Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Incineration ❯ Incineration ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, Samurai X, or anything affiliated with either. The plotline is mine, however, so don't even try to steal it. The story takes place at the end of the series; Soujiro is wandering as Kenshin and Shishio had before him, Kenshin is living at the Kamiya Dojo with Kaoru, Sano, and Yahiko, and Shishio is burning in hell. Now, the story begins...

 

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Incineration - by Staindgrey

 

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Fire. It was the essence of his life, his body, his soul. Flames engulfed him like the wick of a candle, his charred heart no longer beating within the seethed form of his body. Yet he lived on- he continued breathing the ash of cremated souls shrieking out in unspeakable agony, the suffering brought upon those who lived a disgraceful life to the point that their conscience was but a faint, childhood memory. Their cries of terror were unlike what any mortal had ever thought to exclaim or hear; they were the screams of tormented souls, their bodies seared with flames and their minds overcome with the guilt of their own miserable lives, knowing full well that they alone were responsible for this tragic end to their eternity. This was hell. This was where demons crept in the darkness beyond the flames of anguish, basking in the stench of incinerated flesh as if it were sweet vanilla. This was where the evil of all the world's generations were damned, the sinister side of the great beyond. All who remained here for all time could not even stop to think as their melting nerves shot every ounce of pain straight to their mind like a flood breaking loose from a dam. But this man- no, this demon among men- would not succumb to the pain. His skin ripped away from his flesh like the bandages he once wore until one could see his no-longer-beating heart through his chest. He trudged forward through the endless inferno surrounding him, singeing and tearing away at him like a hyena playing with its prey before devouring it. In his right hand was his bona fide sword, the Mugenjin, the serrated fire blade, and in his left, a clenched fist of burning determination. Makoto Shishio, even in assured and torturous death, was alive.

 

“Bat...tou...sai...” what was left of his voice box tried diligently to scream. The matter of his own flesh was deteriorating with every instant, only to return to allow the pain to repeat again and again as true and infinite torture. Yet Shishio's ash-blackened eyes looked on towards his prize, towards the thing that would bring him his divine retribution. His scarcely mobile legs pushed forward, every last bit of his willpower forcing him to the end of his journey. How long it had been he had no idea, but he could now see the figure he was destined to face- the Devil himself.

 

“Makoto Shishio,” a dark and malevolent voice boomed, as if the words had been spoken by the walls surrounding him, “You dare confront me?”

 

“Battou...sai...” he repeated. He could hardly say a single word, but he somehow found the vigor to say that one word, Battousai... The thought of his disgraceful death was all that could be found in his mind- it even surpassed the thoughts of pain created by the dancing flames around him. Perhaps he was able to overcome the torment due to his last ten years of life caged within the dead, smoldered skin of a man burned alive, covered in bandages like a mummy and damned to a life of body temperatures far surpassing what a normal human being could withstand. But, then again, perhaps it was the fire of his ablaze hatred for Kenshin Himura, the Hitokiri Battousai, that combated the flames of hell itself. Regardless, here he stood before the Devil, sword in hand, ready to challenge him for his throne. If he couldn't take over Japan, he'd sure as hell take over his new home- that's what he had told his faithful servant, Houji, when they had first arrived. Shishio raised his sword, slowly and tenderly, to a fighting stance, all the while barely able to stand.

 

“Bwa-ha-ha-HA-HA-HA!!” The sinister laughter echoed throughout the boughs of hell like the crashing roar of thunder. His great, black figure rose from his throne of blackened skulls while his lifeless, white eyes pierced through Shishio's soulless, deteriorating body. His tone never losing its thunder, the Devil continued, “After countless eons, one damned soul finally finds the strength to challenge me! I am impressed, Shishio. I knew you were strong, but never had I imagined...” his shadowed, beastly lips curled into a sneer as he continued, leaving his last thought derailed, “No, it cannot be your body's strength alone. Many warriors have come and they have all fallen just the same... There must be something else that propels you. What is it, Shishio, that drives you to such inconceivable lengths?”

 

“Batt...ou...sai...” His voice was depreciating with his liquefying throat. He began to lose strength again as he fell onto his sword, spiking it into the molten ground beneath his feet for support while his tattered lungs took in more human ash. In spite of it all, he continued, “I wish... to kill... THE BATTOUSAI!!!” His anguish and hatred merged into a deafening scream that nearly rivaled the Devil's thunderous voice. The name rolled throughout the pits of the underworld, repeating again and again Shishio's last desire. It was his final wish to be granted. He no longer cared for ruling to earth or the underworld; all he longed for in his restless soul was the blood of Battousai the Manslayer.

