Chapter 28
The Stains of Time
Sojiro was alone in his private study, delicately trimming a small bonsai tree by candlelight. The candle gave off a light incense, helping to calm his nerves just as much as the meditative trimming did. Dusk was falling outside, and Sojiro's thoughts would frequently wander to many places and subjects, both of the past and the future. As was the nature of the future, his thoughts were murky and dark, shrouded in doubt and discontent. The intervals between trimmings became longer as Sojiro became more distracted with the oncoming events, and the preceding events that had led to them.
Sighing in frustration at a botched cut of the bonsai's branches, Sojiro stood to his feet and slowly walked to the open window overlooking the grounds below. His private study was on the highest floor of the main building at the estate, giving him a scenic and beautiful view of the grounds and the road leading back to the nearby town on the edge of the Kamurocho district limits.
Below him, many a yakuza were feverishly preparing themselves for the inevitable battle - the first spark of what would become a great fire of war. He took out a pack of cigarettes and indulged in one, blowing the smoke out into the warm evening air. It was then that a line of black cars exited the estate and headed onto the road leading back to Kamurocho, which Sojiro recognized as being Higashi's detachment, garrisoning themselves in his urban palace of decadence and debauchery.
It had been a long time since he last led a battle, Sojiro reminisced. And even he realistically guessed that this would be nowhere near as much of a destructive bloodbath as that one. His skin still crawled, and his eyes sometimes twitched when he thought back to that night in 1967. The things he did, the things he ordered his men to do, and the sea of bodies, viscera, and blood that he and his men waded through as dawn finally broke was an image he would never purge from his memory. But it was the sight of his dear old friend's body, broken and mangled, that haunted him the most even all these years on. And it was that friend he wished more than anything was still at his side in this time of great strife.
"You better be looking down on us fondly, kyodai," Sojiro spoke to the wind. "Your grandson has the makings of a dragon, sure… deep, deep down," he shook his head. "It's a shame, really," he continued flatly. "Even all these years on, and you're still the best we've ever had. Your daughter was damn close, but God knows she wouldn't want a part in this war, especially after what I've done." Sojiro sighed. "I could apologize to you for taking your grandson, but that wouldn't do either of us much good. One day, I'll apologize to Anri too. She deserves that much after all she's been through." He took another long drag of his cigarette. "It's embarrassing to hope that we will get through this one without you, old friend, but maybe that's why we rose as high as we did in the golden years: we had you."
He looked back to his almost perfectly trimmed bonsai tree, thinking of how his late wife had always enjoyed the ritual. In fact, it was Yayoi that got Sojiro interested in the ancient art, having impressed him with just how delicately she could treat the little tree and how perfectly she could prune the tiniest details and imperfections of its branches and leaves.
That is not to say she was any less lionhearted than the rest of their unconventional circle of friends and allies, but Yayoi was always revered for her quiet and tactful regality; a strong shell that only broke in the direst of circumstances, where she proved just as commanding a force as any man in their entourage. Sojiro often wondered just what it was that this impeccably beautiful, graceful, and strong woman saw in him that was worthy of spending her life with, even though she had told him many times over the years. Perhaps it was just so unbelievable that an old man of such criminal and morally dubious ambitions as him could come home to a personification of everything he thought he was not. Perhaps that was why those many years they spent with each other, the good and the bad, sometimes felt like a vivid but distant dream, even though it had only been eight years since she passed in her bed, woeful tears streaming down her face, not for herself, but for their dear daughter.
That was an image Sojiro would also take to his grave, which he prayed was yet years away. Though the air was heavy with tension and uncertainty, and a knot formed in his gut as reality sunk into his consciousness. He did not remember feeling this level of apprehension or uncertainty in 1967 but remembered far clearer the feeling of camaraderie and glorious purpose that saw them through their unfortunately pyrrhic victory.
