Chapter 32: An Easy Price
As Shoryu continued to walk away the grim features of a snarl came to Suzume. The move was tantamount to an insult – turning one's back and heading in the opposite direction when the target lay ready for a fight just ahead. He'd almost reached the door when she decided to speak up.
"Hey!" she cried. "Get back here, we aren't done yet! You think you'll stand a chance at living when you're blind to my movements?"
"Nope. I just think Kazuya can reach me faster than you can," Shoryu muttered, still not sparing a glance for the fuming girl just ten paces behind.
"Why you. . ." Suzume drew hand signs in blur, odd shapes that looked painful to stretch into – the hallmark of the Jikogan. In four years her speed at casting it grew quicker, throwing out five in each second to finally put her at maximum capacity. She slapped the final seal into place as her pupils morphed to a familiar spiral. "Jikogan!"
This is bad. From afar Kazuya saw the exchange. Using his own speed wouldn't cut it – Suzume would reach his commander and snap his neck whilst his back was turned. Only one option remained to him.
The girl flew into superhuman speeds, crossing yards in an instant as the world around her slowed to a snail's pace. When she reached Shoryu, arms poised and ready to attack, Kazuya finally acted. He threw out a single hand sign, one he'd never attempted in a real fight. His eyes span wildly as the headache hit him, a strange pain as though his eyes tried to bury themselves further into his skull.
Controlling this technique was the hardest part. A red haze descended over Kazuya's vision, coupling with a sudden agony to make him disorientated and confused for the briefest of moments. Through the fog of his own pain like a self-inflicted genjutsu he aimed his hands, still striking that unusual pose as he directed chakra to his eyes. A gap formed as he widened his fingers, and after pointing it to a spot directly behind Shoryu he was ready to fly.
"Jikansanpo!"
Tracks of a vivid, fading blue took Kazuya's place as he warped straight to Shoryu faster than a bullet. Even the most perceptive of ninja might mistake his movement for a teleport if not for the four lines of acceleration marking his travel – twenty metres of open space occupied only by hazy rays of light.
The world came back to him a blink, but Kazuya was already prepared. He spun around with a single kick, finding that it smashed perfectly into his cousin's stomach. The girl flew back from the impact, nursing her bruised belly after hitting the rock floor with a thud, awe-struck by the attack. Shoryu on the other hand still refused to turn around, despite the fact the Kazuya now stood directly behind him.
"I thought you said we were supposed to conserve chakra," The samurai drew his blade. "You're not exactly making it easy for me."
"Yeah well I also said don't act like a reckless dick. Whatever happened to that order?" Shoryu asked.
"Shoryu. . ." Just then something dawned upon Kazuya – a life changing decision that he'd have to make here and now. The boy's flippant joke reminded him of something. He reached behind his short crop of white hair and undid the knot of his forehead protector – the symbol of his status as a ninja. It fell limply into his hands, and he pocketed it without a sound. "It's been fun. . . But we both know I can't take orders anymore."
The commander finally stopped to turn; for four years he'd steeled himself for this day, knowing it would come ever since their conversation at the Festival of Kateri, when Kazuya revealed his heritage. "You're leaving the ninja." It wasn't a question, it was an eventuality.
"I need to look out for my people – I'm the Taisho now," he reflected. "Just know that this changes nothing; the samurai will fight in this war as allies to the Cloud. It's unfortunate, but Bishamon's death will mean we're here to stay, my men will want vengeance after all."
"Well, like you said, it changes nothing," said Shoryu. "You never followed orders anyway. Just look for me on the battlefield and it'll be just like old times."
"Agreed. Now go – I'd hate to keep these two waiting any longer."
"I'm going, I'm going," he said. "But if you die I swear I'll bring you back just so I can kill you again."
"Fine by me, dying wasn't a part of my plan. . ." Kazuya then listened in silence as their conversation came to an end, savouring the still-fearful look on Suzume's face right up until the moment when the door slammed shut behind his commander. Finally they had some privacy; in any other situation nothing would've pleased him more than having Shoryu there to back him up, but here, under the circumstances, Kazuya knew that he wouldn't be satisfied unless he finished this his own hands.
"That – that technique!" cried Suzume. "How did-"
"How did I learn it?" Kazuya cut her off. "Honestly, you two are terrible at keeping the secrets of the Jikogan. As soon as I saw the Playback Jutsu in our fight at the Chunin exams I knew I had to master it. And Madoka, you made a mistake to escape our camp using that Jutsu – I never knew there was so much more of the Jikogan I had yet to master. Jikansanpo!"
Using both hands Kazuya pointed the same pose to a spot just five paces left of Madoka, and in the same display of a rocketing blue impression he found himself right next to her. Once again Suzume nearly shrieked in fear, although her mother remained as cool as the samurai himself.
"Impossible!" cried Suzume.
"Huh?" Kazuya arched an eyebrow as he cast his eyes towards her. Her look told him everything; a mix of disbelief and desperation – of a child reacting badly after being cheated. "Ahh," he said, finally understanding. "You can't use it can you?"
