Finally, the hitokiri awakens...
Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin belongs to Nobuhiro Watsuki, the song Bells of Santa Fe is by Halsey; the intention is to take the lyrics of the song as Kenshin's thoughts, but the instrumental version is even better.
Chapter 9: The road to perdition.
1864, April.
…
Don't call me by my name
All of this is temporary
Watch as I slip away for your sake
All of this is temporary
…
That night seemed to be dominated by wraiths, Kenshin thought. They twisted like dry tree branches and stretched like cats, spreading out on the ground, pointing toward the path that awaited him... Almost like a warning: "This is what awaits you" they said. He knew, of course. The road to hell was built with good intentions, after all. And his intention was good... The medium, however, was most damnable.
It didn't matter anyway. He had made his decision.
"Sleep well Kaoru dono," he asked in a whisper. "No one will dare to hurt you again, I'll make sure of that." He swore.
The now priestess barely moved as she was carefully deposited on the bed. That padded bed was made of pillows and fine fabrics, designated for their communion with a Kami (god) who would not be present that night nor any other. The samurai who were now saying goodbye to her had made sure of it.
"No one will touch her," he had promised himself.
Kenshin looked one last time at the sleeping figure of the blue-eyed miko. The tear marks still stood out on her cheeks, her skin looked even whiter than normal and her face was still dominated by anguish and sadness. She looked exhausted and ethereal. Beautiful and sadly unreachable.
The shadows stretched out again. In his mind, he could hear the shriek of demons crying out for blood. The more he drank in her image, the more anger grew in his chest. The same one that had been born days before under the heat of the flames that had almost devoured the sanctuary.
…
Well, maybe I could hold you in the dark
You won't even notice me depart
Secondhand thread in a secondhand bed
With a second man's head
Leavin' through the door without a word
You won't even notice, little bird
Better off dead, so I reckon I'm headed to Hell instead
…
He could have kissed her then, but he would not dare commit such an offense. She would hate him if she knew… No. She wouldn't be able to hate him… That would be a kindness to him, which she knew he didn't deserve. And that was the problem. If she knew, she would hate herself...
She would suffer for him.
Clenching his hands into fists, hardening his countenance and freezing his heart, the samurai forced himself to leave his companion's side, in that atrium illuminated by moonlight, the same one that he rejected to give himself fully to the specters that dwelt in the shadows. They leaped at their prey, rejoicing in their emotionally charged cries. Kenshin felt them pulling at him, devouring the heat of the blood in his veins.
He gave himself up completely after a forced sigh, by the time he opened his eyes again, the lines of the iris had hardened into a sharp gold.
Yumi was already waiting for him outside.
"Good job Himura kun" she said when she saw him.
On the samurai's side there was only silence.
Yumi shuddered with pure terror dominating her veins. The man in front of her was dangerous. She then offered the missive that Katsura had sent to him; Kenshin took it and instantly extended the scroll to read it. He nodded once to himself.
The chestnut girl shuddered again, this time the fear was for him.
"Are you sure?" She pressed.
Kenshin barely heard her. He had shaken off any hint of guilt or doubt since before leaving the atrium, forcing himself not to look behind him -where Kaoru resided, his sword vibrated with the desire to kill, and that would be exactly what he would do. The night at least was in accordance with his plan.
The howling of the air seemed to carry the angry cries of the sacrifices of days ago. The innocent who had shed their blood wept with the same anger that he felt. Of that, he was sure.
He had a duty to carry out revenge.
"Make sure that she remains unaware of my departure." Said the redhead instead, returned the letter to the woman, and headed towards the city.
Yumi gave him one last long look. She was as guilty for the bloodshed that night as was the murderer himself who had been born. She, like her two deceased companions, was as responsible for the creation of that oni (demon) as the monsters that had taken lives during the fire.
"I'm sorry, Himura-kun."
The air lifted the dried flowers in small eddies as if reproaching her. It was useless to cry, she told herself, but she was unable to contain the tears and the burning in her chest.
…
So don't wait for me, don't wait for me, wait-ah
It's not a happy ending
Don't wait for me, don't wait for me, wait-ah
It's not a happy ending
…
Shadows grew under the moonlight that had begun to tinge red, its hollowed-out silhouette flickering through the clouds. Kenshin advanced at a slow pace, allowing the specters to continue devouring more than just his soul. His own sanity danced on a precarious precipice.