Many were slain on both sides, and while the Omi took far more losses than the Sakura Clan, Sojiro and his men suffered far more personally significant losses. It was truly a fulcrum in the city's history that few remembered since most of the residents were newcomers with the economic boom. That was a fact Sojiro could live with; the events of that night were only worth remembering by the two clans – one as a testament to their strength, and the other a warning of what would happen if they tried something again.
A warning that gone unheeded as the night grew dark, and the men gathered in the estate to prepare for the oncoming fire. It was going to be a long night.
…
It had been a strenuous task to put Futaba under guard deeper in the compound, apparently. At least, that is how Akira had heard it. Kuze and a few of his men had taken her away, with Takemi being brought along for emotional support to ease her anxiety-inducing situation. She did not cry, barely even verbally protested, but she did repeatedly try to shy away from the imposing men in suits. Akira did not blame her, but he did worry about her mental health should things get intense.
Before meeting up in the main building, Akira was inspecting his sword one last time in the courtyard beneath the large cherry tree. He felt somehow perverse holding it in his hand, a weapon to kill others when had so easily fallen into confusion and darkness when last holding one. But it was a family possession, imbued apparently with their spirit, not just some gun. It was a tool, a work of art, and he did feel some security in holding it.
Ann spotted him in the courtyard, with Ryuji in tow. After their initial surprised responses and Akira explaining why he was holding such an immaculate instrument, the rest of the group congregated together in the orange and purple light of dusk, admiring the blade.
"You're allowed to defend yourself, you know," said Ann. "Please, if it comes to it, use it to save yourself. Or save us. None of us want to kill anyone, but we don't want to see you or anyone else die tonight. We all need to do everything we can to make sure that doesn't happen, and that includes you, Akira."
His eyes switched between the sword's sheath and Ann, and he finally nodded slowly. "Maybe," his eyes twitched, and she noticed. "Maybe…" He strapped the sword to his side and set off with his friends.
The group calling themselves the Six Black Heavens Guns had congregated in the main building along with the other yakuza acting as the main guard. Ichiban was setting out with Higashi's men to guard Kamurocho, but made a point to meet up with them for a brief word before leaving.
"Hey, guys!" he called out to them amidst the mutterings of the yakuza. Despite the dire situation, he seemed surprisingly upbeat, wearing a bright and friendly smile. "I just wanted to say that you guys are real heroes," he pumped his fist. "I'm glad you're all back here protecting the Chairman and HQ. It makes me feel better about leaving."
"That's… kind of you to say," said Makoto, seeming worried but amicable. "We all wish you the best of luck, Ichiban."
"Yeah, thanks!" Ichiban beamed confidently. "We're all gonna kick serious ass tonight, right, guys!?"
"Hell yeah!" Ryuji shouted. "Tonight's the debut of the Six Black Heavens Guns!"
"Damn straight!" Ichiban gave them a thumbs up, then looked confused. "Wait, what?"
"It's something we came up with last night," Ann explained. "While we were… uh, high. It's like a group name!" she smiled. "Like a team of heroes!"
Ichiban pondered on the name choice for a moment with the utmost seriousness, then his confident grin reappeared. "Alright! Now I know what to cheer tonight! The Six Black Heavens Guns are gonna save us all!"
"Here here!" Haru cheered happily.
Akira, however, was not smiling. "Just be careful out there, okay?" he said. "I wanna see us all make it out of this."
"Oh, don't worry, I will," Ichiban nodded. "I've got a girlfriend to propose to, and no one, not the lowliest thug or the mightiest beast, can stop me from giving her that ring!"
"You have a girlfriend?" Yusuke asked more incredulously than he had intended.
"I do! Her name's Saeko and she's… just perfect really. I got her a ring a couple weeks ago but haven't had the chance to propose because of everything going on. So, I'm gonna fight harder than ever tonight so I can give her that ring and get married in a safe and secure Tokyo. After all she's done for me, I owe her that, at the very least."
Ann said, "You sound like a great boyfriend. Saeko is a very lucky woman."
