::Disclaimer::
Sessha does not own Rurouni Kenshin, that he most certainly does not. :)
Author's Notes - Chappy 7! 30,000 words!
I think this is going well. oO
To my readers - I am indeed sorry that it's taken so long. I've been busier than you can imagine, and my laptop went outta commission for a while, and I had to have it sent in for repairs. I was about a thousand words into this chappy at that point, and all my notes are on my laptop, so I had to wait... o.O;;
Anyhow, my apologies.
I think I may have the spacing fixed this time... Let me know, okay?
Let's recap - Hiko's miffed, depressed, drunk, wants to slap something around, Kyoto is extra crispy, various cats tear Hiko's dignity to shreds, and finally, Saitou thinks Hiko is the Battousai. I can only respond with... OO Soooooo... a drunk Hiko squares off against the Wolf. Let's hope that he got any remaining fish out of his hair. o.O;;
Make sure you envision their voices when reading. When I think of the VA from the English version saying these lines, it sounds really kewl! oO I also find that listening to RK music during fanfic reading makes for a most excellent reading experience. For this one, I recommend The Will (either version), Hoeru Miburo, Let it Burn, and Fallen Angel for speaking parts. For battle themes, I suggest The Wars of The Last Wolves and Warrior's Suite. Just in case anyone likes that kind of thing... o.O;;
And so, let's continue.
Once again, thoughts are in italics, and still indicates time-lapse.
The Sword of Seijuro Hiko
Chapter 7 - Master of Flying Heaven, Shogunate Vanguard - Seijuurou Hiko versus the Wolf of Miburo!
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ORO
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From behind the pitch-colored clouds of the night sky, the moon shone with an unusual brilliance, its bright rays illuminating patches of bloodstained streets in the war-torn city of Kyoto. A gentle breeze, having recently picked up in the formerly still night, blew lazily through the alleys and corners everywhere throughout the area, bringing with it a hint of a mild fog. It was a brief comfort to some, whether civilian and soldier. The wind erased, to some small degree, the scent of blood that had pervaded the city for years, bringing with it a fresh scent of change, of hope, and it was most welcome by any who were awake to sense it. It refreshed their spirits, renewing their determination to try and live through the madness that was this conflict, this civil war that had dragged on for so long. Soldiers sighed, closing their eyes, blissfully dreaming of returning to their loved ones and to their former lives; men who could not fight turned to their homes and embraced their families, sitting peacefully and enjoying a moment of respite from the madness of the patrols and the conflicts. Mothers sang to their children, young boys dreamed of becoming heroes; young maidens, of handsome samurai wooing them; of a bright, gentle love amidst a world gone mad. Those who cared not for the more meaningful things in life celebrated their hedonistic wickedness until they could do so no longer, their hearts with room only for their own pleasure. Still others celebrated the same, in a feeble attempt to find meaning in their lives that seemed to hold none. No matter status or position, the gentle breeze amidst the streets of Kyoto, rolling away the clouds, both in the sky and in the heart, touched, in some way or another, every single person in that city that night.
Matters were very different for those of the city who slept.
And especially so for the great warriors of the city.
Those who slept rolled uncomfortably in their beds, disturbed by some mysterious, nameless force that was carried on the winds. The force felt was as that of a typhoon one sees in a dream, the destruction wrought by the force of the winds and rains, but the eye was no center of calm. The eye was the great force of power that was felt, and the ring was the zone of restless calm, an anxious moment of false safety before the strength of the storm was brought to bear against all that stood in it's way.
The warriors of that great city, the Shinsengumi Captains, felt the force as well, but they recognized it for what it was - the life forces, the fighting spirits, of two nigh-peerless warriors. One was known to them - a familiar presence among those great swordsmen. Some knew him almost as a brother, others as a distant friend, still others as an acquaintance and comrade. All knew him as Shinsengumi Captain Hajime Saitou, more widely known as the Wolf of Miburo.
The other ken-ki was difficult to sense at first, but as time went by in revealed itself more and more to the heightened senses of the Shogunate's greatest warriors. And what they felt struck a lance of fear through each and every one of those illustrious men thought to be free from mortal fear, for never in nightmare nor waking moment had they ever imagined such a power could be manifested in a living being.
Unable, for one reason or another, to go to the aid of their comrade, the Captains could only keep track of the battle as best they could, and count on the Wolf's skill and strength to win the fight against whatever manner of man he now stood against.