"I spent four years trying to learn that technique – and you're saying you mastered it in eight weeks after only seeing it once? Don't give me that crap!"
"It's true. Believe it or don't," spat Kazuya. "But we're in different leagues. Four years ago you might've been able to challenge me, but you can do all the training you like, it still doesn't match up to the four years I've done getting up and fighting in a warzone every day. Practiced combat is no substitute for real experience. We were kids back when we first fought – I see you're the only one who hasn't grown up."
"Enough!" As Madoka slammed a foot down Kazuya realised that even her slightest twitch was enough to make him wary. The samurai hopped back to a safe distance – four short jumps that put him at a safe range to fight both of them. Madoka looked furious; even in the dark of the cave he could still see the harsh frown lines forming upon her brow and temples.
Even Suzume appeared to be in fear of her mother. She leapt back to her feet in an instant, her grimace barely concealing the aftershock from Kazuya's kick. It seemed even she was apprehensive of the power Madoka possessed. Kazuya eyed her carefully, waiting for any movement that might signal the older Senmatsu's attack. Fortunately nothing came of it. Madoka put her hands on her hips as she started again:
"You can both keep flapping your mouths or you can fight." She turned to her daughter, smiling sweetly. "Suzume dear, why don't you fight Kazuya? This should be a good test of your skills. But remember we need him alive – Teijo will want to meet him after we're done here."
"Understood." With words as her only encouragement Suzume dropped into stance.
This is wrong, noticed Kazuya. Why not come at me both at the same time? He questioned. Why would she send just Suzume – Madoka must know that she can't beat me by herself. A devilish grin on the face of his aunt made him even more confused; was she sending her daughter to a certain death? Or did Suzume have some new trick she'd been saving? No – her reaction at his Jikansanpo proved she was outmatched; only her mother's words gave her the confidence to fight.
"I'm not in the most generous mood right now, so I can only give you this offer once," he began. "Suzume, walk away. Your mother attacked our camp, and I take it she killed Bishamon. I don't harbour any grudge against you, so you can walk away now and I'll forget you were ever involved. Get in my way and you'll only die."
Suzume wavered, as though the offer tempted her for a moment. One more sideways glance at her mother renewed her resolve. "Don't get cocky Kazuya! Like hell I'm backing out of this! I've been waiting a long time for a rematch." A triad of hasty hand-signs marked the start of the battle as lava began to gush from her last tiger seal. "Lava Style: Molten Blast Jutsu!"
"So be it," muttered Kazuya. With one swift beckon of his hand a pillar of ice came thrusting like a dagger from the ground before him. The lava struck in force, crashing like a wave against the defence as the samurai watched on, hardly troubled. In the end Suzume's blast penetrated only a few inches of the frozen block. Heat was ice's bane by its very nature, but Kazuya's technique was simply on a higher calibre. After surveying the damage he knew he'd won already.
Steam vented in angry plumes from the lump of ice as Kazuya's eyes darted about the cavern. Just as he'd predicted, Suzume used the mist to vanish into the darkness, no doubt to attack him from where he least expected it. At least she hid herself well; Kazuya saw no sign of her, and so he stilled his thoughts as he strung together the hand signs of the Jikogan.
Around him the world slowed to a crawl. The quickest speed of his Dojutsu drained his chakra with every passing moment, but with Madoka around such caution was necessary. He cast his spirals to the mother once again. Just as before she remained in the same spot with her hands by her side, bent on not interfering with the duel. Fine by him.
The shadows masked Suzume's presence well; she was a born and raised ninja after all. While Kazuya rarely adhered to such tactics he knew exactly how to counter them, as after centring his mind even the sound of a scuttling mouse failed to escape his ears. The barrenness of the cove did Suzume few favours too – there were no rock formations large enough to hide behind.
Pebbles crumbling in the distance proved to be the only evidence Kazuya needed. His eyes snapped to that direction as a technique materialised, also sped up by the Suzume's Jikogan. This time however, the lava had a different target. He watched as the spitting bomb of magma sailed above his head, striking the roof of the dim-lit cave.
A group of stalactites – five in all – fell from the ceiling as a hailstorm of razor-sharp rocks. A roll for cover found Kazuya to safety, and after tracking her again he let his eyes do the rest.
"Playback One!" From out of his body a copy burst into being, pixelated and buzzing in and out of static as it manifested itself; this recording was among Kazuya's favourites. A younger-looking version of himself dashed with sword in hand across the rocks, reaching Suzume in a matter of moments before loosing a single stroke. His blade cut the ground in a neat, banana-shaped arc before vanishing once again into pixels.
Suzume looked just as confused as her mother; the Playback had cut the floor in front of her and then disappeared, the attack missing completely. Did he intend to do that? Her face told him her thoughts, and after a few seconds her mind was made up.
"Ha!" she mocked him. "Where are you aiming that thing? No sense having all that power if you can't even contr-"
A scraping hiss cut her off as the scar in the earth erupted. A curve of icicles varying in size blossomed from the cut like a blue flower, leaning outward as they sprouted to land a direct hit. A number of blunt pillars slammed into Suzume's collarbone and one sharp as a blade pierced her shoulder. The force sent her flying, bloodied and dazed until she crashed in a heap.
