Warnings: Violence, Major character death
Chapter 28. The Forest of Barriers
The map was accurate, Kenshin realized. It had lead him to the mountains, right to the point where a trail of geta-made footprints left the road and headed into the thick and unwelcoming forest, dark with shadows even in the bright, midday sun. It wasn't an easy path to climb either: the ground was uneven and made slippery with snow.
How brave she must have been, coming all this way alone.
She should have woken him up, told him of her troubles. Surely, she must know that he would do anything for her?
But if she knew they were after me, it couldn't be… was she trying to protect me? Kenshin bit his lip, a wave of guilt flaring in his gut, making him feel distinctly ill.
Because if all she had known was that a group of Shogunate assassins were targeting them… it could have seemed like a fight that couldn't be won, not through direct confrontation.
After all, she didn't know about ki, how he could fight like he did. She didn't know how overwhelmingly powerful Hiten Mitsurugi was against ordinary men. Even in his darkest hours, he had never told her how his agony was caused by the ease of killing, not the difficulty.
No, I never told her anything important. Kenshin scowled, his fingers curling around the hilt of his sword.
It didn't make sense to keep the map, not when he could easily follow her tracks. He let the paper fall from his slack fingers into the snow and followed her footsteps into the forest.
However, there was something very wrong with the forest. The thick trees loomed tall and dark around him, leaving him feeling out of sorts, like something crucial was missing – a part of him that he had relied on all his life.
Frowning, Kenshin concentrated, trying to determine why he felt like this…
The snow was soft and cool against his tabi socks, crackling under his every step. The air smelled fresh, clean – but the crisp coldness was making it difficult to breathe in deeply. His chapped lips, gnawed from stress, tasted coppery with blood. No, it was not his sight, his sense of taste, smell or feel that was missing, but…
Biting his lip, Kenshin tried to feel his ki.
Yes, there is the wall… but where is the coldness? Where is Kenta? Kenshin's breath hitched as panic rose. He couldn't feel his ki at all! Not his own, not Kenta's. Not even a bit of it! It simply wasn't there! The wall that had separated the two, yes – he could feel his side and Kenta's side as easily as always, but he couldn't feel a drop of ki anywhere!
Eyes widening with horror, Kenshin finally understood the extent of the plot against him.
It was this forest, this forbidding mountain that he had been lured to. It had to be. He had felt perfectly normal and healthy before he had walked in here. And speaking of ki, where were the animals? There were no birds or rodents anywhere, no tracks or signs of their presence, either. Well, no wonder – the local wildlife would steer clear of a place that stifled the flow of life energy all around them.
There was no doubt about it: this was the reason those men had lured Tomoe here, knowing he didn't have any option but to follow.
...But even knowing this, I can't turn back.
If their plot didn't work, those brutal killers wouldn't have any further use for Tomoe and they would kill her.
If he didn't get there in time, Tomoe would die.
Did it matter that he had no ki? No Kenta to surge through the wall and save him? He still had his sword – his training, his experience as a killer. Master had trained him for years with no ki to aid him. So what if he didn't have the godlike speed, the strength to cut through obstacles? So what if he couldn't use the special attacks of Hiten Mitsurugi?
So what?
It didn't matter.
He had his hate, his terrible fury to fuel him. He didn't need anything else. He was still Hitokiri Battousai and he would save Tomoe.
Yes, I will protect her happiness, just like I promised.
A tiny whiz of wind, the tiniest crunch in the snow was all the warning he got that there was someone behind him. Blindly, he lunged to the left but it was too late – a terrible pain flared in his back.
Gulping for air, Kenshin crouched, ready to attack.
A man stood just few paces from him, dressed all in black and wearing a face mask… just like the assassin from the summer.
So, it was them.
It was an idle observation Kenshin noted along with everything else; the absolute confidence in the man's posture, the stringy muscularity of his arms, and how he held his katana in a rather unconventional hold. All signs pointing to experience with fighting. Throughout his scrutiny, the man boasted about the brilliance of their plot, how they had lured him into this demon's forest where no animal lived, where no one but those trained in the dark arts could feel ki.
It was just as I thought, then.
"And now that you have lost half of your power, your back is against the wall!"
Those words grated his nerves like nothing else. With all his hate in his eyes, Kenshin glared at the idiot, "Why… does that matter?" With or without ki, he would kill this man. He would kill them all and save Tomoe!
His hand on the handle of his sword, Kenshin sprinted. His target's eyes widened and he started to dodge, but he was too slow! Teeth bared in exhilaration, Kenshin drew his blade in perfect battoujutsu – blood spurted from his target's chest.
A scream echoed through the forest, followed by a thud as the target hit the ground.
Kenshin flicked his wrist to shake most of the blood from his blade, noting coldly that his target wasn't dead yet. Strange, he had killed countless men with that exact move… something wasn't right.
His target's chest was cut open all the way to the solar strike hadn't cut deep enough to kill, but it had cut through flesh and viscera – his target's lifeblood pumped out with each gulping breath. He would die of blood loss soon enough.
Kenshin frowned and walked closer.
The idiot tried to sit up, to crawl away with desperation in his eyes.
Without a second thought, Kenshin kicked him down.
The target cried out like a wounded dog.
It didn't matter.
