Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Guardian of Order ❯ Chapter 2 ( Chapter 2 )

Usui smiled as he drifted through the thin walls of his target's house. Being a spirit really was incredibly useful, especially for a task like this. Of course, there was a limit to how much influence a spirit could exert on the mortal world, but that would change once Shishio had conquered hell. And after that . . . But that would come later, Usui reminded himself. Right now, he had a task to perform.

Izaki Mikado had been a moderately important member of Shishio's network in the days when the former Hitokiri had still walked the earth. He was a merchant who ran caravans that travelled across most of Japan, a business that gave him a perfectly good reason for hiring a large number of sword carrying bodyguards. Shishio had seen him as a useful source of manpower and transport. All these years later Izaki still had access to a fair-sized body of men, none of them especially moral or honourable - which was the way Izaki liked his bodyguards. They were unlikely to balk at the murder of a single ill woman, so long as Izaki promised them a bonus.

And he would, Usui was sure. By the time he was through with Izaki the man would stop at nothing to ensure the death of Kamiya Kaoru.

Guardian of Order

A Rurouni Kenshin fanfiction

Chapter Two

Izaki Mikado shuddered in his sleep as memories of events long past were revived and sent to haunt his dreams. He had only met Shishio once and ever afterward had wished with every fibre of his being that he hadn't. The man had been . . . inhuman. He was reliving that meeting now, as he slept.

"I have a task for you, Izaki," Shishio was saying as he sipped idly at his sake. The two of them were sitting across from one another in a small but well appointed room in an inn that Izaki had an interest in. Shishio's woman - Yumi, he thought her name was, he'd been too nervous to pay much attention when Shishio had introduced her - had accompanied him, but Izaki had come alone as Shishio had instructed.

I don't remember this, Izaki thought. This isn't real, is it? Am I dreaming or not?

Izaki shuddered as Shishio's gaze fixed on him. He could feel a burning sensation behind his eyes, almost as though the madman's gaze was physically entering his head. In a moment of horrible realisation Izaki realised that something like that was happening, as images and thoughts appeared in his mind. A woman named Kamiya Kaoru. A dojo and its location. The names and faces of others who lived there. Then Shishio spoke again.

"You will send every man you have to that place, two nights from now, and tell them to kill the woman and anyone who tries to protect her. Tell your men that others will join them on their way there."

Izaki felt like weeping. He knew, somehow, that was more than just a dream.

This was supposed to be over!

Despite himself, he couldn't help expressing the thought aloud.

"Aren't . . . aren't you supposed to be dead?" Izaki stuttered, barely able to get the words out. The leering smile that Shishio favoured him with was horrible to behold.

"Death has no dominion over such as me, Izaki" Shishio replied, "which is something you would be well advised to remember."

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Usui grinned as Izaki sat up in bed, gasping for breath and looking around himself with wide, staring eyes.

How utterly pathetic, he thought. Still, it's fortunate he's so easily manipulated. Borrowing Shishio's image was just the thing to ensure his obedience.

With a thought Usui slipped away from Izaki's home, passing first through wooden walls and then through dirt and stone and magma as his spirit returned to hell, unaware that his actions had been carefully noted by one whose attention he would not have wished to attract.

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Shinta looked around himself with interest. Since agreeing to Ida-ten's request a part of him he'd thought long dead had reawakened. As a child Hiko had filled his world. The man had been mentor, instructor and father figure all rolled into one. Awe for the man had dominated his perceptions. As the hitokiri he'd been cold, determined not to feel anything to protect himself from the bloodlust that crept around the edges of his mind. The world had been a cold place in those days. His time with Tomoe had, in the end, proven to be no more than an interlude. As the rurouni he'd sought hope - and found it, miracle of miracles - but the rurouni had been a secret cynic, knowing too much about what causes cost to really believe in them. And as a husband he'd known joy, however fleetingly. But there had been a brief period of time, between the day he'd left Hiko and the indefinable moment when he'd become the hitokiri, when he'd been an idealist. It had been the only time in his life when he'd been completely sure of himself, of everything he did, and was. Now he seemed to have recovered a little of that feeling. It was strange and unfamiliar after so many years and so many tragedies, but he was cautiously feeling his way back into what it was like to have a purpose.

