or would she have held her ground in her indescribable pride? He wasn't sure which ones would have been answered yes or no. All Battousai knew was that he wantedhad to- know.
He continued on with his training, half wondering if the girl would come back before it grew dark. He decided that she wouldn't. She had, after all, told him that she ran a dojo, so he supposed she had some cleaning and other things to do. He dropped his sword, his chest heaving hard and fast as sweat poured front every place it could escape from his overworked body. His muscles ached something terrible, yet he chose to ignore their protests to his movements.
The sky was turning the brilliant shades of dusk, alerting him to the late time he had spent out in the represses of this enlightened field. Kenshin finally sheathed his katana, taking the burden from his weakened arm and to his belt. Unconsciously his eyes flew to the place in which the woman had left, but only for a few fleeting moments before instilling themselves to the trip ahead. If it took another two hours, he wouldn't be returning until well after the darkness fell.
Forcing himself to walk against the excruciating pain that shot throughout his shins and thighs, he pushed onward, hoping he could regain enough energy to sprint back to the Inn. But part of him wanted to go back to the field. He had never felt so content and at ease in a long time; not since before he began his ways as a manslayer, one which stole life in order to protect the greater good. At least that was what he was tricking himself into believing now.
That opened up a whole new prospect of questions for his uncertain mind. What was he fighting for now? The war just seemed to drone on with each passing year, never ending, neither side gaining more than the other. They were equally matched with both men in the service and death tolls caused by their raid or swords.
Kenshin knew the only reason the Ishin Shishi had any real advantage was him. But at the same time, he was only a minor help to the cause.
Would the war have ended if he had never joined? He guessed that it would still be raging on like it was. He had never really entered in on any of the bloody battles. He bathed in a bloodshed all his own, entirely one where he was alone, where no one was alive long enough to tell the extreme horror stories they did of some men on the battlefield. The stories he heard about himself were bad, but if anyone was to question him, he would tell them that most were understatements, and few were exaggerations. He wasn't as ruthless and heartless as they said, but the ways with which he killed seemed worse to him than they were described in the stories. Even as now his mind blocked the images out so that he didn't remember, the assassinations he had committed before meeting Tomoe still burned brightly in his mind, recoating with the blood he had shed every night in his dreams.
His heart started to race as he slowly began to speed up as the colors of the dusk turned from the pinkish oranges into burgundy blues. He kept his senses on, afraid of a run in with someone like with the woman. He kept running, with a new thought brewing in his mind.
What had she said her name was? He tired to imagine her face without losing sight of his way or let any of his senses fall. The first thing he remembered was her extremely bright eyes that were filled with a mock anger toward him, trying to get him to back down. He hadn't, of course, and she had brightened toward him only slightly, something he didn't think many others would have picked up on. But the subtle change in her ki had alerted him to the small fact.
But what was her name? The next image that implanted itself in his mind was her hair, and the way it had flown so gracefully around her, even if it was up in a messy ponytail that he could tell was done in haste. But yet it didn't manage to render the image she gave off. A strong young woman, and a very brave one at that.
Then it hit him. She had said her name was Kaoru Kamiya.
He repeated the name in his mind the entire way back to the Inn, believing he had good reason to remember it. He wasn't sure why yet, though, but decided it had to do with the duel she had offered him. His mind churned with strange thoughts as to why he shouldn't be fighting her. A part of him didn't wish to hurt her; didn't want to break her spirit that he only knew a little about.
Battousai shook his head and with his amber eyes flaring, he returned back into the Inn, stomping angrily toward his room. He scolded himself promptly for all the unusual things he had done and felt that day, and then went to bathe to clean off the salty sweat he had worked up that day. When he walked into the bathhouse and removed his gi, he caught a whiff of something strange. He pulled the cloth closer to his nose and sniffed it again. Behind his own scent and that of sweat was another more feminine scent.
It was jasmine.
Author's Notes: So, there is chapter 2. Good? Bad? Meaningless? I don't know, you tell me. I had fun with this so far so expect another update but not anytime soon. I have to take my mom bowling on Thursday and then I'm going to my grandma's all weekend (where I have accessed to YIM and MSN messengers for any of you who feel like talking to me. for YIM (use the start of the address) and for MSN) because I promised to stain the underside of her deck. She can't climb on the rocks so she can't do it on her own. So the next update may take a week but reviews are welcome!
Love and hugs
Crystal Renee