Author's Notes: Well, as promised, I returned as soon as I possibly could! This is a decently long chapter, I think...it was 10 pages, so I'll let you readers be the judge. Please don't forget to review, I really would like to know how I'm doing!
Disclaimer: I swear, I don't own Rurouni Kenshin.
chap. 13 - clash
Sanosuke woke the next morning after what seemed like only brief moments of sleep. He had slept rather scatteredly the night before, his thoughts far from the present -- his mind was occupied with everything from the upcoming battle to a certain someone that haunted his dreams when he least expected...
He sighed, shaking the cobweb of thoughts from his head, craning his neck back to stare up at the moody sky. In the distance, he could spot wisps of grey-white clouds, heavy and apparent. However, the wind gusted, bringing a thin sheet of sickly green and black to blanket the sky, lolling lazily with the thick, hot air.
He inwardly prayed for no rain, for that would both obscure their vision and prove to be a disadvantage. With this in mind, he walked into his tent, gathering what he needed and putting away what he would come back for.
If you come back...
The words had entered his mind before he could process that they had. He was not so sure why he suddenly had a premonition of dread clouding his mind. Did he have regrets, perhaps?
Yes...
He was always willing to die, certainly...he was willing to bring down Britian and himself in the process if that was what it took...but suddenly...
What about her...?
Ever since his arrival in China, he had accomplished what he had only dreamed of in the past. His army brought him the satisfaction he never could achieve back in Japan, and he was about to fulfill it...
You can't let yourself die...you still have to...
...do nothing more, Sanosuke told himself sternly beneath his breath, whispering words that he wanted to hear, but somehow couldn't accept.
He grunted angrily, stuffing his folded futon between his rickety desk and small shelf, haunted by the whiff of her scent that enveloped his nose, enveloped his mind and body the night before as he restlessly slept...
"Kuso..." he swore in Japanese, walking out the tent that held memories he wished to push away. Preoccupying himself, he decided to head out to find Giichi before gathering the rest of his soldiers and riding to Canton's shores, where Great Britain waited.
As if reading his mind, Giichi strolled right up to Captain Sagara, limping heavily on his right leg.
"Giichi, just the man I was coming to see," Sanosuke commented, stopping to allow Giichi time to grimace unconvincingly as he walked up to his Captain.
"'Course," Giichi muttered hotly, "'Cause I'm the only one staying behind, that's it. Wasn't even 'round for that rousing speech you made last night..."
"You won't be missing much," Sanosuke replied calmly, running his hand through his hair unnecessarily, "And in case you forgot, you're going to be here with Hoji, so stop whining. Just make sure nothing happens...nothing should happen..."
"Oh sure, rub it in my face," Giichi grumbled scathingly, then began to limp off towards Hoji's tent. Suddenly, he stopped, and turned around again, facing Sanosuke once more.
"Ya know Captain, I don't think you were too hard on Hoji...in fact, I think you were too easy on 'im," he commented, his face grim and serious for once.
Sanosuke stared blankly back at Giichi, unsure of why the injured man was telling him this.
"I'm just saying," Giichi shrugged, "Hoji's been pretty quiet lately, and I know you blew up and punched 'im in the face. I'm just saying that any other person would've lost it sooner...Sir."
Sano nodded.
"I mean, I know I would've thrown 'im out with all the other opium bastards, but you're a good, kind hearted person, so..." Giichi trailed off, an uneasy silence falling between the two men.
"I don't have any regrets," Sanosuke responded abruptly, breaking the stillness with curt, stern words. Turning, he began to walk away, unable to hear the words Giichi said beneath his breath,
"I think you do."
Sweat had already begun to drip from his temples and form on the back of his neck and lower back, and as logical as it was in the sweltering heat, it made Captain Sagara extremely uncomfortable. He stood before ten other fighters beside his horse, a beautiful chestnut, laden with a rich saddle that slung distinctly over the animal's broad back.
Breathing in one last deep breath, he mounted his horse. Swinging his leg over the saddle, he was the last to mount; as everyone already sat, waiting paciently whilst the horses beneath them fidgeted restlessly, stomping their hooves and neighing indignantly.
