SHADOWS OF RED
by Hime-kou
Author's note: I'm not that happy with this chapter, so I might revise it sometime. But right now, I felt like this story was going to slow. Sooo, I sped it up a tad. Boring...as...:falling asleep:
Kenshin's not mine, Battousai's not mine, etc. Makes me unhappy, but etc.
Chapter 7-Interlude
She stood staring down at the man who lay crumpled on the ground, eyes open and staring. Not accusing…understanding.
A great red stain marred his grey silk kimono.
Who were you?
She couldn't tear her eyes away from the fallen man.
Slowly, the sky above darkened. Pinpoints of light made their appearances in the darkness swallowing the eastern sky. All that was left of the sun was a bloody smear of crimson.
Cold spread its clammy fingers across her feet and hands. The wind had died down to nothing. Everything was utterly still.
Who were you?
All her other victims had been fearful, pleading for their lives. But this one seemed to accept his fate and even mourn for her.
For her? He was the one knocking on the gates of Hell now.
But he had died justifying her soul.
So who was one really in Hell?
With a shudder, Sachiko wiped her katana on grass. Carefully, she pulled out the slip of paper from her clothing and tossed it onto the man's dead body.
Heaven's Justice
As she turned to leave, she couldn't help but look back. The beautiful garden had taken on an unearthly color as blood stained leaves and flowers scarlet. The bushes were transformed into things of extraordinary beauty—if deceptive beauty.
She turned her back on it all and sped through the streets towards her quarters.
As she ran from rooftop to rooftop, she watched the city of Kyoto fall into a quiet night, ignorant of the blood that marred its most holy shrine.
Above, the stars shone down with impassioned light, witness to everything and silent to all. The blackness of space caught Sachiko's breath and the stars seemed to tear its perfect fabric into tiny jewels.
Pausing before her house, she regarded it fully for the first time. It was set behind high walls to discourage visitors, in one of the better parts of Kyoto. Nearly identical to the houses around the neighborhood, its only difference was the thick iron gate that closed off the opening between the walls.
She leaped onto the smooth walltop and made her way inside.
It was a welcome relief to be out of the cold.
But she wandered in circles searching for the washroom, only to trip over its tiled floor on her third circuit.
Cursing under her breath, she shucked her clothes and katana and poured hot water to cleanse herself.
The heat stung on her cheek. Reaching up a hand, she took it away smeared with red.
Blood.
She waited for the memories to come back and torture her, holding her finger in front of her face, tense with waiting.
Nothing came.
"Oh, I see," she snapped to herself, partially relieved and partially angry at her relief. "So when I expect you to come, you don't. Well, suit yourself. Don't you dare come back."
She waited again, seeing if, perversely, the images would rush in and drown her now that she had insulted them.
Kami-sama, she thought. I'm like a teenager rebelling against my parent. It's a sure sign I'm going insane, then. Treating myself with disrespect…
Greatly relieved, she dried herself off and stepped out into the hallway, searching for her room.
Miraculously, the serving woman appeared and gestured her towards the last room in the hallway. "This way, onna-san," she murmured, bowing low. Sachiko spared a glance at her before stepping through the shoji door, at her neat hair and immaculate kimono.
Inside, it was spacious and clean, supplied with a kimono neatly folded up into a square.
Of course it was the serving woman who wouldn't give her proper clothing. As if a kimono would make her a lady!
Fuming, she pulled it on and stomped out to speak to complain.
And suddenly turned to see Battousai standing in the doorway, blood dripping from his katana and clothing.
"Battousai-san…" she said, watching the liquid drip from his sword.
"Don't call me that!" he snapped.
"Sorry, I'll keep my tongue inside my mouth then," Sachiko snapped right back, her anger rising.
"Exactly, right where it'll cut you first," Battousai snarled at her, fury blazing in his ki. His hair was disheveled and all of his former manners had disappeared.
"What's up your ass?" She retorted, angry at his barb.
Battousai glared at her. "I thought your tongue would stay inside your mouth!"
"I can speak when I want to!"
"Better go get it filed down, it's too sharp as it is."
"What!"
He shoved past her, amber eyes fierce and dangerous.
"I'm going to clean up. Go do whatever you want. Talk to the walls."
And he disappeared into the washroom.
Sachiko stared at his trail, hoping venomously to set his hair on fire. Then she sighed and sank down to sit against the wall.
She rather understood Battousai's anger. If he was anything like her...
Each time, after every man who died by her sword, it was as if she lost a little more of herself. As if her soul was being torn and frozen every time the last breath puffed from her victim's lungs.
Tonight, five men had died by her hand. Five more men.
And Mogami Kaito. The strangest victim she had ever encountered. She found herself wondering about his life…did he have a family? A wife? Did he possibly have…a daughter?
The thought made her throat close off.
Those were not the thoughts of a hitokiri.
Horrible ending place, that was. Horrible chapter, overall. Totally pointless, all it did was get her home. And have a verbal fight with Battousai that I don't even like that much. Boring chapter overall. Seems like I'm hitting a writer's block.
But I'm hoping to get this all the way through!
Points of Interest
1. Heaven's Justice...I was contemplating making Sachiko's note Hell's Justice...but then I realized it would cause a huge commotion in Kyoto and of course, everyone isn't supposed to know that she exists. Thank god I caught that mistake! Now everyone assumes its just Battousai killing and leaving messages.
2. The serving woman...the image of the perfect woman. Quiet, deft, ladylike...thus Sachiko disliking her. And her attempts to rub femininism off on our oh-so-not-feminine heroine.
3. Hime...in response to the sacred night's question, hime means princess in Japanese. Often added to the end of noble unmarried ladies' names, like Matsuhime.
Onward, to a better chapter hopefully.