Chapter 5: Snowy Mountain

We stopped abruptly for a moment to catch our breaths. The short pants came out in a foggy puff in the cold air of the mountain and winter. We sheathed our swords, knowing that in a blink of an eye we could whip them out. We weren't tired. The cold wind kept us very much awake, aware as we were to the death it could bring. Neither of us had even wounded the other, just temporarily exhausted them. All we needed to begin again was a natural signal…something ordinary…

The minutes ticked slowly by, and yet there was no start. I did not relax, nor let down my guard. Any moment, and second, and then it would be over. I saw it, as Kenshin did. A dry leaf floated down from a barren tree. We both watched it with sharp eyes, waiting…and it snapped.

Running swiftly through the layers of powdered snow, I sped towards him, whipping out my sword, ready to perform the necessary preparations. Swifter, amazingly sharp and biting, my blade was precise. I could not lose. It was impossible.

Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu! Kuzu Ryu Sen!!

All I remembered seeing was blood, whipping past my cheeks and staining the ground with its red color. It seeped through the snow, red as a rose in full bloom. The ribbon in my hair snapped and the mass layers of black swept over my shoulders as the ribbon drifted to the ground, in two.

I turned around. Kenshin laid on the ground, his blood staining the snow around him. Surprisingly, he was still breathing. I looked down at my hand and saw why. The blade that had carried me through so many assassinations had been sliced through in the middle of the attack. His wounds should have been shallow, and I should have only hit his wrists and chests. I dropped the deficient blade on the ground, turned, and began to leave. Tomoe was already tending to Kenshin, checking his wounds. As for my kimono…

"Tomoe-san, I leave my possessions that Kenshin brought to you. I have no use for them any longer." I let out a sigh, suddenly aware of the sudden presences surrounding behind me. Whipping around, I met face to face with a circle of hitokiris, skilled and ready with blades drawn.

"I am really not in the mood…"

"It does not matter whether you are in the mood or no, Sokusai," Katsura said sharply. "Your existence is a threat to the new era, and to us. Whether or not if Battousai is down does not matter to you; you will die either way."

"For the love of…"

I drew my second blade, the sword that Souzou had given me on my fifteenth birthday, hand-crafted by Shakku Arai, the swordsmith of the age. Not bothering to argue, I spun into the midst of the assassins, bending low and slicing them through mid-waist. Annoyed even further when I found a second ring behind the first and even larger, I began to kick my technique up a notch. Incorporating in my Mitsurugi skill, I leapt high into the air and twisted my body towards the ground.

Hiten Mitsurugi, Ryuu Tsui Sen!

I came crashing down on the midst of them, feeling a bit appalled when I heard the sound of cracking bones and the feeling of blood over my hands and face. I unexpectedly turned around immediately, feeling a blade graze the tip of my shoulder, drawing blood. Immediately turning, strands of black hair waving in front of my eyes, I saw a young man in his mid-twenties. His high black hair, like every other assassins', was tied up in a high ponytail. His eerie black eyes gleamed with a tint of red, bringing with him an aura. It wasn't natural. This man was better than the rest of them.

"Shishio Makoto, Sokusai," Katsura said in a scornful tone. "If Battousai had died, which he has not, this man would have been his successor. You stand no chance, so many at once. Though I am impressed, you, just a mere girl, taking down so many of my elite."

I breathed in and out gently, the breaths coming harshly. The wind had taken a turn for the worse, and I was beginning to grow a bit numb.

The hitokiri began to draw into stance and prepared for a move. I stood still, deciding to wait and see what he could do. I needed to know his flair, his way of attacking, and his technique. The shallow cut across my cheek was enough to know that he was more experienced. Battousai's successor. Unbelievable. Kenshin wasn't even twenty yet.

He rushed in, slicing his blade towards mid-waist. I moved swiftly back, avoiding the tip of his sword barely. His movements were quick and deft, not so easy to predict. I went behind him, swinging my sword at his unprotected back. He turned, blocking the blow and countering.

I stumbled through the snow, my breaths coming in harsh rasps. The assassin came charging, a mad red glint gleaming in his eyes. I readied my blade, and found it unnaturally lighter than the last. It was Souzou's present, anyhow. Arai Shakku had a right to be called one of the best. I gritted my teeth and tightened my grip on the hilt.

Suddenly, a blur of blue came directly in front of me, blocking the attack as others began to gather around. Bewildered, I looked up at the figure before me.

"Who the—"

I looked into the face of Okita Souji.