As Sanosuke sat atop his horse, there was a hush, and a silence blanketed over the earth -- the trees were noiseless, the wind silenced, and the world held its breath, the stillness spreading like an infectious disease with a serene touch. Even the horses suddenly hushed, waiting with a bated air for what was to come next.
The stillness shattering, Sanosuke spurred his horse into action, tugging at the reins and feeling the animal rear backwards, the haunches instinctively flexing as it then moved forward, galloping steadily.
A pounding filled the air as ten other horses followed, dusted soil flying upwards beneath the beating hooves. The noise was bellowing and abruptly, but politely, interrupted the hush that had been present just moments before.
The single character of aku danced on the backs of the eleven fighters, swarming through the city of Canton to reach the shore of the Pearl River. The barage of horses stormed through the narrow streets, causing pedestrians and rickshaws alike to flatten themselves against the walls of neighboring shops to avoid being trampled.
Sanosuke thought he could hear the faint "booms" and crashes that emitted from the shoreline, but perhaps it was only the hot blood pounding through his veins. Nevertheless, it seemed ironic that within the city, there was little evidence that a battle was occurring and that a war was beginning.
Upon reaching the end of the streets, the path opened up, wider and more spacious. In the distance, Captain Sagara could definitely hear the bellow of cannon fire and the crack of gunshots. He nudged his horse onward, spurring the animal to run faster. In doing so, he narrowly avoided a cloaked woman who stood at the edge of the port with a hood drawn about her head. She moved hastily out of the way, and Sanosuke and his army rode on.
He halted his chestnut to a stop, digging his heels into the soft flesh of the horse's underside and practically jumped off. Two feet hit heavy wooden planks that were drawn over rippling water. He slapped the flanks of his chestnut, and the horse whinnied, galloping off the port into safer and unknown ground. His army followed suit. And now, with the battle only a hundred feet or less away, it had become apparent now, the sight clear before their very eyes.
Britain's ships were indeed masted with a ridiculous amount of sails, scarcely directed in the feeble wind. However, what the steel ship lacked in intimidation, it clearly made up with its weaponry. Numerous and impressive cannons hung from the sides of the ship, smoke wafting from the dark opening that held lethal, heavy cannon balls. Aboard the three British ships (from what Sano could count, there were three in his line of vision), foreigners cursed and commanded in an unknown tongue, bellowing in an angry tone only outmatched by those of the Chinese themselves.
A dark cloud hung over the scene, provoked by the amount of gunfire and cannon fire ensuing between the opposite sides, drifting above in an ominous cloud.
Sanosuke was now sweating profusely, both the heat and the excitement contributing quite equally. His heart beat in his chest along with each gunshot, and he whirled around to face his army, prepared to shout out orders in a loud voice in order to be heard above the ruckus.
The noise was deafening, and Sanosuke was quite unaware of Ayako's presence until she was less than two feet in front of him.
"What is it!" he bellowed, quite irritated at her sudden appearance -- he was about to tell them to board the ship.
She remained silent, and Sanosuke wildly and suddenly realized that she did not have her usual stern composure pasted on her face. It was as if her expression had drooped, and there was an unusual amount of emotion and compassion hidden in her deep, black eyes.
And without warning, she leaned forward, pressing her entire body against his and placing her lips on his, kissing him fully and forcefully. Startled, Sanosuke's mind shut down, wondering flusteredly why she was doing this...but then remembered her feelings toward him... He didn't fight her off, and he could taste the salt from his sweat (or hers? -- his mind was doing back-flips).
As if in convenience, the battle had quieted, perhaps because the British needed to reload their cannons. Whatever the case, among the muffled sounds of the fight, Sanosuke registered a few wolf-whistles sounded by a few of his men. Still a few stared away pointedly while others gazed open-mouthed and open-eyed -- they, just like Sanosuke, were surprised at her sudden bearing of heart.
She broke away, and Sano swore, even with the pounding of the ships and the yells of men, he could hear her whisper:
"Don't forget her."
