Chapter 9
A wolf amongst officers.
The wolf drooped, arching back his neck to take a long drag on his smoke. He hastened, sifting the cigarette through his gloved fingers, streaking out smoke to cloud his eyes. Its going to take more than this to deal with what was before him. News had come, and he'd been nothing but disgusted at the world that believed it. He took another drag, leisurely sifting the smoke out between his lips.
"Mr Fujita Goro. Are you to make us wait any longer?" And he thinned his eyes, propping the cig in his emotionless mask. He radiated cold, not bothering a glance in their direction.
"Hardly. Heh. Its nothing compared to the time I've wasted, humouring you with this little escapade."
"Mr Fujita. You will not disrespect us."
He puffed again, once, twice, before habitually flitting the cigarette through his fingers again, and flicking it away. Saito Hajime rolled back his tongue, and spat at the officer's feet.
" However did you come to that conclusion, Taichou?" His voice was sandpaper against stone.
" You call me up here claiming something worth it. Ordering me around in folly. From the moment you did so, you'd wasted time I won't ever get back." Saito edged forward, the smell of smoke moving as he did.
"Just what made you think I could disrespect you" he strained, " if I'd never given you my respect in the first place?" His tall, lean demeanour was almost towering over the man now, and the officer shuffled in discomfort. The wolf in his eyes looked about ready to eat him alive.
The officer sighed forcefully, gathering all his authority, " We have ordered you to take this mission. And you will see it through—Mibu."
Saito stiffened at the title, not knowing that he knew. Great. But then if he really knew who he was, would he dare pull rank on him like this? A smile graced his lips, eerily mismatched with his unsmiling eyes- his stare cutting.
" The perpetrator has identified himself as Hitokiri—"
"—Battousai?" Saito sighed sharply.
" Battousai? You idiotic waifs honestly believe this is Battousai's work?" He threw his head back, scoffing.
"Don't kid me, Officer-sir…peugh. A kid can joke better." And he swivelled around, looking the horde of policeman over, skimming each one in the eye.
"A kid has better judgement. These are not Battousai's victims."
His eyes trailed over the line of bodies beside them for the first time. "Far from it."
The officer narrowed his eyes, hostility shaking through his voice. "We have evidence. A handprint. A signature— a full confession. Not many would impose Battousai."
"Not many indeed. Only the morons."
Saito crouched before the eight corpses. It merely took one of them to know. Saito Hajime had seen much of the dead. And he had seen much of Battousai's dead. Peeling back a layer of blood-soaked rags, he narrowed his eyes, again disappointed. The wolf within his eyes jumped to the wounds with a hunger, and he could map the direction of blood spatter and the slash of the sword—clumsy, too slow, off its mark here and there. Either the killer was horrifically pathetic with a sword, or they were like men whom he knew back then. Sadists. Thrill seekers. Torturers. His smirk was gone. They compare Battousai to this? Heh. The joke isn't even funny.
But even in his bitterness, contempt rolling off him in spades, he stayed quiet. The new-age police would never know the wolf needn't even have sniffed the bodies. From the first exclamation, he shut off, revolted. Anyone. It could have been any miserable person from the Bakumatsu. Just not Battousai. Not him. The vision of a boy flit through his mind, katana flashing in motion with that small, lean body, and ridiculous hair. Charging forward with a conviction, slashing his blade and slaughtering with a grace: as if killing were a dance. Eyes of amber bore out from his memories. Watching. Waiting. Like he was. They sully him, comparing their saviour of the revolution, the paver of Meji, to this.
"Get rid of those goddamned wanted posters." He said, calmly. "This isn't Battousai."
And he would see him again, perhaps. If not in this life, in hell. Saito smirked, back turned to the cavalry.
Taichou: meaning 'Captain'
Saito doesn't give 2 fucks about your crappy Battousai imposter. But he's still gonna catch that bastard. Boy this one was fun. Like, in the manga, at least, Okubo and his subordinate could just barely control Saito. Could fit both the manga and movie universes.
Its an unspoken truth that Kenshin and Saito are bros, in their own strange way. I mean, there are ways that Saito can understand Kenshin that no one else can, and vice versa.
show presenter voice: "till next time, on Kyoto No More..."
-earl