Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction / Samurai X Fan Fiction ❯ A Strong Will ❯ Force ( Chapter 5 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin and all affiliated characters and circumstances are the creative property of Watsuki Nobuhiro, and the legal property of the companies licensing, releasing, and distributing it. This includes Shueisha's Jump Comics, Studio Gallop, and VIZ media (US and Canada). Used without permission. The author posting this fanwork claims no ownership of the series, nor makes a profit from this story.

Warnings: strong action violence, some instances of strong language; this fiction is rated Y for a reason.

Chapter 5: Force

Himura was far from recovered.

Katsura knew this, and could tell easily from the pained, pinched expression around the hitokiri's intense - but glassy - eyes. He could tell from the stiff manner in which the boy held himself, and the slight twitching of facial muscles when he moved to sit. Himura was pale and shaky, hunched and thin; he had to be in a great deal more pain than he was willing to show. While Katsura admired the brave show he was putting on for his leader's sake, the move only twisted the white hot knife of guilt further into his gut for the request he was about to ask of the wounded young man.

“The Shinsengumi are closing in,” Katsura said quietly once he saw that Himura was settled with a small, painted clayware mug of steaming Japanese tea clasped in his quivering, pale hands. “They've been asking around other shrines in the vicinity after you. It won't be long until they come across this one.”

“We're going to have to leave,” Himura said suddenly, stoically, “and you want to ask me if I'm able to do so.”

Though the answer startled him, Katsura nodded slowly. He hadn't brought a fool into the task of hitokiri, but that too also saddened him. This boy was willing to sacrifice anything for him, and once again he shamefully took advantage of Himura's willingness to do whatever it took to achieve a peaceful end. Giving Himura an expectant look, he wondered if he was asking too much, too soon when the hitokiri hesitated. If he had to think about it…

“I might,” Himura replied after a moment's pause. “How soon do we have to leave?”

“As quickly as we possibly can. I don't want to take any chances of them coming back here with more hostile intentions than they've been displaying so far, and we're only putting this shrine in danger the longer we stay here.”

This time, Himura nodded, but he still looked a little upset. He was hiding something, and Katsura knew that now was the time to give him the option.

“Realistically, I know you're not going to be at full speed, Himura.” Katsura bit his lip when the boy looked down into his hands with a frown. “But Hirokatsu-sensei told me that he has something that might be able to alleviate that problem long enough for us to get away.” And before he could ask, he hesitated on the word `but'.

Himura caught him with a sharp glance, as if he'd actually heard the unspoken word. “There are side effects.”

Katsura sighed. “Yes, unfortunately. Hirokatsu can explain them to you; I don't know the details. But he was hesitant to give you this treatment in the first place, so I will be honest - they're likely not good.”

For a moment, Himura seemed to turn the information over in his mind before he said determinedly, “I'll do it.”

The guilt intensified, almost making Katsura feel sick with the worry it was causing. Himura was going through with it for the sake of the cause, regardless of his own sake, with little hesitation or thought to the contrary. And that was entirely Katsura's fault. He barely managed to get out his next words evenly, but he did.

“I'll go fetch Hirokatsu-sensei.”

The heat of the fires couldn't warm the chill that had sunk into Suzuka's skin as he watched the flames lick at what was left of the wooden frame of the shrine. In a soldier's life, he knew that one must face the choice between one's duties to one's leaders versus the rights of others to live. These people had done nothing wrong by the Shinsengumi, other than the fact that they had simply asked for the spies to not intrude upon their daily lives. Such a simple request at such a heavy price. There had been no sign that the Ishin rebels - or Battousai, for that matter - had ever set foot on the premises. All in all it was a grievous mistake, but one that Matsuo certainly had plenty of excuses to cover it with. Not that such a reassurance made it any easier for Suzuka to square with his conscience - something about killing holy men made him feel especially dirtied - but that was out of his hands now that the shrine had been burned to the ground and the priests turned out or killed, as he'd been ordered to do.

None of Matsuo's excuses, however, could ever allow him to forget the screams of the priests as they were harshly questioned and then slaughtered, or of the stench of burning flesh and wood, or the disgusted hisses the fire spat back at him every time rain found its way through the thick tree cover.

Suzuka tugged on the reins of his horse and turned it down the path back to the main road. They had one more stop to make on this patrol, and now that they'd had a miss on one of the shrines, the one holding Battousai - should it even exist - would receive news of this one's destruction quickly. He had no time to sit and dwell upon it. Signaling to his men on the patrol, he urged his horse to a gallop, hoping to catch up to the spies who were scouting out the next shrine before they went to raze it, even though he knew that the kokugaku faction really would only be angrier with the Bakufu for allowing their `watchdogs' to create this mess in the first place. The Bakufu would be more than upset. Hell, even Hijikata would be infuriated, and might even send one of his prized captains down to clean up the mess Matsuo had made. Matsuo wasn't much of a politician, really. He just wanted power and fame, and would do anything to get both.

