Author's Notes: i have returned! well, you know how stories reach a climax? yea, this is it. also, a fair warning, it's reaaaaaaaallllllyyy long. seven pages not double-spaced on my word document. also another warning, i tink it's a bit repetitive (and drags a lot) and i haven't gotten around to editting, so please bear with any annoyances you may (and probably will) encounter. also, if you're a bit confused by the end of the chapter, it's okay, technically, you're supposed to be.
my two loyal reviewers, u guys rock sox. haha. anyways, to any new/returning readers out there, please review, i'd like to know how i'm doin'! aiite, enjoy!
chap. 15 - confrontations
Kenshin had the faintest hunch that Aoshi would know where Gensou was, and where he was keeping Kaoru and Wolf. Things were becoming a reaccuring dejavu, scenes that continued to replay before his eyes. Aoshi had struck a deal with Shishio. He would certainly strike a deal with Gensou.
"There is no time," Kenshin announced tersely, "There is no time to hesitate or make accusations. Right now, all that matters is finding Miss Kaoru and Wolf, that it does. Aoshi...can you lead us there?" Despite all the issues that needed to be resolved, despite all the knots that needed to be undone, Kaoru and Wolf came first.
Aoshi nodded, knowing fully well that yes, there certainly was no time to be denying anything.
Kenshin looked before the expectant faces of the friends that stood before him. They would go through this with him, and he had no time to tell them off or imply that this was too dangerous. There was no time.
Through the huffs and puffs of steady breaths that came with their hurried running, Kenshin and the others came to a halt, standing before the iron gate of the Shima compound. Completely unphased, Kenshin drew his Sakabato and leapt, tearing through the metal like a knife does through water, gliding smoothly through.
What was left were two equal pieces of what used to be a gate.
"Let's go get 'em!" Sano yelled enthusiastically, punching the two pieces aside and running through.
What they found were numerous armed guards.
"Yahiko, Misao, I trust you can handle this," Kenshin stated, his confidence for them as clear as the stars that struck through the pitch-black sky.
Yahiko and Misao nodded, Yahiko pulling out his Shinai, and Misao, an assortment of throwing knives and stars.
The guards hesitated at the unlikely pair, and it was their hesitation that costed them much. Kenshin and the others wound their way around the current fighting, and Aoshi flung open the same doors he had just faced less than an hour ago. The grand staircase presented itself empty of life, the wind howling eerily through its hollow caverns.
Hiroji swiftly appeared on the stair's endrail, crouching like a frog, and balancing himself expertly on the unstable wood. No one made any movement as he spoke first, "There is an arena in which Gensou wishes you to go to. Follow me, and don't attempt any nasty tricks, or the woman will suffer a most unpleasant death. Of course, if that does not dissuade you, perhaps the endless hallways upon hallways will." Hiroji smirked as Sano scowled.
They walked in silence, and although Kenshin wished they would hurry, he could do nothing other than comply with what Hiroji commanded.
The hallways were an endless maze, swirling in what seemed to be circles, and doors and hallways painted in the same faded cream, they never seemed to be moving forward, but instead moving in-place.
The caverns and hallways formed in his mind exactly as they did on the same fateful day they faced Shishio. With Yumi to guide them, she pushed open the large metal doors that would lead to the fight of his life...
And so Hiroji finally reached what seemed to be a dead end, and pulled the heavy wooden doors to a creaky stop, opening to a large patch of earth, lined with wooden porches that stepped down onto the dirt.
The heat blasted in their face as the large arena came into view, perched atop equisitely built wooden supports.
Cold air reached them as they gasped for air, adjusting to the change of temperature, and to the sudden, unexplainable thinness of the air.
And so it began...
It was Kenshin who stepped forward first, cautiously treading his way to the center of the open-air arena. Megumi, Sano, and Aoshi remained on the wooden steps, gazing throughtfully around, absorbing their surroundings.