 

The Devil once again roared with laughter, flames dancing about around him; the fluttering crimson robe that engulfed him never fazed him, however, as he was its creator. “Ah, yes. Vengeance, the most noble wish of all hell's creatures! So that is what drives you beyond the pinnacle of the human soul... Perhaps you are not even human!” The truest form of evil then chortled again as Shishio mustered the strength to push himself back to a standing position, staring down the devil with his entire swordsman's spirit. He inhaled the surrounding cinders of flesh like oxygen as he struggled to remain standing. Finally, the Devil's eyes once again locked with his own, and he concluded, “Very well. I shall grant you your wish as you so desire. You have one day in the world of the living to complete your aspiration; however you may not kill any others except the Battousai. And, of course, if you fail...” His smile grew even wider to the point that it was almost off of his face. “...you will be damned to an eternity of reliving your pathetic battle as your punishment. If the very flames of hell cannot singe your soul, then the memories of your unfulfilled lust will!” He followed with another guffaw as Shishio slowly bowed his head in gratitude. If there were still lips on his face, they would surely be smiling sinisterly...

 

~::*::~

 

“Thank you very much ma'am!” a jovial young man said as he took the wrapped loaf of bread with a smile. His eyes were beaming pleasantly as his dark locks swayed with the passing breeze; he seemed so entirely innocent, yet he carried a sword strapped tightly to his side. The old woman who gave him the food smiled in return, her aged wrinkles folding over one another as her lips spread across her tanned cheeks. She wore a pale yukata with sea blue stripes dyed into its fabric, resembling an artist's canvas as he began to paint the ocean. To further the image, tiny black and white seashellsthat she had collected from the nearby beach were sewn along the hem of her garment; it was a beautiful piece of homemade clothing, which the young man had delightfully acknowledged earlier. Now they were to part, the old woman back to the quiet life of a hermit, the young man to that of a nomad.

 

“It is no problem at all,” her scratchy voice escaped her olden lips as she continued to hold her fragile smile. “Do drop by anytime. I'm sure you'll need rest along your journey.”

 

“Thank you for your hospitality, but I'm afraid I've asked too much of you as it is.” The youth's gracious tone never faltered, as never did his cordial smile- it almost seemed as if he couldn't display any other emotions. “Well, I guess I'll be off now. I've still got about nine years of wandering left to do!”

 

“Take care, Soujiro,” the old woman gave her final farewell before sauntering gingerly back into the comfort of her home. Soujiro followed suit and continued along the path before him, carrying only his Kikuichimon Jinorimune katana, a small sack of what little possessions he owned, and his complimentary loaf of bread held snuggly atop his forearm. He unwrapped the top of its crude paper covering and snuck his hand in to snatch a bite. After a taste of food (something he'd been lacking at times along his journey) his taste buds longed for more. He graciously answered their call by grabbing another pinch, and then another, and continued eating along the way.

 

The sun was brilliantly setting now, its swirling aura of warm clouds overtaking the once blue sky and dyeing it its own ruby shade. The result was an overwhelming clash of beautiful pink, yellow, and orange shades, as if they were fighting for dominance- No, Soujiro thought, they're living in total harmony, coexisting despite their differences. His smile widened as he viewed the spectacle through new eyes, the eyes of a wanderer, which Kenshin Himura had given him nearly a year ago. The stunning portrait of God's creation reflected upon the ocean's surface as if the earth were trying to imitate its glory, and, for the first time in his life, Soujiro Seta was appreciating it to its fullest. The weak must live... so that they, too, may come to appreciate true beauty. Soujiro sighed and pounded in another bite of nourishment. “Wow, this bread sure is delicious!”

 

Suddenly, the serenity of the scene vanished in an instant. Soujiro felt the ground tremble beneath him and struggled to regain his balance. What... is that?? His trained eyes scanned the area around him looking for the source of the shockwave, but none was to be found. His content grin began to fade away as a sense of urgency overcame him. His right hand dropped his knapsack to the ground and grabbed the hilt of his katana, ready to fight if need be. He stumbled but never fully collapsed, yet his mind's thoughts were already tripping over themselves trying to rationalize the situation.

 

BOOM!!! Soujiro's eyes darted to the origin of the explosion. A pillar of fire rose towards the sky from the ground, easily cindering the surrounding tress of the forest as it did. Soujiro shielded his eyes from the sheer blinding light with his right forearm, leaving his sheathed sword unattended for the moment. The blaze continued for another minute or so, all the while neither its illumination nor Soujiro disbanded. Finally, the bonfire began to fade, allowing Soujiro to regain his vision. Apprehension began to seize his mind as he watched the flames seep back into the earth's crust from which they came, leaving behind them a barren, smoldered piece of land and... a man?

