Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ This Is Forever ❯ Destined To Fight and Destined To Fail ( Chapter 2 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: laichi16 
Anime/Manga: Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Drama / Comedy / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 12.01.2008 | Pages: 7 | Words: 8.8K | Visits: 463 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Drama / Comedy / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 12.01.2008 | Pages: 7 | Words: 8.8K | Visits: 463 | Status: Work In Progress
This Is Forever
Chapter 3: "Destined To Fight"
"Princess of the Heavens, I have come for your head."
Kaoru’s crystal-blue eyes widened at the proposal the demon gave her. She got out her weapon, hidden in her kimono, faster than any mortal could have seen, and she unsheathed it.
The sheath was made of porcelain, and a gold rope was tied around it. The handle of the sword was gold, and the blade was made of pure, unbreakable silver that was wielded by the God of Forging himself. On the blade was the word "Shinjitsu," and the Japanese characters were made with gold that gleamed in the vastly approaching darkness.
"The Sword of Shinjitsu." The stranger said, gripping his sword tighter in his hand.
"Before I send you back to hell," Kaoru yelled, her voice filled with determination. "Tell me you name, demon!"
The stranger did not say anything; all he did was take the sword in his hand, swing once, and the fence between them was destroyed in splinters.
After the racket outside, the residence of the Aoiya ran outside, wondering what happened. As soon as Aoshi saw the demon standing in a threatening pose, his amber eyes fixed on his goddess, the priest ran to Kaoru’s side with his twin kodachi unsheathed.
"This is not a battle for the likes of a mortal." The demon said, his sword held in a threatening manner.
"I know who you are and what you have done," Aoshi announced, placing himself into battle stance. "Battousai."
Kaoru braced herself; she knew the stories of the Demon Prince, "Battousai," and not one of them was good. Everything about the demon was bad news.
"Aoshi," Kaoru said, placing a hand on his broad shoulder. "It’s okay, I can handle him."
"Kaoru-sama, this demon is—"
"I know, Aoshi, and I thank you for your concern, but I know what Battousai is capable of." Kaoru announced, holding out her sword towards the demon. "I will fight him like he wants."
"Kaoru-sama…" Aoshi started to protest again, and Kaoru only gave him a kind smile and shook her head. The goddess’ priest was forced to go back to the sidelines and watch what will become of her.
"A wise idea, Princess." Battousai said soothingly, yet coldly, spiting out the title
‘Princess’ like it was a vile taste in his mouth. "Just us two, locked in an endless battle."
Battousai held out his sword, which looked very much like a katana. The sheath was made out of black wood; the handle of the sword was made out of granite that made it easy for gripping. On the handle was a small blood-red ruby that looked so innocent, yet Kaoru had a very bad feeling about it. The blade was made of steel, forged from hell, and very unbreakable.
"If you’re going to attack, do it now." Kaoru exclaimed, reading her sword into defensive mode.
"Never be too eager to attack your opponent." Battousai informed, but rush towards the goddess anyway, his sword in offense, and he swung at Kaoru, whom, in turn, blocked it with her silver blade.
The two blades made clanging noises when they came together, and small sparks came off the medals from the effort of the holders, trying to get through to the other.
"There’s no way he can kill her, is there, Aoshi-sama?" Misao inquired, gripping her mentor’s gi when the Battousai swung towards Kaoru’s neck, and the goddess barely deflected it.
"I have no idea, Misao." Aoshi answered, his heart pounding in fear for his goddess as she fought the most terrible demon known to man. "This is not a mortal’s battle. It is a battle between a non-ending war of the gods and the demons."
"So, there is a chance of her getting killed?" Misao inquired again, her eyes widening, and they followed up to the man she loved the most in the world.
"I don’t know." Aoshi replied again.
Kaoru found it very impossible to fight in a constricting kimono. Her maneuvers were weak and short. More than once she almost tripped and fell. She did not know how long she had been holding out on this battle, but she knew she had better defeat the demon before she lost.
What was there for a goddess to loose, Kaoru did not know; but she did not want to stay to find out.
Battousai swung his sword towards the goddess, and Kaoru barely avoided it. The wind from the swing, however, was still as sharp as the blade itself, and it sliced Kaoru’s kimono, vertically, at her thighs.
The once beautiful kimono was now ripped, and the fabric slowly fell away from her legs, revealing smooth, creamy skin.
"It seems Battousai just did Kaoru-sama a favor by cutting away her kimono at her legs." Shiro exclaimed, his hopes rose for the goddess.
"I hope he doesn’t stop there." Okina announced, his gaze fixed on the goddess’ creamy legs. The rest of the Oniwanbanshuu rolled their eyes heaven-ward and continued to watch the fight.
Battousai found it a bit difficult to get a hit on the goddess. Just one wound, one scratch from his Hell Blade, and she would be finished. The goddess was a very good swordswoman, which he regretfully admitted to himself.
There was only one weakness she had; she fought like an amateur; like she trained herself by teaching herself, or watching others practice, however good she was at the sword.
When Kaoru was wide open for a split second, Battousai saw his opportunity; he rushed at her with immortal speed, his blade outward in front of him.
Kaoru also rushed at Battousai will her immortal speed, on the offence; a perfect way to get a blade stuck through one’s body.
The Oniwanbanshuu held their breath as they awaited the result of a battle they could no longer see with their own mortal eyes.
It happened in an instant. Both opponents were on offence, waiting to finish the other with their own swords, and running towards each other blindly with their immortal speed.
The sound of blades clashing together echoed in the twilight as Kaoru’s blade scraped along Battousai’s steel blade; sparks came off the blades, brilliant light in the rapidly approaching darkness.
Suddenly, the two immortals came back into view of mortal eyes. Both Kaoru and Battousai stood, unflinching, unwounded, with their backs to each other; their blades to their side.
For a second, everyone wondered who won for it had looked like an unbreakable match that each immortal could not beat.
That was until they looked at Battousai, his left profile faced the mortals. His cheek was clear and smooth, until a small cut started to grow larger, longer, and it did not stop until a long, diagonal wound was open and bleeding profusely.
Drops of blood gathered at the base of the wound, and dripped to the green grass at
Battousai’s feet. When the blood touched the innocent blades of grass, the grass suddenly darkened and died right there; wilting out of existence.
Battousai put his hand to his cheek, having felt it stinging and throbbing for an unapparent reason to him. When we withdrew and viewed his hand, he saw the vertical blood mark beginning from the tip of his middle finger to the base of his palm.
Cursing, the demon slowly looked behind him at the goddess’ back. Kaoru also slowly turned around, having sensed her enemy glaring at her.
When the goddess turned around, everyone saw her for who she truly was. Kaoru was no long disguised as a mortal, but now was a heavenly being with an awesome aura.
Her crystal-blue eyes were even brighter, shining with intelligence, wisdom, beauty, and above all, fury. Her head was raised in defiance towards the demon that challenged her, and the fury surrounding her aura was more powerful and poignant than the flames and pits of hell.
Battousai, however, was not one to give up so easily; but the stinging and throbbing of his left cheek suddenly threw him into reality about what he was truly up against. He understood, then, why the goddess, Kaoru, was the most feared in hell.
She was the goddess that Battousai had been sent back to hell again and again in her name. He underestimated her like a fool, and like a fool, he cursed himself for his stupidity.
Feeling ashamed, and like a dog running away with its tail between its legs to go lick its wounds, Battousai sheathed his sword.
"It seems," the demon began to speak; straightening up out of offensive mode, yet Kaoru did not do the same. "It seems you were desperate to keep your life, however long you can. As a treat, we will rest, but I will challenge you again at another time, without our current audience."
Battousai glared fiery ambers towards the mortals, and then looked back at Kaoru.
"Enjoy your stay on earth, Princess."
After the last statement, the demon was gone within the blink of an eye, leaving without a trace.
"Coward!" Misao suddenly yelled as she reached into her priestess’ gi and pulled out her kunai. "He’s running away like a coward!"
"Misao, contain yourself." Aoshi commanded calmly, yet strictly.
Misao grudgingly stored away her kunai and mumbled within her throat. "Why did you let him get away?" The priestess asked the goddess after she sheathed her sword.
"I honestly don’t know." Kaoru replied, her eyes downcast. "I guess I feel sorry for him because with a father like his, and being born from the fires of hell, he really doesn’t have a choice to act the way he does."
