Master Of Mosquiton Fan Fiction / Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Master Battousai ❯ Prologue

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

Prologue
=========


Shadows flickered along the dank, musty cobblestones of
the passage, cast by the flames of the lantern she held in her hand.
Cobwebs hung across the walls and ceiling, mirrored by a thick
layer of dust covering the floor. As she passed, bits of silk and
cystalline dust clung to her khaki clothing. The air was stale and
musty, causing her skin to feel a strange, clammy tingling, matting
her long red hair.
As she prodded onwards into the darkness of the tunnel,
faint stirrings of sound reached her ears, hinting at the presence of
rats, spiders, and other less pleasant things hiding in the darkness.
Unconsciously, she grasped the hilt of her shinai in a reassuring
manner, feeling comfort at the sureness of the wood in her hand.
Glancing around to make sure nothing was following her, she
raised her lantern just a little bit higher, as if such an action would
erase the shadows which flickered at the corners of her vision. The
large golden earring which hung from her left ear, in the shape of a
cross, glinted in the quivering light.
"Just a little more," she mumbled to herself, concentrating
on the darkness ahead. "Just a little more, father, and I swear..."
Anything further was cut off as she saw something at the
edge of the lantern's light. Squinting her eyes, she could discern
the vague outline of a large stone panel ahead of her. As she
moved closer, she saw that the stone paneling was carved in the
likeness of a doorway, and she knew, without a doubt, that a single
touch of her hand would send the portal swinging inward,
revealing a secret older than the dust that covered the floor.
The door opened at her touch, revealing a large alcove
which she could tell was once magnificent. Curtains and tapestries
adorned the walls, at one time fine and resplendent, now dirtied
and torn by the ravages of time. Priceless paintings of samurai and
oni, dragons and even a ki-rin, hung across the room, now cracked
and peeling from the dank air. Various arrays of furniture dotted
the room. A few candleholders now filled with nothing but
formless wax, decaying wooden piles which may have once been
pews, they all highlighted a central fixture at the center of the room
-- a small wooden coffin.
She gasped with excitement, her breath coming in ragged
bursts, for the object of her search was now before her. The
legends had been true! She had been doubtful at first, thinking it as
little more than an old wive's tale. But when she saw the Portal of
Earth, she was given a slight reassurance. And now, to see it right
before her... Indeed, fate was smiling on her today.
She took the last few steps toward the coffin, and with a
heave she threw over the lid, which fell to the floor with a dull
thud. She peered into the coffin, seeing nothing but a pair of
sunglasses and a pile of decrepit purple robes, almost greying with
age, lying in a pool of ashes. She did not feel dismay, not at all.
For it was this, this pile of unassuming, gray ashes, that she had
spent so long trying to find.
Her eyes gleamed in the darkness as she set her lantern on
the floor nearby. She put aside her shinai, and with her free hand
she withdrew a small knife from the folds of her khaki vest. With
only a slight hesitation she drew the sharp edge across her finger,
drawing a small pinprick of blood.
"The Pact of Blood," she said, and she angled her finger
over the coffin. With a slight pressure, the single drop of blood fell
from her finger and mixed with the ashes within the coffin. She
held her breath, half-expecting nothing to happen, when a sudden
burst of smoke erupted from the coffin.
She drew back, instinctively grabbing her shinai. The
smoke thinned, and suddenly a small figure sat up in the coffin.
She could barely suppress a yelp of joy as the smoke cleared,
revealing a small, human figure sitting up in the coffin, head
bowed. Long hair streamed down his shoulders and in front of him,
hiding his face in the shadows of the lanternlight.
The figure looked up at her, revealing a dazed looking set
of purple eyes, a deep violet which regarded her with a sleepy
expression. A face, like that of a child, sporting a pair of dark
glasses resting on red hair framing features which looked young,
yet somehow old at the same time. Two scars crossed his left
cheek, forming an X which ran from his temples to near the lip of
his mouth, from below his eye to the ridge of his jawbone.
He spoke.
"Sessha wa okite de gozaru," he said with a small, cracking
voice, using a strange inflection which she wasn't quite familiar
with. Yet her eyes lit up like flash at that ancient dialect. Without a
doubt, she had found him!
"YOSHI!!!" she cried, moving towards him and putting her
hands on his bare shoulders. "The Pact of Blood is sealed! I am
now your master, Battousai! OHOHOHOHOHHOHOHHO!!!" she
laughed, turning away from him as she got up and headed back for
the passage.
"Oro?"