It felt surprisingly good.

And that thought led him back to his examination of his surroundings. He was standing on a wide, smooth beach of grey sand that stretched far into the distance both ahead of and behind him. To his left lay harsh granite cliffs and on his right was the ocean. Great waves crashed ceaselessly against the shore, driven on by the same wind that tore at his gi and hakama and whipped his hair out behind him. The sky above was grey and laden with heavy clouds that scudded across it with uncommon speed. It was cool, but Shinta did not feel especially cold. The brisk wind was, if anything, invigorating. Shinta did not realise it, but the grey had faded from his hair and the sores were gone from his skin. Even his worn gi and hakama were cleaner and brighter than they had been in years. Without his knowing it Shinta's inner drive had begun to manifest physically. Ida-ten had brought him here somehow, Shinta knew, dispelling his limbo with a wave of his hand and replacing it with this, saying something about `all being one, in any case.' It had made no sense to Shinta.

But who knows how the gods travel, he reflected.

Ida-ten had vanished shortly thereafter, telling Shinta that he had other matters to attend to before leaving with the physical speed for which he was renowned. He'd seemed almost rushed, and something about the way he'd left had struck Shinta as oddly familiar. He had dismissed the memory, supposing the recollection would come to him in time if it was important. Shinta suspected that Ida-ten had not intended to leave him in this place without explanation, but there was presumably a reason for it. He just hoped he wouldn't be waiting for too long. Shinta did not recognise the landscape over which he now gazed, but that was hardly surprising. So far as he knew he was still somewhere within the territory over which the gods held dominion. His train of thought was derailed as he sensed a powerful aura flaring into existence behind him.

How did he get so close? Shinta wondered as he spun around, one hand reaching instinctively for the hilt of the Kusanagi no Tsukugi, only to stop dead when the other spoke.

"No matter what Ida-ten says, I will decide for myself whether you are fit to wield my blade," Susanowa declared.

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On a thin pallet in a run down shack a man named Seta Soujiro dreamed uneasy dreams. In his dream it was the day he'd fought Kenshin, the day his world had been torn apart and remade. He was the same age he'd been then and wore the same clothes. But it wasn't Kenshin who was facing him from across the training hell where they'd fought. Instead it was another man who stood there, one who looked oddly like Soujiro himself.

"Who are you?" his dream self asked.

"Someone to whom you owe a debt," the stranger replied.

"I don't understand."

They were stalking each other, blades drawn, circling slowly round the room as each searched for an opening. And yet Soujiro had no sense of threat from the man. He felt almost . . . relaxed. Truth be told he had felt the same way in most of the fights he's ever been in - the gulf in skill between him and most of his opponents ensured that - but this was different. He somehow knew, in the way one sometimes did in dreams, that this man was even faster and more skilled than he.

But he is not my enemy, Soujiro thought. How do I know this?

"Because your spirit recognises me," the stranger replied to his unvoiced question. In his dream it did not seem strange to Soujiro that the man could read his thoughts.

"You didn't answer my question," he told the man, deciding that if only he knew who his opponent was things would make sense.

"I am the source of your strength," the man replied, "but it was not given to you. You stole it - and now I require recompense."

"You aren't making sense!" Soujiro exclaimed, growing frustrated. The days when his every emotion was carefully suppressed were long gone, but in this setting his feelings seemed oddly muted. He felt preternaturally calm, despite the strangeness of the situation.

"You were . . . a gamble . . . on my part, for want of a better word," the man continued in a soft and thoughtful voice, ignoring Soujiro's outburst. Soujiro had the impression that the man was more thinking out loud than talking to him.