"You’re going to regret that." Misao said, still a bit angry that Kaoru did not finish the Battousai. "But your goddess form is so awesome!"
The Oniwanbanshuu shook their heads at their Misao’s sudden change in subject, and they calmly walked back into the Aoiya; the priestess still talking rapidly and excitedly about Kaoru-sama’s goddess form.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
It was a very dingy part of the city where all the immoral seemed to gather. Guard dogs barked in the distance to ward off anyone that dared to come near their master’s house. Screams of women in alleyways echoed, but went unheeded, the sound of clothes ripping, sobbing and cries for help, and then the sickening stench of lust.
In dirty houses and apartments, arguments could be heard across the street along with the sounds of one spouse’ skin slapping the other spouse’ skin; then the sound of the police sirens. Gang fights could be heard, along with the popping sound of a gun going off.
A lone figure walked under the streetlights; his small hands were fisted and rested in his jean pockets. He was dirty; his clothes were dirty and torn from years of wear. He kept his brown eyes fixed in front of him, neither looking left nor right.
Suddenly three older men walked out in front of the other one’s path. The boy stopped, still looking straight ahead, and he calmly tried to walk around the three.
"Hey, punk, where’d you think you’re going?" one of the men said, grabbing the boy by his collar.
"None of your business." The boy answered, not even looking at the men.
The three men laughed their thick tongue laugh and withdrew their switch blades from their pockets.
"Give us your money." Another man demanded, banishing the blade in the boy’s face.
"I don’t have any." The boy answered, not bothering to look at the blade in front of his face.
"Well, if you don’t have any money, you’ll have to give us a portion of your blood as payment for walking on our turf."
The third and final man smacked the boy across the face and blood dripped from his mouth and down his shirt. The men cracked their knuckles and got ready to beat the life out of the poor boy.
The boy’s first instinct was to start praying to his favorite goddess, but then he held his tongue and slowed his thoughts.
She never heard him, no matter how much he prayed; she never heard him.
OOOOOOOOOOO
Another man was walking down the same path. His brown hair was spiked up, and a red bandana was tied around his head. In his mouth, he bore a toothpick which he chewed the end of out of a nervous habit.
He walked in the same manner as the boy did; his eyes straight ahead, looking neither left nor right, his left fist in the pocket of his jeans, and his right hand held his white jacket hanging over his shoulder. On the back of the white jacket, the symbol "aku" was bared on it.
A few streetlights ahead, a scene was breaking out that made the man’s blood boil; three men beating up on a poor, helpless boy.
Cracking his knuckles together, the stranger decided to do something about it.
"Hey, leave the poor boy alone!" he told the thugs when he was within their reach.
The three men stopped beating on the boy lying on the asphalt and they glared his way at the man who dared to challenge them.
"Who the fuck are you?!" one of the men asked, straightening up to face this strange man.
"My real name, you need not to know, but you may know me as ‘Zanza.’" The man answered.
"’Zanza?!’" the other man almost laughed. "You’re reputation doesn’t suit you; you look nothing like the rumors I’ve heard."
"Yes, well, that’s why they’re called rumors." Zanza announced with a chuckle at the man’s stupidity.
"Hey, shut the hell up!" the man rushed towards Zanza with his switch blade in his hand.
The man, Zanza, just stood their, unmoving, and the blade connected with his skull.
The boy, now watching the fight in wonder, watched as, not Zanza, but the other man cried out in pain as he dropped his switch blade. His arm was twisted and broken in gruesome ways, and the man fell to his knees.
"Anybody else wanna try to take me on?" Zanza asked coldly, glaring at the other two men as they slowly backed away, and then ran; leaving their comrade to the strong man’s mercy.
Snorting at the pitiful sight of two men running for their lives, and leaving another to die, Zanza calmly walked around the man whimpering on the ground, and walked over to the boy.
"Hey, kid, are you alright?" Zanza asked, about to pick the boy up and set him on his feet, when he suddenly jumped to them on his own.
"I’m not a ‘kid!’" The boy yelled at the man who saved him. "My name is Myojin, Yahiko, descendent of the Tokyo Samurai!"
"…You’re still a kid."
By that comment, Yahiko grew angry, and he attempted to hit Zanza, but all the man had to do was hold the boy with his hand as he tried to come at him with fists swinging.
"So where do you live?" Zanza asked.
Deciding it was no use, Yahiko sighed and replied, "The apartments on the corner."
"Where’re your parents?"
Yahiko stiffened, folded his arms and looked away.
"If I had parents," the boy answered after a while. "Do you think I would be walking the streets at this time of night?"
"Good point, kid. Well, I guess there’s no choice." Zanza said, picking Yahiko up by his collar, and carrying him like luggage as the boy cursed and yelled, and threw fists everywhere he could. "We’ll have to find you a new place to stay."
OOOOOOOOOOOO
Growling and cursing at himself, Kenshin walked down the streets of a worthless part of the city. It seemed to be the only place where a demon could settle; it reeked of sin and injustice. His wound ached, stung, and bled without any signs of stopping.
How in all the pits of hell did that worthless little bitch beat him in a sword fight?!
Kenshin staggered down the sidewalk, looking for a place to stay. He hated himself for backing out in the fight. Had it not been for that, the fight would have continued on for days without any stopping.
Suddenly, a sharp pain from his cheek traveled up to his mind, and Kenshin had to quickly grip the wall next to him to prepare for what happened next; he saw all his victims, clearly, in his mind. He heard the echoes of their screams in his ears, and instead of delightfully enjoying their pain, in their sadness, the demon felt something he never felt before.
The feeling traveled from Kenshin’s brain down to the pit of his stomach where it settled there, without any clues as to why it was happening or when it would go away. The foreign feeling was so strong, needling at the demon’s stomach that he was forced to have several gagging reflexes.
Kenshin gripped the wall so tightly that the tips of his fingers left indents in the wall, and the skin wore away, allowing fresh blood to seep out of the fresh wounds. Not knowing what else to do, and desperate to make the aberrant feeling go away, the prince raced into the apartment building whose wall he was gripping.
Blinded by horrid visions of his dead victims, Kenshin raced up the cracked, stone steps; running up four floors without any sense of direction. He ran down the hallway, to the last door, and he kicked it open, prepared to kill anyone that was in there in his current state of madness.
Only silence and darkness greeted the distressed prince. The apartment was dingy with only a filthy window for light. The streetlights were the only source of light that could be offered to the pitiful place.
The whole place was small; a small living room with broken furniture, torn threads and stuffing from it thrown all over the place. The walls were cracked and the paint was chipped. Nails stuck out of the wood without anything to hide them, such as portraits and other such pictures.
The prince swallowed the lump in his throat that threatened to choke him; he had been in that apartment before. Of course, the place was a lot cleaner than the time he arrived, possessing another mortal’s body to commit the hideous deeds.
The residents of the place seemed to be long gone. Kenshin would have believed that had a lone blanket not been lying on the couch. The prince picked it up and sniffed it; the fabric smelled like tears, sadness, and hatred. It smelled of a young boy that wrapped himself in it when the place he called home was ruined; blood was spilt here, and the boy had been there to witness it.
Looking to his left, Kenshin saw a dirty, dusty side table that bore only one item: a family portrait. There were three people; a man who looked proud and happy. As he stared at the portrait with his golden eyes gleaming in the darkness, a suddenly image of the same man came back into his mind’s eye; he stood up to him, the Demon Prince, in defiance while the prince himself sliced the man up like he was nothing.
Kenshin blinked, the same feeling in his stomach tightened, grew stronger, as he continued to look at the portrait. The woman in the picture had eyes that were bright with happiness, and wisdom.
Suddenly, another image came into the demon’s mind; after he killed the mortal man, he saw the woman. Her husband died protecting her, and she looked at him, tears in her eyes, but filled with anger. She was afraid and Kenshin gulped the feeling up, wanting more.
He slowly tore her apart as her screams of pain, and screams of yelling to the son behind her, the son she had been protecting, to run as fast as he could; run far away from there.
The son was frozen with fear.
Kenshin looked back at the portrait and saw the woman was holding a boy in her arms. The boy was proud and protective of the family; his brown eyes were bright, and his black hair was spiked.
In the demon’s memory, the boy was huddled under the blanket that was on the couch. He cried as he saw his parents slaughtered before his eyes, and he cried out to "Kaoru-sama" to save him. That was when that damn priest and priestess came onto the scene and performed an exorcism while the boy ran away.
