Authoress' Notes: I SO do not own Inuyasha or anything in the Inuyasha universe. My original characters are...well...mine.
Thanks for your continued reading of my stories!
Wayward Ransom, chapter 31.
by artisanrox
"You...brat..." spat Yukio, his shaking crossbow aimed at the heart of the young man calmly standing a short distance away from him. Yukio assured himself of victory many times, but the obstinate boy had succeeded in overcoming the spell that had always helped to make him pliable, giving the military the opportunity to train him to have the strength and speed of a demon. He had also succeeded in keeping the stone of the monks in one piece, and he had also killed Yukio's personal guard.
A huge riot was heard toward the direction of Yukio's castle. Yukio glanced over in that direction, and between the shrubbery, could barely see many, many villagers running here and there, posessions and riches from his castle in their hands. A grey plume of smoke and ashes was rising, and could be seen above the trees.
Frightening in his confidence, the boy continued to flip Yukio's heavy crossbow bolt in between his fingers deftly, taking a few easy steps forward, glaring at Yukio with bloodthirsty eyes. "Looks like the villagers have come to take back what you owe them. They want your money, your silks, your scrolls." He grinned devilishly, brandishing the bolt at Yukio. "I, however...want your head!"
Yukio, desperately digging deep to find some nerve, backed away slowly as Bankotsu advanced. "You'll always be a servile brat, boy," growled Yukio. "You were trained practically since infancy to do nothing but take orders! You're too simple to be anything but how to be a pawn in everyone else's game!"
"I don't think so, Yukio," said Bankotsu evenly, though through gritted teeth. "I've always known how to kill," he said, tossing his head at the dead guard. "I'll continue to show you exactly how well can!"
Bankotsu shifted his weight, and blazed with fierce speed, advancing toward Yukio, the bolt in his hand poised like a dagger. He struck, and was miraculously blocked by a desperately drawn katana.
Yukio barely managed to bat away the attack with his katana, dropping his crossbow unceremoniously in the process of drawing it. He then countered with a long, fast sweep of his own, bringing his hand that previously held the crossbow to the handle.
Bankotsu backed away from the swipe, and the blade flew past his stomach with a whistling hwick! "Pathetic, menial boy!" Yukio said as he turned the blade over, reached in, and took a long swipe at Bankotsu's head. "There are hundreds of my forces that know how to cast 'Bridle'! You can't face the fact that you'll always be a slave to my training!" Yukio was counting on the fact that eventually, the young man's tolerance of his wounds and the spell cast on him would simply give out, and he'd be free to at least disable him until Soumeikarasu recovered. 'Bridle' was devestating, and it had to be. The person for whom it was fashioned was a devestatingly deadly warrior.
"Your excuse for what you call training did nothing for me! I was the one who always knew that I was never meant to be a slave for anyone!" Bankotsu rushed again after leaning far backwards to avoid the swipe to his head. He was quickly attacked, and Yukio's katana rang from the blow it took when blocking it. "I was never your slave! I never was your own personal demon!" With two heavy swiped forward, he added, "I was never your, or anyone's trained attack dog! And I will never be!"
"Suit yourself, boy!" After blocking twice again, Yukio cut across a few more times, and caused Bankotsu to back away. Bankotsu lunged forward, though Yukio figured as much that the boy would charge again. He raised his katana and made a long sweep from above, but Bankotsu dodged it by turning his body, and the skin on the surface of his chest could feel the compressed air as Yukio's blade grazed past it with another hwick! "Your ungrateful attitude toward your training will cause me to ensure that Soumeikarasu's control of you is as unenjoyable as possible!"
"There you go, bringing up that training crap again, Yukio!" Bankotsu countered again, aiming right for Yukio's heart, but his attack was even more easily batted away than before.
Yukio smiled, as he easily picked up on the fact that the speed of Bankotsu's attacks were slowing. As much as he loathed to admit it, he figured he'd have certainly been dead by now if the boy hadn't been so weakened already.