Reaching up to wipe away the rainwater from his eyes, Suzuka sighed. He almost wished he hadn't set Matsuo after the religious institutions, regardless of the fact that he'd likely saved his own life in doing so. He wasn't even sure Battousai was alive, or if he was at one of these shrines or temples in the first place. Part of him wanted to tell his men to halt, call it quits, and head back to headquarters in Nara. But the other part of him knew that Matsuo would have him killed - by Matsuo's sword, or his own - if he didn't produce results, and soon.

Such a goddamned fucking mess.

They were about halfway to the next kokugaku shrine when he saw the riders on the road ahead. Raising one hand up to shield his eyes enough for him to squint into the distance, he realized the two horses were riding towards the squadron, and fast. Might be the spies, half of him hoped. And maybe they would be bringing good news.

The first rider came close enough for Suzuka to confirm the rider as indeed one of his. He breathed deeply in relief, and waited patiently for the man to catch his breath and report.

“Suzuka-fukutaichou.” The spy nodded in greeting, a gesture that Suzuka returned.

“The shrine?”

“There's activity going on there, and the head count is a great deal larger than the number of priests we know of at that shrine.”

“They could be recruiting and training new priests,” Suzuka suggested.

“Possibly, but not entirely likely. The others were not wearing holy garb of any kind. They looked either like civilians, or samurai. I couldn't tell from my position. It wasn't a festival; nobody was dressed for the occasion.”

Suzuka tried not to suck in a harsh breath. There was a good chance that this was their target, if the Ishin were indeed in the middle of nowhere in a kokugaku shrine. Nobody else would be flocking to the shrine in that number if it was simply a revival, especially not in this nasty weather. At any rate, they had to hurry if they wanted the element of surprise, and even so he doubted to gain even that edge. If there was that much activity, then the Ishin refugees might be trying to flee.

“Thank you,” Suzuka said, nodding dismissively. The spy nodded back, and rode past the squadron, possibly going to pass the news on to Matsuo.

For now, however, it was time to hunt a demon. If that were even possible.

If looks could kill, Hirokatsu was sure Katsura would be dead several times over by now. He knew the man would somehow coerce Kenshin into taking the cocktail. He knew it, and yet he knew it was probably the best course of action, regardless of how much he hated to admit it. If they were going to get away alive, they would need Kenshin alert enough to handle at least himself. As it was, the boy's badly shaking hands were indication enough for him that this was probably the worst possible time that the Shinsengumi could have picked to become a nuisance. Well, maybe not the worst possible time - a week ago would've been worse - but the timing was still rather infuriating.

And so he crushed dried herbs into a bowl angrily, throwing in a pinch of this and that to desperately try to help Himura's condition in any way he could. He hated creating this cocktail; while he didn't mind using the separate herbs for easing discomfort, this particular mixture - especially at such a high dosage he was making - left rather unpleasant after-effects once it wore off. Himura would be horribly sick afterwards, especially since the bullet wound had caused some damage to his stomach and hadn't quite healed yet. He could feel the boy's cold, intimidating gaze leveled at him as he worked, as if he sensed what the healer was thinking and was showing his determination to go through with it anyway. Stubborn as hell, that kid, but even he felt the pressure of the oncoming Shinsengumi. With a frustrated sigh, Hirokatsu pulled the last ingredient for the mixture from his medicine box - shirane-senkyu to stave off the pain and keep him awake - and tossed in three times the usual recommended dosage. A gamble, but it would have to work. Next, he pulled out a small packet of yunnan bai yao powder he'd managed to import from northern China to use on Kenshin's wounds when he rebandaged them.

“Pass me the hot water, would you, Katsura-sama?” the healer said curtly. Katsura, clearly cowed by the irritated healer, handed him the teapot as quickly as he could without spilling it on himself or Hirokatsu. Hirokatsu then poured the water over the crushed herbs, handed the glass to Kenshin. “Drink this, and then chew on this,” he handed him a tochiba ginseng root, “and then I'll see what I can do with your dressings.”

Kenshin nodded, quietly complying but scrunching his nose as he gagged on the bittersweet tea. The ginseng would likely be a welcome flavor after having to drink such a quickly-made brew.

“You'll feel pretty good here for a while, but just… don't overdo it,” Hirokatsu warned somberly. “You won't be feeling so great once your body tries to deal with the excess herbs, and then you'll be in twice the pain if your injuries are agitated on top of that. I want you to sleep as soon as it's safe to do so.”

It was the hesitation that almost made Hirokatsu stop this entire mess. Himura was entirely too calm about this ordeal, even if he was a rather even-keeled young man. All this information about what he was taking… he was taking it in stride. He hadn't even asked what was in the tea. Himura had something planned, the little twit. But before Hirokatsu could call him on it, the boy nodded.