"Ah, shucks," Ichiban rubbed the back of his head, bashfully smiling. "Don't get me all embarrassed before I roll out with the tough guys! But thanks anyway, Takamaki-san. It means a lot. Well, stay safe, guys. Drinks are on me when we come back!"
And with that, Ichiban left for the vehicles to return to Kamurocho. However, they were approached then by Masato Aizawa, his hulking physique and wide face appearing… depressed. "Kitagawa-san," he addressed Yusuke, "your presence is immediately requested by your grandfather."
"For what reason?" asked Yusuke quickly.
"Please come with us, and you are expected alone, I'm afraid. My apologies, ladies and gentlemen, but please remain here while we escort Kitagawa-san."
They then beheld a sight that left them all chilled: Yusuke looking back to them with silent worry and pleading. They could swear his eyes were even becoming misty as he was led away by Aizawa and two other yakuza. Akira watched intently as they were led through the back doors until they heard the powerful voice of Kashiwagi, standing over them from the upper floor up the stairs.
"A force of black cars has been spotted on the freeway heading our direction," he declared. "Everyone to defensive positions and prepare for combat." Kashiwagi met Akira's gaze from above and motioned for him to come, and so they did. They were led to the main meeting hall, seeing Sojiro and Shindo waiting in their assigned seats, with Shindo holding his own sheathed katana by his side. "We will stay here for the time being," Kashiwagi explained. "And try not to get cold feet now. War is only a few kilometers away."
…
Yusuke was already breathing heavily as he was escorted to the house, which was under heavy guard. Inside, the nurse was feverishly checking and changing vials and drips as his grandfather lay still in the hospital bed, groaning in his throat.
"Grandfather!" Yusuke rushed to his side, kneeling by the bed. "What happened?" Yusuke pressed the nurse. "When did his condition get worse? How did this happen!?"
"Kitagawa-san began deteriorating about an hour ago," the nurse said quickly. "I'm not sure what happened, but something in his blood has made him more ill. It's as if he's having a reaction to his medication, but I'm not sure how—"
"Well, fix it!" Yusuke commanded her in anger.
His grandfather groaned again. "Yu… Yusuke…"
"Grandfather?" Yusuke suddenly became entirely fixated on him.
"Have… have they come for us yet?"
"They seem to be on their way, but we're still safe. What happened to you?"
"I… do not know. But I wanted you to be here… with me. I think this might be…"
"No!" Yusuke interrupted him. "This can't be the end! There's so much left for us to do, and you were getting better, right!?"
"I'm sorry, child," Daijiro whispered, his eyes becoming glazed over and hazy. "But… look," he weakly pointed behind Yusuke, and there was Aizawa, carrying in a large painting of a beautiful woman holding a blue-haired baby under a sakura tree. "Your mother… is with us as well."
The painting was the Sayuri, crafted to the utmost praise by Yusuke's later mother in the months after he was born. It too was her final gift to him before she passed on, yet Yusuke and Daijiro had not the heart to look on it in recent years. The grief it brought about within them was too great, but Daijiro had sent for it in these twilight moments.
"What is the meaning of this?" Yusuke asked, his voice shaky.
"My daughter, your mother, as never truly left us, child. All these years, she has watched over our home, even when we did not watch over her. I thought it best… to have her watch over me as well in these times."
"Grandfather," Yusuke said slowly, becoming more stressed, "you can't die here. We are at war, we need your guidance and leadership!" He paused, a tear falling down his cheek. "Do not leave me alone, Grandfather… Please. I don't want to be without both you and mother. I'm not strong enough to lead your men; I can't even compare to you! I even ran away and have only come back at the worst time! We need you, Grandfather!" He paused again, wiping his eyes. "I need you."
