Chapter 2.
Kenshin ran with fury burning in his eyes, towards the remaining two ninjas. His veins pumped adrenaline, all over his body, no matter how much the wound ached. Radiating the pain all over.
The once so pure, white snow covered path, was being coloured dark red, by blood. Everything Himura saw was red, he could've sworn he saw Tomoe's face in front of him, for a split second, as he proceeded with the furious attack, keeping his katana ready, ready to slice yet another man to his sentence.
Red ponytail slashed through the air, like a whip, as Kenshin rose his hand, knowing the cross-shaped scar was bleeding again. His actions slowed momentarily, this being a huge mistake. The two ninja's passed him, from both sides, at a speed not imaginable. They slid deep wounds on to his both arms with their vicious claws, he ignored. Thus blood was gushing out of the fresh wounds, turning around yet again, showing the same rage he'd shown them before.
It was decided, the heat of the battle was on. Rushing to a certain suicide, he showed his katana into the ninja's, one standing right to him, stomach. He twisted the blade inside the wound and kept pressing harder, seeing his blade enter through that helpless man's back, covered in blood. Himura let a slight smirk crawl into his lips, he's avenge was almost done, today all his sins would be erased.
He pulled out his sword, letting that man fall to his knees, coughing blood, that dripped from the both sides of his mouth, as thin and calming streams. Ninja felled to his face into snow, yet another part of the path, was being painted dark red.
One who remained seemed unnaturally calm, eyes showing no emotions, this ninja was even ready to die, knowing the sole purpose of attacking this fierce man, known as Rurouni Kenshin, reaping justice with his blade once before. Ninja spoke calmly, being ready,
"You truly are a man of honour. I respect that.", he bowled down, showing his respect towards Kenshin.
Himura himself showed no respect to his opponent, being overtaken by rage burning in his soul, in his eyes.
He touched the gently bleeding cross-shaped scar on his cheek, he thought how he got it, he knew he'd deserved it.
The final race of the battle was now on.