"I could feel a little of myself being siphoned away, but when I found the child doing it I was surprised and curious. Your shuntensatsu is an abomination, a corruption of my gift to my chosen, but I sensed potential in you. So I let you go - and eventually my benevolence was rewarded."

Suddenly he sprang forward, moving with such speed that he vanished from Soujiro's vision. Sheer reflex saved him as he brought his katana up to block an overhead swing that he couldn't actually see. Soujiro sensed his opponent retreating in preparation for another assault, still moving too fast to be seen with the naked eye. Only the faint haze caused by violently displaced air gave any clue to his location.

This must be what it's like for people who fight me, Soujiro realised. The thought created an unusual sensation in him, but there was no time for him to examine the feeling now. He launched himself into the shuku-chi, feeling the breeze of the other's blade as it whipped through the space he had occupied until a moment ago. Soujiro tore across the room, veering quickly from left to right to make his path an uneven zigzag rather than a straight line, and came to a stop in the far corner. He'd intended to turn and run at his opponent with the length of the room to gain speed but the man had followed him and Soujiro found himself spinning around just quickly enough to face him head on. He parried a sweeping sideways slash and then dropped his stance and twisted his katana to bring it up in a diagonal strike meant to slip under an enemy's guard. Cricket-in-the-grass, he vaguely remembered the form was called. Soujiro had never had much use for the names of the forms he'd taught himself - he didn't need them to know when to use which move. The other man angled his katana sharply downward even as he raised the hilt towards his left shoulder and swung the blade of his weapon in an arc that turned Soujiro's thrust aside. Keeping the hilt high the man reversed his defensive sweep into a strike aimed at Soujiro's neck. Unable to bring his own weapon up in time to block the stroke, unable to back away because he'd foolishly let himself be cornered, unable to jump in the moment available to him before the blade tore his throat out Soujiro moved in the only direction left to him: down. Soujiro could have sworn he felt the edge of the katana trim a few hairs from the top of his head as it passed over him before he straightened his bent knees with enough force to send him flying up toward the ceiling. Pivoting in mid flight he positioned himself so that his feet came in contact with the ceiling first and thrust out again, sending him ricocheting back toward the floor - in the space immediately behind the other swordsman. Soujiro rolled as he hit the floor, easily absorbing the force of the impact along the length of his body, and pivoted on one heel as he turned to face his adversary. He brought his katana up in a rising turn as he spun round and steel sang against steel as his foe anticipated the move.

Then they began to fight in earnest.

Within a minute Soujiro found himself overwhelmed. Flipping over his adversary's head had been supposed to give him the advantage, reversing their positions so that the other man would be trapped in a corner. Instead he had gone on an offensive that was blindingly fast even by the standards of the man who had once been known as the Tenken. Soujiro had been driven back across the room and was now hemmed into the same corner from which he'd started the fight. And then the inevitable happened. A moment's hesitation caused by a drop of sweat running down into his eye that made Soujiro blink and his opponent's blade was poised to pierce his heart. Soujiro stared in surprise as the man with drew his blade and took several steps backward. The man stopped moving and stood directly in front of Soujiro, his stance relaxed. Soujiro's chest was heaving from his exertions and sweat ran down his face - dream or not, he hadn't worked this hard since the day he'd fought Kenshin - but the other man was fresh as a springtime flower. He raised his head and looked straight into Soujiro's eyes with a gaze that spoke of power and discipline. Suddenly his image was replaced by something else. Where he had been standing there was a figure of fire wearing armour made of light. Soujiro gaped in astonishment and realised that he was kneeling before the fiery being in front of him without any memory of having done so. Then the being spoke.

"I am Ida-ten, Soujiro-san, and now that you have proven your worth to me I have a task for you."

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Shinta took an involuntary step backwards as the man rose up in front of him. His features marked him as being indisputably Japanese, but he was unlike any member of his race that Shinta had ever seen. He was tall, much taller even than Sano, Shinta thought, with the same kind of lean but muscular build. His skin was a dusky shade of brown and the irises of his eyes were a gleaming gold. He was clean shaven and one other detail impressed itself on Shinta's consciousness - he was missing his fingernails. It was that which confirmed Shinta's guess as to who the man was.