Before thinking he had imagined it, the words were snatched by a sudden wind, blown away into the whirlpool of the Opium War.
Time had slowed...he watched mindlessly as Ayako regained her usual monotony, and strictly ordered the men onto the Chinese war junk, floating in the dark depths of the river, bound to land by a mere piece of thick rope. He understood, confusingly, why Ayako had done what she had done -- to remind him that he could not die...for if he did...there was someone he would not be able to see again...and there would be words left unsaid. Yet there was the frustration of the situation. How the hell did every damn person know about his personal life?
"Sir, are you going to stand there like a moron or get on the ship!" Ayako yelled, tugging on the rope twisted around a wooden pike.
He couldn't help it -- he broke into a smile and hopped onto the war junk, feeling the boat pitch as without warning, his weight was added to an end.
"You did well, Matashi," Sanosuke commented, referring to the war junk's condition, "So well that I'm not even going to ask how many people you bribed to get this..." Matashi scowled lightly in response.
Indeed the ship was impressive for the day and age they were in. The sails were dyed red, though Sano could see that the color was beginning to fade, whether it be through old age or worn sea-travels, the reason was quite unimportant. The heavy material of the sails were slung about heavy bamboo slats, much like an elegant fan of an emperess, and could be masted just as easily as one, for thick ropes bound to the ends were tied with expertise to hold the sails tautly into place.
Made of wood and thin and agile, there were iron plates casted to the sides of the hull, molded so a stern and uninviting stake reached out with a pointed end, apparently useful for ramming other boats. If we have the ability to do that... Sanosuke thought.
His men (and of course, one woman) were already scrambling about, pulling what Sano thought to be random ropes here and there and reaching down at the long, plated oars to encourage the boat into the rippling waters of the Pearl River.
However, it seemed that his army wasn't as unknowledgable as he would have thought, for when the Captain turned around next, he saw the monotonous Matashi at the ship's large, wooden wheel, calmly yelling orders as if this were the sort of thing he handled everyday. Sanosuke inwardly blessed Matashi for his usefulness.
They began to move, the dark depths of the water beneath them swirling in response. They glided easily through the water, slicing the liquid as they headed towards the battle, and the noise became even louder as they approached.
"Do we have cannons on this piece of crap!" Sanosuke barked, ignoring Matashi's hushed comment that sounded something like, "So much for a good job finding a good boat..."
"No Sir!" came a voice, and Sanosuke had no time to discover who had responded nor had time to mutter a curse, for the shadow of a large ship was suddenly casted over what now seemed like their ridiculously small war junk. The curved words that spelled Wellesley took the Captain a few moments to register the foreign letters as the ship's name, but it was more than obvious that it belonged to the British.
There was no time to hesitate. "Alright, you all know what the hell to do, so let's move it!" Sanosuke boomed, just as another cannon shot off. The Captain paused for a moment, watching the iron blur sail effortlessly through the air, and landing squarely on its target -- on another small, Chinese junk.
There was a sickening crunch and the harried yells and bellows of many men as they either jumped out of the ship just in time or felt pain as the cannon ball contacted with wood. The weapon broke through the boat easily and shattered the wooden plates and bamboo slats without problem, the fragile ship falling to pieces. In an instant, Sanosuke swore he saw a familliar face, but figured it was only his mind playing tricks on him as the water rippled violently beneath the junk, sending waves of destroyed boards and what Sanosuke believed to be the dark crimson color of blood slithering through the quivering river.
He shuddered slightly, then turned as he saw his army drawing arrows back in their bows, tied to sturdy rope that lay in coils at their feet. They released the surpressed energy, and the arrows shot to life, their pointed ends piercing through the thin sails of the British ship and finding its mark high up in the masts.
Sanosuke followed suit, and before they began to lift themselves up the newly drawn lines, he spoke to them, "We don't murder, we're just here to win!"
Blood pounded violently in his ears, making him deaf to almost everything but his surroundings. Hoisting himself upwards, he felt his arms tense as he pulled his own weight upwards.
The muscles in his arms felt as though they might fall off from the sheer effort of lifting his weight, but he held on with his temples throbbing, the world falling smaller beneath him...Bullets whizzed past, presumably aimed at them, but each failed to hit its mark...