 

He knew this man. He was tall and moderately built, though he resembled a mummy with his entire body enveloped in bandages to protect his burnt skin. A small shawl fell back behind his head, swaying in the wind like the hair he once had. His entire face was also bandaged, save his eyes, mouth, and nostrils. His skin was black and charred around the areas able to be seen, very well resembling a man that had just escaped hell. On his left shoulder lay an indigo robe wrapped loosely around him and curling down about his waist, resembling the royal negligee of a Roman king. His black lips sneered in amusement as he examined his reborn body; it was just the way he had left it before his fight with the Battousai. He was in perfect fighting condition, and he now had twenty-four hours to fulfill his wish. But, where was he...?

 

“Mr... Shishio...?” The voice sounded distant and hesitant, but he knew in an instant whom it belonged to. Shishio turned around to face his apprentice, Soujiro Seta, staring at him with the unfamiliar expression of shock and awe plastered upon his usually ebullient face. Shishio merely smirked contemptuously in return.

 

“Soujiro. What a coincidence.” His smirk died away as his tone became interrogative. “Where's Himura the Battousai?”

 

“Huh? I... But how...? I thought you were-”

 

“Rotting in hell?” he finished, his menacing smile returning full power. “Yeah, I was. But I guess the lust for revenge was enough to bring me back, heh.” Soujiro was still flabbergasted and unable to respond; Shishio thought it amusing. Nothing had ever caught Soujiro off guard before; Himura must have done something incredible to cause him to lose control of his emotions this way. After a few moments of stillness, Shishio repeated the question, “Where is the Battousai?”

 

“I don't know...” Soujiro stammered, “He may still be living in the Kamiya Dojo in Tokyo, but...” Soujiro tried to regain his calm stature, but he couldn't help but be amazed by his old master's reappearance. He had heard that Shishio died at the hands of Kenshin Himura almost a year ago. But here he was, in the flesh... Could what he was saying possibly be true? Did he truly escape from hell...? Soujiro reached for his sword with his free hand, lowering himself to a fighting stance as he did. “You can't be Lord Shishio. He's dead. And even if you are...” Soujiro's eyes flared with a resilience that Shishio had never seen in him before; he was truly a changed man. “...I can't let a risen demon live just to kill those still living their first life! That's just wrong!”

 

The bandaged warrior snorted a chuckle at Soujiro's naive words. He sounded just like that weakling Battousai. “Wow, you've changed quite a bit, Soujiro... Have you honestly become as weak as you sound?” A covered hand rubbed against his chin as he analyzed the new Soujiro while an ominous grin spreading across his blackened cheeks.

 

“I've learned something since the day I fought Mr. Himura...” the younger of the two reminisced, “And that's that a person is not strong by the way he fights, but rather, he is strong by the magnitude of his heart. And I've come to realize that you were right... it's true that the strong live and the weak die. However, you, Mr. Shishio...” He finally lowered himself into a full fighting stance, his sword ready to be unsheathed at any instant. He finished his sentence with a warrior's cry, “...are weak!” and dropped his half-eaten loaf of bread. Before it even touched the ground below, he unsheathed his sword and dashed towards his former master with all the strength and speed of his full Shukuchi technique. Using powerful, almost instantaneous leg thrusts, Soujiro dashed around Shishio with speeds unseeable by the human eye, but Shishio's placid grin naver faded. The mummy drew his sword and readied himself, immediately blocking his apprentice's first strike with ease. Soujiro didn't stop, however, and continued flying about around him, waiting for the oppurtune moment to attack. But that point never came as Shishio drove his Mugenjin into the ground and sliced it through, igniting a flame at the sword's tip like striking a match. He then proceded to whirl the fire around him like a fiery tornado, throwing Soujiro off balance and knocking him back to the ground where he rolled on his side and jumped back to a fighting stance. Just then, a few tens of meters away, Soujiro's loaf of bread hit the ground.

 

“So,” Shishio said calmly, a hint of cockiness in his voice, “you really have become as weak as your newfound ideals. Pity.” He then turned to face Soujiro, the boy's plastic smile now a distant memory hidden behind a look of wavering fortitude. Shishio heartlessly continued, “I would stay and prolong my last battle with you, but I have a shedule to keep.”