"You might want to watch out for that one," said Kazuya. For once he took his fighting banter as a cue from Shoryu in an attempt to anger his foe. It worked better than he expected.
Ragged breaths of pain and irritancy echoed around the cavern as Suzume got back to her feet. With one hand she nursed a bruised sternum, the other jerking the icicle from her shoulder as she glowered at the boy in response, too furious for words. In his honour Kazuya allowed her to get back to her feet; he even permitted her a moment to inspect her wound. It wouldn't matter soon.
"Even with another decade of training and an army at your heels you couldn't kill me," said Kazuya, drawing the double-bladed sword of his ancestor. "But alone you're trying to take me alive? It's pitiful. Even you should know better."
"Quit messing with me!" Suzume bawled. Her eyes flashed dangerously as she called out two playbacks and fished inside her pouch of tools. Before long she'd withdrawn six kunai – one held in each gap of her fingers. Kazuya watched as the two copies beside her did the same, making a total of eighteen projectiles for him to repel.
In perfect synchronism the three Suzumes drew hand signs; they were made awkward with the blades jammed between their fingers, but in the end the metal became coated with a slick layer of magma, dripping from the tip of each blade to fizz and burn on the rocks. One at a time they pitched back a throwing arm.
Kazuya got to work on his defence already, needing no jutsu save for the speed of his eyes for an effective counter. He span his sword in a flourish tracing a figure of eight movement in the air, slowly at first before building up a speed that made the two opposing blades appear as a single rotary fan to the naked eye. Like a propeller his sword span, wrists twirling in tandem with the steel as Suzume began her last-ditch effort to beat him.
"Lava Style: Molten Storm Jutsu!"
Kazuya only watched the rain of crimson-tipped kunai fly at him; by then he'd worked up such a rhythm that his hands seemed to move of their own accord. Sparks flew by, yellow and red across the cavern as every projectile ricocheted from the surface of Kazuya's two edges. Unable to admit defeat, the three Suzume's took it in turns to replenish their stock, resulting in a never-ending hail of kunai. Clearly this technique was supposed to continue until the target's defences were broken.
As soon as it seemed like Suzume's stock of kunai was infinite Kazuya began to move. He set off at a walk, slowly and deliberately like a demonic reaper as his swords continue to spin, leaving twin tracks of sparks by his feet where the blades kissed the earth. His approach became so menacing that he saw the fear in his cousin's eyes by the before he reached half way.
By then he'd quickened his pace. Faster and faster the kunai were thrown, each one of them batted away by the samurai's continuous figure of eight. As he came within range Suzume panicked; now it seemed she was finally considering the possibility that Kazuya couldn't be beaten down, only she realised her mistake too late.
Kazuya caught up as the two playbacks vanished. She turned tail and broke into a run, defenceless, exposed and unprepared for the trained killer in her shadow. True ninja conditioned their reactions for these situations – to make their chance of survival higher and even take the opportunity to counter. The case was different for someone who'd spent all their time in simulated combat.
When faced with the intimacy of death Suzume was just as hopeless as any common peasant. No amount of training could prepare her for it – the closeness – the reality of one's own demise rapidly approaching like a chill wind from behind.
One more flourish and it was done. Kazuya overtook her as he lashed out once with the tail blade of his sword. He stopped, frozen in position after whirling to face his next opponent. The samurai didn't need to look to see the damage he'd done. He felt his sword cut through skin, sinew, muscle and bone; heard the dull 'thunk' of an object the weight of kickball bounce from the ground before rolling to a stop; smelled the stench of human flesh pervade his nostrils and saw the blood, dripping in rivulets down the length of his sword as the rest of Suzume's body flopped to the ground behind him.
In the wake of the attack Kazuya stared down Madoka, daring her to attack after witnessing with her own eyes Suzume's decapitation. He scanned her for any kind of weakness. Save for a brief look of annoyance she appeared at ease with the death of her daughter. A gleam came to her eye as she smirked.
"Interesting," she noted, still grinning.
"Interesting?" The samurai could scarcely believe his ears. "She was your daughter – your own flesh and blood! And all you can say is that it's 'interesting'? What kind of people are you?"
"This is the way of the world," Madoka explained. "Our family doesn't assign sentiment to each member – if I die I expect no one to mourn me, because if I die it means I couldn't get the job done. She had her part to play and she failed. Am I sad to lose another user of the Jikogan? Sure, but it matters little anyway – her role will be filled just as soon as I bring you in."
The anger that had somewhat receded suddenly came bubbling back to the surface after Kazuya heard those words. The notion sickened him – these people were hardly human at all. She'd manipulated Suzume. He'd seen her devotion to Madoka first hand, obeying every order and even rushing into a battle she had no hope of winning. Right until the last moment he suspected Suzume's life had been dedicated to earning her mother's respect. Suddenly he couldn't help but pity her. If only things had been different for the girl.
"I'll never understand you people," he decided.
"I'm sure once Teijo does his thing we'll understand each other just fine," said Madoka, a thin smile tracing her lips.