“I understand.” And the conversation was over.

Hirokatsu sighed almost angrily as Himura began to struggle his way out of the sleeves of the yukata he wore, and once again the healer took over the long task of unwinding the lengths of linen bandages swathing the boy's middle. The wounds were well on their way to healing, as long as they weren't disturbed. Hirokatsu wasn't going to take any chances. He poured a little of the yunnan bai yao powder over the healing wounds - a precautionary measure, mostly, as the wounds were no longer bleeding - and pressed the powder into the skin. Himura hissed quietly at the pressure, but otherwise didn't indicate that he was affected by it. The bandages were wound tighter than usual by the time the healer had finished, and Himura seemed to act as though this was something he did everyday as he slid on the sleeves of his freshly-washed navy gi and pulled on the rest of his gear.

And the worst part was that Katsura would accept this gesture merely at face value.

A frantic knock at the door interrupted the sudden impulse Hirokatsu had to dress down Katsura, and a worried-looking priest burst into the room after a quick acknowledgement from Katsura. “Katsura-sama, you're going to have to leave right now,” the monk said quickly, keeping his voice low. “The Shinsengumi burned down our brother shrine, and they're headed this way next by all reports. I think they're most likely looking for you.”

Katsura frowned at the news as he scrambled to his feet. “How long do we have?”

“A few hours, at the most. Likely less than that; it's hard to say.”

Hirokatsu kept the curse under his breath, but he could tell both Himura and Katsura felt the same way he did. Katsura gave some instructions to the monk - Akira, Hirokatsu was sure he heard - before he thanked and dismissed him in one smooth sentence. When the priest left, Himura slowly - stiffly - stood as well, suddenly reaching down and grabbing for air. Hirokatsu tried not to flinch; he knew what the boy was looking for.

“Where are my swords?” Himura suddenly asked, turning to Katsura. Katsura shot a look at Hirokatsu first. Hirokatsu's eyes narrowed at the man as Himura turned his glassy gaze on him next. The display itself wasn't intimidating enough to be convincing, but his next words, spoken softly, were more than substantial. “I'm going to need them in case we don't get out in time.”

“They're in my chambers,” Katsura replied. “We'll grab them on our way out.”

They would, too. Just as they would hurry along just quickly enough that Hirokatsu didn't have time to point out that Himura was stumbling behind them, and that he was swaying on his feet. Just quickly enough to not notice when Himura's eyes took on a resigned sort of determination as they started to leave the shrine. And just not quickly enough to avoid the one thing that Hirokatsu knew would cause Himura to disobey his orders.

Matsuo's horse couldn't carry him fast enough to suit him. As soon as the news from Suzuka's personal courier had arrived about the second kokugaku shrine showing more promise, he hesitated mere seconds before he turned his horse away from the burning remains of the final shrine that had dared to lie to the Shinsengumi and pushed it into a brisk gallop. When he was reassured that he had company on the trail, he urged the horse into a frenzied sprint. His companions kept up with him, as he'd anticipated. He had paid a handsome sum for their help, after all. Ninja mercenaries didn't come cheap, nor were they easy to find. Matsuo wasn't about to take chances with the stakes running so high in this chase. Battousai was not to be underestimated, even while wounded; he'd learned that lesson the hard way.

Matsuo peered into the dark, hoping to catch some sign of the second kokugaku shrine's simple tiled roof in the distance. It wasn't far; at their current pace, they should be there in under half an hour. The leader of the small ninja crew he'd hired brought his horse alongside Matsuo's, and in a wordless exchange, the ninja gave a curt nod. They were going to be heading into battle soon.

With a shudder, Matsuo was hardly able to keep a wide grin from spreading across his face. His prey was close by, and he could practically smell the blood already. It was making him giddy with all the visions of power it conjured in his mind. But he knew that he would have to be patient, otherwise the elusive hitokiri would slip through his fingers, or would end up dead. A dead hitokiri would do him no good at this point.

Dead priests would, perhaps, but not dead bait.

He felt the ninja leader's eyes boring into the back of his skull, but at this point he didn't care. Ninja were loyal to the purse, and only the purse; no matter how much they might approve or disapprove of this hunt, and no matter how much of a personal stake they had in the situation, they wouldn't turn on him unless someone else paid them more to do so. But at the same time, he had a feeling that perhaps they weren't as adverse to the current plan as he'd initially thought. Just as long as they didn't kill Battousai, he honestly couldn't care less what they did to subdue the demon.

With the kokugaku shrine now firmly in site down the path, Matsuo didn't restrain the grin this time. It was time to hunt the demon down.