 

“You won't hurt Himura!” Soujiro fired, “He has done nothing to deserve death like you have. He changed my life! He brought me back from my abominable sentence of a life that you gave me, and for that...” Soujiro sheathed his sword once again and leaned forward, his left side facing away from his opponent; he was in the Ryu Sen stance. “...I will protect him from you no matter what the cost, Mr. Shishio!”

 

“Heh,” was Shishio's blatent reply. “You're really prepared to die for that manslayer? Then so be it.” Shishio immitated his understudy's stance, sheathing his sword and turning away from him, his confident smirk never once flinching. “The cost will be your life.”

 

Without another word, Soujiro tried to gain an advantage with an immediate strike, but it was to no avail. Shishio had the upperhand now that Soujiro's emotions were completely conspicuous, compiled with the fact that the lad wasn't used to handling anger or frustration in the least. With his fervent anger towards his former master, Soujiro gave away a possible abrupt attack; Shishio read it easily and countered in a flash. The two swords collided with equal speed, but Shishio's strength was greater than that of his apprentice, and his sword was now drenched in flames with the combustion caused by the friction with his iron sheath. Shishio's overpowering attack knocked Soujiro backwards stumbling over his own feet while the mummified killer wasted no time in following up with another attack. Soujiro lept hastily out of range, only to fall on his side and leave himself even more open. Shishio dashed forward, showing no mercy as he slashed through Soujiro's left collarbone as easily as butter, leaving a singed, gaping wound in its place. He did not slash all the way through, however, and pulled his sword back out, choosing not to finish him off. No one was to be killed but the Battousai. That was the deal.

 

Soujiro immediately dropped his sword and cried out in terrible pain as he covered his injury with his hand. His collarbone was split in two, his shoulder muscles the same, and to top it all off the gash was one large third degree burn. Blood spouted out of the wound like a scarlet fountain, leaving Soujiro in indescribable mortal pain. Shishio hovered above him showing him no remorse; after all, he'd been to hell and back. Surely his own student could live through this much. With that, he sheathed his katana, an egotistical aura surrounding him as he did. As his apprentice writhed in agony before him, the mummy merely chuckled, saying, “I never thought that Soujiro Seta could be so weak. To think that the Battousai has taken away your killing instinct so easily...” Soujiro could not supress the cries of pain enough to comment back, so he continued, “If you're strong, you live. If you're weak, you die. I taught you these words from the very first time we met, and yet you can't uphold them for even a year after my death? Pathetic!” The flames of his rage were heightening, but he couldn't let himself die the same way he had before; not here, not now, not at all. He remembered all too well that day... The last day of his earthly life, when the Hitokiri Battousai prolonged their fight just long enough to make his blood boil from his own veins. That was the way the great Makoto Shishio died, an after effect of the Meiji government's betrayal. Even after those ten long years, their burning him alive finally killed him after all. Without any sweat glands on his charred skin, he was unable to cool himself down in the heat of battle, and the spontaneous combustion of his own body ended his life. Fire is not meant to be played with, he reminisced, unless you're the Devil himself. With a smirk, he added, Well, I'm damn close to it.

 

As visions of the Battousai's death ran through his head like that of a child's imagination on Christmas Eve, Makoto Shishio looked over his student one last time, gave a gruff “Hmph” to the fallen figure, then turned and began to walk away. “You're just lucky I can't kill you, Soujiro. The Battousai is the only one I'm allowed to kill. You'll be spared your pathetic idealistic life for now.” After a few more seconds, he muttered to himself, “To Tokyo.”

 

“Shishio...” Soujiro hacked, “No, I... I can't let him...” Soujiro could feel his strength leaving him as if he were being wrung of it like a wet sponge. As his stamina sapped away, so did his will power, and his eyes finally shut as he drifted into a painful slumber. I can't let him hurt Kenshin... I can't...

 

~::*::~

 

“It's such a beautiful sunset, isn't it?” the dark-haired beauty whispered to the man holding her. They were sitting atop the dojo watching the sun go down past the surrounding trees, the woman lying against her love with his arm around her delicate form and her head neatly tucked between his own and his shoulder. The man wore a cross-shaped scar on his left cheek, its red tint matching that of his fiery locks, which were tied into a large pony tail behind him. He nodded in agreement.

 

“It's one of the most gorgeous ones I've ever seen, that it is.” He smiled genuinely as he ran his hand up and down the girl's side, enjoying the feel of her warm body just as much as she luxuriated in his touch. Only recently had they exposed their feelings for one another, but now it seemed as though they had been together for most of eternity. They both stared out to the sunset with eyes full of hope, absorbing the scenery's beauty like a flower absorbs sunlight, though they both knew in their hearts that there was something even more beautiful at their side.

