SHADOWS OF RED
By Hime-kou
Author's notes: Oh my. If I do say so myself, but this chapter gets rather...dark. Very dark. Rather frightening. Was scaring myself as I wrote it. Plus it's probably my longest chapter too. Shiver... haha, after so long of not uploading, here I am going back to doing one per day! This is drawing to an end (FINALLY, you sigh). I never really intended for this to be so long. Don't worry, the plot won't slowly dwindle away and become painful to read. At least I hope not. There's still stuff to cover. Thanks to ShadeSpirit for writing that nice review. Makes me want to keep on writing! THANK YOU! I love getting compliments.
Disclaimer: Eeks, I forgot about this. A lot. Erm. Not mine. Sorry oh amazingly talented Nobuhiro Watsuki who will never read this anyway but I'll say that anyway because IT MUST BE SAID!
Chapter 14-True Faces
The man was shouting urgently to Miyuki. His face, rawly caressed by the biting wind outside, was distraught and filled with anxiety. There didn't seem to be any harm written in his dark eyes. but in these times…he stopped shouting when a metal blade snaked up to kiss his throat, effectively preventing him from speaking. He gave a wild jump and swallowed, nearly drawing a thin line of blood onto his thick neck. As it was, he still managed to stammer out some words.
"Ka-Katsura-san, sent me…" His voice was hoarse with fear. Sachiko lowered her blade but kept it out. She turned to make sure Miyuki was out of the way—Kenshin had taken her back to the kitchen already.
"All right," she said calmly and dangerously. "What is it that you want to say?" The man breathed an audible sigh of relief as he realized she wasn't going to gut him and send his head flying as an offering to the heavens.
"Like I said, Katsura-san sent me. He told me you and Battousai were here? And there was something you needed to do? Well, there's been another attack by whomever you're seeking. It just happened, over near Ginkaku-ji. Something terrible, he said, and he said you're to go over there," the man said shakily. Sachiko eyed his outfit and decided he wouldn't last a heartbeat in any fight of any sort.
"Sachiko-san?" Sachiko turned to see Kenshin smiling at her. Her heart gave a wild thump, threatening to take up residence somewhere in her throat, and she answered him rather coldly.
"What, Kenshin?"
His smile grew wider and she noticed the dropped honorific. "I MEAN! KENSHIN-SAN!" She practically spat the words out. Damnit! Something important's come up and ALL I CAN THINK OF IS THAT BAKA'S SMILE! NOW WHO'S THE BAKA HERE! Sachiko mentally shouted at herself.
"Well, I was just thinking we'd better go now," Kenshin said quickly. His smile faded to be replaced by a grimmer one. Sachiko firmly yelled at herself and then nodded. Kenshin looked at the man quizically. "Should we go?" he asked. "Or are you leading us?"
The man's face crumpled and he looked horrified. "Ah…" he managed to choke out. "Ah…I guess…I guess I should be showing you th-there, now." Kenshin grinned again and took pity on the poor man.
"Don't worry. We can find our way there. Thank you," he said courteously. The man's relief was so evident that Sachiko found herself grinning at his plight also. She wondered how he managed to survive in Kyoto.
Kenshin shifted his swords more securely. She checked hers also, making sure they were fastened tightly and wouldn't come loose. Time to be a hitokiri again, she reminded herself. There was something appallingly…comfortable about doing her job again.
Ginkaku-ji was a temple close to Heian Jingu Shrine. Snow gusted in the cold wind as they ran over the rooftops, leaving footprints in the soft snow. Sachiko didn't feel cold. A fire burned deep inside her, warming her, setting all her rational thoughts on fire and consuming them until they became ashes drifting in the winter wind.
Killing did this. Ever since she first began her job, she had realized this of herself. Sometimes, in the middle of a fight, she found herself enjoying the arc of her steel through human flesh and the red welling of blood. This part of her sickened her sometimes, made her hate herself, the creature that she became. Other times, she knew that this was the only way she could cope with what she did. Strange satisfaction came with the death sounds of a man—it was a heady power to know she held their lives on the tip of her gleaming sword.