He had plenty of time, the leader of the newly named Ishin Shishi revolutionary group had made sure of that; an appropriate name thought the boy with the appearance of an oni (demon). After all, they would be bringing justice from Heaven.
It was the last thread to which his soul clung. He had ensured that each of his prey was guilty enough to open the gates of hell itself. That had been the agreement with Katsura dono, he reminded himself.
As he had promised two days ago, the group of leaders had been carefully studied, with accurate evidence of their responsibility after the attack on the sanctuary. And each and every one of them would be meeting that night at one of the main inns in the city.
The shadows around him tangled around his feet… It was the perfect ambush for an assassin.
Jesus needed a three-day weekend
To sort out all his bullshit, figurе out the treason
I've been sеarching for a fortified defense
Four to five reasons
But Jesus, you've got better lips than Judas
I could keep your bed warm, otherwise, I'm useless
I don't really mean it 'cause who the fuck would choose this?
He reached the inn when the specters were about to reach his neck. There was a man waiting under the crooked-trunk willow shade. "Another assassin," Kenshin told himself. The cleaner that would be in charge of erasing the traces after his passage. A small indulgence for a hitokiri (assassin) who killed for the first time.
It was also a possible replacement in case he regretted making an appearance. The last reminder that he could still back out if he wanted to. But the indulgence seemed more like a mockery than anything else. An insult to the anger that still called out to him and that threatened to chew him whole if he didn't release it through the edge of his katana.
He had already meditated too much on what he should do and if one or the other was correct or not or if he deserved less than justification.
His intention was good, he repeated to himself.
The memory of Kaoru, bathed in tears and consumed by grief, was enough to burn away any remnants of doubt and illuminate his determination as a murderer with greater force. He cast a meaningful look at the shadow under the willow tree and entered the road to hell.
Well, maybe I could hold you in the dark
You won't even notice me depart
Secondhand thread in a secondhand bed
With a second man's head
Leavin' through the door without a word
You won't even notice, little bird
Better off dead, so I reckon I'm headed to Hell instead
"Dangerous," all of him exuded danger; it was not a man but a demon. The sword in his hands, now an extension of himself, the katana seemed to awaken in a kind of ecstasy. A war song reverberated in the blood in their veins. His anger began to overflow like a relentless fountain. The shadows glowed scarlet black matching the moon that was finally full and sparkling.
So don't wait for me, don't wait for me, wait-ah
It's not a happy ending
Don't wait for me, don't wait for me, wait-ah
It's not a happy ending
Don't wait for me, don't wait for me, wait-ah
It's not a happy ending
Don't wait for me, don't wait for me, wait-ah
The samurai arrived at the inn. Outside, the owner of the place was waiting, holding a lamp in her hands -the yellowish light was a pale contrast to the dangerous edge of the hitokiri's eyes; the woman looked at him and nodded once before turning around and granting him the favor to access.
The redhead's hands came out of the shelter of his gi again, his stance changing to that of a predator. The voices of the wraiths had turned to desperate screams and growls. Suddenly breathing had become a complicated action.
"Every last one of them is guilty," the woman in front of him assured, the hate latent in each and every one of her words. It wasn't important, he already knew this. "Only tonight, they have taken two of my maidens."
The oni frowned in renewed annoyance. One more piece of wood to further grow the stoked fire at its center.
"I trust there's no one else inside," Kenshin warned, his voice two baritones lower than his normal pitch.
Finally the woman looked at him. Her face was a poem of anger and sadness; the bloodshot gates of her soul and the knot of her pain in her chest, evident in the trembling of her lips. Surely, the maidens she had mentioned were no longer alive.
All of this is temporary
All of this is temporary
All of this is temporary
All of this is temporary
"No one who deserves to be saved." She assured, stopping at the entrance of the main antechamber. "Do what you wish, but make sure they suffer."
The woman then departed, leaving him alone in front of the chamber. The silhouettes of the men could be seen through the doors of the fusuma. Their sake-laden voices and exaggerated laughs denoted the type of men they were. They were celebrating as the lives they had snuffed out continued to cause pain to those left behind.