 

“Kenshin...” Her voice was soft, mystifying. She raised her head from the samurai's shoulder and gazed into his alluring sapphire eyes, just as he did in return. Those orbs captivated her every time she looked at them, never once losing their entrancing zest. Her own azure eyes glistened in the fading sunlight as she took Kenshin's warm hand in her own, lacing their fingers together like a quilted masterpiece. Her russet-haired hero gently brushed her few straggling bangs from her face, revealing her blushing expression in its gorgeous entirety.

 

“Miss Kaoru... You surely are beautiful, that you are,” Kenshin said in a hushed voice, his warm breath batting against her lightly as their faces inched ever nearer to one another.

 

“Oh, Kenshin...” Every experience felt as if it were their first in Kaoru's heart; she jumped for joy inside for each and every kiss they shared, no matter how small. But this... Kissing her love before a glorious sunset... It surpassed even her own imagination. She was lost in the moment, completely carried away into bliss as she closed her eyes and began to feel his warm breath meet her awaiting lips...

 

A sudden jolt rocked her body vigorously as an uneasy grunt from Kenshin filled her ears. As she opened her eyes she found herself flying in the air, the powerful yet gentle arms of her savior wrapping tightly around her. She looked into his eyes, once showing love, now revealing emotions of an entirely different nature: fear, anger, and urgency. Within another instant she heard the loud crash of her dojo being set aflame behind her, the light of the explosion reflecting off Kenshin's eyes in a brilliant glimmer. Amidst all the arbitrary thoughts running chaotically through her head, one question stood out: “What is going on?”

 

Then, a deep, menacing voice called out from somewhere below, sending chills up Kaoru's spine at every syllable, “So, Battousai, you've still got some fight left in you, eh?”

At last, the pair touched the ground, and Kenshin set Kaoru on her feet behind him. He wasted no time in grabbing the hilt of his sword, ready to defend her at any cost. “Makoto Shishio...”

 

Kaoru's face was immediately flushed of all color at the sound of that name. Shishio, that monster that had nearly killed her Kenshin, the man who had tried to take over all of Japan... But wasn't he dead? She soon had a face to fit the name as Shishio slashed through the dojo's gate with a flaming sword, leaving it in cinders as he made his way onto their property. He looked like a mummy raised from the dead- wait, had he actually been raised from the dead?

 

“Yep, it's me, in the flesh,” Shishio declared arrogantly. “Surprised to see me, Battousai?”

 

“To say the least, yes I am,” Kenshin shot back coolly. “You're supposed to be dead.”

 

“Yeah, well, the whole hell thing didn't work out for me, so I'm back.” He followed by giving the couple a sneer that nearly caused Kaoru's skin to jump right off her body. Kenshin was still perplexed by the current situation, but he kept his cool nonetheless. Could he be having a nightmare?

 

“Are you saying you escaped hell?” Kenshin asked dubiously. He could feel Kaoru clawing to his back, fear obviously overcoming her. Taking the damsel in distress role wasn't normally her style, but Shishio was different- much different. She might as well confront the Devil; either would most likely have the same effect on her.

 

“Precisely,” he answered wryly. “And all because I longed so much to kill you. Ironic, isn't it? You killed me, and now I get a second chance to kill you because you did so. Funny how vengeance works, huh?” A gruff laughter escaped his throat as Kenshin gave him a deeper glare than ever.

 

“Miss Kaoru,” Kenshin muttered just loudly enough for her to hear, “you must get out of here right now to avoid any danger.”

 

Kaoru thought of arguing, but immediately dismissed the thought as a hopeless fight she couldn't possibly win. She simply nodded and replied with a soft, “Be careful,” then went on her way.

 

“Aw, you're sacrificing yourself in order to save your woman's life, how sweet... How utterly sweet and disgusting.” Shishio's eyes followed the pale brunette as she hurried back towards the dojo where Yahiko and Sanosuke were already trying to put out the fire. It seemed as though they were oblivious to the battle at hand. Shishio grinned a malevolent smile as he turned his head back towards his true opponent standing before him. “Now then,” he began, “draw your sword so I may fulfill my wish. I'm on the clock, so I'm sorry if I can't prolong our fight like last time.” That vile smirk never left his face.

 

“No.” Kenshin rose slowly to a full standing position, taking his hand off of his katana's hilt. For an instant, his action wiped away Shishio's leer, but it was only momentary. It profoundly returned in time for his next remark.

 

“Has Kenshin Himura, the wanderer who has vowed never to slay again, gone even softer than before and vowed not to even fight? Why won't you draw your sword?”