Thoughts like those made her turn against herself. It confused her. How could she like something her soul deemed bestial? How could she live, day after day, carrying the memories of so many deaths upon her blade? How could she actually like killing? But she did. What if she did? It was terrible and it was killing her too. It was wrong. It was terribly wrong. It was so wrong that it became right.
Sachiko shook off her tangled thoughts. Just accept it, she told herself. Think of nothing. Nothing exists and nothing will exist until everything is over and done with. Just be. She built up her walls, stacked her stones, buried her humanity. Gradually, thought drifted away from her and she simply was.
There was nothing there.
Wind picked up snow already piled on the ground, sending it flying and tossing it back up into the bleak grey sky. Silence whistled along the edges of the sharp wind, tossing back gi sleeves, coiling through long hair both black and red. But the ground was pure and clean. No red stained it, marred its perfection. Kenshin watched and felt cold seep into his body.
Just to be certain, to hope that he was wrong, he shouted over the wind to Sachiko, to tell her to search the grounds around Ginkaku-ji. They did, making their way over the roofs of nearby buildings, strainig their eyes against the wind bladed with tiny snow crystals that stung. Everywhere lay white snow and nothing. Never before had he wished to see a single drop of blood, never before had he hoped to see a scene of slaughter. Instead, his eyes were only met with the blank white glare of snow.
Sachiko turned to him. Her black hair whipped in the wind. Her silver eyes were beginning to hold thought and emotion again. The emotion was horror and fury. She screamed over the wind at him.
"NO!"
They raced against time, sending snow churning up in their wake, their feet carelessly flying over the snow-covered rooftops. He didn't care if anyone saw them. He raged at himself, at his stupidity, at his softness and his own soul. He raged that he hadn't seen the signs. He told himself he was worthless, that he deserved to die.
She told herself the same.
No easy feelings were in them now, only hatred, rage, fear, and overwhelming despair. Niether tried to talk over the mocking wind. They were both wrapped in their own thoughts and emotions, their own self-disgust and revulsion.
Kenshin reached their home first. Funny, he thought of it as home now…everything seemed perfectly fine on the outside. He jumped lightly to the ground and heard Sachiko do the same. They raced for the door and flung it open, sending the wind and snow howling triumphiantly inside.
Despair gave way to horror. He looked numbly down at Miyuki's body, sprawled carelessly across the floor, as if her killer hadn't even thought of her as important enough to kill kindly. Her throat was slashed and blood stained the once-bright floor. Her skin was still flushed but she was dead.
The braziers were out and the house became a place of shadows, a graveyard of bright images and happy memories. Sword slashes ripped across the walls in an extravagant display of power. Power over the very things they held dear. Power over their hearts. How they dared, how they dared, to break into a place he held dear, a place he had come to love. Every time he found something to love, something to cherish, it was snatched brutally away from him.
The blood roared in his ears, and he could feel his rage growing dangerously. It threatened to overwhelm him. As it rose to reach a breaking point, he abruptly sank into deadly coldness. Whoever did this…blood would spill to appease his fury.
His senses screamed and strained, pushing past limits to seek out his goal. He was no longer Kenshin. This creature with deadly cold and furious amber eyes was Battousai. He stalked down the hallway, a seasoned hunter searching for prey that would not escape. There was the slighest stir of the tatami floors above him. He knew that the one he searched for was upstairs.
Battousai deliberately walked towards the stairs. Here was the hunter, hindered by no feelings such as fear or hesitation. Yet he found his path blocked. Sachiko glared at him ferociously. He barely recognized her.
"Don't you dare do this without me," she snarled at him, white teeth gleaming in the semi-dark house. Her aura blazed in his sight, tightly leashed yet vast and half-mad with fury. Battousai acquiesed to a creature just as dangerous and deadly as him.
They stepped deliberately, not worrying about noise. Battousai found him first, the man they had let in, who claimed to be from Katsura. He was now garbed in utter black and carried two swords with ease. Sachiko noted this and cursed herself for her judgement. The man knew swords and knew killing. He noticed them.