So he really did loose his beard and fingernails, Shinta thought bemusedly, unsure how to feel about the fact that he'd just met another god.

"You must be Ida-ten's little mortal avatar," Susanowa observed dryly, looking Shinta over in a manner that was clearly intended to be insulting - and succeeded admirably in its intent.

"Yes," Shinta agreed, deciding not to rise to the bait.

Know the lay of the land before you start a fight, boy. Know your opponent too. You won't always have the luxury of being able to pick and choose your battles, but only an idiot charges into the unknown when he doesn't have to. Hiko's advice came back to him, as it had so many times before. It was one of the many pieces of true wisdom that had been mixed in with his master's bluff and exaggeration. Shinta had sometimes wondered if separating the good advice from the bad had been his master's way of teaching him to think. With Hiko you never knew.

"Did he even tell you why he brought you here?"

"I'm afraid not," Shinta replied steadily. Instinct told him he was on thin ice with the god who stood before him and Shinta was uncomfortably aware that he was currently carrying a weapon that Susanowa might well feel did not belong to him.

I have to trust that Ida-ten brought me here for a reason. If what he told me is true then there's no time to waste on squabbles - but I wish he'd told me what I was supposed to do here before he left.

Susanowa's smile was broad and smug and showed a lot of teeth.

"You're supposed to retrieve something," he told Shinta casually, "but I remain unconvinced as to the wisdom of entrusting you with it."

"You question my honour?" Shinta asked coolly, feeling an echo of the assassin he had once been stir in his soul. He did not delude himself over his flaws, but Shinta knew that one vice he'd never had was pride.

Well, not pride in myself, Shinta reflected. Pride in my ideals, on the other hand . . .

Nonetheless, hearing his integrity being questioned so casually was annoying. The god before him was beginning to remind Shinta of Saitou, only even more aggravatingly self assured. Not surprising, considering who he was.

"It is not your honour I question," Susanowa told him with a snort. "Ida-ten is a good judge of character, if noting else," the god added grudgingly. "What I question is your ability. I doubt any mortal is capable of the task Ida-ten has set you, even one who was his avatar." Susanowa paused for a moment and smirked at Shinta's stony expression.

"But never let it be said that I am not a generous man," he continued, assumed generosity colouring his voice. "I'll give you a chance to prove yourself. Show me how good you are, Ida-ten's so called guardian of order."

Shinta just looked at him.

"Well?" Susanowa asked with a mocking smile. "Aren't you going to attack me? Or have you given up already?"

Shinta's answering smile was thin.

"It would be dishonourable of me to attack an unarmed opponent," he replied easily. "I would not want you to think I have an unfair advantage."

"A problem easily rectified," Susanowa returned. "Behold," the god declared after a moment's pause, his voice almost reverent, "the Blades of Storm and Stone."

Shinta blinked and then watched with growing apprehension as strange forces, something that was only visible as a faint distortion in the air, began to gather in Susanowa's hands.

The god's left hand stretched out toward the sea and the fingers of his left hand curled in a beckoning gesture. Trails of ocean spray and storm cloud spun out from the ocean and the sky, forming into the shape of a kodachi that Susanowa held in his left hand.

As this was happening Susanowa's right hand had stretched out towards the cliffs and made the same beckoning gesture, drawing a stream of granite chips hat became a second blade, held in his right hand.

Shinta watched through narrowed eyes as Susanowa lowered his arms into a ready position and crossed the two weapons in front of him. The blade made of water and cloud roiled that foamed within its perfectly held shape was held in an offensive position, while the blade of stone compressed so finely that its surface was marble smooth and its edge razor sharp was held in a defensive position.

"Impressive," he conceded.

"Aren't they?" Susanowa agreed with another smirk. "Ama Tsu Mara made them for me as a gift. He was ever a good friend."