By the time Kenshin had his swords shoved familiarly into his hastily-tied obi, the world no longer spun dangerously with each step; Kenshin took this as the first sign that Hirokatsu's cocktail was taking effect. The second was the unnatural adrenaline rush that made his ears ring and brought the world around him into almost too sharp of a focus. Though it was a far cry better than staggering sluggishly behind Katsura and Hirokatsu, he had a bad feeling that he was only going to feel worse once the medicine wore off.

But if his over-acute senses were reliable at all, he knew he honestly hadn't had any other choice. Someone was coming - rather, several someones. Danger pricked at his nerves, sending a nasty chill down his spine. The approaching group wasn't friendly - Shinsengumi-affiliated, likely - but at the same time they didn't seem to have the same blatantly hostile ki as most of the Shinsen samurai emanated. He got a sense that whoever was chasing them was far calmer and more collected than most samurai were on the hunt, and it worried him.

Kenshin nearly sighed as Katsura signaled to the small band of Ishin that had accompanied to the shrine. It had taken them far too long to get ready to leave; the rain was no longer pouring down in torrents as it had been earlier, and it was now nightfall. They would have to travel all night in order to get to somewhere safe. And for all Kenshin knew, they might be on the run for an extended amount of time. Hirokatsu seemed agitated as well, and for a moment Kenshin wondered if he too had sensed the incoming menace and the intense pressure of the time they simply didn't have.

One thing was for certain: the longer they had to run, the less likely they would come out alive.

They were not nearly far enough down the back trails out of the shrine's grounds when he picked up the sound of shouting. They had merely a half hour's head start; even that would rapidly be cut down due to Katsura's decision to slow them down because of his growing concern over Kenshin's condition. He was slowing them down, and they really wouldn't escape in time at this painfully sluggish rate. They were walking; they needed to be running.

And then the startling, gut-wrenching realization that the priests were dead hit him head-on; he cursed himself for not having thought of it sooner. The Shinsengumi had to know that they'd been there, and that the shrine had been covering for them this entire time. They had been looking for an excuse to go after the kokugaku faction for a long time, and now they had it. It was his fault - he was the one who had screwed up with Tanaka, and had caused them all to land in this mess in the first place.

Tanaka. Oh, gods. Tanaka's family - they were in trouble too, if they hadn't already been slaughtered. He wondered briefly if Katsura had received the letter he'd brought with him, and assumed it was the case when he recalled that it wasn't tucked into the sleeve of his uniform when he'd put it back on over the bandages. But now wasn't the time to be dwelling on the Tanaka family; if Katsura was caught, nobody would be able to help them.

So much depended on Katsura's survival at this point - much more than the Tanaka family, or even the small crew that currently traveled with them. The Choshu clan would fall to pieces with Katsura gone and nobody to take his place. And he was not about to let that happen.

Before he could put his own plan into action, Katsura shot a look over his shoulder and caught his gaze. Steeling his expression, Kenshin nodded back at him to reassure the man that he was alright, hoping that he'd get the hint that they were going too slowly. Katsura's eyes suddenly fixed on the distance behind the group, and as the older man's forehead wrinkled in concern, Kenshin realized that by now he must have heard the commotion that was likely back at the shrine. Kenshin didn't miss the look that Katsura shot Hirokatsu just before the healer frowned and gave Kenshin a scrutinizing glance.

Katsura was verifying if Kenshin would be able to handle a faster pace. Kenshin nodded at Hirokatsu, who nodded at Katsura when Katsura chanced another look behind him. It was like a game, almost, and it was laughable. But in the moment that Hirokatsu took to nod at Katsura and the short space in which Katsura sped up to an almost-jog, Kenshin allowed himself to fall just behind and a little to the side of Hirokatsu. The older man craned his neck slightly to check on him one last time, and when satisfied, he looked forward again.

Quickly stealing one last look at Katsura's swaying topknot, and then over at what he could see of Hirokatsu's tensed face, he quietly began to slow his own pace until he'd gradually fallen further and further behind. Grateful that everyone seemed to be too intent on getting away to notice, he masked his ki. When he found himself at the back of the group, he paused only briefly in the middle of the road to make sure nobody noticed before he whipped around without a word and ran silently back in the direction of the shrine.

The Shinsengumi's reputation for brutality held solidly.

Akira had seen more of his charges - other priests, laymen, trainees; all unarmed - fall to the sharp blades of the Wolves. They hadn't listened to pleading, or promises that there hadn't been any sort of treason coming from the bleeding mouths of the other shrine inhabitants. They had been swift, lethally efficient in the slaughter of what they'd claimed upon arriving to be a den of traitors. So he had prepared himself to die, and had planned to greet it welcomingly. He had not expected the sad-eyed man who apparently led the current raid to give orders to hold him separately, to keep him alive.