The pain he caused others, the pain and revulsion Kenshin felt in his heart – none of it mattered, because…
"I will protect Tomoe's happiness. I vowed that only yesterday," Kenshin whispered, pressing his foot on the target's wound, pinning him in place. "Where I am or who you are… has nothing to do with it." Leaning all his weight on his leg, Kenshin watched his target's eyes roll back from sheer agony. He felt the man's broken chest crunch beneath his feet, felt his tabi sock become wet with the blood that sprouted out. "I will kill anyone who lifts a hand to stop me!"
His target wheezed like a man on his last breath.
It would be a mercy to kill the bastard right here and now… a mercy this man didn't deserve. Kenshin glanced behind him thoughtfully. It had begun snowing again. Soon it would be difficult to follow Tomoe's trail... Reluctantly, he released his target and held out his sword, pointing the tip right between the terrified idiot's eyes. "Will you take me to Tomoe, or will you die? Choose, now."
His target stared at him, eyes wide in disbelief… Before the man's arm tensed and he grinned, "Then try this!"
A flash of movement and a pain flared in Kenshin's shoulder.
Fuck! Kenshin cursed inwardly and cradled his injury. The bastard had thrown a metal dart into his shoulder and it had sunk at least three inches into his flesh.
"I thought so!" the man gasped proudly. "You didn't stop a step short, you misjudged your own movements! In this forest you have lost your ki… you are not as strong. In this forest, you can't win—"
The pain wasn't too bad, as far as pain went – Kenshin had felt worse during his training and with this terrible hate boiling inside him, this little pain was nothing. Gritting his teeth, Kenshin grabbed the dart and tore it out.
The idiot froze in shock, reaching towards him with his arms still extended and for a second, Kenshin couldn't see anything but those arms. "I said, WHY DOES THAT MATTER?" he screamed, and whipped his sword out of its sheath in a lightning fast draw.
His sword cut and cut, through bone and flesh and sinews. Two thuds followed as the idiot's arms hit the ground.
The howling screams that echoed in the forests all around him were just like the cries from the hundreds of men he had killed in Kyoto, Kenshin thought numbly. It was almost familiar. And right then, instead of guilt or gut-wrenching disgust, he couldn't feel anything but the throbbing pain in his shoulder, the coldness of snow around him, and how his toes prickled as his bloodied socks froze in the snow.
Dazed, Kenshin blinked and drew breath, struggling to focus.
His target had run off, taking advantage of his inattention.
Well, if the idiot was lively enough to run, he can still be of use. Kenshin thought. After all, missing arms, bleeding out… neither of those injuries would hamper the man's tongue. At the very least he could still give him directions to Tomoe, or tell him what he was up against.
That is, if the idiot could be properly motivated…
Hmm. Kenshin frowned and picked up the man's separated arms from the snow and followed the bloody trail.
The idiot chose to run into a cave, of all things. Was he hoping to hide? The stupidity! Even if his hunter had been blind, deaf and half-witted, it wouldn't have worked – the bloody trail in the fresh snow was easy to follow.
Kenshin threw the separated arms to their owner. "You forgot something."
His target was cowering pitifully at the end of the cave. Surely even an idiot like him had to realize that there was no escape anymore?
"If you won't take me to Tomoe, at least tell me where she is. Do it and I will give you an easy death."
His target tensed and met his gaze evenly, his pupils huge with shock, his breath harsh and fast. It wouldn't be long before he died. Finally, the man spoke, "Leave the cave and head straight to your right."
So even an idiot like him can see sense. Kenshin nodded and stepped closer, his hand on his sword, ready to fulfill his end of the bargain.
"But… don't think it's over yet! There are three more of us left! And even if you beat the last of us, we will still win!"
Three more? Kenshin narrowed his eyes. That's good to know, but why is he still blustering? Just how much breath does he have left in him?
"...shadows, who will be satisfied with nothing less than victory. Even in death, I will be a barrier to you!"
It was only then that Kenshin noticed the rope the idiot was tugging with his feet… and the barrels it lead to. He heard the sound of an ignition striking at the same time he realized what it meant.
Oh SHIT!
Kenshin turned tail and ran.
Thighs tingling from exertion, he sprinted faster than he ever had without Kenta helping him, but the cave was deep, a tunnel that blew the flames of explosion right after him. He was almost out, so very near the exit, but still too far away when the wall of fire and insane pressure caught him. He jumped and curled into a tight ball, trying to protect himself as the sound wave hit him, pushing him out of the cave like a bullet out of rifle muzzle.
It felt like someone had stabbed daggers into his ears and he gritting his teeth, barely landing on his feet in an uneven crouch.
A wave of pain echoed through him and he grunted to brace against it, waiting for the aftershocks to pass. Then he scowled and glanced behind him, noting how the cave entrance was charred black from the explosion.
"A sore loser," he remarked out loud.
Huh?
There was something off with his voice. No, not his voice, but… Gingerly, he knelt to take a fistful of snow and threw it.
...So that's why he said he would be barrier to me, even in death.
It wasn't that he couldn't hear anything, but it was impossible to tell where the sound was coming from.
Dammit! I can't rely on my hearing either!
"Your ki and your hearing. You have lost two of your six senses." A low man's voice remarked.
Where? Kenshin turned around, hand already on his sword. Ah, there.
A very large man, even taller and more muscular than Master, was staring at him across the small clearing, a large ax in his hands. A brute, who relied on force.
"How many times do I have to say it?" Kenshin asked, dropping into a stance. "Why does that matter?"
The ax-wielder inclined his head, a wry smile on his lips. "Here I come."