Kenshin suddenly coughed as the unending feeling in his stomach heightened, and he rushed over to the window, quickly opened it, and vomited over the edge. After several heaves, the demon came back from hanging out the window, and he flopped down on the ground.
A mist started to gather in Kenshin’s eyes, and he blinked it away. After that, he felt warm trickles running down his cheeks; on his left cheek, the warm tickles started to sting his opened wound, but soon after, the bleeding stopped.
Kenshin raised a hand and wiped away the warm tickles, very sure to see a ruby liquid. What he saw shocked him; on his hand was not the red blood he expected, but a clear, salty liquid that look somewhat like water. The prince had seen them before, but not coming from him; tears.
Kenshin flicked the offending liquid away from his hand, but more of the liquid fell from his eyes in a steady stream. Shaking his head, the demon’s eyes landed on a glass figure lying on the floor.
He picked it up, holding it gently, and saw that very familiar pose; she was holding up a dove in her left hand, her head high and proud, and in her right hand she held a sword. On the sword, in Japanese characters, was the word "Shinjitsu."
More of that offending, salty liquid fell from Kenshin’s eyes, and he gripped the small glass statue so tight that it shattered in his hand. Trickles of a more familiar liquid seeped through the cuts on his hand and dripped to the floor.
"What the fuck did that bitch do to me?!" the prince growled to himself.
"You’ve been cut by the Sword of Shinjitsu." A male voice suddenly said in the darkness.
Kenshin jumped up, his hand to his sword, and he saw a little red light brighten, and a smelly smoke vented from it.
"Who the hell are you?" Kenshin demanded to know, his eyes brightening to see in the darkness surrounding them.
The man came more towards the prince, and into the light. Kenshin saw the man was wearing a Kyoto police uniform with white gloves, he had semi-long hair with four strands handing from his brushed back bangs, and in his "smoking hand," or his right hand, he held a cigarette, and his eyes were the same as the prince’s eyes; golden yellow.
"Ore wa Saitou, Hajime desu." The man answered with an infuriating smirk. "Your father, Hiko, sent his little spy from the heavens to tell me to watch out for you. Obviously, he saw your pathetic display while fighting Ka—"
"Don’t say her damn name." the prince interrupted coldly, hating everything about this guy.
"Kaoru." Saitou finished with a smirk as his opponent’s temper rose.
Kenshin studied the man, looking him over with distaste. Something in his blood told him that this Saitou was not truly a demon. Something about him… and then the prince saw what it was, and announced it with distain.
"I don’t need help from a worthless hanyou!"
Saitou’s eyebrow rose as he calmly puffed on his cigarette. "Though a half demon I may be, I see from your current state that you do."
Kenshin bit the side of his cheek to stop his remark towards the infuriating man. "Okay then, what do you think I should do?"
To Be Continued…
This Is Forever
Chapter 4: "Destined To Fail"
"Okay then, what do you think I should do?"
"Is there really anything you can do?" Saitou asked, dropping his cigarette to the floor, and he placed his foot on it to snuff it out. "You’ve been wounded, however small, by the Sword of Shinjitsu."
"I know what the Sword of Truth is." Kenshin informed, giving a small sigh.
"Obviously you don’t if you’re wondering ‘what the hell that bitch did’ to you." Saitou said, taking out another cigarette and lighting it up. "Do you want to know why you were crying?"
"I wasn’t crying!" Kenshin snapped, his golden yellow eyes flared up in fury.
"Oh, sure; you just had dust in your eyes." Saitou countered, rolling his eyes. The way he rolled his eyes was not the traditional way that mortals do; it was downward, towards hell, instead of towards heaven.
Kenshin did not respond; he just stared at the half demon with a blank expression, while inside, he wanted nothing more than to slowly strangle the insufferable half breed who thought he knew all the answers.
After taking a long drag from his cigarette, Saitou continued. "The Sword of Shinjitsu is a very powerful blade, forged by the God of Forging himself and as a birthday present for Kaoru. When the blade even cuts a demon’s skin, drawing blood, the power of the blade is to make the demon feel more… human."
"So, this blade," Kenshin began, placing his hand to his wound, though it had stopped bleeding. "Is going to give me mortal emotions for what I have done?"
"It already gave those emotions to you, hence the extreme guilt you feel for the crimes you have committed." Saitou said, and he took another long drag from his stick-figure friend. "You will continue to live as you are, the guilty weight of your sins will forever live in you, and press down on your shoulders."
"How could the Sword of Shinjitsu do this?"
"Its name speaks for itself; the Sword of Truth. It has truthfully revealed the terrible things you have done from a mortal’s point of view. You feel the guilt you would as if you were human."
Kenshin did not say anything, except, "What must I do to rid myself of this guilt?"
Saitou smirked cruelly, and threw another cigarette on the floor, and then stomped on it to snuff it out. "I thought you’d never ask."
OOOOOOOOOO
"I think you should lay low for a while, until things settle down." Misao exclaimed to Kaoru as they bathed together.
Kaoru silently agreed as she took the bucket full of water, and splashed it over her head. The water ran down her body like small streams. After the fight, something was always nagging the goddess.
"I don’t know how that demon knew I was going to be here." Kaoru exclaimed as she rubbed the soap bar and wash cloth together to get a satisfying foam. "My father said that no demon should know I was here."
"They couldn’t have just taken a coincidental guess." Misao said, understanding what the princess was trying to say. "Do you think they could’ve gotten a demon up to heaven somehow?"
"No, that’s impossible; there’s always an anti-demon barrier around the entrance and round the palace of heaven. I don’t see how that can be possible."
"Then if they found out somehow, do you think there is someone in heaven that was the one that sold you out?" Misao asked, turning the knobs for the hot and cold water to mix together in the tub. "How hot do you want it?"
"Whatever you want." Kaoru replied, dumping another bucket of warm water over herself to rinse off the soap. "I don’t think there would be a spy in heaven. I mean, to have any relations with a demon, even talking on the same level with one, could get one thrown out of heaven, and into hell."
"Is that the rules?" Misao asked, unbraiding her long, black hair.
"That’s my father’s rules."
They sat down together in the tub, finally allowing their muscles to relax, and their lungs to breathe slowly and fully thanks to the steam rising from the hot water.
"Ah, it’s been so long since I’ve been able to relax." Misao exclaimed, sinking down further so only her head was exposed. "So that’s the rules, huh?"
"Yes; all rules are determined by whoever is in charge. Since my father is in charge, he makes the rules."
"But when you are in charge, you can make whatever rules you want to." Misao informed. "Then you can do away with all demons. Maybe lock them all up in hell. That would be so cool; to be able to live without any fear of demons possessing humans, and making life so hard here on earth. That would be… heaven on earth."
"Indeed," Kaoru exclaimed with a smile. "That would be neat for everyone here. Then I can lock up that filthy Battousai where he belongs."
OOOOOOOOO
Kenshin suddenly sneezed very hard, and it flew into Saitou’s face.
"Damn!" Kenshin exclaimed as he sniffed as Saitou wiped his face, and prepared to kill the demon prince. "Someone’s talking shit about me!"
OOOOOOOOO
"Do you think you should bring this up with Tengoku-sama?" Misao asked after a long relaxation in the tub. She reached for her towel and handed the other one to the goddess.
"I think I will, you know, just so he can be on his guard." Kaoru answered, wrapping the towel around her body. "While we’re on the subject of my safety, I have to ask, how will I stay low without attracting attention?"
"You could pretend to be a priestess here. Like a shrine keeper, or a gardener and you could help out with the shine if you want."
"It’s weird being a priestess of me, but okay. I think I will take care of the garden. I love the roses."
"The roses seem to love you, too. You also need another name for shrine visitors because you can’t just say your name is ‘Kaoru,’ when you’re in a Kaoru-sama shrine. Can you think of one?"
Kaoru stared into space for a second before a small smile came on her face. "Kagome." She simply answered.
"Kagome?" Misao repeated. "I was thinking more along the lines of Miki, or Toshiro.*"
(*Prime Minister Miki was humiliated when his wife publicly said that he "hardly knows how to wash his face properly."
Toshiro had brought along his wife (she did most of the talking) to participate in the discussion about Japanese women's role in the house.)
Kaoru smiled nervously and shook her head. "Um, I think I’ll stick to Kagome."
Misao shrugged her shoulders and headed towards the door after getting her robe on.