All things considered, it wasn't completely unexpected.
He was, after all, a master of Battou Jutsu.
He was not, however, the Battousai.
He was, on the other hand, better than the 'Battousai'.
So perhaps he was the Battousai. Master of Battou Jutsu.
Following that line of logic, he concluded that he must be the Battousai.
Or not.
Over-indulgence of sake had a certain effect on you. As Hiko was quickly learning.
"Battousai?" Hiko repeated, uncertain of whether he had heard correctly. 'REALLY drank too much...'
His adversary only narrowed his eyes in response.
A flurry of memories and thoughts rushed unbidden to Hiko's mind. "I am not your 'Battousai." he snapped.
And with that, the Hiten master descended upon the Wolf.
Saitou had only a moment to raise his blade, but it was sufficent. One meter of shining, lethal steel met the Wolf's own razor-edged blade. Battle was declared.
Back and forth they traded blows, their movements swift and proficient, the end result of years of training. A flying kick to the head, a sweeping uppercut, a powerful punch to the jaw; the two men fought with all the resolve of a thousand normal soldiers, that is to say, each was the equal of a thousand battle-hardened men.
The Wolf's leg swept out in a swift roundhouse, catching Hiko behind the neck, then sweeping his free hand up to catch the man under the chin.
The punch flew, but never connected.
Saitou's eyes widened as one shocklingly powerful arm thrust directly into his stomach, depriving him of much-needed air. Grunting, he doubled over into the punch, ramming his forehead into the back of Hiko's skull with bone-crushing force. Thrusting his right arm out, Hiko punched off the ground and came down behind and to the right of the panting Shinsengumi. Not wasting a moment, he kicked off his resting spot, somersaulting as he leapt at his foe, thrusting both legs outwards to catch the Wolf in the small of his back.
Sensing his opponent's approach, Saitou leapt high into the air, moving forwards slightly as Hiko passed under him and landed with only the slightest wobble. Grinning, the Wolf let out a feral growl as he came down with his own foot square into the hulking swordsman's neck.
Hiko, caught entirely by suprise, snarled furiously, whipping his right arm out and grabbing the offending limb. Grunting, he flung the limb, complete with connected person, into the nearest grocery stall he could see. With a vivid curse, Saitou twisted himself into the flight, so as not to land on his own sword. The last thing he wanted to do was either impale himself or bend (or worse, snap) the blade.
He might need it later, after all.
The Wolf picked himself up slowly, (and a bit woozily), and hurled himself again at his opponent. Punch, kick, thrust, dodge, kick, dodge; the Wolf and the Hiten master unleashed their pent-up frustrations and sorrow in the best way they knew how.
The damage to both men was tremendous; each inflicted multiple blows on the other, despite formidable defenses on both sides, within a matter of moments. Neither seemed eager to give in, though. A broken rib or sprained wrist was a small price to pay for the Wolf in his pursuit of 'Aku Soku Zan', and Hiko needed a punching bag anyhow. The score: Hiko - bruised rib, cracked spinal column at the neck, (his neck had already been stiff from sleeping against trees, anyhow); Saitou - two bruised ribs, cracked shoulder blade, and a collection of bruises and minor cuts divided between the two of them.
Both men enjoyed themselves tremendously.
The Wolf of Miburo spun again in a flying roundhouse, narrowly missing his intended target. Whirling, Hiko sent a roundhouse right kick of his own against his enemy's legs, intending to trip and subdue him in one swoop, but the Wolf caught on to Hiko's movement; leaping forwards, he thrust all his weight against Hiko's balancing left leg, bringing the Hiten master down behind him. Hiko, cursing vividly, rolled into the fall; bringing himself up to a kneel rapidly, he resumed his roundhouse, this time with his left foot, catching the Wolf unaware. Saitou, not yet standing from his own attack, was struck in his right side; releasing a wheezing gasp, the Wolf rolled to his feet, not resting for a moment and attacking anew.
Ducking low and assuming a kempo stance, Saitou threw three quick jabs, which Hiko blocked with ease. Smirking, the Hiten master threw a punch of his own; the Wolf leapt deftly to his right, and Hiko swept his left arm out just as swiftly; however, much to Hiko's chagrin, his foe crouched low under his sweeping left arm, then leapt up, ramming his knee into Hiko's chin with an extremely audible crack. Glares were exchanged, insults were issued, and the brooding swordsman's left arm did a wonderful impression of a wrecking ball crashing into a building, as he tossed the Wolf aside with a powerful re-take on the arm sweep, whirling on his left foot and flinging the Wolf to the ground yet again. The two continued their duel until it became clear that the karate or 'empty hand' side of martial arts wasn't getting them anywhere.