The thing about large and strong fighters was that they were always slow. No matter their strength, the length of their limbs, or how much had they trained, they wouldn't ever be a threat unless they could land a blow, and for Kenshin, well, it had always been easy to dance around larger men's bulk. Master had been the only exception to that rule, and that was because he had been able to enhance his speed with ki.
Yes, even like this, I can kill this man. Kenshin thought, dodging the ax-wielder's terrifyingly strong blows. After all, he had trained for years to gain speed and agility. Even without ki, even without any particular natural talent for speed – he had worked hard for years and now… it had all paid off.
It was easy to predict the brute's massive swings and sidestep them with minimal movements, waiting for a perfect chance to deliver the killing blow.
Yet, he should have guessed it wouldn't be that easy.
He knew that these guys were prepared. They had obviously studied his abilities and worked to counter them in dishonorable ways. It hadn't escaped Kenshin that this trap had been carefully tailored to take advantage of his weaknesses, but never in a thousand years would he have thought that overconfidence would be his downfall.
It was at the point where he had finally gotten a good sense of the brute's movements and was just getting ready to land a finishing blow, when all of a sudden, he saw a flash out of the corner of his eye.
It was through sheer luck that he managed to dodge the thrown blade in time.
"Two against one," Kenshin remarked out loud, gasping for breath – his eyes locked on the second man lurking in the trees: a silent hunter, trying to take him by surprise. It wasn't very sporting, but then again, he hadn't expected anything different. These bastards fought dirty. Rage flared inside him and he bared his teeth into a mockery of a smile. "Perfect. That will save me the time of hunting you both down."
It was more than a little arrogant and he paid for it shortly thereafter.
Even though he could track either one of the pair, without ki – he couldn't track them both. The brute was surprisingly nimble on his feet and even a glancing blow from that ax would crush him. The man was large enough to strike down whole trees with ease, and his ax would make short work of his measly frame.
However, the hunter didn't waste time taking advantage of his preoccupation – his steel claw raked across Kenshin's shoulders, shredding his skin all the way to his shoulderblades, staining his kimono with his blood. Yet, Kenshin couldn't stop to tend to his wounds, he didn't have the time! If he stopped for just one second, he would die and Tomoe would pay for his failure… no, no matter what, he couldn't fail today!
Besides, though the cuts were deep, they weren't fatal. The steel claws were nasty weapons, designed to create wounds that would be difficult to stitch and would fester easily. But despite the pain, his arteries hadn't been severed, nor had he lost much of the mobility of his arms – otherwise, he would have bled out and died already.
No, this was just an annoying wound on top of the other annoying wounds he had garnered today. Kenshin narrowed his eyes, his gaze locked on the hunter in the shadows. I can't give him an opportunity like that again, I can't – or I'm dead meat.
But wait… where is the brute?!
Kenshin turned, just in time to see a fucking tree trunk flying towards him as the brute charged in right after, his ax in his hand.
Too stunned to dodge, Kenshin didn't have time to duck before the tree trunk hit him right in the forehead with the force of a hundred hammers pounding on his skull. His head flew back from the force of the strike – but it was the chance he had been waiting for, and so he swung his sword blindly, whipping it out of its sheath with all his strength and desperation, towards the brute's legs.
The scream of pain that followed felt like the sweetest music.
I got him!
Clutching his ringing head with his hands, Kenshin stared ahead dazedly, but sure enough, his strike had landed – the brute was on the ground, both of his legs cut off below the knees.
Oh good, at least he won't be running off…
Shaky as a newborn, Kenshin staggered through the snow, searching in vain for the hunter in the shadows. He was too far out in the open like this, vulnerable and weak, barely able to stand, much less dodge incoming blows. He needed cover and fast!
Leaning against a thick tree, he gulped for air and tried to gather his bearings.
It was a mistake.
The hunter's claws dug deep into his right shoulder from the one direction he hadn't prepared for – from above.
"So stubborn… I expected nothing less of Battousai. But I planned for you to abandon your sword! The hunter gloated at him, so sure that he had already won.
It would be the bastard's final mistake. Instead of clutching his bleeding shoulder to still the torrent of blood pouring forth, Kenshin fingers found his wakizashi. "You move around quickly," he remarked softly and struck.
"AAUUUGH!"
His wakizashi sunk deep into the tree, piercing both of the hunter's palms, his flesh, tendons and bones. Good. This bastard won't be running off, either. Kenshin exhaled slowly. "I'll kill you in a minute, so stay put."
"I can't get it out… damn you!" The hunter tugged his hands against the blade in vain. Nothing short of wrenching with all his power would get him free, but that would risk causing irreparable damage to his hands – no man who had sunk their whole life into their fighting skills would choose to make that sacrifice.
It was a pitiful sight, but none of these men deserved his pity or even a hint of compassion. No, this bastard and the rest of his cohorts would get nothing but pain and death from him.
"One who hides in shadows, moving about and attacking," Kenshin sneered. "So that's what you really are."
"You saw me!" the hunter gasped, and his tugging became frantic, almost manic, and worse, in his mania he started to blabber.
Frankly, Kenshin was too tired to listen.
He was hurt and tired and he had to get to Tomoe – every second he wasted here would be dangerous for her.
He was just about to head over to finish off the brute, when the blabbering idiot tore himself free from the tree and escaped. Kenshin stared after him, blinking slowly in disbelief. Well, with those hands, he won't be threat to anyone ever again... I guess it doesn't make sense to chase after him.