 

“The last time we fought, it was for the sake of the many innocent lives that you were bound to enslave and kill. I fought for those people as well as my friends that were counting on my safe return. You were a threat to peace itself, and I wouldn't allow you to bring chaos back to Japan! However... The Shishio I see before me now is no more than a shell of his former self, a demon risen from hell merely to end a grudge with the man that defeated him a year ago.” He paused for a moment, trying to let the words sink in before he continued, though he highly doubted they would do any good. “I refuse to fight a meaningless battle with a desperate creature like yourself, that I do.”

 

“Heh,” Shishio taunted, “So you refuse to fight me. Very well. However, if I cannot fight you, I guess I'll have to find someone else to kill. There's nothing quite like the smell of an innocent girl's blood...” Kenshin watched unbelievingly as Shishio turned to face an on-looking Kaoru completely stricken with fear. She seemed to be paralyzed as he made his way towards her, licking his lips and raising his sword high into the air for a slashing attack.

 

“No!! Miss Kaoru!!!” Shishio paid no attention to the Battousai's cries. He was within a few feet of the girl now, just within striking distance. Finally, with one quick movement, he struck. Just as he expected, though, he never came close to hitting the girl. Beneath his sword was Kenshin Himura, his reverse blade katana unsheathed and blocking his attack. Shishio's sneer only grew at the sight.

 

“Gotcha.” With that, he sliced his sword along the edge of Kenshin's, once again igniting his Mugenjin and throwing embers into the Battousai's chest. The scarlet-haired samurai fell back with a yelp of pain, but remained standing, guarding Kaoru behind him.

 

He repeated, “Miss Kaoru, you must leave right now!” Without waiting for her response, he called out to Sano behind him, who he was undoubtedly certain knew what was going on by now. “Sanosuke! Take Miss Kaoru and get as far away from here as you can!”

 

“Right!” The response was good enough for Kenshin; he didn't have to turn around. Instead, he once again locked glares with the deadly Makoto Shishio, something he never imagined he would have to do again. This can't be real... he thought to himself.

 

~::*::~

 

“Wha- Where am I...? Hss!” Soujiro hissed as he was violently reminded of the wound in his shoulder by a jolt of pain. He clutched it and felt the moistness of his own blood within the fabric of his tunic. He forced himself up to a sitting position, then tried to recollect everything that had happened. He remembered now... The old lady... The pillar of fire... Shishio... Their duel...

 

“Himura!” he shouted. He remembered it all now: Shishio was going to go and kill Kenshin! He looked up at the once bright, extravagant display over the ocean's surface and realized it had been covered by the cloak of night, its polished diamonds sewn into it in glorious patterns. There was no way to tell how long he had been out; for all he knew, he could be too late. But he had to try and make it... He had to try and save Himura. Within seconds he was back to his feet, sheathing his sword and readying himself for the long sprint ahead. Even with his rabid injury, he planned to try his Shukuchi technique to get there faster. He had no idea how long he could last at that pace, but he had no other option. With a flash, he was gone, leaving behind him only half a loaf of bread and a pool of his own blood.

 

~::*::~

 

“Ryu Do Ryu San!!!” Kenshin yelled as he struck his sword into the ground beneath him, striking through it to hurl a gust of wind and large chunks of the ground at Shishio. Shishio countered with his Homura Dama once again, igniting his sword and sending a whirlwind of flames against Kenshin's strong wind attack. The two equally powerful attacks cancelled out, and Shishio took the resulting cloud of ash to his advantage, hurling himself blindly through it to close the distance between him and his target. Kenshin barely knew he was there before Shishio was upon him, sword held up and ready to attack. The Battousai only just blocked it, then jumped to his left, out of danger. Shishio caught his footing easily and leapt after him, their swords once again clashing with a loud clang! Kenshin once again jumped away, this time overhead. Shishio followed with his Homura Dama for a second time, leaping upwards and shooting streams of fire towards the airborne Battousai.

 

“Hiten Mitsurugi Style... Ryutsuisen!!!” Kenshin clutched the hilt of his Sakabatou and fiercely swung downward, hurling another gust of wind to slice through the up and coming flames. The gust also struck Shishio, blowing him back down to the earth below with a slam. The mummified manslayer shot back up, however, and used his footing to his advantage, striking upwards at the falling Kenshin. The Battousai tried to block it, but alas failed to do more than lessen the blow as he felt Shishio's blade pierce through his side. Kenshin's eyes shot open in utter pain as Shishio twisted his katana and threw his opponent mercilessly to the ground. He hadn't struck any vital organs, but the wound would be severe nonetheless. Kenshin clutched his seeping side with his free hand as he forced himself back to his feet, breathing heavily as he did. Shishio simply mocked his attempt at continuing the duel.