"You have everything you need, my grandson," Daijiro put a hand on his shoulder. "You did not run away. I let you walk your own path; it simply led you back here when we needed you most. And this is still your home, and always will it be for as long as it stands. And your mother will always be watching over you within in that painting, as she still does for you under that tree." Yusuke began to cry, gasping at the lump in his throat. "She will be with you, I will be with you, and your friends will also be with you. You will never be alone—"
Behind them was the click of a gun being loaded. The nurse gasped, and Yusuke saw her look behind him with terror. "P-please," she stammered, "I did everything you asked! PLEASE LET ME GO—!" A gunshot. Yusuke jumped; there was a splatter of blood on the wall, and the nurse collapsed to the ground beyond the hospital bed. He heard her let out two last gasps before her final breath left her lungs in a wheeze. Yusuke turned around slowly, his eyes widening with panic, and there was Aizawa, pointing a gun to his head.
"I am sorry, Young Master," Aizawa said slowly, emotionlessly. "Just be thankful you will not have to see the honored house of Kitagawa fall with your own eyes."
Daijiro managed a glower at him. "Aizawa, what are you doing!?"
"What I have been instructed to, sir," he pointed the gun at the old man as three more yakuza entered the room. Two held pistols in their right hands, and the other wielded a katana with a black wooden scabbard and hilt, an ornate and delicate painting of a Sakura flower blowing in the wind traveling down from the tip of the scabbard to the hilt. Yusuke and Daijiro recognized it immediately as their own family's blade, "命の息吹 [Inochi no Ibuki, 'Breath of Life']".
"Where did you get that?" Yusuke sneered.
"From your little collection in the basement," said Aizawa. "We figured it would be too fine a prize to let burn with the rest of your home."
"You goddamn traitor!" Daijiro managed to shout. "You… you conniving… snake…" His words trailed off. The heartbeat monitor's beeps grew slower… and slower.
"No!" said Yusuke. "Grandfather, please!" His grandfather looked up to the ceiling in a daze, unable to form words as the heartbeat monitor then became faster, louder, indicating a dangerous turn in the man's condition.
"I was wondering when that would kick in," Aizawa smirked. "At least you won't be without him for long."
"What the hell are you talking about!? You've betrayed us all!"
"Stupid of you to assume I was ever really on your side," said Aizawa, walking to the Sayuri. He pulled a lighter out of his pocket to Yusuke's absolute horror. "You wouldn't want to see the rest of tonight anyway, Kitagawa-san," he said to Yusuke. "You call it a war? No. Really, this will be," he held the lighter to the painting, right above Yusuke's mother's head, and he could not even scream for he was so horrified by the situation, "a coup de tat, and nothing more."
Daijiro thrashed once in his bed, and then was silent. The heartbeat monitor let out a loud warning sound, and then a constant, droning siren as the Sayuri caught fire. The other three yakuza produced cans of gasoline from behind the doorway and poured them out in the foyer as Aizawa picked up the burning painting carefully and threw it onto the ground. There immediately was the stench of burning gas as Yusuke cried out in shock and anguish, and the yakuza prepared to bar the door closed, barricading him inside to be cooked alive.
He watched the most important possession of his family burn away as his grandfather breathed his last, blood and froth beginning to pool in his mouth. Yusuke could barely think as the door began to close, and he swore Aizawa was smirking at him still as he exited the building while his accomplices finished their preparations. "You have everything you need," the voice of his grandfather repeated in his head. "You will never be alone… Your mother will always watch over you."
Mother is burning, Yusuke thought, his teeth clenching and eyes burning with tears. Mother is dying. Again. Right in front of me, and Grandfather has died beside me. They will kill me, they will kill everyone, they will kill my friends…
Mother is dying again… His fists clenched, and he realized his tears were not just of sorrow or fear…
My family is dying… They will kill everyone…
…but of rage.
Like a wild, rabid animal, Yusuke howled and charged the man holding the blade. There was a struggle so fast no one could react to it, and then there was more blood on the floor, the fires encroaching on it as they traveled from the Sayuri. The yakuza cried out in pain before his cries turned to gargles of blood. From outside, with Aizawa having already left to head for the main compound, the guards heard more commotion: screams of wrath and pain, the violent singing of a drawn blade wielded in great fury, two gunshots, more screams, and then not but the crackling of kindling.