"Fine by me."
Misao skipped out of the bathroom, down the hall, and towards her room. She would have made it without anyone noticing her until she accidentally bumped into someone.
"Oof! Sorry, I didn’t mean to…"
Aqua-marine eyes met ice-blue eyes. Misao gulped as she tried to salvage her dignity under Aoshi’s blank, yet piercing stare.
Misao’s robe was damp because her long hair was not thoroughly dried, and it clung to every curve. Her black hair was out of its usual braid, and it flowed, however damp, down her back. The robe stopped short of her thighs, almost exposing her lower half.
Smiling nervously, Misao cautiously walked around her mentor’s stare, and quickly ran to her room. She practically slammed the shoji door and breathed like she was winded. Slowly, she placed a shaking hand to her rapidly pounding heart, and smiled.
Back in the hallway, Kaoru saw the whole display played out. It was obvious where Aoshi’s love lies, but she did not want to give too much away at once. Instead, she smiled in a way that would be considered low for a goddess of her standards; evil.
OOOOOOO
The man with the red bandana tied around his head knocked on the door to a restaurant that was very well-known in the city of Kyoto. He paused, and there was no answer. The street seemed to be almost deserted because most of the eat-out places had been closed.
He began to knock again, this time with more force, and the little brat by his side said, "No one is here, dumbass."
The man, Zanza, lightly smacked the boy on the head for calling him a dirty name. "You should know better than the curse, you little bastard."
The boy, Yahiko, punched the man on the arm, but the much stronger man did not seemed fazed by it. Instead, he picked up where he left off; knocking. After about the tenth knock, a very annoyed woman opened the door.
"We’re not open, and even if we were, you will not be able to come in here, you drunk." She said, her arms crossed, and Zanza saw a name tag that read "Omasu."
Yahiko startled both adults by a sudden outburst in laughter. "She knows you’re a drunk!"
Zanza gave the boy a rather rough shake at his collar. "Shut up, you little brat." He turned to the woman in the doorway and said, "Omasu-san, I am not a drunk. I’m here to drop off this little bastard because he is without parents, without a home—"
"I have a home!" a voice coming from a four-foot ten year old yelled.
"And I heard that this is the place to drop off brats like him." Zanza concluded as if he was never interrupted.
"This isn’t an orphanage, but we will take him in for the time being." Omasu exclaimed, gesturing the boy inside.
"Good," Zanza exclaimed, pushing his way into the closed restaurant, dragging the struggling boy in by his collar. "This is a restaurant famous for its old-time sake. I would like some."
"I said we’re closed!" Omasu exclaimed, her hands now going to her hips.
"Its okay, Omasu, we can welcome him as a guest." An old man said, appearing in the doorway. "After all, it’s a rare treat to taste the sake of the old. Welcome, young man; and you too, little boy."
"I’m not a little boy! My name is Moujin, Yahiko, descendent—"
Zanza smacked the boy on his head. "Shut up; I’ve heard enough about that introduction and where your lineage is from."
"Well, please," the old man exclaimed, gesturing towards the kitchen. "Please make yourself at home."
"Who’re you, old man?" Zanza asked cautiously before entering into the kitchen. The vision of an old man being possessed by a demon, luring him and the boy into a boiling pot of water, and then eating them up came into his mind.
"Oh, forgive my rudeness. I am Okina; just Okina. Who’re you?"
"Zanza; just Zanza."
"Now that we’re introduced, please follow me."
Zanza and Yahiko followed Omasu and Okina into the kitchen where Omasu got the sake and started heating it up.
The two guests sat at the table while Omasu set Ohaki snakes in front of them. The old man sat across from them and watched Yahiko practically inhale the treat in front of him.
"Now, where’re you from?" Okina inquired, not bothering to eat the Ohaki.
"I don’t know about this loud bastard," Zanza exclaimed, pointing his thumb to Yahiko next to him. "But I come from the north side of Kyoto."
"Hm." Okina said thoughtfully.
"What does ‘hm’ mean?" Zanza demanded, glaring at the old man across from him.
"Your name… I recognize it from the Kyoto Weekly. You were from a gang called the Sekiho-tai, a once thriving gang that was annihilated by possessed—um, by another gang."
Zanza’s eyebrow twitched, and he remained silent for a few moments. "I know something wasn’t ‘right’ about them. They had eyes that looked like they lost their souls, especially their leader. They were possessed, and I stand by it, even though I am laughed at, and ridiculed."
"That’s to be expected." Okina stated. "Most people these days don’t believe in demons, so when you say a person is possessed, they will laugh at you."
"Here’s your sake." A woman said; she had long black hair, tied up in a ponytail using a single pink ribbon. She wore a white gi, and a blue hakama. When she saw the man and boy, she smiled kindly, and she placed the sake bottles in front of them.
"Who’re you?" Zanza asked, his eyebrow rose in curiosity.
"Wattashi no namae wa Kagome desu. I work here; and who’re you, sirs?"
"Zanza, and this brat here is Moujin, Yahiko."
Yahiko looked at Kaoru in such a way that made the goddess curious about him. His face was blank, but his eyes spoke all; it was a mixture of amazement, wonder, and… anger. It was as if he knew who she truly was.
"I’m very pleased to meet both of you."
"Would you like some help in the kitchen?" Yahiko suddenly asked as he rose to his feet.
"No, it’s okay." Kaoru replied, shaking her head.
"I insist… Kagome-san."
The way the boy’s tone was told Kaoru that it was not a request; it was a demand. Shocked, due to the fact that no mortal demanded something of her, Kaoru numbly nodded in agreement. She allowed Yahiko to lead her into the kitchen, but then he continued on to the customer eating quarters, and the goddess followed.
"I know who you are, Kaoru-sama." Yahiko stated simply, not bothering to look at the one that he use to pray to so much, and so whole-heartedly; but she betrayed him. She betrayed his faith and trust.
"How did you know, when even the others had trouble believing me when I said who I was?" Kaoru asked, amazed at the perception of such a young child.
"I saw your eyes." Yahiko said, moving towards the shrine that was always standing in the corner, and the candles were always burning. It was the only source of light after closing time, and the flames flickered and danced; the light bounced on the faces of the only two in the room. "You’re eyes are an inhuman color, and when I looked into them, I saw everything reflecting from them. No mortal could have that pure of a soul."
"Yahiko…"
"And no immortal being could exist whom I hate more than you." Yahiko said viciously, taking the ivory statue of the very goddess he was cursing in to his small hands. "I hate you!"
The boy suddenly threw the ivory statue into the wall and it shattered into pieces. He blew all the candles to the shrine out, and he took it from its corner and threw it on the floor.
While Yahiko was throwing his fit, Zanza and the Oniwanbanshuu charged into the room, turning on the electric lights. Aoshi was filled with anger when he saw his goddess’ shrine being desecrated right before, not only his eyes, but Kaoru’s as well.
The priest was about to throw the boy out of the Aoiya when Kaoru grabbed his arm. Aoshi looked back and saw Kaoru’s beautiful crystal-blue eyes filled with tears, and yet she shook her head.
Don’t stop him. She seemed to say. It’s okay; let him scream at me and destroy my shrine. I deserve it.
Aoshi shook his head back, and Kaoru nodded, pulling him back to the other observers. The boy, Yahiko, seemed exhausted after his fit around the room and he collapsed into sitting position, breathing hard as perspiration dropped from his face. It also could have been mistaken as tears as well.
Kaoru slowly walked to his side to help him up when he swatted her helping arms away. The goddess seemed helpless as the boy sobbed in pain; it was not physical pain, it was emotional pain.
"How dare you!" Yahiko yelled at Kaoru, jumping to his feet and pointing an accusing finger at her. "How dare you try to help me now! Why didn’t you help me four years ago when my parents were slaughtered by a possessed human?! You didn’t hear my prayers!
You didn’t listen to me! Naze (Why)?! Why didn’t you help me when I needed you the most?! You’re awful! You’re an awful goddess! I hate you! I hate you!"
By this time, Kaoru’s eyes were filled with tears, and they fell from her face. Yahiko collapsed to his knees and cried; his hard sobs shook his small body.
He’s right. Kaoru decided to himself. I didn’t hear his prayers, and I didn’t help him. Why? I should’ve helped him. I… I’m not worthy of my father’s throne if I can’t even help a boy that was in desperate need.