It was a sentence worse than death, he decided morosely. But he had been prepared the moment he'd received Katsura's pleas to help that he would help them at any costs, because Katsura supported a cause he firmly believed in and that would be achieved, according to the seers. And he would not falter in the face of a promise he'd made - silently to Katsura, completely to himself - even in the face of… questioning.

He wasn't about to allow himself to live a coward's long life. He'd rather die a martyr's equally long death; at least his conscience would be clean in the afterlife.

In detention and surrounded by three turquoise-clad Shinsengumi, he meditated with the same method he'd taught his subordinate priests to do in the face of Death. And so he was once again surprised when his meditation was broken by cries and a scalding spray of blood. Upon opening his eyes, he was sure he saw a demon at first, gold eyes glittering eerily in contrast to the silhouette of the fire, swinging a blade to the side and sheathing it before it held out a slender hand to him in a gesture of help. When his vision finally focused around the smoke, his eyes widened when he realized who was standing there.

“Himura…?” he breathed, numbly watching as his own hand moved to take the hitokiri's.

“You need to get the rest of the priests and leave,” Himura said quietly, his slender hands stronger than Akira had expected as he was pulled to his feet. “They won't let you go easily, so put as much distance between yourselves and this place as you can.”

“You shouldn't be here,” Akira said sternly, his wandered mind finally slipping back into place. “Where is Katsura? The rest of the men?”

“Safe.” The hitokiri looked away, hand hovering near the hilt of his now-sheathed sword.

Akira suddenly felt anger boiling under the surface of his trained, calm exterior. He didn't blame Himura for the current mess, but he'd be damned if the insolent boy thought he was doing them a favor by coming back to rescue them. “Does Katsura know you're here?”

“No, and I hope he doesn't follow me,” Himura replied coldly.

“You should have been with them. Katsura came here for your sake, so don't you dare let that be in vain!” Akira hissed, grabbing the front of Himura's gi and forcing him to match gazes.

Himura's gold eyes widened slightly, and then looked away almost guiltily as he brushed the priest's hands from his uniform. “They would have caught up to us. We'd already had several Shinsengumi on our trail by the time I doubled back.”

“But that doesn't mean you have to be the one to sacrifice yourself.”

Himura shook his head. “But I would have only slowed them down further. I could hardly keep up as it was.”

Akira couldn't help but gape at the young man standing so solemnly before him. “Do you really think your suicide here will remedy the situation?” he whispered angrily. “I won't stand by to watch it. This is madness. You shouldn't be here, and I'm not leaving until you do.”

Himura then gazed at him with an icy, dark expression that made the blood freeze in the priest's veins and bile rise in the back of his throat. “I don't need any more people dying on my behalf. Don't forget that you have other priests here depending on you, Akira-san.” Akira shuddered; Himura spoke the truth. He did have others who were depending on his help, and he was only making matters worse by threatening the only one who really could help them in this situation. “The back way is clear, for now. Take the survivors who can move, and get out of here. The road forks three miles down, and again another half-mile after that. Take the right path first, and then the left. It'll take you to a place where you'll be safe for the time being.”

“But what about you?”

Himura smiled sadly. “Don't worry about me. I didn't come here with the intention to die.”

Akira regarded him seriously, and then nodded slowly when he saw that Himura was indeed serious. He would do his best to make it out alive. Though it wasn't much of an assurance, it was enough of one to cause him to spring into action.

“Don't disappoint us, Himura-san,” he said with a curt bow. Himura nodded, and he turned away and ran towards the back end of the shrine, ignoring the nagging feeling that the hitokiri was in for a lot of trouble, half-hearted assurances aside. The boy had been badly injured and physically wasn't ready to fight, regardless of his mental state. He almost turned back to tell him that, try to call him on a lie that he wasn't sure existed.

But when he looked over his shoulder, Himura was already gone.

The party had continued on in silence, and Katsura began to worry once more that the pace he'd set was taking its toll on Himura. The boy had to be hurting; though Himura seemed annoyed about the constant fussing and checking in, Katsura hadn't looked back in at least twenty minutes. It had to be some kind of record for him. Hirokatsu was likely keeping an eye on the hitokiri and watching for signs of side effects from the herbal cocktail they'd had him down. While he hated it when Himura gave him the `don't you dare mother-hen me' look, he had to know if he was holding up at that pace.

His heart leaped to his throat when he finally mustered up the determination to cast a glance over his shoulder - he didn't see Himura. Panicked, he came to a full halt, stepping aside to let the others pass by him, but they too slowed to a stop in confusion. When Hirokatsu caught up to him, he immediately read the panicked, wild look in Katsura's eyes and he too stopped to look around. Himura wasn't there.

“Himura!” Katsura shouted, looking around frantically.

“Damn it, kid,” Hirokatsu breathed angrily. “Goddamn it.”