Then there was silence for a moment. A long, still, oppressive moment. Then the silence was broken when a young man's voice howled in wrath from inside the small house. The guards moved in to investigate, but stopped in their tracks when a shining blade of the purest silver color, bathed and spattered in hot blood, pierced the door in front of them, and they heard heavy, feral breathing on the other side that was followed by a crazed cry that lusted for blood…
…
In the meeting hall, Sojiro and his companions waited anxiously for the first signs of conflict. Takemi had been sent to the top floors to watch after Futaba under guard of the Kuze Family. Sojiro sat at the head of the hall with a stalwart gaze, watching the door as if anticipating his enemies to come barging through.
Kashiwagi fingered his earpiece, wired to a walkie-talkie, then said, "The detachments are arriving at Kamurocho, Boss. They encountered no opposition on the freeway and are moving to secure the Tenkaichi and Nakamichi entrances. Two groups are also moving north to lock down the Hotel District and keep an eye on the police."
"Very good. Make sure they know that they are not to antagonize the police in any way tonight. We can't afford to fight a war on two fronts, though that my yet very well happen. But any time we can buy before the KPD come baring down on us is invaluable."
"Yes, sir."
"What if the police go after our boys?" asked Shindo, thumbing the pommel of his sword.
"They should be too spread thin throughout the city and on the main roads to round up at least most of our groups. If worst comes to worst, Higashi can use his connections to help any of our men stuck in Kamurocho to go to ground until this blows over. Though it may seem like it, we aren't without options, Shindo."
"Of course," Shindo nodded.
Kuze groaned in his throat. "The Omi is sure taking their sweet fucking time getting here," he grumbled. "What's taking them so long?"
"Would you prefer they were breaking down our door before we were prepared, Kuze?" asked Sojiro.
Kuze did not respond. Kashiwagi put a finger to his ear again, then said more frantically, "There's movement on the perimeter, sir! About one kilometer from us and approaching rapidly! And… wait, what?"
"What is it?" Sojiro pressed him.
"The Kitagawa household is… burning, sir. It seems to have caught fire."
Sojiro's eyes widened with angered shock. "Well… then get some men down there and save Daijiro and Yusuke!"
Kuze stood up. "I can go. I'll take my best boys with me and deal with whatever the hell is going on."
"Get going!" Sojiro ordered him, but Kuze was already on his way out.
"We have to go to!" Akira exclaimed. "I won't let anything happen to Yusuke!"
"None of us will!" Ryuji added confidently. "No matter how much ass we've gotta kick!"
There was a smashing on the floor, dull and wooden. Everyone turned to see Shindo tapping the tip of his sword sheath on the floor impatiently, shaking his head from side to side. "Admirable indeed, kids," he muttered slowly. "Willing to risk your lives for someone you barely know. No wonder everyone calls you heroes."
Makoto glared at him. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Shindo looked up to them with a devilish grin. "You guys are far too trapped here to go charging out for any kind of heroics, you see?" He slowly stood to his feet, holding his sword at his side. Shindo then turned to Sojiro, his toothy grin widening. "Sorry, Boss, but it looks like you've been had."
Kashiwagi put up his fists defensively. "What was that, Shindo?!"
Shindo held the sheathed tip of his sword toward Kashiwagi. "Stay where you are, Kashiwagi-san. I'd rather you end up joining our cause then becoming a bloody pile on the floor."
Sojiro's eyes narrowed his way. "This some kind of coup, Shindo? Or are you just a traitorous bastard?"
"You say that like this is my fault, Boss! Think of it as me just getting a better job opportunity from a more… forward thinking competitor of yours."
"The Omi Alliance?" Sojiro asked.