However, the big guy was still bleeding out behind him. The man had crawled to the edge of the clearing, propping himself against the tree, and now he was just sitting there patiently, waiting for the death to come.
"The first man said that there were three others," Kenshin asked. "Where is the last one?"
"In the shack ahead. The girl is there too," the brute said calmly, like they were talking about the weather.
With the last dregs of fighter's courtesy, Kenshin inclined his head and turned to leave. It wouldn't matter if he struck the finishing blow or not. The brute was already dead, it was just the matter of when – it could take seconds or minutes before his heart wouldn't have enough blood to pump.
"Wait!" the brute shouted after him.
What is now? Kenshin turned tiredly.
"You forgot something! The third barrier… take this!" The brute reached under his massive bulk and pulled a lever.
Kenshin's eyes widened in alarm… and then he saw nothing but white.
The force of the second explosion blasted him several feet backwards. He instinctively curled into a ball, trying to break the worst of his fall. When the world stopped spinning, Kenshin sobbed and struggled to keep breathing, to ride out the waves of sheer agony. His eyes, his head, his shoulders, his back, every inch of him hurt. Oh gods, oh gods, the pain – the pain!
"Ughhh…" Kenshin groaned weakly, shakily letting go of his knees and simply laying there for a moment on the sweet, soft coolness of snow.
The echoes of torment rang through him, each wave growing less and less until it receded to a dull, throbbing ache, pain shooting out up again with every single one of his movements… but his eyes were worse, the blinding flash had robbed most of his vision. All he could see were hazy, dark shadows in white.
...But I can't give up.
No matter how much it hurt, how difficult… I have to stand up.
Yes, for Tomoe.
Tomoe was there, just ahead, and the last of these bastards was there with her. That man would have heard the explosions – a sure sign that his comrades had lost. What would stop him from striking down an unarmed woman, now that she had so self-evidently outlived her usefulness?
Turning onto his stomach, Kenshin crawled through the snow, blindly searching for his sword. He couldn't see anything but hazy lumps of darkness, but surely one of them had to be the katana he had thrown forward to score a hit on that ax-wielder. Yes, there was one of the brute's separated feet, there was his frozen bloodtrail... and there.
His fingers curling around the cold steel, Kenshin exhaled in relief.
Slowly, he gathered his legs under him and propped himself up with his sword. His legs shook pitifully, his balance was shot and so were his hearing and vision. He was a wreck, running on nothing but adrenaline and sheer, vicious hate, but he was all that Tomoe had… and he couldn't fail, not anymore than he had already failed.
"Tomoe, wait for me!" Kenshin gasped out loud and began to walk.
Using his sword as a crutch, he limped one step after another, slowly making his way through the snowy forest.
Every step he took hurt.
It was difficult to keep his balance, to ignore the dizziness clouding his every thought and keep going – but he had no choice. He had to save Tomoe, he had to! With his fury driving him, he could still save her if he just hurried!
Ahead of him, shadows receded… It was another clearing?
"The woman is useless to me. I will get her out of the way…" a deep man's voice muttered out loud.
It was impossible to pinpoint exactly where it had come from, but it was close. He had gotten here none too soon, then. Taking a deep breath to collect himself, Kenshin stepped out into the open. "I'm taking Tomoe back."
"What?" the voice bit out.
In the middle of the plain of whiteness, there was one dark shape that was roughly a man's size, but Kenshin couldn't make out any details, not about the man's looks or his chosen fighting style.
It didn't matter.
As hurt and exhausted as he was, dodging wouldn't be easy. The best he could do was to rely on his instincts and attack when the shade came close enough to strike.
Luckily, this last man was just as stupid as the rest of them, too interested in hearing his own voice. With some relief, Kenshin allowed the man to bluster, knowing that every extra second he gained would help him to recover his sight.
Then the shade shouted, "Take this! Muteki style fist-fighting! Gou fu baku! " And in the blink of an eye, the shade was in front of him.
Kenshin drew his sword in perfect battoujutsu.
It was too late.
The shade jabbed him straight in the throat with enough force to throw him back. On instinct, Kenshin inhaled and choked from the stabbing pain. Oh gods, the pain! Coughing madly, he staggered away, striking his sword into the ground to keep his balance.
"… your chance of beating me is nil!" the shade boasted.
"Even if my body and my senses are wrecked…" Kenshin wheezed in rage, "if I concentrate all my strength on the point of attack, that's all I need."
Then the bastard was there again, dancing just out of reach, delighting in delivering strikes to Kenshin's mid-drift, to his wounded shoulders, to every weak spot he had learned to defend from Master's blows as a child. It was a torturous mockery of a fight, as the bastard took his time showing him just how desperately outmatched he truly was against that lightning fast precision.
Perhaps it was alright.
His stance was broken and he couldn't distinguish the bruising hits from the rest of his injuries. He hurt too badly. All the elegance and carefully trained responses Master had spent years beating into him were useless.
The whole time, the bastard taunted him, trying to break his spirit by pointing out why he couldn't win.
And little by little, Kenshin started to understand: he was too hurt, too numb to fight properly… all he had was his rage and his need to save Tomoe. If he continued like this, he had no chance at all. But how could he attack a target he couldn't see?
Unless…
Yes, there is one sure way to know where he will be. Kenshin whispered softly, "So, I can't win… you are right about that."
In a fight like this… the only way to win is to give up.