Then the swords were involved.
Steel met steel in a clashing of swords the likes of which have been seen few times since. Brilliant streams of moonlight illuminated their dancing blades so vividly that the swords seemed to leave a trail of blue light in their wake.
The air continued to grow more and more tense, courtesy of the awesome sword-spirits of the combatants, and nature responded accordingly. The light breezes of before now became powerful gusts, and the moon shone more brightly than ever. The blue fire that trailed the ever-changing path of the swords was equally amazing in intensity, and now the deadly dance of swords became a manner of fireworks display; the blades moved so swiftly that the two swordsmen were now surrounded by an intricate series of shining trails of blue light, fading and flashing all as fast as they could swing.
Dodge, thrust, parry, thrust.
Hiko's eyes narrowed; despite his regard and intuition about this man before, he had seriously underestimated the narrow-eyed warrior's strength - his power and speed were a far cry greater than Hiko had estimated them to be.
Parry, parry, slash, dodge.
Hiratsuki was an ingenious attack that Hiko had first heard some years ago, supposedly devised by the vice -commander of the Shinsengumi himself. A thrust that could instantly be turned into a slash with a minimum of effort. While the attack was indeed potent, it had one flaw in it - that is, the slashing attack held far less threat behind it when you were struck by the blunt side of a katana, rather than the sharp side, thusly rendering the Hiratsuki to a simply thrust, with little threat besides; the blade was held vertically for this reason. However, if it could somehow be deflected to being horizontal with the ground, it would create the perfect setup for the dodge and then a counterattack. This, of course, meant that you had to be quick enough to be on the blunt side of the attack in the first place, a move that was undoubtedly watched for by any man who employed the attack. It would require speed far greater than that of normal men.
Hiko smirked; turning his back to his opponent, he quietly flipped the blade of his nihontou.
His cloak rustling loudly, Hiko jumped off his right foot and performed a flawless off-the-ground cartwheel, timed exactly to avoid the horizontal slash that even now whistled beneath him. His nihontou flashed out and rapped Saitou across the lower jaw, throwing the Wolf slightly off balance; coming down, Hiko decided it was time to set up his plan.
Assuming a wide stance, he crouched slightly and unleashed a furious series of powerful slashes in all directions, the Ryuu Son Sen. The Wolf was struck again and again at the knees, the waist, the arms, the forearm and wrist, and a quick cuffing of the guard of the katana, cracking it and sliding it up one side of the blade. Hiko then jumped back about thirty feet and watched the Wolf recover.
With something akin to envy, the Wolf surveyed his opponent carefully, taking in the haughty smirk and cool demeanor the man wore so well. Wiping his bleeding lower lip with his right hand, he slowly straightened his stance and approached the grinning white-cloaked swordsman; then, without warning, his stance dropped low, his left arm bent back, his right arm outstretched, his katana gleaming, his eyes determined. Then, bursting into action, he kicked off his left leg and charged at Hiko with all the speed of a Hiten Mitsurugi master.
Hiko's shock was not fully masked as he quickly made adjustments to his plan; kicking off as well, both men charging at each other with such force that the chance of death through high-speed collision became quite real.
A forward slash failed before it could begin as Hiko's side was ripped open by the swift blade of the Wolf of Miburo, the slash stopped by Hiko's missed timing, courtesy of a generous helping of saké. Grunting, Hiko opted for a more appropriate attack at such range; releasing his nihontou, he instead rammed his forearm into Saitou's face at high speed. Both men fell in a tangled heap onto the dusty street, punching and
kicking as though they were wild men, insults and curses exchanged with extreme venom, their weapons forgotten as they struggled mightily with one other.
Since they were, by nature, aloof individuals, the close combat did not last long; both men had an unspoken agreement that wrestling in the dust was somewhat undignified. Besides, Hiko's cloak was not replaceable.
The two combatants leapt for their weapons, and resumed where they had left off - that is, the Wolf and his lightning-fast thrust, Hiko and his ingenious counter.
Opting against the forward slash, Hiko instead thrust his own weapon out, but not towards Saitou; the Wolf's eyes widened as Hiko's blade rammed up against his own, the screech of metal against metal accompanied by a hail of emberlike sparks. The point of Hiko's nihontou caught on to the top of the guard of Saitou's katana, wrenching it to the side, along with the blade; Saitou's hand burned as the katana wrenched to the side despite his formidable grip.