"Yahiko," Kaoru started, falling to her knees in front of the boy. "Gomen nasai. I truly am very sorry, even though no matter how many apologies I make, it won’t ease your pain. I have hurt you, and because I have, you have permission to just call me Kaoru. No honorific at the end at all; just Kaoru."
Kaoru turned to the others who were watching the display solemnly. Choking down her tears and embarrassment that the great goddess, Kaoru-sama, failed to save even one boy, she said, "I will punish myself by cleaning up my own desecrated shrine. Gomen nasai." And she gave a deep bow of humbleness.
OOOOOOOOOO
"You mean to tell me that you are the great Princess of the Heavens?" Zanza asked, leaning up against the wall as he watched the fallen goddess clean up the mess. Many of the other Oniwanbanshuu asked if they could help, but she refused.
Kaoru nodded as she swept the broken pieces of her ivory statue into the dust pan. She was not even half way done with the cleaning.
"Prove it." Zanza requested, still not moving from his spot against the wall.
"You’re real name is Sagara Sanosuke." Kaoru answered softly. "Your parents abandoned you with your cruel uncle, so you ran away."
Zanza did not say anything as he blankly watched the goddess dump the ruble into the trash can, and she continued on with the ex-gangster’s life.
"You were befriended by a gang’s leader, Sagara, and he gave you his name since you couldn’t remember your real last name. He also gave you the nickname, ‘Zanza,’ since you were abnormally strong, and you could lift a Zanbatou. The name of that gang was the Sekiho-tai, cruelly slaughtered by humans that sold their souls to demons to give them power to destroy your gang."
Zanza did not say anything; what was there to say? The Princess of the Heavens was right there in front of him, and she was degrading herself all because of a little brat that blamed her for everything.
"Don’t pay attention to that brat." Zanza said, finally getting into standing position. "He’s just looking for someone to blame, and he found you."
Kaoru shook her head, and said, "Please leave, Zanza; I need to be alone."
"Okay," Zanza said, shrugging his shoulders and he started to head out the door when he stopped. "And you can call me Sanosuke, or Sano; whichever one you prefer."
Sano left without another word, and Kaoru was not planning on saying anything else. She continued to clean up the debris when a loud, booming voice suddenly sounded in her ears.
"Now you know what it’s like to be humble."
Kaoru jumped; the voice was kind yet firm, booming in her ears, yet it was not loud; it filled her very being and seemed to be all around her.
"Father, what’d you mean?" Kaoru asked, looking around; though she could not see her father, she could feel his very presence all around her.
"You have found out what it is like to fail, my daughter." Tengoku said. "You failed because you did not hear the boy’s prayers."
"Why did I not hear Yahiko’s prayers, father?" Kaoru asked, her eyes tearing up ready to cry again.
"It was his parents’ fate to die that night. If you heard his prayer, you would, not doubt, have helped him, thus saving his parents. I couldn’t let you hear his prayers."
"What?!" Kaoru yelled indignantly. "The boy hates me, and you tell me that you did not let me hear his prayers because it was his parents’ fate to die! I want a better
explanation!"
"Kaoru, contain yourself!" Tengoku’s voice boomed, seemingly loud.
"I wanted to help him, father." Kaoru said, trying not to yell at her father again, lest she be struck down. "Poor Yahiko; I should’ve been there. I should’ve rescued him."
"You can’t save everyone, Kaoru."
"I wish I could."
"If you take my throne, then maybe you could." Tengoku exclaimed quietly.
Kaoru shook her head, tears now streaming down her face. It was silent, and the goddess thought her father had left, but then he spoke again.
"We’ll talk later."
"Wait! Father, wait!"
"What is it?"
"I fought a demon the other day… during the night; demonic time."
Tengoku was silent; seemingly thinking about what his daughter just informed him of.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, father. That’s not all; the demon was… Battousai."
"Battou…sai?"
"Yes, so I think there might be a traitor in Heaven." Kaoru explained, picking her broom back up.
"There can’t possibly be a traitor up here."
"I may be wrong, but how could the demon prince know I was here? Just please look into it, father; please?"
Silence met father and daughter again, and then Tengoku answered. "Alright, I’ll look into it. See if there is any abnormal activity coming from up here. I’ll talk to you later, Kaoru."
"Wait!" Kaoru called again, but silence answered her. The presence of Tengoku was no longer there, around her; his booming voice no longer echoing in her ears. "What do you want to test me on?" Kaoru whispered to herself.
To Be Continued…
Chapter 3: "Destined To Fight"
"Princess of the Heavens, I have come for your head."
Kaoru’s crystal-blue eyes widened at the proposal the demon gave her. She got out her weapon, hidden in her kimono, faster than any mortal could have seen, and she unsheathed it.
The sheath was made of porcelain, and a gold rope was tied around it. The handle of the sword was gold, and the blade was made of pure, unbreakable silver that was wielded by the God of Forging himself. On the blade was the word "Shinjitsu," and the Japanese characters were made with gold that gleamed in the vastly approaching darkness.
"The Sword of Shinjitsu." The stranger said, gripping his sword tighter in his hand.
"Before I send you back to hell," Kaoru yelled, her voice filled with determination. "Tell me you name, demon!"
The stranger did not say anything; all he did was take the sword in his hand, swing once, and the fence between them was destroyed in splinters.
After the racket outside, the residence of the Aoiya ran outside, wondering what happened. As soon as Aoshi saw the demon standing in a threatening pose, his amber eyes fixed on his goddess, the priest ran to Kaoru’s side with his twin kodachi unsheathed.
"This is not a battle for the likes of a mortal." The demon said, his sword held in a threatening manner.
"I know who you are and what you have done," Aoshi announced, placing himself into battle stance. "Battousai."
Kaoru braced herself; she knew the stories of the Demon Prince, "Battousai," and not one of them was good. Everything about the demon was bad news.
"Aoshi," Kaoru said, placing a hand on his broad shoulder. "It’s okay, I can handle him."
"Kaoru-sama, this demon is—"
"I know, Aoshi, and I thank you for your concern, but I know what Battousai is capable of." Kaoru announced, holding out her sword towards the demon. "I will fight him like he wants."
"Kaoru-sama…" Aoshi started to protest again, and Kaoru only gave him a kind smile and shook her head. The goddess’ priest was forced to go back to the sidelines and watch what will become of her.
"A wise idea, Princess." Battousai said soothingly, yet coldly, spiting out the title
‘Princess’ like it was a vile taste in his mouth. "Just us two, locked in an endless battle."
Battousai held out his sword, which looked very much like a katana. The sheath was made out of black wood; the handle of the sword was made out of granite that made it easy for gripping. On the handle was a small blood-red ruby that looked so innocent, yet Kaoru had a very bad feeling about it. The blade was made of steel, forged from hell, and very unbreakable.
"If you’re going to attack, do it now." Kaoru exclaimed, reading her sword into defensive mode.
"Never be too eager to attack your opponent." Battousai informed, but rush towards the goddess anyway, his sword in offense, and he swung at Kaoru, whom, in turn, blocked it with her silver blade.
The two blades made clanging noises when they came together, and small sparks came off the medals from the effort of the holders, trying to get through to the other.
"There’s no way he can kill her, is there, Aoshi-sama?" Misao inquired, gripping her mentor’s gi when the Battousai swung towards Kaoru’s neck, and the goddess barely deflected it.
"I have no idea, Misao." Aoshi answered, his heart pounding in fear for his goddess as she fought the most terrible demon known to man. "This is not a mortal’s battle. It is a battle between a non-ending war of the gods and the demons."
"So, there is a chance of her getting killed?" Misao inquired again, her eyes widening, and they followed up to the man she loved the most in the world.
"I don’t know." Aoshi replied again.
Kaoru found it very impossible to fight in a constricting kimono. Her maneuvers were weak and short. More than once she almost tripped and fell. She did not know how long she had been holding out on this battle, but she knew she had better defeat the demon before she lost.
What was there for a goddess to loose, Kaoru did not know; but she did not want to stay to find out.
Battousai swung his sword towards the goddess, and Kaoru barely avoided it. The wind from the swing, however, was still as sharp as the blade itself, and it sliced Kaoru’s kimono, vertically, at her thighs.
The once beautiful kimono was now ripped, and the fabric slowly fell away from her legs, revealing smooth, creamy skin.
"It seems Battousai just did Kaoru-sama a favor by cutting away her kimono at her legs." Shiro exclaimed, his hopes rose for the goddess.