If he couldn't rely on his senses, if he couldn't protect himself like Master had taught him… then, yes, for Tomoe, he would sacrifice himself and risk it all for one last strike. After all, if he could kill this man, then the threat against Tomoe would be dealt with and she would be saved. She could live and survive to see the era that Katsura-san and others were building.
Only, I can't be there with her…
But maybe that was only right. He was a broken, tainted man – a half-insane murderer.
And she… she is everything to me.
Put like that, it was no choice at all. Kenshin took a deep breath and settled into an open, reckless stance: no defenses at all, his katana held high, ready for the most basic strike of all, the kesarigi.
"Here I come." Kenshin sprinted.
There, just ahead of him… a darker spot, yes!
He jumped and changed his grip on the hilt of his sword to the overhead slash, chanting in his mind: come and take the chance I'm giving you, you damn bastard! Come… come to your death!
And then the shadow moved in…
Kenshin closed his eyes and struck with all his strength, feeling his blade cut through cloth, flesh, and bone. Yes! Cut! Cut! Cut! He delighted in the sensation, knowing he had won.
But where was the bastard's answering strike?
Suddenly, the scent of blood fogged his nostrils, a sickeningly sweet scent, but even that wasn't enough to overpower the faint hint of white plum…
…What?
Eyes flying wide open, Kenshin stared at a white shade holding the dark in place – and saw his sword slashing through them both.
No…
The white shadow fell to the ground and Kenshin's heart skipped a beat, his knees dropping out from under him.
No, no...
The smell of white plum blossoms was so familiar, and so was the soft fabric, the silky hair… Kenshin gasped raggedly, gathering her into his arms like a broken doll.
No, no, no, this can't be happening.
"Tomoe…"
She was wheezing, a terrible wet, red stain spreading across her chest...
"Tomoe."
Her desperate gulps for air sounded terrible – it was the wet, lurching sound of blood flooding into her lungs, drowning her. She coughed and wet matter flew out, hitting his hands.
It was the worst sound he had ever heard. Something rose up inside him, blocking his throat, as he held her gently, tears gathering in his eyes. "Tomoe… why?"
She didn't answer. She couldn't, not with the blood pouring out of her mouth, but she raised her hand to trace his cheek, like she had always done… but this time, instead of her comforting touch, instead of her gentle, nimble fingers, Kenshin felt sharp steel cutting into his flesh. Even so, it was her touch and so he leaned into it, feeling her love in that simple motion.
He didn't need to be able to see to know that she was smiling.
She fell slack in his arms, her wheezing growing fainter… and then there was only silence.
Kenshin blinked, trying to clear his hazy vision.
"To…"
The blurry figure wasn't any clearer, but his heart knew what his eyes couldn't see – her large, soulful eyes, her pale skin, her beautiful red lips…
"mo…"
She was smiling.
"e…."
But she was dead.
"TOMOE!"
The scream rose from deep inside his chest, breaking through all his modest reserve, raw and terrible, echoing through the forest around him like a tengu's screech. Kenshin squeezed her tight in his arms and buried his face in her hair, letting his tears flow freely. He cried, and cried and cried, screaming his pain to the world like a man with nothing left to lose. Time held no meaning, neither did his pain or the freezing coldness all around him, nothing mattered, because she was dead. Dead. DEAD!
When he finally closed his eyes, drawing in the scent of her hair, her blood, and her white plum blossom perfume, pressing them into his memory… He knew there was nothing left for him to life for.
The sweet nothingness of darkness pulled at him and he welcomed it with open arms.
"Kido-san, there is a message for you."
"Hmm?"
"It's from Kyoto."
"Ah," the man known as Kido frowned, accepting the message that the skittish maid handed to him, dismissing her with a quick hand motion. When he was alone, he unfolded the letter and began to read.
The news was worrying.
The Bakufu's dark shadows, the terrifying Yaminobu, whose existence was so secret that only the highest ranking members of the government had even heard the name, had finally made their move. Worse, instead of coming for the head of the snake like he had assumed and taken precautions for, they had struck the boy.
But in doing so, they had given him the last piece of the puzzle.
Only three men, Iizuka, Katagai, and himself, had known where the boy was hiding. He had kept his affairs close to the chest, and Katagai had been found dead three weeks ago... which left only Iizuka.
The rat.
So, finally, I have my traitor.
Kido smiled and called out to his bodyguard, "Please, send a message to the new man, Shishio. I have a job for him."
"He has lost so much blood… all these wounds, it's a miracle he is still alive. Here, help me turn him," a low, older man's voice rumbled.
"Hnn, his fingers and toes are frostbitten, too," a woman observed. "Wouldn't it be better to cut them off, instead of risking infection?"
"Perhaps, but as he is right now, it could prove to be too much for him. Let's wait and see. Keep scrubbing the dying skin daily and if blood rot sets in… well, then we have no other choice, do we?"
"As you say," the woman concurred. "That ugly gash in his shoulder hasn't stopped bleeding yet."
"It's a difficult one to stitch right," the man admitted. "The skin is pulled too tight. If it heals, it will scar badly."
The woman sighed unhappily, before asking softly, "Can he even make it?"
"If his fever doesn't kill him, or the blood loss… yes, he has a chance. But that bump on his head worries me the most. A direct hit to the head like that is a sure sign of a concussion. Notice how he just drifts in and out of consciousness, never waking properly? If he survives… it will be a miracle if he comes out of this right in the head. Bad concussions are risky like that. Worse, I have no way of telling if he is bleeding inside his skull or not."