Boyu Productions
Presents
========================
MASTER BATTOUSAI
========================
The Romance of a Meiji Mosquiton

i. The Man who Fights for Love (of blood) ^_^ (v1.1)

She turned back, scrutinizing this little wisp of a man, if
indeed he could be called that. To all outward appearances, he
seemed nothing more than a child, especially in this land of giants.
"Are you really the Battousai?"
"Huh?"
"Are you really Densetsu no Hitokiri Battousai, who killed
one hundred men in one hour, on his flight from Kyouto before he
disappeared?" she asked, her voice tight with skepticism.
He picked himself up, fully clothed all of a sudden, and
rose from his coffin. Fully standing, he only barely came up to her
height. She suspected it was only because of his wild red hair,
which stood up as if on end.
"Well?!?" She was beginning to feel exasperation. She had
spent her time looking for THIS?!!
"Ano... sessha wa, Kenshin von Mosquiton... de gozaru
yo."
"Kenshin von Mosquiton?" she echoed. Then it must really
be him! That was the name in her grandmother's journal. This had
to be the Battousai. "But where is your sword?"
"Ah, katana de gozaru ka?" he shuffled over to a nearby
sword rack. With a confidence that belied familiarity, he picked
out a sword, in its saya, and headed back to her. He held the sword
out to her, hilt first.
"Is this the legendary Shin-Uchi, that could kill an oni in
one stroke?" she beamed with excitement, and grasped the hilt in
her hand. Oh, it sang with power! This had to be it! Her mind was
filled with visions of the majesty of this sword. Her eyes shone as
she imagined the swaths it cut across legions of evil oni.
She drew the sword.
The glint in her eye faded.
"This, this... this is a SAKABA sword!!! You can't kill a
mouse with this!" She flung the sword upwards, as if it had turned
into a viper, and stalked away, her hands trembling in
exasperation.
"ORO!" Kenshin looked up, following the trajectory of the
hurtling sakaba with his clear eyes. Moving his feet deftly, he
followed it as it fell. With expert movement, he slipped the saya
underneath it, and the sword slid perfectly into place.
"Nah, chuishite de gozaru..."
"Will you quit it with the ancient dialect! It's making me
feel old."
"Ah, sumanai, Inaho-dono... de gozaru." The fact that his
voice sounded like a small child's didn't really help, either.
"How did you know my name?" she was getting peeved.
There was something he wasn't telling her.
He walked over to her side and looked back at her as he
answered, his clear lavender eyes regarding her quizically, as if
wondering why she didn't know, as the answer was so obvious.
That attitude just ticked her off even more.
"Your servant is the Battousai, Inaho-dono," he held the
sakaba and its saya in his hands, then turned to face her. With a
grand flourish, made less grand by his unimposing visage, he
dropped to one knee, and lay the sword before her. He bowed his
head. "It is nice to see you again. De gozaru yo."
It is interesting to note that any effect such a gesture might
have generated was lost when his bowed head revealed a pair of
dark-tinted glasses staring up at her from the top of his head.
Inaho's face had begun to redden by now. Her exasperation
had reached an apex. Her long, hard search had led her to this...
this child. This child claimed to be the Battousai, the notion of
which was becoming more ludicrous by the moment. Despite her
protests, traces of his ancient dialect kept popping up, annoying her
even further. And he DARED to be FAMILIAR with her?!
Exasperation turned to hostility.
"DON'T GET FRESH WITH ME!!!!"