He was quite unaware of his army around him, and began to concentrate on himself. His mouth had gone dry and he swallowed what seemed to be a lump of sandpaper, gulping in air as he grunted one last time, heaving himself onto a rough, thick pole of the sail's mast. He fought for balance, adjusting his feet and hands to ensure he didn't plummet hundreds of feet into cold water...
Unintentionally, he glanced downwards, and suddenly felt dizzy at the altitude at which he was standing. He could make out the bodies of British fighters, running about to fill cannons with powder or to grab another weapon.
Tearing himself from staring, he looked around to find his army standing with him, hidden artfully in the folds of the sails.
There was a pause.
"NOW!" he bellowed as loud as he could, and began his descent downwards with ten other fighters at his side, flying with graceful skill towards the ship's deck.
Each fighter deftly hit the wooden deck with agile flexibility, and Sanosuke immediately dodged a musket butt flying towards him. The weapon grazed past his side, and he could feel the rush of air following the forceful attack. In a reflex, the Captain pulled his hands up into fists in front of him and charged the man who had attacked him, feeling his fist contact with the man's abdomen and sending him sprawling a few feet away.
He could hear the yells and attacks of his fighters, but they seemed a world away...
Gunshot after gunshot filled the air, grey cloud after grey cloud followed the last into the already desolate sky...
Crack. Sanosuke bellowed as his kick hit his opponent's ribs, sending the Britain into a howl of pain. Boom. Sano hit the gun away from the man, the weapon flying over the edge and splashing into the depths of the Pearl River. Twang. The British man pulled a sabre gracefully from its sheath, brandishing it before him in an attempt to intimidate Sano.
Gleaming in the shine of the long sabre, Sanosuke saw the reflections of his army and the British, locked in a battle that was hard to call...
But he did not have long to pause, and before he knew it, the sharp weapon came flying at him, and he fought to dodge it.
A moment too late.
And it pierced his flesh, digging through his uniform and forming a deep gash on his left side, crimson blood flowing from the wound.
He grimaced in pain.
The sabre came again.
This time, he caught it between his hands, feeling the tip scratch into his skin and draw blood. With his right leg, he flung a kick at his opponent's hands and gained posession of the sabre, tossing it into the river. He threw a punch, and felt the body grow limp against him.
Beside him, he could see Ayako and Matashi fight off their opponent with a look of determination and unfaltering courage.
It was as if he wasn't himself...
Adrenaline coursing through his veins, he fought off a man who had an intention of double-teaming against one of his men. The man apparently had experience with hand-to-hand combat, for Sano had to narrowly avoid a knowledgeful punch. Blocking with his left, Sanosuke felt his knuckles grasp thin air as his opponent's punch came digging deep into his own abdomen.
He felt the metallic, bitter taste of blood in his mouth, coating his tongue in a felt blanket that he spit out with contempt, glaring at the Britain who only smirked in response.
What followed next was hard to tell.
A kick, punch, whirl, and spin. A gunshot that found itself deep in Sanosuke's right leg, erupting in firey pain that struck like white-hot needles with the devil's bite. A kick that bruised the Britain. Black and blue painted across the sky. Red painted across the ground, flowing, ebbing, slithering. Weapons flying. Points and blunts that strike, find, fall...
Coated in sweat, Sanosuke panted, and suddenly found himself pushed against the edge of the steel boat, the sharp corner biting into his skin. A few feet away, a bang thundered, sending man-made puffs of smoke drifting into the air in a thick layer.
Sanosuke heard a familiar voice in what seemed like years -- Matashi was yelling at the Captain, "Sir, get out of there! That's a smoke bomb!"
The thought barely registered in his mind as Sano staggered away, pushing the man he was fighting into the mess. Coughing, his eyes began to water, and nausea floated dreamily into his consciousness, the smell of war and death overwhelming him...
And then it all came falling on him...
...as a heavy pole from the masts came tumbling from the sails.
A heavy, striking pain in the back of his head.
And then...
Nothing more.