"His eyes! Look!" the woman gasped. "I think he is awake."
The man scoffed. "Awake? Maybe… maybe not. Coherent? I doubt it."
Something dark leaned over him, blocking the light and commanding gently, "Look at me, boy."
He tried, but it hurt… Oh god, how it hurt.
"See? His pupils don't follow at all." The shadow left. "Well, only time will tell. Just sleep, boy. Sleep."
"Here, drink this…" A strong arm propped him upright, and poured something warm into his mouth.
He coughed and spluttered, too tired, too hurt to swallow.
"Easy now. Take it slowly," the woman's voice murmured in his ear, like she was soothing a child, or a wild animal. All the while she rubbed his throat and forced him to swallow. "It's alright. It's alright. Just take it slow and eat, yes, just like that. You need to eat to regain your strength."
Alright..? Tomoe is dead! How could it ever be alright?
"Just eat and survive. You can do it."
Survive..?
Why should I survive?
Tomoe is dead!
Yet, he he couldn't stop her and some of the the rich, disgusting broth made it down his throat, forcing him to keep swallowing lest he choke. The woman didn't relent and poured more broth in his mouth.
Finally it was over, and the woman lowered him onto his back, wiping his face with a towel. "There, there… it's alright. Just sleep now."
Too tired to question her, he closed his eyes. The dreams pulled him back into the darkness, back to the dreams of blood, screams, white plum scent… and her frozen smile, eternally still in death.
"Here, I took this from her and washed the worst of the blood away. It would have been a shame to see it burn – the embroidery is so beautiful. Did she stitch them herself?" the woman asked, before huffing fondly. "What am I saying, of course she did. She was the type of a woman who would have excelled at delicate needlework."
Seeing no answer forthcoming, she laid down the fabric next to his hand, close enough that he could feel the its softness.
The woman cleared her throat. "We burned her today. A sad affair, but it couldn't be postponed any longer. It isn't right for the dead to lie cut open like that – it's disrespectful. You had the right to be there, but like this, how could you have?"
Some feet away, small figures rushed past them, their small legs thumping on the floor.
The woman waited for them to go, before remarking with her low, scratchy voice. "I can't even tell if you are there anymore. Perhaps, it would have been better if we had been too late… Even the good doctor can't say if you will make it."
"I dare say there are many people who would be happier if you had died," the woman scoffed wryly. "Did you know that there was a boy huddled over you when we found you? He dashed into the forest the second he saw us, but there was a knife that hadn't gotten buried under the new snow… perhaps the boy, too, wanted you dead, but couldn't bring himself the finish you off."
A certain wary disgust entered her tone. "You should thank your luck that my husband was there. Small and slight as you are to carry… I don't know if I would have chosen to save you. You know, I knew from the start that you were a killer. There was a cold look to your eyes, utterly unnatural for a boy your age."
"Frankly, from what my aunt told me about you in her letters, I didn't want to have anything to do with you. But that girl, Tomoe – she, I liked. Whatever she saw in you, I couldn't understand. But then you came and saved my boys from the fever..." She paused, clearing her throat. "I guess I owe you. But after this, my debt to you is paid, you understand?"
"I don't know if I am wasting my time talking to you, pathetic sight that you are. Those unnatural eyes of yours just don't follow," she said sourly. "But if you hear me, then know Tomoe is dead and burned… and you are not. So now, it's your duty to keep going. Fight and survive. If not for yourself, then do it for her sake. She is alright now, in a better place."
A warm hand brushed his sweaty bangs aside, stroking his brow. "It's alright, it's alright now."
The more Kido learned of Iizuka's deceptions, the angrier he became at himself. He had trusted the man, appreciated his silent competence, confidence, even his slyness and his deft eye, and had allowed the traitor to worm himself into his inner circle.
It was only around the Ikeda-ya crisis that Kido had began to suspect that there was someone close to him who was intent on removing his best assets, the power and influence he had garnered… and to undermine the Choshuu Ishin Shishi's work.
After all, there were very, very few people who knew enough to hurt him like that.
But when Himura's cover had frayed so thin that even the Shinsengumi knew about his prized assassin… He had known then that they had a rat and so he had pulled his best resources to safety. After all, the boy was an important asset, nearly irreplaceable; the strength of Hiten Mitsurugi and his true loyalty to the cause.
And yet, it hadn't been enough. Now Kido had to find out if there was anything he could save from the mess.
At the end of summer, he had sent the boy to lay low in the relative safety of the countryside. Otsu was a good place. It was close enough to Kyoto that if needed, the boy could be called back on short notice… but more importantly, it was a place where Kido could discreetly monitor his asset through contacts that no one among the Choshuu men knew he had.
Kido scoffed dryly; he found it amusing that most men of the samurai class, the elders and influential power players among the Ishin Shishi, still didn't pay attention to the obvious and constantly underestimated intelligence and usefulness of the fairer sex.
Well, it was to his advantage. Some of his best information came from his lover Ikumatsu and her friends working in Gion and Shimabara.
However, the lady he was on his way to meet now was somewhat different. She was one of his oldest contacts, an intelligent and discreet friend who would never betray him. Kido slid the sliding door open, noticing with certain delight that she had already prepared tea. Gracefully, he bowed to her and settled across her in proper seiza.