***

Clouds of dust writhed and threshed through the town
square that night. Clouds of dust no doubt stirred by all the
peasants who were stomping around, making a general commotion.
The flickering bonfire in the middle of the square played off the
chaotic movements of the town's inhabitants, casting a strange sort
of shadow-play that looked normal, yet macabre at the same time.
The villagers rustled about, a great tension in the air, as if
any moment a bubble would burst and a great cloud of dark
foreboding would settle upon them, a sure sign of ill-portent.
Within the square, each peasant hurried to his place, afraid yet
strangely eager to hear of the news that potentially would change
their lives for the worse.
"Hear me, my friends!" a man, robust and energetic, took
center stage in the square. He spoke with eloquence, with the voice
of a man who was used to dealing with people. Here was a man
who motivated and moved people to deeds with his words. "Lately
you may have been hearing rumors of vile sorceresses and black
magic coming to our shores! It has been so unsettling, that I have,
as chief of this village, been forced to call a meeting tonight."
He paused, looking at the rest of the audience, feeling his
words seep in. They were hanging on his words now, as intent as
they were upon the strange happenings in the town of late.
"Tonight, we shall get to the heart of the matter. And
tonight, we shall act, to protect our lives and our livelihood!"
A resounding cheer from the audience.
"Before we can deal with the problem, we must first find
out what the problem is. You have all seen and heard of strange
happenings occuring within the past few days. It was ever since
that strange shadow was seen in the sky three nights before. Do
you all remember?"
There were nods of remembrance amidst murmurs of
clarification. Everyone had been spooked by the strange shadow
that flew across the sky, casting its winged silhouette against the
moon. All the time, a strange, rumbling drone could be heard, like
the noise of an angry ghost. Since then, strange things had
happened across the village. Cart wheels had broken, dogs and
other livestock were restless, a roof had even caved-in at the tavern
by the docks. Clearly these were omens of something foul to come.
"All of this is apparently the work of a dark sorceress!" the
chief continued. The crowd gasped, aghast at the declaration.
"Old Buck here saw her with his own eyes!" the chief
motioned to a grizzled old man by his side. His clothes were
tattered and ragged, the worn by hunters, yet badly weathered by
age. His hair was graying, covered under a dingy, graying cap. His
face haggard and unshaven, but his eyes were different. Whereas
the rest of him cried old age and idleness, his eyes were wide and
clear. Perhaps brought back to life by what he had seen, what he
had witnessed.
"Buck, can you tell us what you saw?" the chief prodded.
"It, it wasn't human, I tell yer," he said. "Frum the sky she
came, with a sound like thundur, her hair a-flaming fire. But it wuz
her face, her face! That face, so smooth'ly white n' round, with
large beady eyes! It were the demon made flesh, I tell yer!" His
eyes went wide, wider than they had previously been. He was on
the verge of raving.
{"Achoo!" Inaho sneezed.
"Oro?" Kenshin asked.
"Ah, nandemonai!!" Inaho said sheepishly.
"OHOHOHHOO!!"}
"Thank you, Buck," the mayor quickly intervened, wary of
letting him get carried away. He turned back to address the crowd.
"The sorceress was seen by Buck and others entering into
the woods north of the village. It seemed that she was headed... for
the Castle."
This drew gasps of horror from the rest of the villagers.
Some openly wept, others looked like they were about to faint.
"Please, God, NO!!" someone shrieked.
"I am afraid it is true," the mayor continued. "She was seen
heading through the woods, carrying a strange box that gave out an
eerie light, surely some device of her foul magic. The look on her
face, say the men who saw her, was the face of one possessed!!! A
driven face, surely seeking the doom of us all!!"
More gasps of terror. "But what can we do, Chief?!? Are
we all gonna die?" More people burst into tears; husbands
comforting their wives, wives holding their children.
"I do not know," the chief answered. "All I know is we
cannot just sit back and do nothing. That castle holds a terror, a
terror that our forefathers remember well. We still tell tales of it to
scare our children. No matter what happens, we cannot let the evil
in that castle run free!"
Nods of consent among all the grim faced individuals
present.
"Yet we are but a simple folk, living by our craft and by the
fish we catch off the sea. Our way is that of life, not of fighting.
None of us can deal with this threat on our own."
A somber mood was cast over the crowd as this unsettling
reality took root.
"Therefore," he continued, "we have only one recourse. We
must call the traveller from a distant land, he whom we shun for
his strange ways. I know it is extreme, but we have no choice. We
must call... Hiru."
"Hiru?" a villager called out.
"Hiru!?" another echoed.
"Yes, Hiru!" the chief exclaimed. "If we are to stop this
evil, we must call on his wisdom!"
"Hiru!" a villager cried.
"Yes, Hiru!" another joined.
"HIRU! HIRU! HIRU! HIRU!" the chant was taken, and
soon the village was of one mind. Hiru was their salvation. The
mayor called a man over, and gave him instructions to summon
Hiru.

