An hour ago, Kenshin had been looking down at the Compound from the Northern Mountain. He remembered how he had gotten there.
Soft steps in the winter snow of the Northern Mountain. How long had it been? Shinta didn't know.
Oh. He paused in his icy cold steps. That's right. It's "Kenshin" now.
He continued trudging, tracking bloodstains in the pure white snow. He sighed. As usual, leaving a trail of carnage.
It had gotten so bad that blood was everywhere. On his body, in his mouth and nose. He sneezed. Ah…would it never end?
Sh—Kenshin had traveled here into the mountains, fighting at the edge of the battlefield, on the fringes, an assassin…
And now he didn't know why he kept going up the mountain. Maybe he hoped there would be something beautiful on the other side. Proof of the New Era he had strived to build with his blood…
He strode fruitlessly to the top. The snow and wind seemed to stop around him, and a hush descended. At the base of the mountain was a shrine.
Kenshin stared at the torii in shock. He could almost cry. A holy place, where he could rest his blood soaked limbs and perhaps, perhaps seek absolution.
In the ice cold, he felt his tired body tingle with warmth.
Heaven.
And as he passed through the gate, he was enveloped in red light.