The threat of a slash now gone, Hiko stepped to the left, almost daintily, and, flipping his blade again, brought it down in a blazing blue arc towards the outstreched right leg of Miburo's Wolf. Completely off balance now, Saitou was brought down heavily, a layer of dust removed from the street and scattered in the vicinity of his crash.
Hiko's smirk grew wider as the Wolf quickly scrambled to his feet, favoring his right leg and the back of his head. Despite injury, though, he did not waste time with rest, nor did Hiko expect him to.
Saitou's katana flew towards Hiko's midsection, bent on rending the tall man in half; Hiko whirled around, backflipping off the dusty street beneath him, and his own blade raised and swept towards the Wolf's right leg. Hiko had only intended to cut him slightly, but what happened next was something he did not expect.
With a feral snarl, the Wolf performed a standing backflip, at the same time switching his katana to his right hand and twisting to his left. A flick of the wrist, and Saitou's sword clashed soundly with the blade of his adversary, stopping it cold. Hiko's eyes widened in shock as his worthy adversary's booted feet came down behind Hiko's nihontou, leaning to his right to counter the imbalance of his midair twist. The Wolf smirked and shifted his right hand, bringing it up along the edge of Hiko's sword, the sharp blades sparking and flashing furiously.
Flustered, Hiko leaned backwards as far as he could, attempting to dodge the unexpected attack...
...and the Wolf's fang tore through his torso, leaving a deep gash from his stomach to his left shoulder.
Hiko bit back the scream that threatened to burst forth from his lips; he whirled about, bringing his own katana to chest level, and slashed the off-guard Wolf of Miburo across his lower chest.
Saitou grunted in grudging respect. " Who the blazes is this man...?!"
The two men leapt back from one another, desperate for a moment of rest. Their eyes met and never wavered,
the two glaring at each other with a mixture of respect and disdain quite unique to the two of them.
Their pristine blades glinted in the starlight, the finely polished steel reflected in the magnificent golden eyes of the two master swordsmen. Both men met their adversary's gaze unflinchingly and honestly, a silent acknowledgment of the other's courage and skill. Neither man spoke for a time, though their ragged breathing told a tale all it's own. Hiko's mind, already battling the effects of inebriation and extreme depression, buckled a little more under the weight of the latest developments in this war, that is, there was a man in this world who was skillful enough to wound him.
Hiko had thought that only his own pupil would ever be that good.
The tense silence was broken quickly by the Wolf.
"Well, well. I hadn't thought that your skill would be this great." he grunted, favoring his chest slightly as he tried to stand straight.
Hiko scowled in return. "I've already told you that I am not the Ishin's hitokiri, baka," he snapped.
"True. The matter now is whether I believe you or not." Again the wolfish smirk.
"I don't care if you believe me or not. Truth is not determined by the belief of men, nor is it determined," Hiko added, "by pointless battles."
The smirk grew even wider. "Ah, but that implies that this battle is pointless."
Hiko smirked as well. "It is."
"Then why don't you surrender and die quickly? I've got work to do that doesn't involve duels with men who play with kittens," he taunted, the smirk growing sadistic.
A discontented growl was all the response Hiko could find.
The two men were silent for a moment, and then Hiko spoke again.
"So what do they call you then?" he asked dryly. What title do you go by, wolf?"
Saitou smirked. "Wolf."
Hiko arched an eybrow.
"Hajime Saitou, Captain of Shinsengumi Squad Three." The Wolf searched for a reaction from
his adversary, but found none.
' Well, at least he's an elite. However, that still doesn't excuse getting hit, whether or not I am holding back.' Hiko mused silently. ' Well, I am drunk. So I guess this can be written off; though I won't be forgetting it anytime soon, ' he amended, wincing as his wound taunted him.
Taking a deep breath, Hiko pulled himself up to his full height and decided that the game was over.
"Well, it's been fun, Wolf," he snorted. "I applaud your skill, but I don't have anymore time to waste here." Sheathing his nihontou, he turned and stalked off into the darkness, saying, "You're a pretty good swordsman, I'll give you that; but you're too quick to judge on superficial evidence. Next time, think before you bark."
Saitou said nothing.