"Make no mistake Madoka he's next on my list – and if I don't then there's a long list of ninja that'll get there first. But you're my enemy today. Before the hour is over you'll regret ever taking something precious from me."
Kazuya's chance arrived when the woman threw back her hair in a wild fit of laughter. He formed a single hand sign and cast it in her direction, letting his eyes take over as the words came to him. "Jikansanpo!"
Kazuya began his swing before the technique even began, zapping to a spot just two feet away as he drew and slashed up with a corkscrew of his body. His sword met only steel, as in her hands Madoka had retrieved a pair of kunai to defend with. Her strength was unreal for her slim build; despite Kazuya's full-bodied swing she managed to repel it with those two flimsy little ninja tools.
The samurai pushed harder in an attempt to overpower her. He'd trained himself physically ever since he was old enough – there was no way on earth he could be outmuscled by her. Unfortunately Madoka seemed to realise this too. She brought back her leg and aimed a savage kick straight at the Taisho's stomach.
Kazuya figured he could endure it – if he could stay in their test of strength he could conquer and defeat her early. It was a sound tactic, although he failed to consider Madoka's footwear.
Her soles and toecaps were plated with a layer of steel to make her kicks on par with even Bishamon's. When her foot drove into his gut it drove the wind from his lungs, a spray of spittle and blood escaping him as he clung desperately to consciousness. Another warp saw him safely at range, but Madoka was hardly complacent.
"Lightning Style: Electro Whip Jutsu!" The moment he heard the attack was the same moment it hit him, coiling around his ankle and fizzing through the cloth to burn his skin and send volts through his leg. Numbness and torn clothes soon became the least of his concerns as Kazuya was thrown off his feet.
Madoka twirled the whip over her head, her strength allowing her to take full advantage of the room and swing Kazuya about the entire cavern. Before he could react the Taisho was slammed headfirst into the web of stalactites. Rocks crumbled around him as he felt a rib or two break upon impact. This was hardly the fight he'd been expecting.
Before he could recover Kazuya was hurtling back down to ground level, dragged by the buzzing yellow whip snaked around his ankle, and then once again he was flung into the rocky walls of the cave. As Madoka picked a further target to throw him against Kazuya found an opportunity to free himself. He drew his sword, channelled chakra and swiped at the jutsu, finding himself in free-fall for a few seconds before warping back down to ground level with a hand sign.
No time to waste. Once free Kazuya moved on to another strategy, despite the state of his body.
"Playback Three!" Another copy digitised to life, this one pulling off hand signs as Madoka took aim with the whip. She lashed it once again, extending the electricity with her chakra whilst Kazuya stood in wait; it wouldn't reach him anyway.
"Ice Style: Frozen Prison Jutsu!" cried his copy.
Just like before, ice came rushing from the ground in an instant. It surrounded the floor by Madoka's feet and sprang up to form an igloo of sorts, hardened to be more than a metre thick. It wouldn't hold her for long he knew, but at least it saved him from that annoying whip for the time being.
After just moments had passed the icy fortress shattered. An explosive array of crystalline fragments marked the emergence of Madoka, darting across the terrain at the top speeds of the Jikogan with her kunai in hand.
It took him less than a second to see through it. The precision of the move – the weary face like this was the thousandth time she'd done it – the black and white pixels blinking in the background. It was a Playback, and a poorly disguised one at that. Kazuya jumped into a flip, clearing the copy's line of sight to escape whatever jutsu it had planned.
When he landed the Taisho's eyes went back to the broken prison. From there the real Madoka emerged, closing the space between them with a Jikansanpo as she resumed her attack.
With a blade in each hand she struck out deadly combinations at speeds even Kazuya struggled to keep up with. She was pressuring him, the constant rain of attacks forcing him on the back foot where all his attention was focused on saving himself from being stabbed.
Those two miniature blades formed a perfect marriage with her footwear to become Kazuya's nightmare in combat. Both hands and feet required either dodging or blocking, and whilst Kazuya's double bladed sword usually gave him the edge, this woman had four deadly points of attack to strike from.
Not only that, but her movements were flawless as well. She moved with the grace of a butterfly, her speeds shifting like water as she slashed and kicked, never stepping backwards. Her Jikogan was one thing, but to outmatch a samurai in close quarters combat? Kazuya grew more and more frustrated by the moment. He stood his ground and lashed out a complex sequence of attacks, first aiming low before twirling from his blade for a kick aimed to the temple. Madoka only dodged and gave him a cut across the arm for his efforts.
Their exchange only stopped when Madoka vanished in a streak of blue. Kazuya hadn't even noticed her form the required seal in the chaos, and as a result he felt the same studded boots crash into his spine for being caught unawares.
Spitting out blood, the Taisho tried the same technique. He aimed his hands and focused his chakra for a warp, and once he zapped at lightspeed he'd turn to another angle and shoot off again. The result was a confusing sequence of jumps as Madoka's eyes crossed the battlefield at dizzying speeds. One moment he was right in front of her, the next behind her, and the next up on the roof.