***

At the outskirts of the village, along the beach near a
mountain ridge where the land met the sea, stood a run-down
shanty. It was not very large, and neither was it in very good
condition. Only an outcast would live in such a place, should
anyone desire to live there at all.
This was the destination of the man from the village, as he
ran across the sands of the beach. Here lay the hope and salvation
of the village.
Within the shanty, movement stirred. The man stopped, as
if feeling that his presence was unwanted, that he was a trespasser
in this place, this domain that was not his. Yet he had to go on, for
the safety of the village was at stake.
As he moved closer, the doorway of the shanty came into
view. There was no door; it had long ago been rotted away by the
wind and rain. Rounding the corner, he was afforded a better view
of the interior of the shanty.
Within, he saw a mountain of a man. If a man it could be
called. Long, tousled hair, unkempt and battered by the elements,
ran down a back as wide as a bear. His clothing was tattered and
ragged, stretching across rippling muscles that were coiled,
threatening to unleash a storm of power. The corded biceps of one
arm came into view, and it shifted, expectant of the presence that
had dared enter into its domain.
"Uh, Mr. Hiru?" the man squeaked, clearly intimidated.
The head turned, slowly, the tousled hair twisting, and soon
a face came into view.
"NANDATO?" a voice thundered.
The man nearly fainted.