The arena was outdoors, save for the wooden platform that lined the square arena, a step upwards from the dirt patch that was the fighting grounds. The air was dead cold, and the sky seemed to be a tint of dark gray, blanketing the earth in an almost black; the clouds so heavy that it formed an endless, huge cloud that rolled on for miles and miles, stretching across an endless number of plains.
Kenshin breathed an even breath, and turned to Hiroji. "Where are they?" he demanded, resisting the unexplicable urge to pull out his Sakabato.
Hiroji smiled, "Patience."
A painful minute passed.
And suddenly, with each reverberating footstep, a man appeared. Cloaked in the darkness of the shadows, he smiled, savoring the sweetness of the moment, and spoke in a menacing voice, "Well, well, well, it has led to this."
Gensou's sinewy figure came into view as he slowly, mockingly almost, stepped down from the wooden steps, approaching Kenshin with a smirk on his face.
"Well Battousai, it is about time. We were getting worried about you, ne?" Gensou laughed, "We were afraid that the boy wasn't enough persuasion to have you come, so we stole your woman."
Gensou's tongue licked his lips and traced his teeth, letting his words sink in before continuing in the same lethal tone, "And no doubt you would like to see them again, yes? Well...we will give you that chance." Gensou paused, "Hiroji, bring the boy and the woman."
Hiroji appeared in an instant, with Kaoru in his arms, and Wolf following obediantly behind, with no other choice set before him.
A pang of pain hit Kenshin as he gazed upon the eyes of his wife in what seemed to be years. Only then did he realize that she was pregnant. That she was bearing his child. How could he have let this happened...?
Kenshin's eyes flashed from his calm amethyst eyes to amber, before flashing back, his voice cold as he declared evenly, "Let them go...and no one has to suffer anything."
Gensou laughed. A dark chortle that echoed through the still air. He stopped and commanded, his eyes slanted into an amused expression, "Hiroji...kill the boy."
Kaoru's eyes were brimmed with tears as she looked into Kenshin's eyes. They were the same eyes...but yet not entirely the same. She wanted this to end, for this to stop and for her to wake up, with Kenshin at her side, sleeping peacefully, with no care in the world. She clenched her eyes shut, hoping that it would all just go away, vanish into the the night air that she would wake into, breathing and gasping for breath, glad that it was a dream.
But it wasn't.
And then she watched as Wolf's eyes widened in fear as his death sentence was announced.
She saw Gensou's lips move as he formed the words Come to the center of the arena...and then...it will be over.
Her eyes followed Wolf as he walked in a deathly march to the arena. Tears threatened to spill over.
She continued to follow what was to happen next.
Hiroji remained in the darkness of the wooden platform, not moving an inch although he was proclaimed as the boy's murderer.
Gensou clicked his tongue in impatience, "Hiroji, what are you waiting for?"
"This is too much. Even they don't deserve this."
Hiroji could hardly believe the words that escaped his mouth. No, he could believe the words that left his mouth. His lips knew better than he knew, they spoke wiser than he had ever thought, and he knew that they were right.
There was deathly here," Gensou spoke, a strained quality in his tone, and there seemed to be a vague smile on his face.
Kenshin made no move to do anything. Nor did Aoshi or Sano.
Hiroji knew what was to come next. There wasn't anything to regret anymore, and nothing to wonder. There was no doubt.
He approached Gensou in a solemn tone, and there was a moment of stillness -
- before Gensou's sword left its sheath, tearing through skin, bone, and blood, disconnecting Hiroji's head from the rest of his body. His head flew in a spurt of blood, rolling to a stop as the mask came undone, revealing his true face, the eyes closed in finality, as if all his problems has suddenly dissintigrated before the sword left him lifeless. The body crumpled to the ground, remaining there in all its gory.
Something in Kenshin snapped as he saw the limp and decapitated body of Hiroji. His eyes were a golden amber, flaring with such intensity and anger, narrowed into a deathglare and it seemed that all kindness that was in him had left in the instant the sword had left its sheath.