Hiko continued to walk away, his long white cloak billowing in the intermittent gusts that blew through the dark alleys of the City of Blood. He scowled as he strode quietly through the deathly silent street, the only sounds the whistling of the wind, the billowing of his cloak, and his own footfalls, a steady, muffled thump, echoing in his ears endlessly.
He was somewhat disappointed at having to call an end to the match he'd been having with the man called Saitou; it had been the first opportunity he'd had in some time to spar with someone, and it had been quite a match, even if he had been holding back.
Hiko almost smiled again, remembering the blows they had traded. It had been quite a distraction...
His face fell, the momentary amusement of the fight swallowed up in the inevitability of his hunt. Such a man as Saitou existed in this world, and that meant that his deshi would most likely do battle with him sooner or later. Judging by the relative skill between the two, Hiko was sure that his pupil would come out on top sooner or later, but it would be a costly battle for the boy. The Wolf was relentless and vicious in his fighting; he had never once paused except to formulate a strategy; Hiko had seen fierce intelligence in those yellow eyes, a savage acumen that would have overcome lesser men. Even with the power of the Hiten Mitsurugi behind him, his deshi would not come away from a duel with such a man without severe injuries. And considering that wolves tended to hunt in packs...
Hiko's tenatively high spirits came crashing down; it was simply a matter of time for the boy; sooner or later, someone was going to kill him, whether it be the Wolves of Kyoto or Hiko himself or the damned power-seekers who were manipulating him.
Death was an inevitability in this life, it seemed, though Hiko knew that more lay beyond what life one had here. He didn't care much at the moment, though; all he wanted was to get his pupil as far away from this monstrous war as he could.
The Wolves of Kyoto... Saitou had mentioned that he was the Third Squad Captain, which implied that he was one of the three best swordsmen in the Shinsengumi. It was possible that he was a latecomer in the ranks, and that he actually was the best swordsman in Kyoto, save for Battousai, or it could be that he was actually less powerful than another man in Kyoto.
That thought chilled Hiko. Anyone who could best the Third Squad's leader was sure to slaughter his deshi. The two were practically even in terms of skill, though the Wolf was far stronger physically than Kenshin, he was slower. Still quite fast, though.
Quite fast.
Incredibly fast.
So fast that...
' What in blazes...?!"
Hiko's instincts screamed at him to jump, and jump hard. He'd long ago learned to obey his instincts in such matters, and so he leapt.
High.
Crouching low, he vaulted himself a hundred feet straight into the sky, the wind howling as he screamed upwards at an incredible speed. Glancing down as he ascended, he caught sight of the Wolf turning around and glancing upwards, his pale eyes cold and intent.
Hiko started. Saitou had been at least a hundred feet behind him - Hiko's senses had only caught the movement a fraction of a second before he'd leapt; exactly how fast was this...
His eyes betrayed his disbelief, seeing the long crater extending beyond the Wolf for over a hundred feet. Huge chunks of earth had simply been tossed aside as he had charged Hiko with that same attack he'd used earlier.
Hiko began to descend now, unsheathing his nihontou, readying his counterattack. It seemed that he wasn't going to escape this man without beating him into the ground. Though his senses were slowed by the alcohol, he was still the thirteenth master of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu, and he was not ever going to be beaten, not by anyone. Tensing his muscles, he prepared himself to execute a Dou Ryuu Sen upon landing...
Disbelief increased all the more as the Wolf charged into the sky, a veritable explosion of speed kicking up dust and rocks beneath him into a cloud that masked the entire street below him. His katana thrust upwards, the Wolf raced towards the descending master of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu.
Fifty feet above Kyoto, the two swordsmen met, their forms silhouetted against the pale moon of the winter Japan sky, black shadows backlit by the brillaint lunar light and shimmering stars of the night.
Hiko was unable to restrain fully the scream that rose up from deep within him, choking out a guttural cry of pained shock as the razor-edged katana of Miburo's Wolf thrust through his stomach, the force of the strike multiplied by Hiko's own downwards speed. Buried up to the hilt, Saitou's katana was narrowly held off from completely thrusting through the Hiten master by Hiko's own unsheathed nihontou. A twist of the blade, and the Wolf was showered in a scarlet rain.
Saitou's eyes narrowed as he performed the hallmark of the Shinsengumi and his own unique style; shifting his katana to the right and eliciting another muffled cry from Hiko, he swung his arm for all he was worth, coldly intent on bisecting the amber-eyed kenjutsu master.