***

"Will you stop following me, Mo-chan!" Inaho screamed,
storming through the hard stone steps of the castle. She held her
lantern in front of her, and her mind was set. The echoes of her
footfalls, heavy as they were, could probably be heard throughout
the interior of the structure.
"Ah, Inaho-dono, where are you going?" a flustered
Kenshin said, a red hand-shaped welt on his left cheek. It accented
the criss-cross markings on his cheek. "Are you upset? De gozaru
ka?"
She was really, really peeved. The sarcasm dripping from
her voice could melt metal. She reached the entrance to the castle,
and she quickly stormed out. Quickly she headed down the ridge,
wanting to put all this non-sense behind her. Yet for some reason,
she couldn't. The reason being, this small child-like thing
following close behind her, his nagging dialect ringing in her ears.
She turned to face him.
"No, I'm not upset. Not at all, MO-CHAN!" she shouted
that last word, and its sound echoed through the quiet woods that
now surrounded them. The moon overhead was no longer the full
moon of three days ago, it had begun to wane, and in it, she saw
her fortune.
Kenshin stopped to regard her. "Would you please stop
calling your servant that? De gozaru?"
"What's wrong, Mo-chan?" she said in a condescending
voice. "You ARE my little Mo-chan, aren't you?" To emphasize
the point, she reached out and squeezed his cheek, as one might a
small child.
"But Inaho-dono, although it may not look it, your servant
is actually a very respectable oni! You shouldn't use such cute
names..."
"But you're only three-fourths oni, right?" she snapped.
"So you're not really a big evil oni. You're just my cute little Mo-
chan."
"Oro..."
"And I don't see how my cute little Mo-chan is going to
help me find my Kenjya stone!"
Kenshin's eyes suddenly narrowed.
"And so, I will be doomed to grow old and wither and die,
with no one to love me, because I've grown old and ugly..." she
sighed.
"Inaho-dono."
She perked up, detecting a slight change in his voice.
"Don't look for the Kenjya stone," he said, his voice
suddenly serious. Although he still sounded like a child, there was
no trace of childishness in his voice. "de gozaru yo."
"What do you mean?!? Why shouldn't I look for it? What's
wrong with wanting to be beautiful forever?" she demanded, a
glazed, driven look once again entering into her eyes.
//The rain fell heavily, a continuous outpour. She ran. She
ran for what seemed an eternity, her bare feet splashing through the
mud, the cutting wind biting through her drenched yukata.
In the distance, the howl of an inhuman beast could be
heard, terrible, terrifying, horrendous to listen to. It chilled her to
the bone in a way the wind and rain never could.
Her heart palpitated, beating furiously, for fear of what she
knew she must find. The dead, black trees whipped their branches
across her face, scratching her delicate, soft skin. Yet she paid it no
heed, her mind intent on the one thing she sought.
The trees gave way, into a clearing of a sorts. Signs of a
scuffly, a great battle actually, and her worst fears were confirmed.
In the middle of the clearing...
The withered body of a man, shriveled like a prune...//
"Humans are beautiful because of their limitations,"
Kenshin replied. "Their inability to reach the power of God
ensures they will never be truly corrupt. You don't have to live
forever to become beautiful, Inaho-dono."
She took a step back, as if seeing him for the first time.
"No, no! I don't believe that crap! Humans are free to
aspire to their dreams! I don't need you! Go away from me! Don't
follow me anymore! I'll find the Kenjya stone by myself! I don't
need your help!" she started trodding down the path, leaving him
behind.
"But Inaho-dono..."
"I said DON'T FOLLOW ME!"
He stopped in his tracks, then bowed his head. "Hai, Inaho-dono...
de gozaru..."
She continued on, quivering a bit with rage and
disappointment. She had thought she had finally taken the first step
towards realizing her goal. She thought the Battousai would
actually be of help to her, to support her in her quest. But instead
she found a doddering fool who didn't even offer any support for
her goals.
*What did he know, anyway? He was the Battousai, he
was immortal. He couldn't possible understand...* She was so lost
in thought that she hardly noticed that she was no longer alone.
She froze.
"Who are you?" she asked, suddenly readying her shinai in
a trained movement, gripping it before her with both hands.
She had apparently stumbled upon a throng of people.
Holding torches in their hands, flanking her, they looked like a
cult. They were everywhere, in front of her, behind her, in the
spaces between the trees, all around. They carried in their hands
pitch forks, shovels, anything that may serve as a weapon. They
were huge, each one towering heads above her, and she recalled
that these gaijin were all taller than they were.
Yet though they towered above her, they all looked at her
with guarded, frightened looks, as if she were the plague herself.
A man stepped up. He shouted something in a strange
tongue, something she didn't quite understand. The rest of the mob
grunted in agreement, and they readied their makeshit weapons
testily.
Though the words were strange, and she didn't quite
understand what they said, their intention was clear. They wanted
to do something really, really bad to her.
"Yoshi, iku wa yo..." she said through gritted teeth,
grasping her shinai tightly. She was the heir of two schools of
kasshin ryuu. They wouldn't find her so easy.
A heartbeat.
Two.
They rushed her, all at once.
More heartbeats.
The whir of a shinai, the glinting of torchlight off a golden
cross earring. The sound of wood clashing on wood. The sound of
bone crunching.
Within five heartbeats, twice that number of the first who
had rushed to the attack lay on the ground, sprawled as if a
powerful force had blown them back. She stood in the locus, shinai
in hand, steady as a mountain. The villagers, battered and bruised,
scampered away, fear in their eyes.
"Sorcery!"
"Witchcraft!"
The cries of terror from the mob arose, and they looked on
the verge of breaking. But the voice of the village chief rose from
the din. She didn't quite understand what was said, but he ended
with one word-- "Hiru."
All of a sudden, the mob settled, silent, and they drew back,
as if to make way for something greater. She detected a slight
rustle from deep within the throng. Out of the shadows, a man of
massive girth emerged.
He strode from the mob, most of the heads of the crowd not
even reaching his shoulder. They made way for him as he passed,
apparently they were as much afraid of him as they were of her.
He made his way to the front, and confronted her. She
finally got a good look at his real features. There was no mistake.
Beneath the wild hair, the thick, shaggy beard, was a distinctive
bone structure. He was no gaijin, but of nippon, like she was. Yet
he was a massive man, a giant among giants, towering over these
gaijin as they towered over her.
"So, little lady," he spoke, his words rough, but coherent to
her ears. "I see you use the magic of the earth. It will save you
not."
"What do you mean?!" she demanded, gripping her shinai
tighter. "What do you know of Kasshin Ryuu?!"
"I know you," he replied. "I know you, and I despise you.
You and your family. It was your father who sent me to this
wretched place!!!"
Her eyes lit up like saucers, wondering at the revelation.
//The withered body of a man, shriveled like a prune...//
