Chapter Five: Stealth and Battle
The morning came quickly, Yahiko had spent the rest of the previous night on the roof of the dojo, readying himself for the mission. He departed at dawn, just as the sun began to peek over the horizon, taking only his katana and wakizashi.
He returned to the clearing in the woods, examining everything from two nights ago, blood was still spattered on the ground, and the grass was still trampled where Kenshin's struggle had taken place. But Yahiko noticed something else. A small worn trail, barely noticeable, ran from the clearing to the north, the direction that the boy had fled two days ago. It had to lead to Shinomori. Heaving a sigh, half of trepidation and half of anger, Yahiko made a mental note that north was the best direction for him to start, and continued examining the clearing for anymore notes or clues of any kind. He searched for quite a long while, finally coming up empty handed, and drew a deep breath. Turning his eyes north, the young manslayer began his long trek north, toward Shinomori's compound.
"Kenshin?"
"Make it stop..."
"Make what stop?"
Kenshin looked up at Sanosuke with pained eyes, but seeing only a blur of brown and white, closed them again. He breathed deeply. "The dreams."
"I can't make them stop, Kenshin, I'm sorry." Sanosuke sighed and looked at where Kaoru laid asleep on the floor next to Kenshin's futon. "She's been up all night looking after you."
Kenshin looked over weakly, once again finding only a blur when he opened his eyes. He gripped the blanket tightly and closed his eyes again, fighting off a dizzy spell.
"Are you all right?"
A coughing fit overcame the manslayer, and Sanosuke was instantly holding him upright. He watched in pity as Kenshin allowed himself to be overcome by the spasms and nearly gagged when he lowered his hands from his mouth. They were covered in blood again, the second time that day. "MEGUMI"
The doctor came plowing through the door, still holding her glass of tea in her hand, but it didn't stay for long. The teacup fell from her hand and landed with a clatter on the hardwood floor as she slowly approached the manslayer, who now laid helplessly and in pain against Sanosuke's shoulder. His palms were covered in blood, dripping through his fingers and onto his wrists, resting between his legs so as not to touch anything. It was apparent that he'd had another of his coughing fits--this time worse than the last.
"Sanosuke, what happened?"
"Jou-chan, glad to see you're awake--go get me some water so I can clean him up."
Kaoru knew better than to look, but rather, nodded obediently and stood from her place on the floor. She nodded her regard to Megumi and ran from the room and toward the kitchen. Megumi knelt beside Sanosuke and gently touched Kenshin's forehead. The fever had returned, worse than it'd been all day. "Kenshin, can you hear me?"
He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't seem to produce any sound other than a cry as his body was racked by another searing pain. He buried his head into Sanosuke's jacket and clenched his hands into fists to keep himself from crying out again, and he began to tremble with his efforts. Megumi looked up at a distraught Sanosuke, who returned the concerned expression and watched as she undid the manslayer's gi gently, still trying to talk with him.
"Can you speak, Kenshin-Chan?"
"Don't."
Megumi nodded her satisfaction, seeing that his stubbornness still outmatched the pain. "Please try and stay awake for a while, Kenshin. It's important"
He opened his mouth again, but closed it when he felt Megumi's icy hands feeling around the rash that'd spread to his neck and back. The cold felt good against him, he'd been hot being wrapped in the gi and the blankets for so long.
"He's not pulling away, Megumi... What does it mean?"
"He's probably too weak to do anything."
It was at that moment that Kaoru stepped into the room with the bowl of water and sat it down beside Sanosuke. "I brought your water..."
"Thanks, Jou-chan," he said gratefully as he looked up at her momentarily. He then returned his gaze to Megumi, then Kenshin. "I'm going to lay you back down... Clean you up a bit..." Upon hearing no reply, Sanosuke laid the manslayer back against the pillow and took his hand, wiping the blood away with the cloth that Kaoru had brought with the water bowl. He took great care to avoid the patch of rash that had spread to his left wrist, and within a few moments, Kenshin was cleaned.
Two days—painfully long days of walking with no obvious direction, sleeping for only two hours each Yahiko continued along that tiny beaten path. But finally, sunset on that second day he came across what he sought. He crept with as much stealth as he could through the thick trees surrounding the compound's ten foot fence, surveying the degree of surveillance involved and how tricky it would be to make his way inside. The young man concluded, after mere moments, that it was going to be damned difficult.
Yahiko retreated into the thicket, fighting his initial feeling to rush in, blades flying, opting instead to rest, to readdress the wound on his chest. Taking refuge against a tall pine, Yahiko drew down his gi, revealing the bandages underneath. Megumi had done a fine job, he thought, as usual, but the bandages had only restricted his movement to that point. They would have to go.
Delicately he found the end of the long bandage and pulled. It gave way and began to unravel easily, Yahiko wrapping it as he went around and around his torso and chest, wondering why in hell Megumi had used so much. After what seemed like an eternity of unraveling, Yahiko found the other end of the bandage, stuck to his skin just an inch below the sword-wound, and gingerly peeled it off. He examined the wound briefly—it was badly bruised, dried blood around the outside, but it was healing nicely otherwise. Perhaps he would be able to fight to his full capacity that night.
Wound or no, he would have to. Kenshin was depending on him. So was Japan.
The manslayer waited quietly, eyes closed, until what he approximated was midnight. The new moon didn't lend itself well to telling time, but it did lend itself to a stealthy entrance. Yahiko reviewed his strategy one more time, again resisting the urge to slay anyone in his path at first sight. He would instead creep over the tall fence via the surrounding trees and lay low. His daisho would lend itself well to the task at hand—silently picking off every last guard outside with hopes of drawing as little attention to himself as possible. He would then move to the interior of the compound where he could only assume multitudes of guards would be waiting. This Shinomori character didn't seem stupid—he would know that his place was being attacked. But if Yahiko played his cards right, he would have the strength to diminish the guards and defeat their master, and if he did things perfectly, perhaps it wouldn't be so hard to overcome his other side: Hitokiri Ryu.