Knowing full well what was coming, Hiko had already shifted his weight and blade to counter the coming horizontal slash. Though he succeeded in blocking the slash, the damage already done was worsened by the shift of Saitou's katana, wrenching his bloodied muscles horribly, and he could not help but spasm in agony as the blade exited his body; a shower of crimson lifeblood again came forth from the powerful swordsman's body.
Downwards they fell, the Wolf falling to the earth with grace and precision, Hiko, in a rain of his own blood. The Wolf landed heavily upon the street, coming to one knee and rolling into the fall, taken off balance by the powerful attack and interruption of the tall kenjutsu master; Hiko, crashing into a grocery stall, disappearing in a cloud of dust and showering blood.
Saitou stood up slowly, his eyes cold and resigned. "A thrust that can instantly be turned into a horizontal slash, the Hiratsuki, hallmark of the Shinsengumi, and my perfected version, the Gatotsu. There is no tactical weakness in this technique."
' At least until tonight, ' the Wolf thought darkly.
Saitou tilted his head slightly, regarding the wreckage left by the fall of his opponent. "I must admit, you surprised me with your power and technique, but for all your skill, you, in the end, face the same end as all those like you. The final fate of all who stand against us, that of 'Aku, Soku, Zan'." Saitou turned his head back to the alleys before him, staring at the dead man he'd left behind at the beginning of the conflict with the swordsman who lay within the destroyed stall. "After all, it is destiny. One cannot escape fate. Shinsengumi will always be Shinsengumi. Hitokiri will always be hitokiri..."
"What makes you think you're speaking to a dead man?" a cold voice whispered.
Saitou smirked. "What made you think I believed you dead?"
From beneath the wreckage of the stall, Seijuurou Hiko emerged, his cloak stained with blood, his eyes burning a bright, blazing amber. His gaze settled on the smirking Wolf, and in a flash, he began the battle anew, intent on seeing it to its end.
Clash, clash, dodge, clash, slash.
Saitou's eyes widened at the vigor and sheer speed of his adversary's renewed assault; the power and focus of each blow was monumental, the skill and speed with which they were delivered staggering. The man named Hiko was revealed now in his purest form; a swordsman unfettered by the constraints of reserved strength or uncertainties. The power of his satsujin-ken was utterly astonishing.
In the space of a few seconds, the Wolf was up flat against a wall, cornered and pinned by the clearly superior swordsman before him, his arms locked in front of him as he held off the blade of his opponent.
"So you say you're not Battousai, ne?" the Wolf ground out, desperately pressing his own blade against
the gleaming steel quivering inches from his throat.
"It takes until now for you to believe that, Wolf?" the tall swordsman rapped out.
"I didn't say I believed it, I just asked if that's what you said." came the grunting reply.
Hiko's face became impassive as he released the Wolf from the sure deathlock he'd put down, sheathing his nihontou with considerable élan. "There's no reason for you to raise that sword against me, Saitou; besides that, you can no longer presume yourself my equal in skill - even if you had a reason to fight me, it would be fruitless. Sheathe your sword and forget about any more battle, because I'll say this only one more time," Hiko snapped, "I am not the Battousai."
Freed from his dire predicament, the Wolf took in great gulps of air, fighting to recover some of that energy he'd thought he'd had only thirty seconds before. With a wary eye, he studied the fearsome gaze of his opponent carefully. It was as if he was staring into the face of an avenging angel; Saitou had never seen eyes so powerful or determined.
His rage only made him more intimidating; had Saitou been a lesser man, he might have been overwhelmed.
But Saitou was no lesser man. And the man named Hiko was no liar, either. That much could easily be read in his eyes. Saitou was good at reading people, even those as well versed in masking emotions as the man before him. And now that Hiko no longer hid his spirit, it was easy to tell that he was indeed being truthful.
Struggling to save face before his adversary, the Wolf ordered his body to desist in its labored breathing, but to no avail. His gaze growing less weary and more thoughtful, Saitou pulled himself up and slowly sheathed his own sword, eyeing Hiko as though he was seeing him for the first time.
"What's with the spooked look, Wolf? You're the one who's been chasing me," quipped the blooded Hiten master.
Saitou quirked a brow.
Hiko followed suit.
"So, then," Saitou drawled, relaxing by degrees, "I suppose we return to the first question - who are you? Aside," he interjected, waving off the reply set in Hiko's jaw, "from what you've told me already."