"My... father?" she echoed, staring up at this mammoth of a
man. In his hand, he carried a massive katana. It was old, with
many notches, and was obviously not well-taken care of, left
exposed to the elements. But it was carved of Japanese skill...it
would brave much harsher use before it would break. It still had
the edge to cut... to kill.
"My father was the Oracle of Earth," the man continued.
"The man who your father deposed! I am Hiruma Gohei, son of
Hiruma Osuno! And now I will take my revenge!!!"
Her mind, for a split-second, temporarily blanked-out as
she heard that name. *Hiruma... the Hiruma! It was him! But...*
she recovered her wits in time to realize he was attacking.
Perhaps it was because he was dull from lack of practice
and depravity. Perhaps it was because of her superior training as
heir to the schools of Kasshin Ryuu. Perhaps it was because of the
strength of her desperation or ambition. Whatever the case, she
raised her shinai in time, to block his massive overhead strike.
No normal person in her right mind would attempt to stop a
massive dai-katana from a downward slash with a wooden shinai.
More so if the blade were descending on said person's head. But
Kamiya Inaho, of Kamiya Kasshin Ryuu, was no normal person.
As the metal of the blade came into contact with her
wooden shinai, her eyes flared, and her teeth clenched. Calling
upon the defensive power of her training, she focused her mind on
her shinai.
Gohei's katana slammed with a twang on the shinai, but the
sound was of metal striking solid rock, not wood.
"I am impressed, little girl," he said. "But your little tricks
won't save you. My father had the knowledge of earth, too. It is so
easy to break this little magick."
Inaho blanched, gritting her teeth even further.
With a monstrous roar, the muscles in his arm bulged, as if
they were about to burst, and with a tremendous shattering sound,
Inaho was thrown back, crashing into the ground. The shinai in her
hand was broken, down to the stump that was its hilt.
"What, what did you do?!" Inaho cried, her hand clenching
in the dirt. "The earthen magic was never meant to destroy, only to
build and protect!"
Gohei spat. "Little girl, that's the decrepit philosophy of
your father. And where did it get him?"
//In the distance, the howl of an inhuman beast could be
heard, terrible, terrifying, horrendous to listen to.//
"Where did it get you, now broken down, at my mercy?"
He scowled. "When you hold a sword, you hold it to kill! With all
your strength and power!"
She cringed at the force of his words.
Gohei leered over her, a sneer contorting his already savage
features. "So, little girl, what should I do to you before I send you
to hell?"
Inaho cringed, her mind crying. *It can't end like this!* she
thought. *My great dreams and ambitions, are they all going to end
here? In this cold, foreign land? FATHER!*
Gohei grabbed her vest in his meaty fist, raising her up
above his head. The look in his eyes were menacing. She closed
her eyes, writhing from the anticipation. A tear slid down her
cheek.
"Machinasai, de gozaru yo."
Inaho's eyes popped open at that voice, that strange dialect.
*Sonna...* She looked over her shoulder.
Shouts of protest and derision came from the throng, as
there was apparently a commotion coming from the general
direction of the castle.
The mob parted a ways, to reveal a small figure, who
looked to be little more than a child. Purple robes draped across
slumped shoulders, with red hair that cascaded over a face
shrouded in shadow. A sword, still sheathed, lay at his side.
"Inaho-dono o, hanashite de gozaru," he took a step
forward.
"Who is that bum?!" Gohei yelled in the gaijin tongue.
"Take care of him. I'm busy here!"
The mob, at first hesitant, dubious of this stranger, was
invigorated by Gohei's words. They took to arms, and converged
on the interloper.
"Mo-chan!" Inaho called.
Kenshin looked up. His eyes blazed with an inner fire, and
the welt on his cheek, where his scar was, throbbed. Inaho's throat
constricted.
As each man came at him, his hands flashed. His sakaba-
tou leapt from its saya, and each man fell before him. Inaho looked
to the ground. His opponents were felled, unconscious, with but a
single blow. Such precision!
The next villager hesitated, uncertain, as childhood stories
used to scare him leapt to his mind, unbidden. Kenshin stood
before the villagers, his face held high, red hair blowing in the
wind, eyes burning, the scar on his cheek out for all the world to
see.
"It's the demon!" cried a villager.
"The evil from the castle! It has come!"
"Those eyes, those evil eyes..."
"Hair of fire, cross scar on his cheek..."
"It's the DEMON!!!!"
"WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!!!"
"What's this?!?" Gohei howled. His eyes focused on this
man who dared interrupt him in his moment of vengeance. He
hurled Inaho to the ground and readied his sword once more. "I
don't know who you are, but I will show you with my sword what
happens to those who disturb me!"
"A sword is a deadly weapon," Kenshin said.
"Fighting techniques are what perfect killers."
"This will always be true."
"But this servant prefers what Inaho's family believes to
that truth."
"You will not harm Inaho-dono. This shall be, upon the
pact of blood!" (de gozaru yo! ^_^)
Gohei studied this man, the bullshit he just said. Something
told him this man was dangerous. The way he handled those
villagers was proof of that. Something clicked in his memory, of
the time he was still in the land of nippon.
"You, yes, I think I know you. Red hair, scar on his cheek.
You're the legendary shishi of bakamatsu, Hitokiri Battousai! I
cannot stand your shadow-tainted existence. My father stood for
everything you are not. I don't know why you are here, but I'm
going to destroy you." Gohei took his sword in both hands, and
raised it overhead. This was his strongest technique, satsujinretsu-
giri. It would cleave him in half.
"You're nothing now but an old wive's..." Gohei stopped,
suddenly his target was nowhere in sight.
"Up here."
Gohei looked up, too late, to see a sakaba sword,
descending. Descending towards him. No, towards his sword...
The sakaba's dull edge smashed heavily into his sword
hand, at the fingers where it held the hilt of his sword. Almost
before the pain could register in his mind, the sakaba flashed again,
striking hard above his shoulder, biting deep into his clavicle.
The impact smashed him into the ground, where he lay still.
By now, the villagers had all dispersed, running into the
night in fear.
Inaho looked to Kenshin, wide-eyed with disbelief.
*Incredible! Perhaps, maybe, he really is, the Battousai.* Slowly,
Kenshin sheated his sword, and looked over to her. His hair no
longer seemed so wild, and his eyes were once again round and
clear.
"Are you alright? De gozaru?"
She looked up to him, once again seeing nothing but
kindness in those gentle eyes, nothing of the cool, calculating
precision she had seen just moments ago.
"SUGE!!!!" she screamed, immediately glomping onto
him. (Oro!) "You really are the Battousai! Together, I'm sure we'll
find the Kenjya stone! With my Mo-chan by my side, there's no
way I'm going to fail!"
"Huh?!" Kenshin doubled over.
"It doesn't matter where the Kenjya stone is! We're going
to find it!"
"But Inaho-dono, you don't need the kenjya stone. Humans
are beautiful..."
"Did you say something, `Atashi no Mo-chan'?"
Kenshin sighed. "Betsu ni, de gozaru."
"Right! One small step for Inaho, one giant step for
humankind! This is where it all begins! OHOHOUHOOOOO!!!!"
Kenshin's sigh just grew deeper.