Kenshin clenched his hands into fists, and also clenched his jaw until his teeth ground together.
"If it hadn't been for them," he told himself internally. "If it hadn't been for them… Kaoru dono."
The pain of his grief mixed with the anger of his frustration and his anger at his fate. The amethyst and the gold fought in his center. He had been so close to tasting the word happiness…!
"She could have chosen differently," he pressed, narrowing his eyes for an instant; no mistake could be allowed on that point.
'Baka deshi, you only wanted her to choose you.' The voice of his teacher sounded in his head.
Kenshin bit his lip until it bled; he couldn't afford to confess there.
After a brief moment, there was finally silence in his mind.
When he opened his eyes again, not a single fiber of purple remained in them.
He took the first step, and it reverberated with a loud echo.
…
Dark, you won't even notice me depart
Secondhand thread in a second man's bed
With a second man's head
…
He reached for the fusuma and, without further ado, opened both doors in one fluid motion, revealing his presence like the demon himself facing his prey.
The exclamations of the men did not wait, but the samurai had been faster. The katana had been drawn before they could even stand up.
Red. All Kenshin could see was red. Sick of anger and hopelessness, he dropped the edge of his sword against all who stood in front of him. At intervals, he remembered his companion's pain and clung to that image; letting the darkness claim him with every life he snuffed out.
He was standing on the wooden floor of the shrine dojo, swinging his sword in the air with the fluid movement of the Heaven technique. One by one, the candles burned down.
...
All of this is temporary
All of this is temporary
All of this is—
…
Outside, in the corridors parallel to the banquet hall, only shadows could be seen, running and jumping as they were crossed. Blood spattered the cloth walls between gasps, while from time to time, some human figures struck against them, later spilling lifelessly on the wooden floor.
The owner of the inn, in the company of the few remaining maidens, watched with delight the lives of men being consumed meters away. There was a hint of mad smiles on the lips of each of them.
Only the soft sliding of the hitokiri's clothing as he moved could be heard once the slaughter was over.
...
The hitokiri straightened up like a cat, his golden gaze looking satisfied. He brushed the blood off his katana, later deciding to clean it on the clothes of one of the fallen with some laziness. Then, satisfied with the clean blade after examining it in the moonlight that streamed through the open doors of the room, he resheathed it.
He breathed deeply for a long moment. The pounding of his heart still reached his ears. His hands, where he hid them, still trembled.
"There is no time left. You have to go," he scolded himself.
Then he turned around, shoved his hands back into his gi, and walked out without looking back.
Seventeen dead Shogunate men were left behind him.
'Be the Kami that Kaoru needs.' Yumi had told him.
And that night, like a furious god, he had done justice to those who dared to hurt his protégé.
Two weeks ago.
Kaoru's eyes snapped open, her heart pounding in her chest. She was shivering with cold and fear. She straightened as soon as her breathing had calmed.
"What was that?" she wondered aloud.
Outside it was still dark. Just like always, she couldn't remember what she had seen, but unlike other times, she was sure it had to do with Kenshin; the bond that bound them seemed to have suddenly tightened, threatening to snap.
"Kenshin," she whispered his name in the dark. Then a determination settled in her mind.
Contrary to what she should and despite the voice that begged her to stop, Kaoru took ink and paper and wrote a prayer to her companion to meet her at sunset two days counting from that day. Selfishly convinced that the anxiety that dominated her was due to their upcoming separation, which would be final.
On the way to Hiko's hut, Kaoru recalled the vision of Akira's death. Not knowing exactly why her next thought connected with the image of Kenshin. A chill ran through her body at the connection her mind made. But…
"No," she told herself. "It can not be true." She tried to convince herself.
"Maybe," she thought, "maybe if they both know each other..." Maybe if they knew each other, she could avoid a tragedy, she told herself. Kenshin would be a good partner for Akira, they would both keep each other away from the battlefield, even though they had different ideologies; if they became friends, she thought...
She decided then. The following week, and if Kenshin agreed to her letter request, she would introduce them.
A year later, however, she would come to regret that meeting.
A/N: Again, find me as naru_astalina on Instagram.