"Correct," Shindo nodded. "Don't worry though. You'll have plenty of time to mull over your long history of failures that led you to this point when you and all your little hero brats are being viciously tortured in a rank, disgusting dungeon for the next year or so before Shimano himself decides that you have outlived your potential for fun." His grin became wider, and wild.
"You bastard!" Ann exclaimed.
Akira's hand drifted to his sword hilt. "Are you blind, asshole? Look just how outnumbered you are."
"And are you fucking retarded, hero-boy!? You think I didn't account for something that stupid!?" He held a finger to his earpiece. "NOW!" And with that, ten yakuza came rushing through the door, all ready for a fight. "You were saying, hero-boy? Now, we're all gonna be chill here, aren't we!? You guys can come quietly with me to my new benefactors, and no one gets hurt. I mean, come on, this whole thing is gonna be a shit show in a few minutes, so you might as well forget about any theatrics or heroics and surrender while you still have all your limbs."
Sojiro did not seem phased by the proceedings. "What about your oath, Shindo? You swore a life oath to me, to my service and protection. What is this then? What did Goda offer you that I never did?"
Shindo shook his head disapprovingly. "That's exactly the problem though, Boss. You're too stuck in the past – too much of a traditionalist. You were a legend back in the day, yeah. But you've only survived that long because of that legend. Meanwhile, there are some people out there in the world who aren't content to just sit on past victories and stories of how they carved their names in history. Some people want to keep building their legend, or make something entirely new. That is not you, Boss. But that is me, and Shido wants the same thing."
"So, you have left us for him?" Sojiro asked. "I should've known," he shook his head.
"Not just me, Boss. Trust me."
"And what the hell does that mean?"
"You don't need to know. You just need to pack up your shit and come with us!" Shindo drew his blade and pointed it at Sojiro while the other yakuza encroached upon Kashiwagi and the younger adults. "You know, Boss, I'm actually rather disappointed in something. I feel like I'm leaving here without a prize of my own. And God, how I wish that prize could have been your woman."
"What!?"
"Yayoi was such a looker," Shindo mused. "Strong, beautiful, ten times the leader you are now, Sakura. But then your little girl just had to get shot to hell and Yayoi – what? Succumbed to grief or some shit? If you had died in her place and she became our new leader, maybe I wouldn't have had to do all this. I could've spent my time with her, letting her know what it's like to finally have some life in the marriage bed. Now, last chance. You gonna come quietly or what, Boss? Admit it: the stains of time have left you scarred and tired. Just let us take over and this whole war will be done before it really gets going. No one important will even need to be hurt. Well, except for Kitagawa, I guess. But he was on his deathbed anyway."
Sojiro glowered at him, his face hot with anger. His first response was to spit at Shindo's feet. "You'll pay for everything you've done, and everything you've said, Shindo. You insult the name and legacy of the Family you've inherited, as well as every man that's ever stood under its banner!"
"A no then? Then I guess I can still cash out by presenting your head to my benefactors. Cuff the rest of them, boys. The old man is mine!" With a savage smile, Shindo charged Sojiro, who stood unmovable like a boulder in a stream. The other yakuza tried to apprehend the rest of them, but did not notice a flash of movement as Shindo was about to bring down his sword on Sojiro's head. There was a swish of the air, a loud clang of metal, and Sojiro saw before him Akira, blade drawn and blocking Shindo's attack. "What the hell?" Shindo muttered.
Akira cried out and pushed Shindo away with the sword, followed by a kick that sent him reeling back. Akira stood to his feet, holding his sword proudly at his side. "Your game ends here, bastard." And his friends as well as Kashiwagi all positioned themselves behind him, defending Sojiro like a wall between him and the traitors.
Shindo laughed heartily. "Hero-boy wants to put on another show? Pretty rich, coming from you. You gonna butcher me just like Kamoshida?"
Akira pointed the sword at his adversary. "Call me a butcher all you want, but I won't let you hurt Sakura or my friends. You insult his loss, demean his late wife, and try to take his power for yourself. I swear on my own life that I won't let you get away with this, Shindo!"