The whole technique continued only for about a dozen jumps until Kazuya made his move. He warped to her flank in a spinning slash, and half to his surprise managed to draw blood from the Senmatsu's ribcage before she leapt to safety. Her irritable look said it all; she was fuming that he'd managed to mark her. When she took him in the others would question it, and she'd have to explain that the brat somehow got lucky.
Her anger turned to amusement soon enough though, as the Taisho suddenly pitched forward with a hand slapped over his left eye. He struggled to stay on his feet; his temples and brow became greased in sweat as his breathing grew heavy. When he removed his hand Madoka saw the problem right away.
A single line of blood streaked down Kazuya's cheek. Already his eye had begun to bleed, a backfire of exploiting the Jikogan too much.
"So then, the young Taisho has his limits after all?"
Kazuya struggled against the pain, opening his eye to find his sight half-lensed in red. No, not now! He told himself. It's too early for this – just a little longer! More time was all he needed; now that he'd wounded her Kazuya figured it was just a matter of time before victory was his. If only his body could hold out long enough.
"You're a fool to think you can kill me with a half-perfected technique. You haven't trained with that enough yet; you'll go blind if you keep this up."
"Losing my eyes seems like an easy price to pay for beating you," said Kazuya. Even as he spoke he knew how his words sounded – his voice cracked, the fierce vigour fleeing from it with every sentence.
Madoka chuckled. "Pay whatever you want kid, it still won't be enough."
This time Kazuya saw the movement – that same pose he adopted whenever he used the Jikansanpo. She vanished in a haze of blue, but this time he was ready. I'm not falling for that one again. Whirling around as he palmed the ground, the samurai brought another barrier of ice into existence with a pulse of his chakra.
For the first time in the fight his Kekkei Genkai did its job. Madoka's kunai met only a sheet of ice hard as rock, and when her hand smashed through it her awkward position allowed him to counter. Kazuya's boot slammed hard to the Senmatsu's arm to ground her as a second technique followed in its shadow.
"Playback Two! Three!" Two more copies drew even more blood from Kazuya's left eye, but results had quickly become his only concern. The first recording fired a torrent of ice that forced her to defend, whereas the second used the time to seal Madoka in that same prison of frozen water.
The real Kazuya meanwhile got to work on casting hand signs, knowing time was short and his jutsu a long one; easy to mess up if he didn't pay close enough attention. Sign after sign he arched his fingers to until thirty had been and gone, releasing his chakra upon the final seal of the bird.
"Ice Style: White Locker Jutsu!" If nothing else the technique guzzled chakra from Kazuya like a parched elephant after water, draining colour from his face and breath from his chest to make him even more exhausted than ever. The effect was undeniable though.
From the samurai's feet a sheet of ice suddenly pooled, spreading and spreading with each passing moment to coat the entire cavern in a thin sheet of freeze. When Madoka broke free of his prison again it was a sight to behold; the walls and ceilings had also been claimed, transforming the cave into a stark white grotto that twinkled and smoked. He made sure to block the entrances too, meaning neither could escape and that no one would interfere. Whatever the outcome, this battle became permanent.
"Quite a party trick!" Madoka observed, her eyebrows lifting at the sight. "But I fail to see how it-" Her very point was answered when she lost her footing, stumbling for a moment on the slippery ground before regaining balance as though nothing had happened. "Ah," she realised.
"Making you unsteady is only half of it," said Kazuya.
"And the other half?"
The Taisho said nothing. Other ninja and even some samurai he knew would often go off on tangents and make long-winded explanations detailing their abilities. The intention was to provoke and scare, but Kazuya didn't see the point; if Madoka knew what he was planning then she'd watch out for it. The moment when she realised would be the moment he attacked.
For now I need to keep her at a distance, he thought. She's too dangerous to fight up close. I just need to wait – ten minutes might do it. The plan was simple enough, but ten more minutes in the ring with this woman – with his eye still crying blood by the second – would be easier said than done.
Outside the scene was a mess. Some nursed the wounded and some kept watch; the others were charged with sorting out the unconscious ninja they'd recovered – identifying them and loading them onto the herd of twelve foot long bison the samurai had summoned.
The canyon looked as threatening as ever, its high cliffs threatening to close them in and bar a quick escape. All the clones in the facility were dead, but lingering still gave Shoryu a feeling of unease. He wanted to leave as soon as possible, yet with Kazuya fighting down below he remained, twitchy and on-edge as his eyes roamed the canyon for any sign of another attack. Even Free admitted it might be likely if they stayed too long.
With so many wounded and most low on chakra another assault would be crippling. Of all the fighters gathered only he and Ayako had chakra left to spare, as Kazuya himself had done most of the work on their chosen route.
When an older samurai approached Shoryu and asked him about Bishamon, the commander found he didn't have the heart to tell the truth. He lied, saying he hadn't seen the Taisho since the start of the battle. It was only fair after all; as their new leader, Kazuya would want to be the one to tell them about the death of his predecessor.