 

“You're still going to stand up? Haven't you realized you can't win?” He gave a chuckle supressed in his throat, then continued in a much lower, immediate voice, “I have nothing to look forward to after this match but the horrid flames of hell. I have nothing to lose, and everything to gain. You can't possibly beat me in your state, and there's no way I could ever lose to you while I still have breath within me. Seeing as to how you've vowed not to kill... I don't think that will be a problem.” With that, he cried a demon's cry and lunged for Kenshin with his sword pointing directly at his throat. Kenshin just blocked the attack, feeling the rush of wind pass his neck as the katana flew past. But before he could counter, he felt a sharp sensation just above his temple. He then found himself falling almost unconsciously and slamming against the ground below following the strike from Shishio's iron sheath.

 

“Kenshin!!” he heard a distant Kaoru call out. His senses were numb; that last blow had nearly knocked him out cold. His brain was rattling inside his skull, trying to figure out which way was up. But that voice rang inside his head like an echo in a canyon, “Kenshin! Kenshin get up!! Kenshin!!!”

 

The will to live... I must... I must live! For Miss Kaoru! For Yahiko and Sanosuke! For everyone else close to me! Kenshin's mind came to as his vision cleared and he pushed himself up with his arms. “I... must... live... for them...”

 

“Well, good luck,” Shishio huffed as he readied his sword for a final attack. Surprisingly, he did not choose one of his infamous flame-wielding attacks, but another familiar one... Hajime Saitou's Gototsu! He stood in a back stance with the sword held parallel to his shoulders, placing the end of the blade on his free hand extended outward. Kenshin was astonished to see such a stance from Shishio, as was displayed in his expression as he finally got up to his feet.

 

“Surprised, Battousai?” Shishio mocked, “I figured I'd use something different to finish you off. After all, this is my last chance to do so here.”

 

“Here...?” Kenshin grunted between heavy breaths, coughing up a spot of blood as he did. His sword felt heavier with each passing moment, and he could barely even lift it off the ground where it stayed.

 

“Yes, here, in the world of the living. You see, I'll have plenty of time to kill you... IN HELL!!!” With that he shot for him, ready to give his final blow. The end of his blade went straight for his still beating heart, and with the way he was holding himself so exposed at close range, there was no way the Battousai could possibly block or dodge the attack. It was over; Shishio had won. His wish was finally going to be fulfilled, and he could rest in peace even in the depths of hell...

 

The crack of the chest bone was followed by the sickening squishing of a still beating heart being pierced, then finished with the shoulder blade snapping in two as Shishio's blade popped through the other side of the body. But the expression on Shishio's bandaged face was not one of satisfaction or contentment; no, it was one of sheer terror, the look of a man facing eternal suffering- a man bound for hell. The man whose heart he had just sliced through was not Battousai the Manslayer, but rather, another familiar face...

 

“Soujiro??!”

 

Soujiro Seta's eyes were twice their accustomed size and surrounded by bloodshot veins; they were the eyes of a man on the verge of death. He spat out a round of bodily fluid as his jaw shook in weakness. His entire body was drenched in sweat, with certain parts of it also sodden with blood. But after a moment, his lips slowly curled into his normal, mysterious smile, and his reddening eyes shifted back to their eerily gleeful gaze. He gave what was supposed to be a laugh of contentment, but it came out as not much more than a violent cough. “Hello... Mr. Shishio...”

 

“Soujiro?? What the hell did you do?!!” Shishio's eyes were, for the first time possibly ever, filled with absolute fear, as opposed to striking fear in others. For the first time in his elongated life, Makoto Shishio knew true fear- the fear of facing a fate worse than death, and the fear of seeing his one desire slip away right before his eyes. “Soujiro!!!”

 

“Heh, `I guess the lust for revenge was enough to bring me back'... Heh heh...” The cruel irony shot into Shishio like the bullets of the Meiji army that fateful night when he was betrayed... Every spiteful memory he kept locked away in his mind rushed back to him in one abrupt moment, flooding him with grief and hatred all at once. His face shook violently, like it couldn't decide between an expression of shock, fear, hatred, anguish, or pure surprise. This boy... This little boy whom he had chosen to train... This “Tenken”, a proclaimed God among men... Came back and defeated him. That placid little smile nearly drove Shishio over the edge as he watched it mock him. He wanted to tear it right off of his innocent little face but it wouldn't matter... In moments, he would be once again damned to a life of eternal suffering... A fate worse than death.