Heavy rain began to pour, the navy blue ribbon slipping from Kenshin's wrist, fluttering to the ground.
She wasn't supposed to see any of this. There weren't supposed to be any deaths in her lifetimes, no sorrow, no pain. But yet there it was, standing before her, basking in the open air, and proclaiming its uncleanliness to her and the world.
Wolf wasn't supposed to see it either. But yet he had.
Death.
It haunted many.
Tears flowed from her tired eyes. Flowed from her eyes that were weary of the salt that poured out of them constantly, drenching her skin and forming flakey crusts of dried nothingness. She felt that her lungs were about to burst, from the loss of air, and the loss of energy...the loss of hope.
But her thoughts were not allowed to dwell on these sorrowful things, for before long, spasms of pain contracted across her abdomen, searing through her skin and flaring her eyes shut, clenched like a fighter's fist. Each nerve was on fire as the contractions worsened, spazzing in an uncontrollable beat. Her head felt like it was about to burst, and she cried out in agony.
The baby...
As ironic as it was, Megumi couldn't stand the sight of the blood that was spilled before her on the dirt arena. It sickened her to her stomach, and even though through all the patients she had received, she wanted to turn her head away and run as far away as she could from this hellish place.
But she let her eyes wander, gazing upon Kaoru, whose face was contracted into the most painful expression; she was whimpering, holding back her cries of pain through tight lips. Beside her, a pool of water and blood swirled, mixing into the wooden boards of the platform.
"Oh...shit..." Megumi said outloud, not caring the least bit if her words came out aristocratic or not.
"What?" Sano turned to face Megumi, and glanced at what she was staring at. "Oh damn shit..."
"Sano! I'm going to need you to as fast as you possibly can, as fast as your feet can carry you, go to the Aoiya, and grab my supplies, don't even bother trying to figure out which one will help or not, just bring it all. There isn't any time, and Kaoru's condition probably isn't the best it can be in this situation. She's probably in no condition to give birth now, but we'll have to manage. Why the hell are you standing there? Get a move on!" Megumi yelled quickly, her voice a little panicky.
I can't be panicked like this. Kaoru needs as much help as she can get.
Beyond the space of the arena, voices cried out, yells of pain that intermingled simultaneously with Kaoru's. Cries belonging to a teenage girl and a young boy.
"Aoshi," Kenshin stated monotonously, "I sense that Misao and Yahiko are in need of help. You may want to offer them your assisstance."
Aoshi was taken aback at Kenshin's calmness, but knew that Misao and Yahiko were indeed, of need of help, and he spun on his heels without a moment's hesitation, flying through the doors after Sano, his feet carrying him through the corridors.
"Kaoru!" Megumi exclaimed, attempting to calm herself, "I need you to breathe, big breaths, and do not concentrate on the pain! It is going to hurt, Kaoru, but I know you can deal with it. I would have ran you through all that you needed to expect, but here we are, the big moment, and you don't know a damn thing!"
"I - I...th-think...that Sano's - rubbed...o-off on you....you swearin' an' all that..." Kaoru huffed, her cheeks a frighteningly pale white, void of any color or life.
"Get away from here, Wolf," Kenshin stated in a hollow voice, succinct and to the point.
Wolf flinched at Kenshin's hard tone, and scrambled onto the wooden platform, shivering from fear. Too much was happening at once, and confusion mixed in with anxiety, provoking a feeling of a surreal world. Movement seemed to slow down, playing in shattered fragments. Sound was beyond comprehension, muffled as if someone had placed a cloth over the air, suffocating the vibrations and detatched from everything.
"Why do you protect a stupid child such as that one?" Gensou asked, motioning towards Wolf, "Why do you protect a sinner, a little beast that ought to be locked away forever, or killed?"
Kenshin made no move to respond; made no move do anything.
"Half American trash that killed his kin. That's right, killed his own brother." Gensou smirked, his lips forming a slippery grin.