"So you finally show your face here again, Katsura-san… or would you prefer to use your new name?" the old woman remarked calmly, meeting his gaze without a hint of surprise.
"I'm pleased to see you are in good health, Okami-san." Kido inclined his head. "And when it comes to my name, Kido Takayoshi will do. Katsura Kogoro is missing and will never return."
Okami-san nodded and poured tea for him.
Accepting the cup she handed to him, Kido tasted the drink and paid his compliments as was proper, following polite routine to the letter. It was better this way, as it gave her time to assess him for herself – to take account of the changes this difficult half-year in hiding had brought his features. It was a necessary scrutiny, for nothing was as fleeting and as valuable as trust among men and women who played the dangerous game of power and influence.
Finally, Kido decided to break the silence. "The message you sent arrived safely."
"So I assumed," Okami-san agreed. "Did you uncover the traitor?"
"Yes, he has been taken care of."
"Good."
Okami-san sipped her tea calmly and he followed her example. It was good green sencha, remarkably well preserved to have a refined aroma even in early days of the new year.
"My niece sent me another message. Himura-kun is recovering and the doctor predicts he will survive if he pulls through the fever. He received several wounds, to his shoulders, arms, chest, and back – most of them just muscle wounds, but they were difficult to stitch right. The doctor worries about the amount of blood he lost, and the possibility of infection. When it comes to the frostbite in Himura-kun fingers and toes, those have started recovering nicely. However, the same can't be said for Himura-kun's concussion. He has yet to gain any coherency. Thankfully, it doesn't look like he has bled inside his skull, but overall, it doesn't look good."
It was worse than he had thought, then. Kido sighed. "I see."
Even if the boy woke up, it was impossible to know if he would ever be useful again. Kido, too, knew about concussions. Out of all injuries, they were the most unpredictable and dangerous. Men waking from long bouts of unconsciousness weren't necessarily the same afterwards. Sometimes, it was like something had become addled in them, leaving them simple or highly volatile in temper.
Okami-san seemed pensive as well.
"And the girl, Tomoe?" Kido asked softly.
"Cremated. They found her dead in Himura-kun's arms. My niece says it was a horrifying scene, like something out of a tragic play."
Kido frowned, circling his teacup's brim with his thumb.
"What is it?" Okami-san inquired, noting his telltale look.
"The girl was a mole, according to Iizuka's notes. The traitor slipped her into our ranks, settled her close to Himura. I was so worried about the boy's state of mind that I didn't think twice. I don't know what her true purpose was, but she was in contact with the Yaminobu."
"Hmm, was she now? I didn't peg her for dishonest."
"She had been engaged to one Kiyosato Akira, the Mimawarigumi guard the boy killed a year ago," Kido explained.
"Ah, revenge." Okami-san nodded. "Yes, that I can see. A young woman with a grieving heart and a duty to avenge her fiance's misfortune… set close to a lonely boy lost in madness. I wasn't surprised they fell in love. Both, just pawns in this game."
Silence fell between them.
There wasn't much Kido could say in response. After all, they both knew he had been the puppetmaster pulling half of the strings that lead to that ghastly scene. He had played the game carefully, trying to save the boy… and the Bakufu's Yaminobu had used the girl, hoping to create a weakness to exploit.
Truthfully, now that he could see the entirety of the plot, Kido could almost admire the crafty mind behind it.
Shaking his head, Kido asking quietly, "And how is your niece?"
Allowing the change in topic, Okami-san sighed, "Midori-san is fine enough. Unhappy with me, but that is nothing new. She will look after the boy until he is well again. I will call for you if I get any useful news."
Kido nodded and drained the last of his tea; it had turned bitter.
Or perhaps, the unpleasantness was caused by the topic.
He had set Kenshin aside and cut all contact with him, trying desperately to weed out the traitors in his inner circle. He hadn't even been able to consider returning to Kyoto before he had secured his back… and he had lost half a year in this endeavor, sacrificed far too much. It was unacceptable. This plot had struck far too close home.
The minute he woke up, Kenshin knew that everything was wrong with the world. He was lying on a soft mattress, the fire crackled close by emitting a soft warmth… but his eyes were dry like sand, his throat parched and everything hurt.
His back, arms... hell, even his head was pounding.
But that wasn't the problem. He knew pain – it would come and go, it always had. Pain in his body didn't matter, not compared to the crushing pain in his heart.
Tomoe was dead.
He knew it.
It was carved forever into his mind; the hazy image of her frozen smile and her white plum scent mixed with blood.
During that last charge, she had jumped in front of his sword, to hold off his enemy… and he had killed her. The knowledge made him want to die – dying would have been far better than feeling this loss, this emptiness in her absence. If someone had to die in that cursed forest, it should have been him. He was the killer, the tainted and broken failure of a man. And what a failure he was! He had gone there to save her, but she had saved him instead.
He wanted to cry, but he had no tears left.
It hurt… it hurt so much, but he was so empty.
There was nothing left in him.
He tried to draw breath, but it hurt too.
Everything was so wrong.
Because she… she was not there.
He knew it.
Her familiar, steadying ki presence wasn't there anymore. Oh, there were others close by, flickers of ki moving close by, but none of them were hers.
Why did he even bother trying to breathe?
It was so difficult and she was not there anymore.
Then, he felt it. A slight, almost hesitant nudge, a wave of coldness brushing against him.
Oh… the spirit.
Kenshin had almost forgotten the spirit.
The petting feel.