Hiko shifted his weight a bit, attempting to lessen the burning pain in his side. He began removing his
cloak and shirt. "And what kind of answer do you want?"
"An honest one," the Wolf stated flatly.
Hiko considered the man for a moment. "I'm traveling, looking to find someone I once knew."
"In Kyoto?"
"This is where he was last seen," Hiko muttered, retrieving a roll of bandages from within his travel bag.
Saitou leaned against the wall he'd been backed into only moments before. "Is he a fighter?"
"Yes. He's been quite active lately, I hear."
"And you're having problems locating him, I take it."
Hiko was silent for a moment. "You could say that," he mused, busily wrapping the bandages around his torso.
The Wolf's eyebrow quirked again. "Surely it's occured to you that this man is dead."
Hiko smirked wistfully. "I don't think so." His words held a wealth of regret and rueful amusement that was not lost on Miburo's Wolf.
Saitou stared coolly at the taller man. "I suppose he's an Ishin..."
Hiko stared right back, not so much as twitching an eye. The little contest continued until Saitou closed his eyes and sighed.
"Oh, well. Why are you looking for him anyways?" he asked, opening his yellow eyes and glancing at the moon.
Hiko considered his possible replies. After a long moment he said, "I'm here to drag him out of this war."
Saitou's eyes snapped back to Hiko at that.
"I see. You disapprove of his involvement at all."
"You could say that." Hiko muttered.
Saitou averted his eyes from the brooding swordsman, regarding the large moon over Kyoto in quiet awe. "What if he doesn't want to leave?"
Hiko's face fell as he slipped his shirt and cloak back on. "He doesn't have a choice."
The Wolf continued to drink in the pale moonlight, searching the stars near the moon and over the horizon. "Well, then, if you didn't want him to go..."
Hiko glanced at the Shinsengumi captain for a long moment. After a time, he made a noise halfway between a grunt and a sigh; seeking out a corner, he set about locating a large, wooden crate. Upon acquiring said crate, he moved it towards his chosen corner. Sitting down on the crate, he leaned back against the building it was propped against and joined the wolf in his stargazing.
"I didn't want to let him go," he murmured after a time, his eyes rolling over familiar constellations. "I didn't stop him at the time because it was his choice. Besides that, he got a little upset over the matter when we discussed it..." Hiko gave a small grunt, finding the memory mildly amusing. That bump on his head had taken two months to go down... "He was willing to fight me over it; in the end, I decided that it was a choice he had the right to make..."
Saitou's eyes drifted back towards the moon. "So what changed?"
Hiko grunted again. "I did."
The Wolf frowned. "Hardly what I'd call a detailed answer."
Hiko glanced at his companion with a mixture of mild irritation and amusement. "And why am I telling you all this?" he quipped, folding his arms over his chest.
Saitou shrugged, the very image of nonchalance and cool disinterest.
Sighing again, Hiko craned his neck back and joined Saitou in staring at the moon.
"...he's going to die out here," he said quietly. Hn. As is that isn't obvious to all...
Saitou frowned, unsure if the stranger was being simple or profound. "And you're going to save his life?"
Hiko continued watching the sky. "His soul, anyways." Kami-sama, I hope he still has one...
The response, so close to blasé yet so full of emotion, chilled Miburo's Wolf to the bone.
Careful not to show it, he instead remarked, "You intend to kill this friend of yours?"
A slow nod was his only answer.
Saitou surpressed the shudder that came unbidden. "Possible difficulties?" This could be bad...
Hiko's eyes softened. "He's good, but not that good. Yet." Or is he? It's been so long...
The two men sat in companionable silence for a while, watching the moon slowly arc over the sky.
Hiko welcomed the moment of rest from his travels - for a while, his mind wasn't wallowing in despairing
thoughts, but was free to observe the wonders of nature that had been his only companions for many years.
Besides that, he already knew that the mind of the Wolf was running at full tilt, absorbing all the information accrued over the night. A little silence might help him think straight. After all, it wasn't as if Hiko had given him any truly useful information. Anything that had been said or done had been said or done under the haze of ambiguity, innuendo, and implication. Nothing really straightforward...
The Wolf sighed. "What is it that he does that's so dangerous to his soul?"
...thus passeth ambiguity, Hiko mused. Out loud he said, "You're asking a lot of questions for a man who just ran me through."
Saitou shrugged again, still wearing that smirk. "Information is neccessary in this age. Know your enemy, know yourself."