He swiped at Bankotsu again. Dodging another high swipe of Yukio's katana, Bankotsu dropped to a crouching position on the ground.
Yukio turned the blade, and made one long last sweeping cut, aiming right at Bankotsu's neck. "If I have to decapitate you a second time, I will do it, you obstinate specter! And you'll end up being nothing more than a waste of my precious time and resources!"
The blade came rushing toward Bankotsu's neck, whistling loudly and leaving a barely perceptible greyish streak in the air.
The blade was just about to slice through Bankotsu's neck, when it hit metal. It vibrated from the impact, and rang loudly.
"You've done nothing more than given me useless busywork!" said Bankotsu, who had blocked the katana with the bolt he held. The cold bolt rested against his neck as he grinned. Yukio tried to pull the blade away from Bankotsu's neck to take another swipe at him. However, Bankotsu easily reached up to his neck, and took hold of it, holding the flat of the blade between his fingers and the meat of his thumb. Yukio grunted, trying to move the blade, but could not.
Leaving no time for Yukio to react further, Bankotsu leaped upward in a flash, and while still holding the blade, drove it through Yukio's right hand. Bankotsu continued to glare into Yukio's eyes, still gripping the bolt tightly. "But my men...my men were the ones to teach me how to enjoy it!"
Yukio was stunned into wide-eyed ineffectiveness by the intense pain.
"I'll thoroughly enjoy having your head roll in your own garden!" said Bankotsu, taking firm hold of the daimyo's right wrist with his left hand, then ripping the bolt out of the daimyo's wrist. "This is for them, and for those who will pay me a fortune for doing it for them! So die, Master Yukio!"
Bankotsu pulled the daimyo closer to himself with his left hand, crushing what was left of his wrist. Yukio's own crossbow bolt was then driven though his heart.
Yukio fell backward, his face pale from the terror of meeting his impending death. He gripped the bolt protuding through his chest while he watched Bankotsu walk away.
It's over for me! thought the daimyo, and he fell to a seated position on the ground. Coughing up blood, he closed his eyes, waiting for death to overtake him, and he hung his head low. Bastard...
Hearing something approach again, he looked upwards, and saw Bankotsu walking toward him, this time holding his massive weapon in his left hand.
His eyes widened from fright, and his first instinct was to sit up.
Bankotsu reached the expiring daimyo, and casually flipped the banryuu around, spinning it on its axis in frightening ease by using only a few fingertips. The weapon made a deep whoosh as the blade circled. He brought the weapon across himself to his right side.
Before the daimyo could speak another word, the banryuu made a long backhanded sweep to the left, and the daimyo's body fell to the ground, his head following soon after.
Bankotsu, still holding the halberd in the same position, cracked a wry, wicked half-grin. His eyes remained fixed firmly on the decapitated body of Yukio in front of him. The only sounds cutting through the air were the occsional gleeful laughter of the villagers raiding the castle, and the melodic twitters of the various songbirds that had mde their residence in the garden. The similar smell of burning wood permeated the air around the castle.
Breathing through his mouth heavily, Bankotsu began allowing his body to loosen. He barely lowered the halberd, ready to walk upright again, and lift the banryuu casually over his shoulder.
And now, the battle over and done, everything he had so successfully blocked out mercilessly hit him all at once. A loud, tortured cry was torn unconsciously from his body.
His hand refused to hold his weapon any longer, and it fell to the ground as the massive shock of pain stabbed through him. He fell to his knees, then completely forward to the ground. In complete exhaustion from the strain of blocking out the discomfort caused by the awful spell cast on him and the tears in his back, he lowered his head, his arms shaking as they barely held his torso up from the ground.
He heard a shuffling on the ground behind him, and when he had recovered from the shock of the compounded pain hitting him, he lifted his head again. He turned and peered through the sweat running off his soakened hair to see what had caused it.
She's...awake...