And then he attacked.

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Hiko Seijuro slept with the ease of a man with an untroubled conscience, though Ida-ten suspected the several bottles of sake he'd downed with his dinner also had something to do with it. The god of law regarded his former avatar with a certain fond bemusement. Every master of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu had been different, but none of them had been quite like Hiko.

Such self-confidence, Ida-ten reflected. Even some of my own brothers and sisters are less sure of themselves than this man. He will require a subtler approach than the one I took with Soujiro.

With that the ghostly figure that was all Ida-ten could project of himself onto the mortal plane laid its hand down on Hiko's forehead and Ida-ten entered the his dreams.

For a while he simply watched, renewing his acquaintance with Hiko's mind. The man had changed greatly after he'd taken Shinta as a student, Ida-ten decided. He hadn't noticed then because he'd had other matters to attend to, not the least of them being the transfer of his patronage from Hiko to Shinta. But now, as he looked through Hiko's subconscious, the changes were evident. Hiko dreamed of the days when Shinta had been growing up and learning the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu under his tutelage. The man had didn't have a sentimental bone in his body, but he was still human. He'd needed companionship, family even, which Shinta had provided.

He misses his `apprentice' more than he would ever admit, Ida-ten mused. He feels a certain responsibility to Shinta's family, as well. I can use that.

It was not exactly forbidden for gods to meddle too much in human affairs, but Amaterasu thoroughly disapproved of such behaviour. Ida-ten was confident however that influencing a few people's dreams was too small a display of power to attract Amaterasu's wrath, especially given his reasons for doing so. Crafting the images he wished Hiko to see was the work of moments and it was only a few minutes later that Hiko Seijuro woke from his sleep, gasping for breath. He swore to himself as he came fully awake and shook his head as though to shake from it the nightmare he'd just had. Kaoru dying, the Kamiya dojo on fire and Kenji burning to death . . . he'd seen enough awful things in the waking world without seeing them in his sleep as well. Hiko sat thinking for a minute before he rose from his bed and began to dress. He knew from past experience that on the rare occasion he had a nightmare it was likely to be a portent of something unpleasant.

If I set out now it will only take me two days to reach Tokyo, Hiko calculated as he began to pack for the journey.

I hope that will be quick enough.

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Even as Susanowa charged towards him Shinta found a moment to wonder at the lightness and balance of the Kusanagi no Tsukugi as he drew the weapon from its sheath. He assumed a basic position of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu and deflected Susanowa's storm blade as it swept up towards his heart. It was then that Shinta got his first surprise. As the blade of the Kusanagi no Tsukugi met the edge of Susanowa's kodachi the portion of it forward from the point where its edge met Shinta's blade dissolved. The rurouni barely had time to dodge as a spray of water and wind tore past his face with phenomenal force. He began to adjust his strategy even as he twisted to avoid a follow through thrust from the stone blade. The hail of stone chips that shot out from its point came as less of a surprise, but Shinta was still forced to back away from him. Susanowa came on, making a series of horizontal slashes that trailed water and stone that forced Shinta to retreat further along the beach.

One part of his mind noted that the sandy surface would slow him down somewhat and suggested he move closer to the ocean where the sand would be firmer.

Another part observed that since the streams of water and stone could come as sweeping horizontal barrages Susanowa would be able to drive him down the beach using the attributes of his blades.

A third part offered a possible solution.

Shinta jumped into the air, but immediately thrust both feet down with enough force to compact the sand underneath his feet. He brought his legs up again for just long enough to tense his muscles properly and then thrust them down with all his strength. Shinta almost smiled as he felt the familiar sensations of the ground falling away beneath him and the air whipping by him as he travelled up with the speed and surety that was the sole preserve of a master of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. He looked down as he brought the Kusanagi no Tsukugi into position for a simple overhead stroke and noted that Susanowa had also launched himself into the air, but could not match his speed or his height. Shinta felt a brief flash of satisfaction at the sight. The sweeping horizontal attacks Susanowa used were clearly meant for use from a standing position against an opponent who stayed on the ground. It had been a gamble, but Shinta had guessed that Susanowa was at his best against opponents that stayed on the ground - at least with his current weapons.