"I hope he doesn’t stop there." Okina announced, his gaze fixed on the goddess’ creamy legs. The rest of the Oniwanbanshuu rolled their eyes heaven-ward and continued to watch the fight.
Battousai found it a bit difficult to get a hit on the goddess. Just one wound, one scratch from his Hell Blade, and she would be finished. The goddess was a very good swordswoman, which he regretfully admitted to himself.
There was only one weakness she had; she fought like an amateur; like she trained herself by teaching herself, or watching others practice, however good she was at the sword.
When Kaoru was wide open for a split second, Battousai saw his opportunity; he rushed at her with immortal speed, his blade outward in front of him.
Kaoru also rushed at Battousai will her immortal speed, on the offence; a perfect way to get a blade stuck through one’s body.
The Oniwanbanshuu held their breath as they awaited the result of a battle they could no longer see with their own mortal eyes.
It happened in an instant. Both opponents were on offence, waiting to finish the other with their own swords, and running towards each other blindly with their immortal speed.
The sound of blades clashing together echoed in the twilight as Kaoru’s blade scraped along Battousai’s steel blade; sparks came off the blades, brilliant light in the rapidly approaching darkness.
Suddenly, the two immortals came back into view of mortal eyes. Both Kaoru and Battousai stood, unflinching, unwounded, with their backs to each other; their blades to their side.
For a second, everyone wondered who won for it had looked like an unbreakable match that each immortal could not beat.
That was until they looked at Battousai, his left profile faced the mortals. His cheek was clear and smooth, until a small cut started to grow larger, longer, and it did not stop until a long, diagonal wound was open and bleeding profusely.
Drops of blood gathered at the base of the wound, and dripped to the green grass at
Battousai’s feet. When the blood touched the innocent blades of grass, the grass suddenly darkened and died right there; wilting out of existence.
Battousai put his hand to his cheek, having felt it stinging and throbbing for an unapparent reason to him. When we withdrew and viewed his hand, he saw the vertical blood mark beginning from the tip of his middle finger to the base of his palm.
Cursing, the demon slowly looked behind him at the goddess’ back. Kaoru also slowly turned around, having sensed her enemy glaring at her.
When the goddess turned around, everyone saw her for who she truly was. Kaoru was no long disguised as a mortal, but now was a heavenly being with an awesome aura.
Her crystal-blue eyes were even brighter, shining with intelligence, wisdom, beauty, and above all, fury. Her head was raised in defiance towards the demon that challenged her, and the fury surrounding her aura was more powerful and poignant than the flames and pits of hell.
Battousai, however, was not one to give up so easily; but the stinging and throbbing of his left cheek suddenly threw him into reality about what he was truly up against. He understood, then, why the goddess, Kaoru, was the most feared in hell.
She was the goddess that Battousai had been sent back to hell again and again in her name. He underestimated her like a fool, and like a fool, he cursed himself for his stupidity.
Feeling ashamed, and like a dog running away with its tail between its legs to go lick its wounds, Battousai sheathed his sword.
"It seems," the demon began to speak; straightening up out of offensive mode, yet Kaoru did not do the same. "It seems you were desperate to keep your life, however long you can. As a treat, we will rest, but I will challenge you again at another time, without our current audience."
Battousai glared fiery ambers towards the mortals, and then looked back at Kaoru.
"Enjoy your stay on earth, Princess."
After the last statement, the demon was gone within the blink of an eye, leaving without a trace.
"Coward!" Misao suddenly yelled as she reached into her priestess’ gi and pulled out her kunai. "He’s running away like a coward!"
"Misao, contain yourself." Aoshi commanded calmly, yet strictly.
Misao grudgingly stored away her kunai and mumbled within her throat. "Why did you let him get away?" The priestess asked the goddess after she sheathed her sword.
"I honestly don’t know." Kaoru replied, her eyes downcast. "I guess I feel sorry for him because with a father like his, and being born from the fires of hell, he really doesn’t have a choice to act the way he does."
"You’re going to regret that." Misao said, still a bit angry that Kaoru did not finish the Battousai. "But your goddess form is so awesome!"
The Oniwanbanshuu shook their heads at their Misao’s sudden change in subject, and they calmly walked back into the Aoiya; the priestess still talking rapidly and excitedly about Kaoru-sama’s goddess form.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
It was a very dingy part of the city where all the immoral seemed to gather. Guard dogs barked in the distance to ward off anyone that dared to come near their master’s house. Screams of women in alleyways echoed, but went unheeded, the sound of clothes ripping, sobbing and cries for help, and then the sickening stench of lust.
In dirty houses and apartments, arguments could be heard across the street along with the sounds of one spouse’ skin slapping the other spouse’ skin; then the sound of the police sirens. Gang fights could be heard, along with the popping sound of a gun going off.
A lone figure walked under the streetlights; his small hands were fisted and rested in his jean pockets. He was dirty; his clothes were dirty and torn from years of wear. He kept his brown eyes fixed in front of him, neither looking left nor right.
Suddenly three older men walked out in front of the other one’s path. The boy stopped, still looking straight ahead, and he calmly tried to walk around the three.
"Hey, punk, where’d you think you’re going?" one of the men said, grabbing the boy by his collar.
"None of your business." The boy answered, not even looking at the men.
The three men laughed their thick tongue laugh and withdrew their switch blades from their pockets.
"Give us your money." Another man demanded, banishing the blade in the boy’s face.
"I don’t have any." The boy answered, not bothering to look at the blade in front of his face.
"Well, if you don’t have any money, you’ll have to give us a portion of your blood as payment for walking on our turf."
The third and final man smacked the boy across the face and blood dripped from his mouth and down his shirt. The men cracked their knuckles and got ready to beat the life out of the poor boy.
The boy’s first instinct was to start praying to his favorite goddess, but then he held his tongue and slowed his thoughts.
She never heard him, no matter how much he prayed; she never heard him.
OOOOOOOOOOO
Another man was walking down the same path. His brown hair was spiked up, and a red bandana was tied around his head. In his mouth, he bore a toothpick which he chewed the end of out of a nervous habit.
He walked in the same manner as the boy did; his eyes straight ahead, looking neither left nor right, his left fist in the pocket of his jeans, and his right hand held his white jacket hanging over his shoulder. On the back of the white jacket, the symbol "aku" was bared on it.
A few streetlights ahead, a scene was breaking out that made the man’s blood boil; three men beating up on a poor, helpless boy.
Cracking his knuckles together, the stranger decided to do something about it.
"Hey, leave the poor boy alone!" he told the thugs when he was within their reach.
The three men stopped beating on the boy lying on the asphalt and they glared his way at the man who dared to challenge them.
"Who the fuck are you?!" one of the men asked, straightening up to face this strange man.
"My real name, you need not to know, but you may know me as ‘Zanza.’" The man answered.
"’Zanza?!’" the other man almost laughed. "You’re reputation doesn’t suit you; you look nothing like the rumors I’ve heard."
"Yes, well, that’s why they’re called rumors." Zanza announced with a chuckle at the man’s stupidity.
"Hey, shut the hell up!" the man rushed towards Zanza with his switch blade in his hand.
The man, Zanza, just stood their, unmoving, and the blade connected with his skull.
The boy, now watching the fight in wonder, watched as, not Zanza, but the other man cried out in pain as he dropped his switch blade. His arm was twisted and broken in gruesome ways, and the man fell to his knees.
"Anybody else wanna try to take me on?" Zanza asked coldly, glaring at the other two men as they slowly backed away, and then ran; leaving their comrade to the strong man’s mercy.
Snorting at the pitiful sight of two men running for their lives, and leaving another to die, Zanza calmly walked around the man whimpering on the ground, and walked over to the boy.
"Hey, kid, are you alright?" Zanza asked, about to pick the boy up and set him on his feet, when he suddenly jumped to them on his own.
"I’m not a ‘kid!’" The boy yelled at the man who saved him. "My name is Myojin, Yahiko, descendent of the Tokyo Samurai!"
"…You’re still a kid."
By that comment, Yahiko grew angry, and he attempted to hit Zanza, but all the man had to do was hold the boy with his hand as he tried to come at him with fists swinging.
"So where do you live?" Zanza asked.
Deciding it was no use, Yahiko sighed and replied, "The apartments on the corner."
"Where’re your parents?"
Yahiko stiffened, folded his arms and looked away.