"Time to go, Ryu" he mused to himself in a half-whisper. "Kenshin—you'd better live until I get back"
With that steadfast determination, Yahiko began to maneuver his way through the forest and toward the compound once more, steeling himself, readying himself for what he was about to do. He always found the first kill to be the hardest—but most times after that he simply blacked out, his body would kick into its barbaric autopilot and slay as his mind saw with stunning detail. He grew more anxious as the compound walls began to show through the dense foliage, as he took to the trees and began to make his way, climbing and jumping, closer and closer. He moved to the northernmost side of the place, what he observed to be near to the back door, and observed. The guards appeared to be in a formation, one pair every fifteen or so feet around the perimeter of the base, with little to no shrubbery to cover Yahiko's motions. So much for his plan of stealth.
Shinomori sat with a sinister grin on his pillow filled platform. So, he thought, everything has fallen into place. A chuckle escaped his lips as he pondered the promising prospects: Hitokiri Ryu would soon be faced with the greatest challenge of his young life. It was a miracle that he had even come. It simply showed the extent of the young manslayer's respect and devotion to his sensei, he would do anything for the other, even risk or give his own life.
"Beautiful!" Shinomori exclaimed with a haughty laugh. "If I can't have Battousai I may as well take the next best thing"
Though he wondered if Ryu even remembered his prior experience with Shinomori, ten years ago. That beautiful spring day when the revolutionary army abducted the then-child, holding him as ransom for Battousai.
Yahiko remembered.
The young manslayer jumped from the wall, landing silently behind the first two sets of guards, drew his katana and daisho, and struck. One blow took down both of the men, cleanly, and for the first time in many years Yahiko…Ryu…felt satisfaction in the dealing of death. Shinomori would pay for all of the pain he had caused, both to Kenshin and Yahiko, as well as to Japan. Ryu would make sure of it, starting with his guards.
It didn't take long for the remaining men to realize what was going on, only five were downed before one screamed through the night of the intrusion, drawing the attention of the entire compound. But Ryu didn't care. He slashed and hacked and killed with such a fiery intensity that some of Shinomori's guard retreated—they were killed ruthlessly from behind. Backstabbing wasn't a tactic Ryu much employed, but under the circumstances it was distinctly gratifying—sweet revenge!
Ryu smiled, laughed even, as his katana dove through another man's chest, finding its exit in the guard's left arm. Blood flowed, spewed even, spattering against the hitokiri's gi, his arms and face, and the man dropped to the ground in halves. Another clean kill! All the bastards would die, he thought, every last one, including Shinomori once he had relinquished Kenshin's antidote.
Behind!
Ryu wheeled round on his heel throwing his daisho up for a parry and his katana wide to begin the ambitious guard's death sentence. He hardly noticed the pained cry the young man let out as the daisho parried and twisted, finding its way through rib and lung into his chest, hardly cared, even. Ryu made eye contact with the young man, wishing him a silent 'go to Hell' before swinging his katana horizontally, lopping off the man's head, his body still hanging by the chest on the manslayer's daisho. In one more fluid, unremorseful motion, Ryu knocked the beheaded body onto the ground, pushing against the chest and drawing his daisho out before whirling again and repeating the same bloody routine with another two guards.
Around and around he went, blades flying in a mesmerizing dance against a seemingly endless flow of enemy guards. They fell in piles at his feet, none would escape that night. Ryu laughed melodically, his maniacal baritone piercing the dead night like a siren as he danced his life-stealing dance. It didn't take long before the guards stopped running to their comrades' defense. The flow of soldiers slowed, to Ryu's chagrin, and only after making sure that each soldier laying at his feet was dead did he sprint to the front of the compound. He finished the last few soldiers with clean, broad strokes, and turned to the doors.
Wide open: just the way he liked them.
Inside he went, downing the irritatingly few guards he came across in a shower of blood and entrails, decapitations and other gruesome executions, absently splashing through the pools of blood he had left behind. Down the innumerable hallways he sped, the knowledge that he would soon slay his ultimate enemy driving him onward. What a surprise that Shinomori bastard would get when he met his end by way of Ryu's blade. That would show him to take innocent children captive!
But it was Ryu who would be getting the surprise that night. He rounded one final corner and ground to a halt at the face of Shinomori Torou, leader of the new revolution.
The two stared each other down for an eternity before the silence was broken. "Good of you to have come, Ryu. It's been quite a while since last we met," Shinomori began with a smirk. "You've grown into quite the assassin, I bet Battousai is terribly proud of your accomplishment"
The manslayer stepped forward, his grip tightening on his swords as he readied them for a speedy attack. "You bastard," he growled, "I'll kill you just as I killed your men! You ruined my life"
Shinomori preemptively stepped out of the way as Ryu lunged his way, katanas leading, backed by the full weight of the youngster's body.
"Do not kill me yet," Shinomori reasoned, watching the hitokiri whirl around to face him again. "Sheath your weapons, let us talk as men. Besides, you can't kill me until I produce Battousai's antidote, now can you"
Ryu heaved an angry breath as he threw his swords back into their sheathes, fire flaring in his red-brown eyes. He obliged with silent rage, following Shinomori into his private quarters—much renovated since Yahiko's visit as a child—and sat on the designated cushion opposite the commander.
"I have a proposition for you, hitokiri."