"Your own life?" Shindo cocked an eyebrow. "Now we're talking." He held his sword with both hands, smirking at Akira. "I admit I've been curious to see the true ferocity of the Butcher of Kings for myself. Getting to take you down and dethrone Sakura all in one night? Guess I should hit up the lottery booth on my way home, because this really is my lucky day."
Akira held his sword in front of him, catching his reflection in the immaculate blade. "That nickname you love so much, 'Butcher'. You wanna know how I got it?" he asked, a subtle glow beginning to emanate from his fingers. "Or perhaps you'd like a demonstration, huh?" He slashed the sword in front of him, the blade singing through the air as he adopted an aggressive stance. "You want a fight, Shindo?" He glowered, hot fury burning in his eyes. "THEN STEP RIGHT UP!"
Shindo nodded and smirked, and in a flash, they charged each other with great battle cries before their blades clashed, both standing in a deadlock in the center of the room. Their eyes locked, their teeth clenched, and blue flames began to appear on Akira's shoulders.
KOJI SHINDO
Patriarch of the Nishikiyama Family,
A Sakura Clan Subsidiary
"He has the gift too," Sojiro remarked almost approvingly. "Heh, I should've known."
As Shindo and Akira continued to struggle, Akira called back to them. "Take these guys down and find Yusuke! I'll deal with this bastard!"
Haru, to everyone's continued surprise, cracked her knuckles in anticipation. "Don't have to tell us twice! Let's take out the trash, everyone!"
Three yakuza charged them from the front, and Makoto and Haru dodged deftly out of the way in unison. Makoto, utilizing her training in aikido, grabbed his arm and threw him over her shoulder to the ground, letting Haru smash his face with a stomp. They finished their dynamic teamwork with a high-five.
The other yakuza tried to attack Ann, who was about to dodge his punch when his hand was stopped in mid-air. She turned to see Sojiro holding the man's hand, glaring at him. Sojiro pulled him away from Ann and grabbed the man's elbow, pushing it inward with great force, causing the bone to break through the skin in a gush of blood and a pained wail before Sojiro kicked in the yakuza's knee, causing a similar reaction. As the yakuza dropped to his knees in pain, Sojiro spun into a kick in the man's face, knocking him out cold. The display of extreme agility and martial arts from a mild-mannered old man was surprising to all who witnessed it, and a further brawl broke out as Akira pressured Shindo toward the door.
Three quick clangs of metal, with Akira attacking for two of them. Shindo was surprised at the young man's skills and so engrossed in the fight that he had nary the time internalize that his opponent was wrapped in a blue flaming aura. Shindo's attacks were crafty, attempting to misdirect Akira with quick feints and longer slashes, while Akira was aggressive and proud, trying to create openings and weaknesses instead of probing for them. Shindo struck Akira's blade quickly then tried to stab him in the face while he was off balance, but it was as if the world slowed down for just a moment to Akira, like he felt the attack coming, and quickly battered the sword away with the flat of his blade.
In the moment of reprieve, Akira kicked him into the door, swinging it open before advancing once again. And from the balcony, he saw many yakuza frantically running out of the chamber into the main lot. Only a few words broke through the adrenaline rush he was experiencing, and they all were dreadful warnings of incoming attackers from the Omi. The Sakura Clan was now fighting a war on two fronts, and Akira was caught right in the middle.
Down the stairs, he and Shindo fought deftly, angrily. Shido grunted like a madman as he slashed and jabbed at Akira, but all the training his mother had drilled into him for many years came through with nary a need to think about it. His "heat" only enhanced his reflexes and instincts, causing him to move faster, easier, as if his body itself was seeing each oncoming attack, but only barely. They both had taken scratches from their swords and blows from their punches and kicks, but neither gave up an inch as they fought through the foyer.
Shindo then relented, breathing heavily. "You're strong, kid, I'll give you that! Maybe we should find somewhere less cramped to fight it out, huh?" And Shido rushed off down a hallway leading back to the gardens.