Behind them, Kaoru's muffled whimpers of pain were heard.
"Lucky for the brat, I saved him. Oh, no, not his brother, him. He wasn't supposed to be with the Clan when the ambush occured, and because Shouri was so eager to save his brother...well...he's long dead."
Wolf trembled in anger and fear, overwhelming him in one hit, and he wanted so much to yell at Gensou, tell him to shut up about his brother, but he remained rooted to the spot, his lower lip quivering in anxious breaths.
"Oh yes, the government says Japan's all-that. Where has this new form of government gotten us? Yes, Dutch engineers, German architects, English scholars, and oh, yes...American military men. Swarming Japan with its infectious disease, contaminating our way of life and tampering with old traditions and morals. A way to the better Japan." Gensou paused, but his words seemed to have no effect on Kenshin, his face completely blank.
"A civil war that raged through Japan...and still does. The fight between two sides. The side that continues to fight. And the side that has given up on fighting. The side that has given up on its country, and therefore are a disgrace to the Japanese. They say modernizing will allow us to 'catch up' to the Westerners and all their civilization. They say give up what has been in our country and blood for thousands of years.
"I say that Shishio Makato was not entirely wrong when he wanted to become the new leader of Japan. I say that his ideas were at least of some consideration to the old Japan. Yes, his ideals were brutal, but he who wants to live must fight, and he who does not want to fight in this world, where eternal struggle is the law of life, has no right to exist."
Gensou found a blade pressed against his neck, but he made no move to shove it away or move from it. He smiled at the man that stood before him.
Kenshin's grim face contained no emotion, his voice a demanding tone, "Then fight."
The bonds had snapped. What had been holding back all forms of the monster, what had been holding back what was left of self-control...vanished. Broke away in a defiant bound, and shattered into a million shards. Present, joyous memories faded away, replaced with black, dreary ones, the memories of a killer. The memories of a murderer. Of an assassin. Of a hitokiri.
His once warm, amethyst eyes had hardened, formed into a sleek, icy golden amber, glittering far brighter and ferocioiusly than the reverse-blade he wielded. Nothing existed in this world except for his opponent and him.
The hard rain shattered through the air, splintering the thick humidity and landing in hard thumps on the earth's surface. The tears pierced his skin, striking them and leaving a tingling sensation that rippled through his body on his skin. The drops landed in his eyes, icing over the already cold glare. Water dripped, fell, cascaded off of everything, and no sound could be heard through the thundrous clatter. He could barely see three feet in front of him.
The softened muddy ground lashed up as he drew back his Sakabato and fiercely whipped forward, the rain bouncing off of the sheer blade of the sword. Wind whistled in both fighters' ears as Gensou skidded to a halt...not in front of the Battousai, but behind him. Katana drawn.
A whoosh of air flew behind the katana, aimed for the Hitokiri's neck...for flesh. But hit air instead as Gensou followed through, drawing it back before using the miss as an advantage, using the force of his left hand by flinging it leftwards, his sword flying leftwards as well, and he dashed, again aimed for the legendary Battousai.
Gensou had a glimpse of the Battousai's monotonous expression before it disappeared before his eyes, and felt the drops of rain come at a slower pace. He was above him.
Head over heels, the red-haired man flew, flipped into the air, his sword aimed at the crick of Gensou's skull. But hit the blade of a sword instead as Gensou lifted the hilt in defense.
Himura landed in the mud, skidding on his feet, crouched, and using his left hand as a source of balance. Glistening drops of water fell from his face, his hands, his sword...
Nothing but pain. No matter how hard, she couldn't bring herself to concentrate on anything other than the blackness of her. She wasn't even in the proper condition for the baby...what would be the consequences of this? No doubt, something that would cause more tears...more tears to spill like the rain that fell.
She gasped for breath, and could feel the raindrops spatter, hear them pound. But nothing pounded harder than her heart...than her head.