Discounting the few that had died in the attack only two people remained unaccounted for. Kazuya was the first. The second, much to Shoryu's relief, came limping out of the shadows of the facility's entrance. From head to toe Hotaru was soaked in blood; his hair, his face and even his grand coat of orange and black had been stained red with the stuff, as though some butcher had opened up a pig with him standing beneath.
"I take it my men got all the patients out safely?" he asked, finally striding out into the light.
"Well yeah," said Shoryu, unblinking. "But seriously Hotaru, what the hell happened to you?"
"Oh it's alright." The boy replied. "Most of it isn't my blood."
Shoryu motioned to a single shuriken, sticking painfully from the back of the Jonin's thigh muscle to draw a river of blood all the way down to his heel. "What about that right there?"
Hotaru twisted his body awkwardly to get a better look at the blade, dangerously close to his ass. "Knew it, one of the bastards got me in the leg," he grumbled. With half a groan he jerked out the shuriken and twirled it around his finger, oblivious to the wound; he knew others needed attention more than he did.
"Can you still fight?" Shoryu asked, hopeful that someone else still had chakra left.
"What kind of a question is that?" said Hotaru. He looked offended by the notion. "Just a shame there's no one left to fight."
"Just checking."
"By the way." The Jonin tossed the shuriken as he sat to a crouch. "I kept on going down this weird cave. Figured that might be the stronghold y'know? Only I came up against this giant wall of ice blocking the way forward. Now normally I'd just burn a hole straight through that thing and carry on regardless, but I saw that guy before the battle. Something tells me your samurai friend didn't wanna be disturbed."
Shoryu nodded. "Yeah, thanks for doing that; he's taking this really personally."
"A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do." Hotaru shrugged. "But Shoryu, I get the feeling you know as well as I do that we can't stay here long. It's foreign and out in the open. We already know clones patrol these areas – we fought that group on the way here. I know he's your friend and I hate to say it, but we can't wait forever for the samurai."
The Jonin's words were harsh but fair; every second they stayed endangered the lives of everyone present. Fortunately Shoryu had already taken it into account. "Don't worry I know. If he's not back soon Ayako and I will go in and get him. I know the way by now; I should be able to get in and out in a few minutes. Could you handle things here while we're gone?"
"No problem, just don't take your time. I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to. We did well to get out of this with only a few casualties, I'd hate to waste that."
"Understood." Once again Shoryu cast a nervous glance to the mouth of the cave – the opening of the clone's facility now littered with scattered weapons and splatters of blood. As of now, Kazuya was the last person they waited on – he, Suzume and Madoka were the only living souls in the entire complex, duking it out fifty feet below ground level. Suddenly Shoryu began to wonder whether leaving was a mistake.
To distract himself from paranoia the commander figured he'd check up on the newest addition to their little family. Fujiko had been loaded aboard the bison with the rest of the unconscious, volatile patients, but the unharmed baby remained in Jinga's care. After checking for any injuries the doctor swaddled the child in one of his spare, oversized shirts and fed him milk from his stash of supplies.
Ayako and Yuudai were gathered around him too, watching in wonder as Kazuya's baby stared at them with a look of confusion. He'd finally stopped crying once he smelled the open air, no doubt for the first time in his life. After being fed he even looked positively happy – he even squeaked in joy as he pulled on the fur tassels of a giant bison.
"He's a real cutie isn't he?" said Yuudai. "Hard to believe he's related to Kazuya."
After being handed the child Ayako rocked him steadily back and forth. She looked tense at first, as though she feared she might drop him, but at the baby's thrilled reaction her confidence grew. She looked at Shoryu and smiled. "You wanna hold him? You're his godfather after all."
"Umm." The Jonin paused; he feared battles less than babies – they were more familiar to him. He'd never held one in his life, nor did he have any desire to even have children ever since the day he was cast out of his own family, knowing any sons and daughters of his would only share the same fate. His choice was stripped however when Ayako handed him the child anyway.
As its pudgy face looked up at him Shoryu realised just how tender and fragile this baby was. The fact that this precious creature had survived unharmed for so long in such a place was a miracle unto itself, one he refused to let go to waste. Only then did he consider the idea that having kids might not be so bad after all. Maybe – when this was all over.
"He's really something," was all Shoryu managed. He held the child for a little longer before remembering what he'd come over for in the first place. As carefully as he could he passed the baby back to Jinga. "Do you have a minute Ayako?" he asked, jerking his head as a signal for them to get some privacy.
As perplexed as she was the kunoichi still shrugged and humoured him. "Sure thing."
A wolf whistle following them away made her tell Yuudai to shove it before the pair rounded a few bison and found themselves out of earshot. Ninja and samurai were too busy with their duties to pry on their conversation, the only people who might hear them being the out-cold patients they'd rescued from the facility.
"What's up?" she asked.
"Bishamon is dead," Shoryu revealed, in no mood to mince his words.
Ayako's frozen look of dread told him she was just as shocked as he was. She'd been there at the start; she saw the Taisho's power for himself when he cleared the entrance like it was nothing. His mastery of the ice style was second to none; if even he fell to Madoka and her daughter then what hope did Kazuya have? "No way," she gasped, clasping a hand over her mouth.