"If I had parents," the boy answered after a while. "Do you think I would be walking the streets at this time of night?"
"Good point, kid. Well, I guess there’s no choice." Zanza said, picking Yahiko up by his collar, and carrying him like luggage as the boy cursed and yelled, and threw fists everywhere he could. "We’ll have to find you a new place to stay."
OOOOOOOOOOOO
Growling and cursing at himself, Kenshin walked down the streets of a worthless part of the city. It seemed to be the only place where a demon could settle; it reeked of sin and injustice. His wound ached, stung, and bled without any signs of stopping.
How in all the pits of hell did that worthless little bitch beat him in a sword fight?!
Kenshin staggered down the sidewalk, looking for a place to stay. He hated himself for backing out in the fight. Had it not been for that, the fight would have continued on for days without any stopping.
Suddenly, a sharp pain from his cheek traveled up to his mind, and Kenshin had to quickly grip the wall next to him to prepare for what happened next; he saw all his victims, clearly, in his mind. He heard the echoes of their screams in his ears, and instead of delightfully enjoying their pain, in their sadness, the demon felt something he never felt before.
The feeling traveled from Kenshin’s brain down to the pit of his stomach where it settled there, without any clues as to why it was happening or when it would go away. The foreign feeling was so strong, needling at the demon’s stomach that he was forced to have several gagging reflexes.
Kenshin gripped the wall so tightly that the tips of his fingers left indents in the wall, and the skin wore away, allowing fresh blood to seep out of the fresh wounds. Not knowing what else to do, and desperate to make the aberrant feeling go away, the prince raced into the apartment building whose wall he was gripping.
Blinded by horrid visions of his dead victims, Kenshin raced up the cracked, stone steps; running up four floors without any sense of direction. He ran down the hallway, to the last door, and he kicked it open, prepared to kill anyone that was in there in his current state of madness.
Only silence and darkness greeted the distressed prince. The apartment was dingy with only a filthy window for light. The streetlights were the only source of light that could be offered to the pitiful place.
The whole place was small; a small living room with broken furniture, torn threads and stuffing from it thrown all over the place. The walls were cracked and the paint was chipped. Nails stuck out of the wood without anything to hide them, such as portraits and other such pictures.
The prince swallowed the lump in his throat that threatened to choke him; he had been in that apartment before. Of course, the place was a lot cleaner than the time he arrived, possessing another mortal’s body to commit the hideous deeds.
The residents of the place seemed to be long gone. Kenshin would have believed that had a lone blanket not been lying on the couch. The prince picked it up and sniffed it; the fabric smelled like tears, sadness, and hatred. It smelled of a young boy that wrapped himself in it when the place he called home was ruined; blood was spilt here, and the boy had been there to witness it.
Looking to his left, Kenshin saw a dirty, dusty side table that bore only one item: a family portrait. There were three people; a man who looked proud and happy. As he stared at the portrait with his golden eyes gleaming in the darkness, a suddenly image of the same man came back into his mind’s eye; he stood up to him, the Demon Prince, in defiance while the prince himself sliced the man up like he was nothing.
Kenshin blinked, the same feeling in his stomach tightened, grew stronger, as he continued to look at the portrait. The woman in the picture had eyes that were bright with happiness, and wisdom.
Suddenly, another image came into the demon’s mind; after he killed the mortal man, he saw the woman. Her husband died protecting her, and she looked at him, tears in her eyes, but filled with anger. She was afraid and Kenshin gulped the feeling up, wanting more.
He slowly tore her apart as her screams of pain, and screams of yelling to the son behind her, the son she had been protecting, to run as fast as he could; run far away from there.
The son was frozen with fear.
Kenshin looked back at the portrait and saw the woman was holding a boy in her arms. The boy was proud and protective of the family; his brown eyes were bright, and his black hair was spiked.
In the demon’s memory, the boy was huddled under the blanket that was on the couch. He cried as he saw his parents slaughtered before his eyes, and he cried out to "Kaoru-sama" to save him. That was when that damn priest and priestess came onto the scene and performed an exorcism while the boy ran away.
Kenshin suddenly coughed as the unending feeling in his stomach heightened, and he rushed over to the window, quickly opened it, and vomited over the edge. After several heaves, the demon came back from hanging out the window, and he flopped down on the ground.
A mist started to gather in Kenshin’s eyes, and he blinked it away. After that, he felt warm trickles running down his cheeks; on his left cheek, the warm tickles started to sting his opened wound, but soon after, the bleeding stopped.
Kenshin raised a hand and wiped away the warm tickles, very sure to see a ruby liquid. What he saw shocked him; on his hand was not the red blood he expected, but a clear, salty liquid that look somewhat like water. The prince had seen them before, but not coming from him; tears.
Kenshin flicked the offending liquid away from his hand, but more of the liquid fell from his eyes in a steady stream. Shaking his head, the demon’s eyes landed on a glass figure lying on the floor.
He picked it up, holding it gently, and saw that very familiar pose; she was holding up a dove in her left hand, her head high and proud, and in her right hand she held a sword. On the sword, in Japanese characters, was the word "Shinjitsu."
More of that offending, salty liquid fell from Kenshin’s eyes, and he gripped the small glass statue so tight that it shattered in his hand. Trickles of a more familiar liquid seeped through the cuts on his hand and dripped to the floor.
"What the fuck did that bitch do to me?!" the prince growled to himself.
"You’ve been cut by the Sword of Shinjitsu." A male voice suddenly said in the darkness.
Kenshin jumped up, his hand to his sword, and he saw a little red light brighten, and a smelly smoke vented from it.
"Who the hell are you?" Kenshin demanded to know, his eyes brightening to see in the darkness surrounding them.
The man came more towards the prince, and into the light. Kenshin saw the man was wearing a Kyoto police uniform with white gloves, he had semi-long hair with four strands handing from his brushed back bangs, and in his "smoking hand," or his right hand, he held a cigarette, and his eyes were the same as the prince’s eyes; golden yellow.
"Ore wa Saitou, Hajime desu." The man answered with an infuriating smirk. "Your father, Hiko, sent his little spy from the heavens to tell me to watch out for you. Obviously, he saw your pathetic display while fighting Ka—"
"Don’t say her damn name." the prince interrupted coldly, hating everything about this guy.
"Kaoru." Saitou finished with a smirk as his opponent’s temper rose.
Kenshin studied the man, looking him over with distaste. Something in his blood told him that this Saitou was not truly a demon. Something about him… and then the prince saw what it was, and announced it with distain.
"I don’t need help from a worthless hanyou!"
Saitou’s eyebrow rose as he calmly puffed on his cigarette. "Though a half demon I may be, I see from your current state that you do."
Kenshin bit the side of his cheek to stop his remark towards the infuriating man. "Okay then, what do you think I should do?"
To Be Continued…
This Is Forever
Chapter 4: "Destined To Fail"
"Okay then, what do you think I should do?"
"Is there really anything you can do?" Saitou asked, dropping his cigarette to the floor, and he placed his foot on it to snuff it out. "You’ve been wounded, however small, by the Sword of Shinjitsu."
"I know what the Sword of Truth is." Kenshin informed, giving a small sigh.
"Obviously you don’t if you’re wondering ‘what the hell that bitch did’ to you." Saitou said, taking out another cigarette and lighting it up. "Do you want to know why you were crying?"
"I wasn’t crying!" Kenshin snapped, his golden yellow eyes flared up in fury.
"Oh, sure; you just had dust in your eyes." Saitou countered, rolling his eyes. The way he rolled his eyes was not the traditional way that mortals do; it was downward, towards hell, instead of towards heaven.
Kenshin did not respond; he just stared at the half demon with a blank expression, while inside, he wanted nothing more than to slowly strangle the insufferable half breed who thought he knew all the answers.
After taking a long drag from his cigarette, Saitou continued. "The Sword of Shinjitsu is a very powerful blade, forged by the God of Forging himself and as a birthday present for Kaoru. When the blade even cuts a demon’s skin, drawing blood, the power of the blade is to make the demon feel more… human."
"So, this blade," Kenshin began, placing his hand to his wound, though it had stopped bleeding. "Is going to give me mortal emotions for what I have done?"
"It already gave those emotions to you, hence the extreme guilt you feel for the crimes you have committed." Saitou said, and he took another long drag from his stick-figure friend. "You will continue to live as you are, the guilty weight of your sins will forever live in you, and press down on your shoulders."