"Ergh, bastard!" Akira exclaimed, giving chase.
And so they ran out into the gardens behind the main building, the yakuza all having run out to the front gate in reaction to the reports of Omi assaults. Not far away, Akira saw a billow of smoke rising from the general direction of the Kitagawa house, and this only made him angrier. He and Shindo's eyes met as they came to a stop by the Sakura tree, and Shindo's expression turned from sadistic glee to outright wrath. "Show me your butchery, hero-boy!" he raised his sword. "There's no other way out for you!"
Akira readied himself, gripping the beautiful blade tightly in his hands, and they charged each other with a great war cry. Their blades clashed, but they did not stop to size each other up. There was only strike after strike, parry after parry, cry after cry as they viciously fought among the many flowers. Akira was angry, true, but he felt more in control than he had been. This man must pay, must be taken down, and it would be by his hand.
He would receive his family's fire.
Two strikes from Akira and a great push far stronger than Shindo had expected, and he was sent reeling backward. They regained their stances, and Shindo smirked. "That's it. Game over, hero!"
Akira slices the air twice, Hanran singing in the wind. "Your betrayal ends HERE!"
And the strikes would come like a floor of rain pouring down on him. Shindo tried to come down on Akira's head, but the strike was battered away by a parry. But the parry was not enough as Shindo pushed Akira with his shoulder instead and knocked him to the ground. In a second, Akira nearly died from a downward stab, but far quicker than Shindo anticipated, Akira managed to roll backward on the ground away from the sword and lunged forward, the tip of the blade aiming right for Shindo's arm.
Shindo blocked Hanran, but only barely, and Akira had anticipated this nearly subconsciously. He knew this would happen – somehow, he just knew that would be Shindo's next move. He pulled the blade back by only an inch and sliced crosswise, slashing at Shindo's right arm. He cried out, blood immediately seeping into his suit from the wound just below the shoulder, but Akira was not done. Shindo was barely able to see the furious young man bring Hanran over his head once more and slice downward, cutting the top of Shindo's hand holding his sword and knocking it from his grasp.
Shindo fell to his knees, holding his bleeding shoulder and breathing heavily. But no sword came down on him or stabbed him. He looked up and saw Akira standing over him, eyes just as fiery with rage as his body, holding his sword above his head. But then he brought it down, the blade's tip being buried in the ground and causing it to stand upright between them. Akira scowled down at Shindo and held his fist in front of his face.
His eyes widened with even more anger before Shindo's vision went blurry from an absolutely vicious punch directly in the left eye, then another in the right. His hair was caught before he could fall back to the ground, and all he could see was the blurred image of a young man glowing with blue flames standing above him. Akira raised both arms above his head, and cried out as he slammed his fists down on top of Shindo's skull so hard that the traitor's face immediately struck the ground. And then, beneath the beautiful tree, there was silence save for Akira's labored breathing. And beneath him was the crumpled form of Shindo, completely unconscious, blood trickling down from the top of his head.
Akira glowered down at him, then spat on the man's head. "Just as pathetic in a fight as you are in life," he growled, then picked his sword back up out of the ground. He slashed it through the air, and all the blood that had coated the blade instantly flew off it onto the ground, rendering it perfectly clean and shining once again. He turned around back toward the billowing smoke, and heard a growing cacophony of frenzied screams, both of battle and pain. "Don't worry, everyone," he gripped his blade so hard his knuckled turned white, "I'm coming! I swear, no one is dying tonight! None of you!"
And he ran off toward the growing battle, unable to think of anything else but saving his friends. War had come to Kamurocho, but it would end by sunrise. He swore this by all he ever knew, and his own family name, whatever it truly was.
[Thank you for your patience. Balancing this beast of a story and writing a publishable novel has proven difficult. Reviews are always appreciated, and it is your reviews that help to keep this story alive. Thank you to all who have come with me on this journey as we near the end of Part 2.]