Hiko stared at him blandly. "What makes you think I'd inform you, when you already know he's Ishin? You'd just go hunt him down, after all."
Saitou quirked an eyebrow. "Isn't that what you're planning? To kill him?"
' Actually, I'm not saying for your sake, Wolf... ' Hiko thought with half-glee. "You've got enough to do without worrying about him, Wolf. Just forget about it. He's not that important to you," he lied.
A chuckle resounded from the Wolf. ' If he's even remotely near that man's level, he's more worrisome than even the Battousai.'
Hiko caught on to the disbelief in the Wolf's chortle. "What's so funny?"
At that, the chuckle grew into full-blown laughter.
Hiko glanced at Saitou reflexively; experience had taught him that men who laugh incessantly and are high-level swordsmen were dangerous to be around; men who laugh incessantly after being slashed up, beaten down, and fought to a near-draw were particularly worrisome.
Saitou waved off the attention. "So exactly how do you propose to find this man?" he queried, changing the subject. "People around here are not very forthcoming with answers to hard questions, you know; you find one Ishin, you find a flock of them - if you catch one, you learn of a dozen. People know this - it is somewhat difficult to get them to speak a word at all, let alone for them to point out where you can find the nearest rebel." Saitou returned to stargazing, feeling reflective himself.
Hiko shrugged. "I'll find him - he stands out a bit."
"How so?"
Hiko glanced at him again, from the corner of his eye. Saitou shrugged in response.
"I had to try, you know." Didn't really expect that to work anyways...
Hiko frowned. "Are all you Wolves so persistent?"
Saitou grinned. "Of course. You have to be persistent to catch your prey."
"And do you eat your prey when you find it?"
Again with the wolfish smirk. "Wolves are always hungry, you know."
Hiko stifled a guffaw at that. "So how is it, then, that you aren't head of the pack?"
Saitou's grin grew wider. "I could be, perhaps... But I don't care for such things. To have the chance to pursue evil at all turns is enough for me. I could care less about rank." Besides, Okita is an excellent captain...
A moment of silence befell the street. It was not a tense silence, and both men felt more relaxed than they could remember being in some time. In their minds, it seemed illogical to conclude that anything living would challenge them after witnessing the small display of skill they'd put on earlier; but they were by no means off guard.
It was therefore not a matter of scrambling for one's weapon when a piercing scream resounded through the cold night, followed by several more agonized cries of pain, which were quickly silenced. Leaping to his feet, Hiko was halfway down the street in less than a second, followed closely by the Kyoto peacekeeper.
Hiko shrugged off the pain in his side, and ran progressively faster, outpacing the Wolf by far. Leaping into the sky again, he began to jump from roof to roof, moving more quickly than he ever had, though his heart felt heavier than when he'd arrived in Kyoto, if it was possible. Though his body begged for rest and his soul for peace, he did not slacken his pace in the least, but only continually increased his speed, desperation tinging his movements, his mind focused on one thought. Though he had covered half a mile in under a minute, still he moved faster, his mind obsessed over the single thought that echoed endlessly in his mind...
' I know that scream; I know that voice; and if there is even one wound, so help me, I'll kill everyone I find there...!"
Thus the thirteenth master of the soaring heavens leapt into the sky, soaring above even the thin wisps of fog that had set in during the night, one hundred fifty feet up towards the moon, and flew the three hundred feet that spanned between him and the crossroads that lay drenched in blood like a falcon towards its prey.
A battle cry like none ever heard resounded from high up above the city of Kyoto, and not one person within the city failed to recoil in shock at the warrior's scream, not even those who slept.
The voice told a tale of power and rage, a warrior unrivalled in potential, one who had seen far too much in life, and one whose mind threatened to break if he was pushed one step farther, for that voice consisted not only of fury and strength, but of fear as well.
END CHAPTER SEVEN
Okay, who here loves RK music? Who here loves Shades of Revolution, Ko-to-wa-ri, and Wars of the Last Wolves?
raises own hands multiple times for each
ALL HAIL TAKU IWASAKI! ALL HAIL NORIYUKI ASAKURA!!! ALL HAIL TARO IWASHIRO!!!
I now have all RK soundtracks, boxsets, some wallscrolls, the first four English manga; what I need now is t-shirts and a next-gen RK game... oO
Anyhow...
Next chapter will see some more combat, but not combat like this chappy. o.O;; That will come again later.
Until then, please review! I'm already working on Chappy Eight, so it should not take so long as this one!
Thanks for reading!