"I know." Shoryu looked glum. "Looks like our merry little trio is finally getting separated. We might not see as much of Kazuya anymore – he's leaving the ninja to assume his position. He's a few months away from being of age, but after today I doubt any samurai will object to him taking it up early."
"We knew it would happen one day," said Ayako, sighing in resignation. "Guess I just figured we had more time."
"Same here. . ." said Shoryu. He gave one more look to the opening, hopeful that his friend might suddenly appear in a blaze of victory. He never did. "I'm worried about him Ayako. Even if he makes it out of this, I don't know if he'll ever fully recover."
"Shh." In a rare show of affection the Ayako wrapped her arms around Shoryu and pulled him into a hug. Her actions were so sudden the he almost recoiled, being so close that he could smell her scented hair and feel her breath on his chest. "Anyone ever tell you that you worry too much these days?" she whispered. "Whatever happened to that carefree little kid I met all those years ago?"
Shoryu released an exhale, a breath he felt like he'd been holding in since the battle began. He could permit himself a moment to relax – he owed her that much at least. "With everything that's happened – the attack on our camp, my family; Kazuya. . . I can't just pretend there's nothing wrong anymore."
"We'll all pull through in the end," she assured him, holding him tighter. "We always do."
Shoryu smiled; at least he could always count on her to cheer him up. "Thanks Ayako."
Those ten minutes felt more akin to ten lifetimes. After they passed, more than half a dozen kunai had pierced Kazuya's skin. His muscles ached with a current of electricity and more than a few bones had fractured in the battle. Cuts and bruises painted his body, and throughout the entire ordeal he'd managed no more than a few scrapes on his opponent.
The time to strike had arrived, but in his mind Kazuya knew going all out now was half-likely to kill him. Red bolts cracked like circuitry across his left eye, bloodshot and bleeding now worse than ever. His vision shook like the whole cave had been claimed by a tremor – hardly an ideal condition for fighting the most powerful opponent he'd ever faced. Worse still, Madoka had adapted to sending chakra to her feet; she no longer slipped on the ice as she did before.
He'd managed to keep her at bay; being within ten feet was Madoka's danger zone – if he attacked there he knew she could have him subdued and broken with one lapse of focus. Only now did his chance arrive.
Kazuya wondered whether she'd noticed it herself: the goose-pimples across her arms and her hairs standing on end. In her moments of stillness her hand trembled too; already she'd had to repeat a number of hand signs after splendidly cocking up her jutsu. It was now or never. Whatever his current state, Kazuya wouldn't get another chance.
Ignoring the pain the samurai took aim with his hand sign. A cry of "Jikansanpo!" sent him immediately into the fray, his sword already twirling into a complex sequence of strikes. After dodging her for so long his sudden decision to attack caught Madoka off guard. Blades danced and sparks flew. Slash after slash Kazuya kept on the pressure, swinging controlled chaos, dishing out every trick he knew.
"What the-" As she upped her speed to match his, the samurai knew Madoka was finally going all out to stop him. With the two at their fullest they were evenly matched. Kazuya darted forwards, both hands launching a two-handed swing before his aunt span to safety.
On the counterattack Madoka showed him no quarter. With the Jikansanpo she rushed to a spot behind him, and as Kazuya turned he found himself swamped with a cluster of kicks so powerful he feared his sword might snap after blocking them. He jumped up, slashed out in response and vaulted into a kick from the tip of his sword upon landing, never getting more than a small break in Madoka's guard.
Her frustration was already visible as she struck again. From her pouch she loosed a swarm of kunai, and as Kazuya batted them away she bridged the distance and began again, still using the two in her hands to attack like a praying mantis, blades where her fists should've been.
In the end their furious trade of blows was brought to a halt as Kazuya's crossguard locked into place with the grips on Madoka's kunai. He overpowered her in an instant, and as he drove both blades to the ground he finished his assault by slamming his head against hers. Suddenly he wished he was still wearing his forehead protector; its steel plate might have knocked her out.
Even so, he got his desired effect when Madoka recoiled, nose bleeding. He followed up with a swing of his sword, getting tantalisingly close before the woman managed to warp away. He found her behind him, just ten feet away with a look of shock across her angled features.
Just minutes ago she'd dominated him at close range – he could scarcely lift his sword without her managing to cut him. In that time she'd only injured him further; he should've been weaker if anything. Why then did he now have the skill to match her? The answer hit her as she felt a shiver run up her spine.
Kazuya's jutsu – the one quilting the cavern in a layer of ice – had taken its toll on her. With her blood going cold her reactions became sluggish, her muscles and joints locking into place, preventing swift responses. The technique would work on any opponent given enough time, except of course one who'd spent his entire childhood on a glacier; Kazuya was in his element whilst she'd grown slower.
"Very clever," she mused, now finally out of breath. "You're strong Kazuya – stronger than my daughter ever was."
"Enough talk!" Kazuya marked his shout with another burst toward his mark. He lead his rush with a single blast of ice, and when that didn't work he took again to pounding the defences of his foe with repeated swings like a man possessed. Madoka fled, finding only javelins of ice snapping at her heels as he cast hand signs in a rage.