Somehow, that hurt too. It wasn't comforting, it was just ki moving inside him in a stroking motion. What use was it? What use was the ki if he couldn't even use it to save her?!
Bitter rage flooded his mind and Kenshin shoved the spirit aside. He didn't want the comfort it offered. He didn't deserve it, not anymore. Why should he be comforted when Tomoe couldn't feel any comfort ever again?
And right now, even thinking hurt.
Gods, everything hurt so much and he was so tired… but he couldn't rest, not like this. So slowly, Kenshin tried to pry open his dry eyes, only to face the sharp, stabbing pain of daylight shining in the house. He struggled to raise his hand, just to cover his tearing eyes, but trying to move hurt too much for him to manage it.
So he blinked and blinked, trying to work past the shock of sudden brightness until he could actually see something.
Finally, he could make out the form of a familiar looking ceiling. It was almost like home, but not quite… nonetheless, he had seen it before. Frowning in thought, Kenshin turned his head to his right.
Tomoe's shawl was neatly folded next to his pillow. For a moment, he yearned to rub it against his cheek, to draw in her scent that was lingering in the soft fabric. She had loved that shawl. She had spend hours upon hours embroidering those tiny flowers, the white plum blossoms and irises that she had liked. Even now, he could see her love on that shawl… but wait, what was that stain?
In the light blue fabric, there was something darker, almost like blood…
...Oh. He swallowed in realization. Right on her beautiful needlework was an ugly and disgusting stain – his work.
I killed her.
The knowledge hurt worse than a thousand stab wounds.
"Hey, Kenshin-san! You are finally awake!" a cheerful voice chirped right beside him.
It was Aimi-chan.
So that's where I am.
"Mom! Kenshin-san is awake!" she yelled over her shoulder, turning her curious eyes to him, a hopeful smile shining on her lips.
But right at that moment, the only thing he could think was: why is she smiling?
There was nothing to smile about, not anymore. Tomoe was dead. Kenshin turned his face in the other direction, trying to swallow the bile that was rising in his throat. A bitter rage twisted in his gut. No one should be smiling, not right now.
At least, not to him.
He was nothing but a filthy murderer.
"Kenshin-san, why won't you look at me?" Aimi-chan asked, her tone quivering with hesitation.
Thankfully, an older woman's gruff voice cut in, sparing him from answering. "Aimi-chan, go out and play. Now."
"But, mom… why won't Kenshin-san look at me?"
"Just go."
Finally, the small presence turned to leave, soft footsteps padding across the wooden floor. The door slid open, bringing in a wave of fresh, winter air.
Then, they were alone.
"So, you are awake at long last," Midori-san said pointedly.
Kenshin sighed softly, but turned to meet Midori-san's gaze. Her eyes were harsh, worried… but maybe she saw something, because for just a second her eyes softened in understanding and she nodded once.
She glanced at the door, where her little girl had just left.
"The children saved your life, you know. They went to your house that day, like we had agreed earlier, but instead of you, all the found was an empty house. They were just heading back home, when Ichirou saw that boy who had hit him before, Tomoe's brother, I believe you said. He was going somewhere and for curiosity's sake, my kids decided to follow."
Her scratchy voice was grating and Kenshin turned his head again, hoping she would get the hint. He didn't want any company, nor explanations, he just wanted to be left alone.
Midori scoffed and touched his brow with the back of her hand. It was a cool, clinical touch, nothing else. "The fever has left, thank the gods."
But instead of leaving him like he wanted, he heard her clothes rustling as she settled to sit by his side.
"The kids followed that boy right to the border of cursed forest. It's not a good place and I have forbidden them from going there, they knew that damn well. Aimi-chan found a map lying in the snow, just as they were debating whether they should go against my warnings." Her voice turned distinctly sour. "I'd have flayed their hides if they had. Thank god I didn't need to, a loud bang scared them all the way back home with their tails between their legs."
"Lucky for you, I know how to read. Most of the farmers here don't. I am perhaps the only person in this area who could have understood that map… and yet, if me and Kichirou had been any later, you would have died along with Tomoe. It was a close call as it was."
Kenshin squeezed his eyes shut, looking away. If his throat wasn't so sore, he would have snapped and told her that it would have been better if they had left him to die.
Dying would have been better than this.
"Boy, there is nothing glorious about death," Midori said to him, reading his face like an open book. "If not for yourself, then live for her. Do you really think she would have wanted you to die? Are you that stupid?"
The words slashed deep, tearing through his hazy thoughts...
And suddenly, Kenshin couldn't help remembering how Tomoe had jumped in between him and the last bastard. She would have seen his strike, and still, she had thrown herself in harm's way… to protect him. Wishing for death now, was there anything worse he could do to tarnish her sacrifice?
The guilt turned his stomach, raising bile on his tongue.
Tomoe had given her life, just so he could live. And now, no matter how much it hurt or how unworthy he was, he had to keep going – for her sake.
So, when Midori-san brought him a bowl of broth and lifted his head to feed the thick, dark concoction to him, he didn't protest.
The taste was utterly abominable, but he tried to drink it as well as he could.
"It tastes horrible," Midori murmured in his ear. "I know no one would eat this if they had another choice, but you must eat. You have lost a great deal of blood and your body needs to replenish it."
In all honestly, Kenshin didn't know if he wanted to get better, but for Tomoe… he would struggle.
Betaed by Animaniacal-laughter in 06.05.2016.