Fighting monsters isn't the same as fighting people, Shinta thought as fell towards Susanowa like a bird of prey, but it doesn't help that you're wielding weapons made by someone who doesn't know that swordfighters can go u as well as forwards, backwards, left and right..

Susanowa was already falling back down as Shinta closed in on him and the god raised the stone blade above his head to swing it in a defensive arc that sent another sweeping hail of stones at Shinta. But the former hitokiri had seen the move often enough to anticipate it and as the swathe of stones came toward him he rolled forward into an aerial somersault, rolling his body around the attack. He continued straight on toward Susanowa with no loss of momentum and brought the Kusanagi no Tsukugi down on the god's right shoulder with all the force he could muster, executing a beautiful Ryu Tsui Sen.

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Shishio regarded the man before him with moderate interest.

This one would have made a worthy addition to my Juppongatta, he decided after a careful appraisal. A shame he chose to strike out on his own - look where it got him.

"And why should I accept your offer?" the man asked, continuing their conversation. His tone was neither insolent nor grovelling. He seemed to speak with noting but faint, yet genuine, curiosity. Shishio approved of that. He had no time for those who showed fear.

"Because," Shishio said slowly, knowing that he had the man in the palm of his hand and wishing to prolong the enjoyable sensation, "it would give you another chance to accomplish that which you failed to do before."

The other man's inhuman gaze seemed to sharpen and focus on some distant sight that only he could see.

"Battousai," he hissed.

"Just so," Shishio agreed equably.

"Very well," said the other, coming to a decision, "I will ally myself with you." Shishio inclined his head in the barest of nods.

No, he thought, you will serve me, whether you know it or not.

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Shinta had deliberately overcommitted to the stroke, knowing that using the blunt edge of the Kusanagi no Tsukugi would rob the blow of some of its energy, as would going against the blade's natural curve. Nonetheless it was a powerful strike and he heard Susanowa grunt in pain as it connected. No ordinary man could have hurt a god, but though Shinta was less than a god he was still more than a mere man - and the weapon he carried had been forged for a god. A moment after his attack Shinta drove his right foot into the same shoulder as he passed over Susanowa and used the move to drive himself forward and up while pushing Susanowa down. Shinta flew through the air in a broad arc that eventually brought him to earth several hundred metres further down the beach. As he landed the red haired swordsman expanded his senses and found that Susanowa had not moved from where he'd landed. With a faint frown he straightened and turned to look back down the beach just as Susanowa vanished from his senses. Only instinct saved him. Shinta flung himself to the side as Susanowa came charging out of the surf. Any surprise he felt was shoved aside as the warrior in him evaluated the move.

He meant to trap me between him and the cliff face, Shinta realised as he looked at Susanowa's posture. The time it had taken the god to recover his balance after the failed charge had enabled Shinta to move onto the firmer sand near the surf and ready himself for Susanowa's next strike.

I know how to beat him, Shinta suddenly realised as he noticed that Susanowa was favouring his left arm. After taking a moment to determine that Susanowa wasn't faking the injury Shinta decided that his attack had been more effective than anticipated. They'd begun to circle each other now. Apparently the god had decided to give up on his slashing attacks, but Shinta didn't doubt that he had other techniques in his arsenal.

That won't matter if I end this now, Shinta decided. All I have to do is come at him from the right angle. But I'm not fast enough to circle round him, not on sand. Unless . . .

He continued to circle Susanowa, waiting for the right moment.

Not yet . . . not yet . . . not yet . . . NOW!