Sachiko let Battousai attack first. She knew the man would die. She wanted something out of him before he did. She wanted to revenge Miyuki. She wanted to let him suffer. She wanted only herself to do it. So she let Battousai fight.
This was no graceful picture of dancing death now. This was cold fury and horror and rage, built upon each other to create something even she felt a bit fearful of. This was the true Battousai, the Battousai that Kyoto feared so strongly. This Battousai carried no shred of humanity, no scrap of the man Kenshin within him. This was death himself. Warm colors burned no more. Cold flames flickered and crimson gleamed frigidly in the darkness. Steel seemed to run with fire that smoldered on ice, that melted and remade the freezing flames. Savage amber eyes caught the light and reflected it, piercing the darkness and reducing souls to ashes.
They fought in silence. She could feel the other man weakening. She knew no one could hold their own against Battousai. No one. She waited, if not patiently, unwearyingly for Battousai to win. The man crashed to the floor with a sudden cry of pain. This was what she waited for. As Battousai lifted his katana to drive it into the man's heart, she raced forward and blocked it.
"What are you doing." The words were uttered flinchingly, coldly, dangerously. Lethal amber eyes, hard as ice, locked with her own. They were not the eyes of a reasonable man. Sachiko bared her teeth at him. Her fury gave her added strength.
"I will know who sent him. Where he is from. Then I will kill him. Or you can," she hissed at him, low and cold. She refused to back up. Battousai could only be quelled by power equal to his. And she new she could. Her fury rose in her, swamped her, tightened all her muscles and filled her veins with power. "Leave him to me," she snarled one last time. Battousai stepped back.
She immediately turned her back to him. The man lay on the ground, blood seeping through his black top. Battousai had slashed him dangerously close to his heart, then down towards his gut. The man would be in agony now. Sachiko cursed and drew near.
"Who are you?" she whispered in a deadly tone. All her sense trembled for her to kill him, pierce him, slice him into two. He refused to answer, of course. She expected that. She drew her sword and slid it down his sword arm, to his wrist, where she left it. "Who are you?" she whispered again. As he refused to answer, she tilted her katana just the smallest bit, and felt flesh give way underneath. "Who are you?" Again.
Battousai watched her in fascination. This was not the Sachiko he knew. This Sachiko was lethal. Her silver eyes flashed with deadly light, her lips curled into a dangerous smile. Sachiko. The name was no longer appropriate for her either. Now he understood why people earned themselves other names. She shone in his sight, shone with power and fury and anguish. This was a vengeful spirit bent on cold deliberate torture. Death shone from her eyes.
The man gave in eventually. There was only so much pain the human body could endure. However, he would never hold a sword again. He had broken, shattered by her gleaming steel katana and her gleaming silver eyes. Both held his mortality in tight hold. Her voice was chilling in the dark room, above his shattered sobs.
"Your name."
He wept, answering, "Furiken Itai." She allowed him to sit up and cradle his mangled wrist. Blood pooled in the darkness.
"Who sent you?"
"Please! Pl-please, lady, please…"
She had only to grip her katana tighter and he screamed.
"Ba-bakufu…bakufu…lady. The Shadow Assassin."
Her eyes gleamed with a chilling light.
"Where."
He gave her an address and told her he didn't know the Shadow Assassin's name. Then he broke down and sobbed for mercy. At this, Sachiko looked at Battousai. He was given the full benefit of the disturbing silver eyes and it froze even his breath in his throat. No wonder the man had broken so easily. Those eyes were devoid of emotion and yet filled with it, scoured past pain and death. Empty.
Battousai walked forward and drew his katana.
I have so noticed that I write a lot of dark and bloody stuff. And I'm really not that type of person usually! Weird. Anyway, trying to keep gory details to a minimum but it still somehow crept in there. I'm sorry if that disturbed anyone. Product of a disturbed mind. Hope you liked it a little, and PLEASE REVIEW! Thank you (getting tired from typing so much...)
Of interest
1. Baka...stupid. Idiot. Along those lines. Like, "BAKA DESHI" goes Hiko.Meaning stupid student.
2. THANKS!