***

"Ne, Inaho-dono, what is this?" (de gozaru)
They had made their way down the trail, through the forest,
taking care to avoid going closer to the village. It had taken a few
hours, and the moon was already dipping and the pre-dawn gray of
the little hours of the day was already creeping up the horizon.
They came to an uprise at the side of the forest, where shrubs and
bushes were abundant.
Inaho tugged at a particular bush which had caught
Kenshin's attention. As she pulled on the bush, all the neighboring
bushes went with it, and Inaho threw away the tarp to reveal a
strange contraption.
It was red, the color of the sky at dusk or at dawn, made of
wood and metal with wings and wheels. At the front was a strange
metal panel, which turned when Kenshin touched it.
"It's our ticket back home!" she replied, hopping up to a
hollow space within the contraption. "Get on, Mo-chan!"
"Ay, yada-yada..." Kenshin mumbled, following behind
her.
As she climbed on board, she paused, looking at the
silhouette of the castle in the early light. She pulled a knife from
her vest, the same knife she had used to prick her finger earlier.
With her other hand, she grasped a full clump of her long, red hair.
"Inaho-dono..." Kenshin muttered.
Without a moment's hesitation, she severed her hair with
the knife, tearing it away with her hand.
"On this day, our journey begins," she said, throwing her
hair into the wind, watching as it scattered and dispersed to the
pre-morning breeze.
She clambered into the hollow, switched some levers and
soon, a low hum could be heard, gradually rising into a gentle
thunder. The panel Kenshin had been toying with was now
whirring at a great speed, and soon they were off, into a journey
which had only just begun.

***

Along the distant coast, a speck could be seen off the
horizon. It was a small boat, barely more than a raft, drifting
somewhat aimlessly across the wide blue expanse. In the early
hours of the day before the dawn, it had to be freezing, but the
power of earth was strong, here, on this boat.
*The Battousai will pay,* he thought, holding up his
mangled hand. He would never hold a sword again. *No doubt
he's headed back for Nippon. There is no doubt about it, I have
only one path to take...*

***

Jikai, Master Battousai de gozaru!
Three fates, one destiny. When one plays with fire, one is
bound to be burned. What lies in a man's soul, when his entire
world is seen through the flames of hell? Friendship, loss,
suffering... these are realities that no fire can ever cleanse. The
man whose rest is now to be broken...

ii. Three Words -- Flame Is Bad

Minna wa, issho ni yomite de gozaru yo!