“When did you last see him?” Katsura was suddenly standing toe-to-toe with the older healer, giving him a scathing - but worried - glare. “Did you see him leave?”

Hirokatsu scrubbed his face with his hand in frustration. “I don't know. Back closer to the shrine, but I didn't notice when he left.”

“Shit,” Katsura muttered under his breath. “We're going to have to look for him. He might've fallen behind and—”

“You know as well as I do that he didn't simply fall behind, Katsura-sama,” Hirokatsu interrupted him in a low voice. “And as much as I want to beat some sense into that boy's hide, I'd venture to say that he's saving our hides right now by steering the Shinsengumi off our trail.”

“Damn it, Tatsumo - we can't just leave him there!” Katsura exclaimed, gesturing angrily back down the path with one hand. “We came to this shrine to save his life. We gave him that damned elixir so that he'd make it back to Kyoto, not so that he could fight! I'm not about to let him go throw his life away just because he's worried for our sakes.”

“Katsura-sama…”

“Don't. We're going back.”

Hirokatsu stepped in the younger man's path. “You know I would agree with you on this, but it's too late now. Going back there would mean suicide for us all. Who knows, maybe Himura managed to summon that demon he supposedly has living in him and killed them all.” He saw the entire group flinch at the mention of Himura's bloody reputation, but he didn't seem to care. “Katsura, you trained him to be a killer. Let's put our faith in him that he'll do a good enough job to stay alive; he's done at least that much so far.”

Katsura knew the man had a good point, and that he hated turning tail and leaving as much as Katsura did. They really didn't have a choice. Katsura brushed one hand over his face and into his hair, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he turned again to face the path to Kyoto.

“Damn it,” he said through clenched teeth. With a sigh, he looked up and regarded the men he'd brought with them. He had them to worry about as well. But he didn't have to like this decision. “We're going.”

He moved forward, and his men followed, as it would always be. And he would continue to worry about Himura until the boy was back in Kyoto, safe and whole. However, part of him knew that this decision - while being totally right - was utterly wrong, and he could only hope that Himura would make it out alive.

Kenshin hardly had time to watch the surviving priests - at least, those that could move on their own power - run down the path with Akira and away from the small raid-and-plunder before he plunged back into it. Though part of him was relieved that there weren't as many Shinsengumi attacking the shrine as he had feared there would be, another part of him shrieked in warning that there was something more. There was an elusive presence nearby, possibly several, but he couldn't afford the concentration to track them down. It was taking all his concentration not to hurt himself while he was fighting the opposing swordsmen; he had to cut back on a number of his techniques, since his aching body refused to move in certain directions required for them. General battoujutsu was barely manageable, while any variations on it threatened to make him falter. Do ryu sen was out of the question. What techniques he could use - basics, mostly - he made sure were deadly. He couldn't waste more than two strokes on any given enemy in his current state.

And his current state was being threatened further by a rather uncomfortable nausea building deep in his belly. Though he usually was able to focus past it, the niggling feeling was just enough to cause his vision to waver every so often, and would put off an enemy's death by one stroke, and then two. When it took four to down one enemy, he knew he was running out of time. He hoped that Katsura and the rest of the group had put enough distance between themselves and the now burned down shrine to make it out unscathed. Katsura had to know by now that he'd jilted them and went back. He had to know that Kenshin was doing it for the survival of the group, and hoped - trusted - he would be wise enough not to come after him.

A blinding pain punched deep into his gut, and he realized he'd pulled stitches. Looking down at the fallen, bloodied Shinsen member on the ground at his feet, he realized from the fatal wound he'd delivered the man that he'd used a technique he shouldn't have without thinking. Knees trembling and threatening to buckle beneath him, he faltered even as he felt the hostile presence of another soldier charging him from behind. Twisting to the side as best he could, the man managed to hole the broad sleeve of his navy gi, the sword sticking. Kenshin tried to jerk his arm away, but the fabric was caught on the blade and wouldn't tear. Striking the man across the back of his head with the hilt of his katana, he felt the man's grip on the sword loosen and he jerked away, only to have to duck beneath the swing of a second man behind him. Stabbing upward, he felt his katana's blade slide effortlessly through the flesh of his enemy's exposed throat, felt the warm spray of blood and heard the death-gurgles and the thud of the dying body as it connected with the ground and finally lay still.

He didn't have time to pull the blade out from his sleeve before he felt the ki of another person approaching him, but oddly the new presence was softer, almost as if his over-reactive nerves were tingling as an effect from the drugs rather than a new enemy. But when he heard a sharp whistling from the trees descend on him quickly, he spun and swung his sword in a diagonal arc, clenching his teeth as he heard his blade strike more metal. A small metal object bounced off his sword and hit the ground several feet wide with a sharp thwack, the truth verified with a quick glance - shuriken.

Ninja.

And if there was one here, there had to be more elsewhere.

