.
Saitoh Hajime, samurai, loyal retainer of the Mibu daimyo and captain of the Mibu wolves, surveyed his realm.
It was a small domain, today consisting of a few hills and the sloping descent into a valley. It produced no grain, contained no farmers or artisans. It commanded no servants or shamans or slaves. Saitoh's realm harbored only samurai, and its only harvests were blood, bodies, and the spoils of war.
Horsemen and archers and standard-bearers shifted within the confines of their formation before him. His elite wolves waited close to him, ready and eager to pick out the most skilled warriors of the opposing side. To his right, the Makimachi forces formed a dense cloud of black-cad warriors. Fighters from the Shinomori clan had recently joined their ranks. Their captain was a young man who spoke little and fought with precision. Saitoh approved of him. His calm leadership balanced the disorder Saitoh had sometimes observed among the Makimachi.
During the assault on the Koshimizu, Saitoh had personally stalked through the panic-filled halls and called out every traitorous ex-samurai to fight for the weight of his sin while the Shinomori and Makimachi soldiers slipped into the shadows and executed the cowards who tried to flee.
To uphold his own honor, to cleanse the land of those who polluted the code of bushido – it had been a satisfying night.
But today was a new day, a new field. Today was warfare in the pure sense. The Kiyosato had fought long and well, but they were weak and no longer worthy of their land. Today was a day for many honorable deaths.
The Kiyosato samurai had appeared over the horizon and were approaching the field, forming a defensive line.
The corner of Saitoh's mouth lifted in a hint of a grin.
The battle had begun.
.
Kenshin heard the running and saw the mass of soldiers and samurai approaching. He sensed the samurai around him prepare for the attack, and he moved his body in the same fashion.
Then there was chaos all around him, and at the first scream of pain, Kenshin felt his blood run cold. He ran and struck and killed the same as the others, faster than the others, as he always had.
He met a man's eyes, and he felt like vomiting, but he ran forward and thrust his sword into the man's neck and killed him, and before the man had fallen to the ground Kenshin had spun around to find another enemy.
As he always had.
One. Two. Three. Black clad warriors. All determined. Strong fighters. All dead.
One young warrior shrieked in fury at such carnage and leapt down from his horse and he was so slight Kenshin thought he must be a child. Though he wore a mass of elaborate armor, he sprinted around other warriors, probably his guards, who were reacting too slowly to stop him. Kenshin recognized the courtly seal of the Makimachi.
Kenshin readied his stance to kill in one strike the young Makimachi prince rushing toward him, but then another warrior galloped through the fray and pulled the prince onto his horse. Carrying him to safer ground.
Kenshin felt relieved.
For a moment he heard nothing and felt nothing but relief, but then a choking noise caught his attention. Katsura, his captain, falling, an enemy sword slipping from his neck.
Katsura, his captain, gushing blood.
Katsura, his captain, dead.
While Kenshin had stood yards away, in a daze.
"Himura Kenshin." The enemy spoke. Kenshin recognized him as the Mibu who had scarred his face the night of the storm, the night of Kaoru - the man who would have killed Kenshin if he hadn't been slowed by an injury. Today he was standing firmly on both legs, completely healed.
Kenshin saw his death in those narrowed eyes.
"Wolf captain," he offered in response.
"You were once a promising warrior, Kiyosato samurai, but it seems your spirit is waning." The wolf sneered. "I do not tolerate weakness in my enemies."
Kenshin nodded. He knew how to accept his death.
"Test me, then."
And before the Mibu could answer Kenshin sprinted toward him, jumped higher than he ever had, and drove his sword down.
Steel on steel, sparking and screeching. The Mibu captain laughing.
Kenshin darted behind him and struck again.
Fighting, and Kenshin was fast, but the Mibu captain was stronger than he had been. He shoved against a strike and slashed Kenshin deep into his thigh.
Another strike, and another, and Kenshin fought with speed and focus as he always had, even though the wolf had the greater skill.
Finally they had parted a few feet, staring at each other. The rest of the battle had moved on from them, falling back toward the manor.
Kenshin stood there bleeding, sucking in his breath, and the Mibu captain was bleeding, but he stood calm and strong and readied his sword for the final strike.
Kenshin saw how the blow would fall, and his hand itched in instinct of where to raise his sword. He couldn't stop the Mibu sword, but he could strike through the attack. They would both go down.
And Kaoru would weep for him.
Kaoru would be alone.
Alone in the winter.
Surrounded by wolves.
No.
No.
No.
Kenshin snarled and shouted and sprinted forward, faster than he thought possible and - impact - steel punching through lacquer. A crunch.
Kenshin stood, panting, shaking and bleeding. Silence behind him. He turned around and looked.
The Mibu captain lay dead.
A smile on the dead man's face.
Another dead.
Kenshin felt empty and ill.
But he had survived this fight.
.