Without warning Shinta flung himself into the full speed of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, heading directly for Susanowa. As he'd expected the god rolled aside, using his undamaged shoulder, clearly hoping that Shinta would over commit himself to the attach the same way he had a minute ago. But Shinta had never intended to hit Susanowa. Instead he twisted in mid air, bringing his body around so that he was headed towards the cliff feet first, and as his feet made contact with the cliff face he pushed off from it, sending himself rocketing back towards Susanowa from the opposite direction. The next part of the manoeuvre would be the most difficult, he knew, especially since he'd never practiced the Kuzu Ryu Sen the way Hiko had. But he felt young and strong again, in a way he hadn't experienced since the days when he'd left his mentor to serve Katsura. Shinta knew that time didn't actually slow down in the heat of battle, that the sensation was purely subjective, a result of the discrepancy between the speed of one's body and one's thoughts. That didn't make it any less useful to him as he used the subjective extension in time that occurred as he flew toward Susanowa to set himself for what he knew would be a difficult attack to execute. Susanowa was turning in response to Shinta's unexpected action, but Shinta knew the god had reacted too slowly as he closed in on Susanowa's vulnerable side.

"KUZU RYU SEN!" Shinta cried, executing the second to last technique of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu flawlessly from an aerial position, striking Susanowa at the nine major portions of his body.

Even Hiko would have been impressed by that, Shinta thought as his feet hit the beach and he slid to a stop, gouging a long, shallow furrow in the sand before all of his kinetic energy was expended. He turned to see Susanowa raising himself up with one arm, the other hanging limp at his side. The blades of Storm and Stone had vanished. Shinta tensed slightly, but chose to hold the Kusanagi no Tsukugi loosely rather than ready himself for another attack. Something about Susanowa had changed and his instincts told him that the battle was over.

"Enough," Susanowa said as he regained his footing and noted that Shinta still held his weapon before him. "You have not defeated me, but I am satisfied as to your skill."

Shinta sheathed the Kusanagi no Tsukugi cautiously, eyeing Susanowa's stance as he did so.

"Is that what this was about?" he asked Susanowa. "It was some kind of test?"

"Just so," Susanowa replied, favouring him with another one of his insufferable smirks. Shinta had not known the god for very long but was already beginning to suspect spending any length of time in his presence would be an exercise in frustration.

"Why? And why was I brought here?" Shinta asked, voicing aloud the question that he'd had little time to consider since his arrival in Susanowa's domain.

"So that I could give you something," Susanowa told him, every bit as inscrutable as his former master. "Assuming, of course, that I found you worthy."

"Give me what?" Shinta asked with a certain amount of frustration. Susanowa's constant half answers reminded him of his conversation with Ida-ten.

"And why you?" he continued more forcefully. "Why are you working with Ida-ten? Aren't you the embodiment of evil?"

Shinta was more curious than fearful. If he understood what Susanowa was saying correctly, he was apparently an ally and he doubted Ida-ten would have brought him here if the god was inclined to hinder him in his task. But the little he knew of Susanowa from legend made such an alliance seem likely.

The god sighed wearily at Shinta's words.

"You mortals, always simplifying things for your own convenience. I represent evil. It doesn't mean that I, personally, am evil. Every aspect of existence has a god to represent it, good or bad. There's no reason or rule that says the behaviour of gods is dictated by the forces they represent, though admittedly some do allow themselves to be . . . influenced."

"As you once were," Shinta guessed, instinct telling him his words were accurate. Accurate they may have been, he realised a moment later as Susanowa's gaze narrowed and his eyes darkened, but perhaps unwise.

"Yes," the god said slowly, drawing the word out, "I made mistakes. Have you lived a blameless life?"

Shinta winced. The point was well made.

"I see you do not deny it," Susanowa observed wryly.

"No," Shinta replied steadily, holding Susanowa's gaze. "I do not."

The god returned his gaze and seemed to find something in it that satisfied him.

"I have something to show you," he told Shinta.