Another group of four Shinsen wolves were close by. They were easier to pick out, with flaring, blatantly hostile ki and no attempt to conceal their movements. It was the ninja he really had to worry about. He'd fought ninja countless times before - and at least once that he really didn't want to think about just now - and he'd never emerged from those skirmishes completely unscathed. Shishou's harsh training was the only reason he wasn't killed in those encounters. He wasn't sure how well he'd fare, however, now that he was sufficiently injured.

And sick.

His stomach was roiling now, and every movement he made caused it to protest further. Hirokatsu told him it might do that, but he hadn't realized just how bad it was going to get. With a quick tug, he managed to free the katana from his sleeve and used it to block the handful of needles that were hurled his way. Another shuriken whistled towards him, and this time he ducked out of its path. Two more followed in succession, and he barely managed to dodge and parry those. If he had a little more energy, he would've been glad to know the ninja's exact location. He was perched in the third row of trees off the path. But Kenshin's stomach protested further when he realized he was going to have to either jump up there, unless he came up with a way to lure the ninja down to him.

It took almost a moment too long to think of - and he wasn't even sure if it'd work - but he didn't have time. The next shuriken that flew at him, he caught the shuriken between two fingers, rolling back with the weapon's line of flight to absorb it more easily. The sharp metal edges bit into the skin of his fingers, but not quite enough to break the skin. They were likely poisoned, so he had to be extremely careful. Taking the full weight of the fall to his side, he lay still once he'd hit the ground. It hurt like hell, but it had to look real.

The softer presence grew a little stronger, and after a few moments, he heard the soft thump as the ninja hit the ground and approached him quietly. Using the ki as a beacon, as soon as the ninja was close enough, he quickly flipped onto his back and threw the star back at the ninja. Caught by surprise, the star struck his enemy's shoulder in a spray of blood - not quite where Kenshin was aiming, but it would do - and he stood there for a moment, eyes wide above the black cloth covering his mouth and nose, before he fell to his knees and then collapsed.

The poison was fast-acting, then. He would have to be very careful.

The four Shinsengumi had heard the commotion and were heading towards him now. Trying to push himself to his feet, his roiling insides finally rebelled, hardly giving him time to turn to the side. After heaving a second time, he was finally able to get the spasms under control, and he swiped a shaking, guard-clad hand across his mouth. He grimaced when he looked down - his vomit was tinted a reddish-pink. Bad sign for one with a healing stomach wound. He had to get out of there, and fast.

A shout attracted his attention, and he looked up to find that the first of the four Shinsengumi had spotted him and was pointing to his comrades. They charged - no formation, Kenshin noted with some level of relief - swords positioned for the famous vertical slash that he'd heard about. Staggering to his feet and away from the mess, he swallowed the foul-tasting bile in his throat and with a flick of his sword, he slid it effortlessly back into the sheath and crouched low for a simple battoujutsu and let them come to him.

When the first man was close enough, he whipped out his sword in a flashing arc that connected with the man's side in a burst of red, ducking the man's katana as it sailed past his face and over his shoulder. He had to brace his sword hand with his other as he pressed the katana and felt it tear through muscle, bone, and soft innards as it tore the man in half. Blood spattered across his grimy face, and he blinked it out of his eyes as he flash-stepped past the falling body and met the second with a quick, forward thrust through his chest before he could react. Tearing the sword upwards, he felt a sharp twinge in his back and gut, but he had to ignore them - the third man was on him already. Bracing one foot on the second Shinsengumi's breastplate, he pushed the dead man off his blade and sent him flying into the third, who stumbled forward into just the right position for Kenshin to leap over the body and bear down on him with a vicious downward stroke that severed his head from his body.

The fourth man was a little wiser - he held back long enough to watch Battousai mercilessly cut his comrades down, and sized up the smaller swordsman with a snarl on his face.

“Name yourself, Battousai,” the man hissed, pulling the sword hilt to his back shoulder, the sharp edge of the blade skyward and the tip pointing threateningly at Kenshin.

Kenshin grimaced as he flicked the blood from his blade. This was not going to end well. Before he could reply to the Shinsengumi before him, he heard another whistling noise and barely managed to duck out of the way of another shuriken. The second ninja had arrived, and Kenshin briefly wondered just how many of them were hiding in the forest around the shrine's grounds. The fourth Shinsengumi charged with a yell, and even while Kenshin prepared to attack him, he picked up the soft disturbance of another weapon being hurled his way. It wasn't a shuriken this time, but he dodged to the side - avoiding both projectile and attack - as the bolt struck the charging Shinsen soldier instead. With a grunt, the swordsman stumbled, and Kenshin took advantage of the distraction and muscled the man against him around to his front to block the next two bolts heading his way. The soldier jerked in his hands as the weapons connected; Kenshin dropped him and charged after where he'd pinpointed the ninja's location to be. This one was on the ground.