 

“NOOO!!!!” Shishio wrenched his blade out from the nearly dead youth attached to it and began shrieking and moving about madly like a wild bull. He threw his katana against the ground and clutched his head as he tried not to think of his self-assured destiny, falling immediately to his knees as he did so. He began calling out to the Devil with every apology and vow he could think of, all to no avail.

 

“Kenshin...” Kenshin looked down to where the voice had come from- the struggling Soujiro dying right beneath him. Kenshin fell to a knee and gently pulled the youth's head up, receiving a painful grunt in return. “Kenshin Himura... This is my thanks... for showing me that you don't have to be strong to survive... You just have to have a heart... and save others...” He went into another hacking fit, but soon after continued, “Thank you, Mr. Himura... for showing me a life I could live without regret... Thank you...” His eyes then lost their life in an instant, as if the hands of another being had just pulled the plug on his soul. His pupils shrank and remained transfixed on nothing. His coughing stopped, his breathing stopped- his life had come to a stop. But still displayed on his gentle features was that same smile... But this time, Kenshin believed, it wasn't fake. This Soujiro smile was genuine; he had died knowing his life's end was worthwhile. May you rest in peace, Soujiro Seta... he silently prayed.

 

“Shishio!” a dark voice bellowed around them, the likes of which none but Shishio had ever heard. Shishio's mad fit went even more haywire at the sound, but again, it was futile.

 

“No! Devil, please! Please!! I beg your forgiveness!! It wasn't my fault!!!! I NEED TO KILL THE BATOUSAI!!!”

 

“It is too late!” the mysterious voice growled, “Your time is up! Your wish will never be fulfilled, and you are once again damned to an eternity in hell!”

 

“NOO!!!!” Shishio frantically searched for his sword, then, with a truly mad smile languidly painted across his black features, he exclaimed amidst frenetic laughter, “If I go to hell, I'm taking you with me Hitokiri Battousai!!!” Before Kenshin had time to react, Shishio lunged for him one last time, but just as instantly he was cut off by a wall of blinding fire, burning him alive at first impact. The inhuman cry of a dead man echoed throughout Tokyo, sending waves of terror through the skin of the living ones who heard it. It was a shriek unlike anything human ears had heard before, and it nearly shattered them at its sound. As his unheeded cries continued, Makoto Shishio was swallowed up by the surrounding blaze, then taken back down to the pits of hell from which he came. The earth closed over the opening and then sealed it off for good, letting the shades of night once again overcome the area. Makoto Shishio was gone. His wish remained unfulfilled, but the wish of all those whom he had slain once again came true.

 

“Kenshin!!” Kenshin came back to reality as Kaoru tackled him, her arms wrapped so tightly around his neck he felt as though he was about to suffocate. “Kenshin, are you alright?! You're bleeding! Is it bad?? We'll get Dr. Gensai and treat you-”

 

“Now, now, Miss Kaoru, I'm quite alright, that I am-”

 

“Don't you dare try to convince me you're alright, Kenshin!! I saw you nearly get sliced in half!! Do you have any idea how much that killed me inside watching that again??!” Out of nowhere, Kaoru's anger flushed into tears, and she collapsed onto Kenshin's weakened frame, burying her head into his chest. “I couldn't bear to watch you die... Never...! I love you, Kenshin...”

 

“I love you too, Kaoru...” He petted her head lightly with his hand as he suppressed the pain she was causing him by being on top of his aching body like that; he figured he could deal with that more easily than he could her anxiety. The two stayed where they were, stuck in that moment in time, savoring one another's life like the treasure it truly was.

 

“He's gone... This time, he's truly gone... that he is...”

 

 

 

~::*Fin*::~

 

 

 

End Notes:

 

I used a lot of the Japanese terminology in here, so just in case you were wondering what something was, here ya go.

 

Yukata - A Japanese summer garment for women, resembling a kimono but usually more vibrantly colored.

 

Katana - Simply put, “sword” in Japanese.

 

Kikuichimon Jinorimune - One of few legendary swords welded by the sword smith Koiti-Monji.

 

Mugenjin - Makoto Shishio's self-made sword. It has tiny engravings along the entire blade that store petrolium which can be lit aflame by sparks.

 

Sakabatou - Kenshin's reverse-blade sword, but this was the stronger version he received previous to his first battle with Shishio, the Sakabatou-Shinuchi.

 

The attack names and such I'm sure you already figured out by either a) watching the show, or b) reading my description of the attack in the story. It shouldn't be that hard to figure out.

 

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