Shinta blinked as Susanowa waved one arm out toward the sea, a generous gesture that revealed a certain tendency for drama, and Ida-ten's avatar looked on with interest and some surprise as a sandbar began to stretch from the shore out into the ocean. The sandbar seemed to rise smoothly up out of the depths as the waves smoothed out before it. Eventually it came to a stop about a hundred metres from the shore. Shinta wondered what it led to, if anything.

"Are you coming?"

Shinta looked over to Susanowa, startled out of his ruminations by the god's words and peremptory tone. Without further comment Susanowa began to stride out along the sandbar. With a mental shrug Shinta set out after him. In less than a minute Susanowa and Shinta had arrived at the end of the sandbar where it formed a small atoll.

"Here we are," Susanowa observed as he came to a stop, his voice oddly subdued.

The tiny island of sand was no more than a half dozen metres across and much of its space was consumed by the large stone boulder that rested in its centre, its surface wet and glistening. The boulder had a broad depression on its top and lying in it haphazardly was a sword. Shinta regarded the weapon uneasily. There was something . . . disturbing about it. It was a wakizashi, or at least that was the closest thing to it in shape and form that he could think of. Its blade was shorter than a wakizashi's, shorter and broader, made from heavy black iron rather than the fine steel Shinta was accustomed to seeing used in weaponry. The blade was so dull that the short sword was almost more of a club and marks that might have been rust spotted its length. Just being near the thing made Shinta feel faintly nauseous.

It's like looking at a corpse, he thought with a shudder.

"Hideous, is it not?" Susanowa asked rhetorically, echoing Shinta's thoughts.

"What is it?" Shinta asked, knowing he would not like the answer to his question.

"That, avatar," Susanowa replied, "is the Flame Killing Blade. It's the weapon Izanagi used to kill Kagatuchi. He entrusted it to me thousands of human years after he recovered from the rage that drove him to create and use it."

Susanowa paused to let his words sink in before he continued.

"And Shishio cannot conquer hell without it."

Author's Notes

Mythical Swords

According to myth Izanagi and Izanami are two of the earliest Japanese gods. Their couplings resulted in the births of many of the major gods and Amaterasu is their eldest child. Some of the stories about them are actually somewhat ribald, but I'm not getting into that here. The story goes that Izanami was burnt to death when she gave birth to the flame spirit Kagatuchi and in his anger Izanagi killed Kagatuchi with a sword (though she was later reborn as a mineral spirit, or several of them depending on which version of the legend you prefer). There's nothing in that legend that particularly refers to the sword itself but I indulged in some artistic licence and made one up. After all, a sword used to kill a flame spirit who burnt her own mother alive is an appropriate weapon for Shishio to seek.

The blades of storm and stone are also a complete invention on my part. I came up with them because Susanowa needed to have weapons of his own and I thought they would suit his character. Ama Tsu Mara is real however, being the Shinto god of smiths. Who else would make a sword for a god?

Susanowa

As I mentioned at the end of the previous chapter Susanowa is the personification of evil in the Shinto hierarchy of gods. In his official capacity, so to speak, he's the god of winds, storms and the ocean - hence the setting in which he meets Shinta. Although he's a troublemaker most of the stories about him characterise him as annoying rather than genuinely evil. It's for that reason that I ended up making him one of the good guys here. The references in the story to his being clean shaven and missing his fingernails come from the fact that losing his beard and his fingernails was part of his punishment for harassing Amaterasu, his sister.

Shinta

Looking at Shinta/Kenshin's dialogue in this chapter he may seem a little more aggressive than he usually is. I think that's in keeping with the bitterness he might feel over what became of his life combined with the motivation that his new task has given him.

One more thing - if you want to learn more about the Shinto hierarchy of gods I strongly recommend www.pantheon.org, a great site for information on mythological beings from many cultures. It's been a valuable source of information for this story.

Kaoru's Rurouni Kenshin sanctuary was also very helpful for its guide to the techniques that comprise the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. And with this reload I've hopefully cleared up the confusion over which technique Kenshin uses in his fight with Susanowa. Geeze you people are picky!