Another shuriken whistled past his face, but he kept running. It had only confirmed where the ninja was hiding. The ninja looked startled when Kenshin suddenly appeared before him, sword raised high for a strike. With a yell, Kenshin swung downwards, but was stopped when a bolt connected with his shoulder and sent him staggering backwards a few steps. Grimacing - trying hard not to let it remind him of a previous encounter with these ninja - he brought up his blade with both hands and blocked the ninja's quickly-drawn short sword, his face inches away from the ninja's. The ninja's dark eyes glittered, telling of a confident smirk. The expression was quickly replaced with one of surprise when Kenshin dropped one hand from the block and gripped the hilt of his wakizashi with it, jabbing the ninja in the gut with it before he drew it and stabbed it into his enemy's chest. The ninja gagged and stumbled a just far enough back for Kenshin to push his sword away from the lock and use his katana to finish the job.

The last whistling noise came too late to warn him of the incoming shuriken, and while he managed to dodge to the side to avoid a fatal blow, the star cut a shallow path along his forearm. He hissed, jerked his sword free from the second ninja as he turned to face the new threat. The cut had already begun to burn; he didn't have much time, but he didn't know how many more ninja were still out there. Another shuriken flew at him, but this time when he dodged to the side, he stepped right in the path of another one. Throwing up his left arm to block, he let the star strike his forearm. It was better than letting it hit a vital point. He immediately pulled it out and tossed it to the side, but now his vision was blurring and wavering. His shaking, unsteady legs buckled beneath him, bringing him to his knees. He heard distant shouts and distantly felt several more presences coming towards him, but his body felt too heavy to react to any of them.

The third ninja was closing in, and though he could sense the man, he sluggishly realized that he wasn't going to be able to avoid any more of his attacks. The cuts on his arms burned like fire and Kenshin found himself wavering even on his knees, the world tilting and blurring and suddenly sideways. His stomach lurched, throat burning as a bitter taste passed through his mouth, but he no longer had any energy to fight down the wave of nausea. Several sets of hands were turning him to his side, and he suddenly realized that he couldn't move his numbed limbs and it was harder to breathe. But even the panic wasn't enough to keep the world from blinking out in a flurry of bright lights and distant pain. Poison, his mind sluggishly recognized. And if that was the case… he wouldn't make it. Part of him felt the need to apologize to Akira-san that he had gone on a suicide mission after all, but Akira wasn't there.

He wondered, fleetingly, if the others had gotten out alive.

.to be continued in chapter 6.

Historical Notes

I had a question from a reviewer at FFnet about the kokugaku sect in one of the earlier chapters, so I thought I might as well answer it here in case anyone else has the same question. While I was studying abroad, I took a history course that focused on Japanese religion and society, and I ended up doing a presentation on a reading for the class that covered the post-Bakumatsu/early Meiji religious changes that the new government put in place, mostly concerning the Great Promulgation Campaign that legally separated Buddhism from folk religion (which had no name until that point, at which it began being called the Shinto `religion'). Folk religion had been heavily reliant on Buddhism for its structure for many centuries, but the main goal of the GPC was to boost nationalism in the form of religion, and Shinto was considered Japan's only `native' religion, as Buddhism had been imported from China despite the fact that it had been in Japan for centuries at that point. Needless to say, the GPC largely failed, but that's another story for another time. ;)

I promise I'm getting to a point here, haha. The first part of the reading I had to cover in my presentation did a little background on the Great Promulgation Campaign's origin, and it turns out that there was this one religious sect during the Bakumatsu that had heavily supported the Ishin Shishi efforts. They were strongly against foreign influence, and they were the first to come up with the notion that Buddhism wasn't a `purely Japanese' religion. This group came to be called “kokugaku,” “koku” meaning country (implying nationalism) and “gaku” meaning school. While they did not participate outright in the actual war, they were very supportive of the “sonno joi” (“revere the Emperor and expel the barbarians”) motto of the Ishin Shishi. Mind you, I did take plenty of artistic liberties on this idea with this story, but this is the historical aspect that I'd pulled it from. Yes, there was an actual kokugaku sect, and yes, they did support the Ishin Shishi.

Keep in mind that if you also have any language or contextual questions (historical or otherwise), don't hesitate to ask them. I'll do my best to answer.

A few more words, if I may. This chapter has been up at FFnet for over two months now (almost three), and I'd completely forgotten I hadn't posted it here. My apologies for anyone who might be following this story here at MediaMiner.

I'd like to thank Nekotsuki for the editing work, and also Warg, xZig-zagx, Hitokiri Taijiya, gure, Calger, and Khrysalis for the added encouragement and detail nit-picking. I really appreciate it, you guys! :3

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. I crave constructive feedback like chocolate.