Once he more he flew at her, his anger this time betraying him. In exchange for more strength and willpower his tact went out of the window. Kazuya's moves were sloppy and full of openings; Madoka easily weaved away and buried another kunai in his shoulder – right where his armour parted for air.
Kazuya howled in pain as blood fountained from the wound. He swore under his breath upon seeing the change; he was starting to lose consciousness, having sacrificed far too much blood and chakra to remain on his feet much longer. Is this really all I could do? He wondered, gritting his teeth and pulling himself back up. Each wound screamed in complaint at his actions, drawing more blood as if to punish him for persevering.
Kazuya watched as Madoka dashed away once more. He thought to himself that if he was in her position, he'd use the opportunity to end the fight once and for all with a finishing blow. Of course, she couldn't do that; they would take him before Teijo to have his mind enslaved, and for that they needed him alive.
It was only in considering that when a chance to win presented itself to the Taisho. He cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner. They needed him alive – no matter what he did Madoka was forbidden to land a fatal blow. It was something he could use to his advantage, a tactic few ninja would think of, but a move common amongst samurai. She'd never see this coming.
As he spat out another mouthful of blood Kazuya reached one hand behind his back. One by one he undid the clasps holding his crimson armour in place, knowing the excess weight would only slow him down. The faint swimming and frequent blackouts of his half-red eyesight told him he had perhaps a minute of consciousness left at a stretch. Smiling, the samurai closed drew his sword, hoping only that all his limbs remained intact once it was all over.
"Still fancy your chances?" taunted Madoka.
Kazuya didn't answer; talking would only waste energy. Instead he set off towards her once again, his eyes spiralling for one last jutsu. "Playback One!"
For the third time in the fight another Kazuya was unleashed, overtaking the original as it began its attack. Madoka had seen this one before: it ran in a straight line and carved an arc in the floor – a delayed attack that made a crystalized swerve of jagged ice sprout up from the cut it left in the earth. That same move had led to Suzume's defeat.
Vowing to not let it get that far, Madoka ran to meet it. She matched its swing before its blade touched the rocks, and out from behind it the real thing flew in, screaming one final war cry as he readied his prized sword. With her second kunai Madoka repelled the attack, her weapon bouncing away from the sheer power of the blow. Sparks flew and combat stopped for a blink's duration as both fighters readied another swing.
After his first attempt with the back edge failed Kazuya brought up the nose-end of his sword. Simultaneously Madoka brought down her first kunai again. Any fighter could see she was faster; Madoka herself counted on Kazuya bringing up his sword to defend, or at least jumping back out instinct. He did neither.
Instead her kunai made a direct hit. A single slash opened up part of Kazuya's face, searing down from the midpoint of his forehead and cutting straight through his left eye before ending in a spray of blood at his cheek. In any normal fight such a wound would mean a loss.
But Kazuya's sword didn't stop. 'Losing my eyes seems like an easy price to pay for beating you' he'd told her before. Luckily only one proved to be enough.
The curtains closed on the fight as Kazuya rammed his sword through Madoka's stomach, the thrust sending a smattering of blood to the ice. Through his one remaining eye he saw the spirals fade from hers as she gave her last breath, and without another pause he twisted violently and jerked out the blade. He stayed poised on both feet as she fell dead to the ground.
Kazuya stood for a few moments, his sword still raised as a sign of victory, both edges still coated in the life's blood of his two opponents. He felt himself blacking out as his breath began to slow down – a sign that he'd finally managed to regain some clarity. For the first time in months he could be at peace; it was over – his vengeance had been taken. His pride, and the pride of the Glacier, had been restored.
"Worth it," he told himself.
.
Author's Notes: Heheh, whenever stuff gets intense it's good to know we can always count on Kazuya to be a total badass. It's sad that he's lost his eye, but then again having one magic eye instead of two in Naruto really seems to mean jack all, except when you get to the level of god-like powers the series now has for its villains (which I never intend to reach anyway).
Kazuya's last tactic is essentially 'take a smaller blow to dish out a heavier one' – you see him doing it in the previous chapter as well, only to a lesser degree. It's actually a technique often used by some boxers believe it or not. Tried it myself a few times, with admittedly varying results :S
Lastly in case anyone's wondering about the Japanese here, 'Jikansanpo' translates to 'Time Walk'. So far you might recall that all the Jikogan techniques have been based on the functions of a video camera. The basic move is a slow-down feature and the Playback is essentially a 'recording' type move; the Jikansanpo/Time Walk then is basically a 'next chapter' function, like when you skip forward when watching a video or playing a DVD. It allows him to move at lightspeed, but only to a spot that he can see. It's also limited in that he has to use a hand sign, meaning he has to sheath and re-draw his sword every time he uses it.
But despite Kazuya's injuries, those who have been paying attention will remember that this isn't the end of the battle at all! Some more enemies are on the way, so Shoryu's paranoia it seems isn't unfounded. With so many out of commission what hope do our heroes stand against another garrison of ninja? And will Reizo reach them in time? This should be the best chapter of them all guys – get psyched for it :D