"Lay back, Kaoru!" Megumi yelled, obviously flustered. Beyond flustered.
"I-I'm t-trying...when's S-Sano going to be here?!" Kaoru screamed. Her eyes remained shut, so tight that she saw green and blue dots blinking in the back of her eyelids.
"I don't know!"
Kaoru's lungs filled with air at a fast pace, breathing, gasping, choking...
Drips trailed down his face, soaking out of his matted red hair and dripping off of his chin, caking his face with a slimey coat and falling off of his lips, crawling into the crack of his mouth, his tongue absorbing the slivery liquid.
There was a pause.
Then the flying acrobatic sword techniques that whirled every which way, the fighers' hand motions so fast that one could barely keep up with the blurs that threw rain off its natural course, flinging the water in all which directions.
Right, left, up, right, whirl, turn, flip, whirl, swing, uppercut, block, whirl, block. A circle of attacks and defenses that twirled in an endless course.
- before the Battousai discovered he felt warmth on his lower left side. He glanced down and saw red seep through the pink gi, and a precise, straight tear suddenly rip through, exposing the deep cut that had been struck there. Oddly, he felt no pain in this newly-acquired injury, but instead felt a sting come from his left cheek, and lifted his hand to find his old cross-shaped wounds bleed furiously. No...it was no old wound.
His damp and heavy gi was just holding him down, and he tore it off his shoulders and tossed it aside, flicking his sword before glaring at Gensou, daring him to make a move.
A flash and a blur.
The Sakabato felt skin tear beneath it as two neat cuts formed on the opposite sides of Gensou's neck, crimson dribbling from the scabs.
Gensou traced the outline of the new blood, and examined the red that was quickly drowning beneath the downpour of raindrops. He smirked, and flicked his Katana out of habit, clearly amused as his moist lips formed words,
"I see that the Battousai is far from what I had originally thought he was...He's even better."
He crouched, his sword raised head-height, poised for the next vicious round.
The red-haired man felt the rain pound on his chest, and he inhaled, before he brought his Sakabato back into its sheath, and split his stance. The silver blade sang as it entered the caverns of its carrier.
The world seemed to hold still, the rain seemingly falling in slow motion, the heartbeats of many pounding at a different rate, to various rhythms.
Her blood kept pounding vigorously as the contractions worsened, and instead of merely screaming, she held it in within a whimper, her head throbbing so hard that she felt that her heart and head were about to explode from the rushing blood that circulated throughout her body.
Kenshin...
The single word echoed within her mind, and beyond all things, she was worried about the baby, worried about Kenshin...worried of what might happen...of what the outcome of the battle would be.
You're not a killer...
They flitted about her mouth, she heard her voice in her ears, but they wouldn't escape her lips. She wanted to take Kenshin into her arms and tell him that it was alright, and that they would get through it.
"Damn it, Kaoru, PUSH!" Megumi yelled over the thudding rain, and she looked up as she heard heavy footsteps thunk on the wooden boards. Sano.
Sano was gasping for breath as he limply held out a canvas bag filled with Megumi's supplies, "Aoshi's made it to help Yahiko and Misao...the odd's weren't lookin' too good for 'em before he arrived...unfortunately, these hallways are so frickin' confusing that he's only made it there now...Lots more guards than we thought..."
"Ack, we'll worry about Aoshi, Misao, and Yahiko later! We've got more important matters right now!" Megumi gritted, "Boil water and fast!"
Kaoru's breathing had started to come in irregular spasms, and she began to gasp in the most inaudible whisper,
Kenshin...
Through the blurred tears of water, Gensou could make out the faint outline of the Battousai, crouched and ready to strike. "Ah...of course, the infamous god-like speed possessed by only the Battousai..." he muttered indecisively. He knew that this would certainly be a challenge, and that there was no other way to dodge it. No, that was impossible; it was simply inevitable...he would have to face the attack head-on...and hopefully find a way around it.
The pebbles of rain seemed to pause, their hush of rushing water faded away in a mute blanket. Clear all senses... Gensou's mind pounded, the blood rushing through his head and he forcefully pushed back a lump of blood he felt rising in the back of his throat.
Why did he feel so anxious...? Where was this sense of dread coming from...?
Gensou could have laughed at himself, he was being distracted, and his mind was buckling under the pressure that was about to pound down upon him. He had to push at that weight...resist it. And fight.
Perhaps their swords crossed once...maybe even twice. Gensou did not know, he had no time to count, no time to react, and although his mind said to move, although his mind commanded his reflexes to respond...they did not. His arms only moved as if they were floating through water, the force of the air seemingly pushing his sword back and melting it back into place.
He should have been able to counter it...Gensou knew that his ability was able to match the Battousai's. Of course he did not dream of defeating such an adversary until recently, but he knew that he was certainly going to create an evenly matched challenge. But yet he didn't.
Why?
Gensou would never know, and it did not seem to matter at the moment, because the only thing that he saw at that exact moment, at that exact point in time, was his Katana, his precious Katana, the sword that remained sharp after years of bloody battles preceeding the Meiji Era, lie at his side, its silver, liquid blade cut into two. All he felt was the blood rushing down his body, as if in a frantic hurry to escape the cracks in his skin that allowed the crimson to seep through. The lump of blood rushed into his mouth in a warm rush, he coughed it out, letting the trickle dribble down into the rain that had continued its angry drilling.
He didn't know what was swimming about in his mind. He was neither unconscious nor conscious. His brain could not compute any of what had happened...but it hit him...it hit him in a blinding pang of hurt that made his body cry with wretched gasps.
No, he knew with sad mockery that he would not die. He would lie in this pain for perhaps hours before darkness took him. Unless the Battousai finished him. Ended his suffering.
The icicles of water stung his eyes as he saw a musty outline of a person hovering over him. Not of the sturdy, well-built killer of the Battousai. But of a little boy.
Why couldn't she bear herself to simply utter the words, to yell Kenshin's name through the thudding rain? How she longed to do so. Kaoru wanted to make a connection with the man that would become the father of their child...but she was utterly preoccupied.
Kenshin...
How many secrets lay behind the man she once knew? She couldn't remember anything. She couldn't even think these thoughts. She had to put her mind on the baby's survival.
Kenshin...
She almost had it that time, they almost left her mouth in a whisper. But instead, a choked cry escaped.
Kenshin...
The syllables ringing through the air, reverberating in the musty scent of fallen water; the high pitched scream issuing from Kaoru's throat had finally let loose.
With a breath of finality, he lunged. Lunged into the depths of warmth...into the caverns of life.
Sharp edges tearing through the fragility of it...frail, fraying edges were all that remained.
A second...maybe two. But that was all it took for the Battousai to set life free. To let life leave its shell and wander.
Perhaps not completely, no, the Battousai only made a simple puncture...a puncture that would manifest into a hole, grow in size and shape before life completely diminished into the grey blanket of clouds.
Contemplating whether to end the man's suffering, the Battousai stood over the fallen body of Gensou. Somehow, all that he wanted was the end of the man's life. The end of the devastating cluster of ruthless intentions he had stirred.
With muffled footsteps, he slowly marched up to the body. Monotonous, devoid of emotion, ambition, compassion, life...he lifted his sword...the ragged hilt scratching against his calloused palm as the sword swished as it flipped...flipped to the side of the grim reaper...the side of death...of blackness.
But before he could even take action, he saw before him a person that he would have never thought he would see again. The mere image of her sent a pang of lonliness and longing through his body. Perhaps it was the trick of his eyes...of the rain. Perhaps he was dreaming. But through his blurred, stinging eyes, he saw her, arms stretched out wide in an attempt to shield Gensou's body with hers. The expression on her face of pure defiance and aching sympathy fused into one.
Tomoe.
A voice crying through the air,
"KENSHIN!"