"How could the Sword of Shinjitsu do this?"
"Its name speaks for itself; the Sword of Truth. It has truthfully revealed the terrible things you have done from a mortal’s point of view. You feel the guilt you would as if you were human."
Kenshin did not say anything, except, "What must I do to rid myself of this guilt?"
Saitou smirked cruelly, and threw another cigarette on the floor, and then stomped on it to snuff it out. "I thought you’d never ask."
OOOOOOOOOO
"I think you should lay low for a while, until things settle down." Misao exclaimed to Kaoru as they bathed together.
Kaoru silently agreed as she took the bucket full of water, and splashed it over her head. The water ran down her body like small streams. After the fight, something was always nagging the goddess.
"I don’t know how that demon knew I was going to be here." Kaoru exclaimed as she rubbed the soap bar and wash cloth together to get a satisfying foam. "My father said that no demon should know I was here."
"They couldn’t have just taken a coincidental guess." Misao said, understanding what the princess was trying to say. "Do you think they could’ve gotten a demon up to heaven somehow?"
"No, that’s impossible; there’s always an anti-demon barrier around the entrance and round the palace of heaven. I don’t see how that can be possible."
"Then if they found out somehow, do you think there is someone in heaven that was the one that sold you out?" Misao asked, turning the knobs for the hot and cold water to mix together in the tub. "How hot do you want it?"
"Whatever you want." Kaoru replied, dumping another bucket of warm water over herself to rinse off the soap. "I don’t think there would be a spy in heaven. I mean, to have any relations with a demon, even talking on the same level with one, could get one thrown out of heaven, and into hell."
"Is that the rules?" Misao asked, unbraiding her long, black hair.
"That’s my father’s rules."
They sat down together in the tub, finally allowing their muscles to relax, and their lungs to breathe slowly and fully thanks to the steam rising from the hot water.
"Ah, it’s been so long since I’ve been able to relax." Misao exclaimed, sinking down further so only her head was exposed. "So that’s the rules, huh?"
"Yes; all rules are determined by whoever is in charge. Since my father is in charge, he makes the rules."
"But when you are in charge, you can make whatever rules you want to." Misao informed. "Then you can do away with all demons. Maybe lock them all up in hell. That would be so cool; to be able to live without any fear of demons possessing humans, and making life so hard here on earth. That would be… heaven on earth."
"Indeed," Kaoru exclaimed with a smile. "That would be neat for everyone here. Then I can lock up that filthy Battousai where he belongs."
OOOOOOOOO
Kenshin suddenly sneezed very hard, and it flew into Saitou’s face.
"Damn!" Kenshin exclaimed as he sniffed as Saitou wiped his face, and prepared to kill the demon prince. "Someone’s talking shit about me!"
OOOOOOOOO
"Do you think you should bring this up with Tengoku-sama?" Misao asked after a long relaxation in the tub. She reached for her towel and handed the other one to the goddess.
"I think I will, you know, just so he can be on his guard." Kaoru answered, wrapping the towel around her body. "While we’re on the subject of my safety, I have to ask, how will I stay low without attracting attention?"
"You could pretend to be a priestess here. Like a shrine keeper, or a gardener and you could help out with the shine if you want."
"It’s weird being a priestess of me, but okay. I think I will take care of the garden. I love the roses."
"The roses seem to love you, too. You also need another name for shrine visitors because you can’t just say your name is ‘Kaoru,’ when you’re in a Kaoru-sama shrine. Can you think of one?"
Kaoru stared into space for a second before a small smile came on her face. "Kagome." She simply answered.
"Kagome?" Misao repeated. "I was thinking more along the lines of Miki, or Toshiro.*"
(*Prime Minister Miki was humiliated when his wife publicly said that he "hardly knows how to wash his face properly."
Toshiro had brought along his wife (she did most of the talking) to participate in the discussion about Japanese women's role in the house.)
Kaoru smiled nervously and shook her head. "Um, I think I’ll stick to Kagome."
Misao shrugged her shoulders and headed towards the door after getting her robe on.
"Fine by me."
Misao skipped out of the bathroom, down the hall, and towards her room. She would have made it without anyone noticing her until she accidentally bumped into someone.
"Oof! Sorry, I didn’t mean to…"
Aqua-marine eyes met ice-blue eyes. Misao gulped as she tried to salvage her dignity under Aoshi’s blank, yet piercing stare.
Misao’s robe was damp because her long hair was not thoroughly dried, and it clung to every curve. Her black hair was out of its usual braid, and it flowed, however damp, down her back. The robe stopped short of her thighs, almost exposing her lower half.
Smiling nervously, Misao cautiously walked around her mentor’s stare, and quickly ran to her room. She practically slammed the shoji door and breathed like she was winded. Slowly, she placed a shaking hand to her rapidly pounding heart, and smiled.
Back in the hallway, Kaoru saw the whole display played out. It was obvious where Aoshi’s love lies, but she did not want to give too much away at once. Instead, she smiled in a way that would be considered low for a goddess of her standards; evil.
OOOOOOO
The man with the red bandana tied around his head knocked on the door to a restaurant that was very well-known in the city of Kyoto. He paused, and there was no answer. The street seemed to be almost deserted because most of the eat-out places had been closed.
He began to knock again, this time with more force, and the little brat by his side said, "No one is here, dumbass."
The man, Zanza, lightly smacked the boy on the head for calling him a dirty name. "You should know better than the curse, you little bastard."
The boy, Yahiko, punched the man on the arm, but the much stronger man did not seemed fazed by it. Instead, he picked up where he left off; knocking. After about the tenth knock, a very annoyed woman opened the door.
"We’re not open, and even if we were, you will not be able to come in here, you drunk." She said, her arms crossed, and Zanza saw a name tag that read "Omasu."
Yahiko startled both adults by a sudden outburst in laughter. "She knows you’re a drunk!"
Zanza gave the boy a rather rough shake at his collar. "Shut up, you little brat." He turned to the woman in the doorway and said, "Omasu-san, I am not a drunk. I’m here to drop off this little bastard because he is without parents, without a home—"
"I have a home!" a voice coming from a four-foot ten year old yelled.
"And I heard that this is the place to drop off brats like him." Zanza concluded as if he was never interrupted.
"This isn’t an orphanage, but we will take him in for the time being." Omasu exclaimed, gesturing the boy inside.
"Good," Zanza exclaimed, pushing his way into the closed restaurant, dragging the struggling boy in by his collar. "This is a restaurant famous for its old-time sake. I would like some."
"I said we’re closed!" Omasu exclaimed, her hands now going to her hips.
"Its okay, Omasu, we can welcome him as a guest." An old man said, appearing in the doorway. "After all, it’s a rare treat to taste the sake of the old. Welcome, young man; and you too, little boy."
"I’m not a little boy! My name is Moujin, Yahiko, descendent—"
Zanza smacked the boy on his head. "Shut up; I’ve heard enough about that introduction and where your lineage is from."
"Well, please," the old man exclaimed, gesturing towards the kitchen. "Please make yourself at home."
"Who’re you, old man?" Zanza asked cautiously before entering into the kitchen. The vision of an old man being possessed by a demon, luring him and the boy into a boiling pot of water, and then eating them up came into his mind.
"Oh, forgive my rudeness. I am Okina; just Okina. Who’re you?"
"Zanza; just Zanza."
"Now that we’re introduced, please follow me."
Zanza and Yahiko followed Omasu and Okina into the kitchen where Omasu got the sake and started heating it up.
The two guests sat at the table while Omasu set Ohaki snakes in front of them. The old man sat across from them and watched Yahiko practically inhale the treat in front of him.
"Now, where’re you from?" Okina inquired, not bothering to eat the Ohaki.
"I don’t know about this loud bastard," Zanza exclaimed, pointing his thumb to Yahiko next to him. "But I come from the north side of Kyoto."
"Hm." Okina said thoughtfully.
"What does ‘hm’ mean?" Zanza demanded, glaring at the old man across from him.
"Your name… I recognize it from the Kyoto Weekly. You were from a gang called the Sekiho-tai, a once thriving gang that was annihilated by possessed—um, by another gang."
Zanza’s eyebrow twitched, and he remained silent for a few moments. "I know something wasn’t ‘right’ about them. They had eyes that looked like they lost their souls, especially their leader. They were possessed, and I stand by it, even though I am laughed at, and ridiculed."
"That’s to be expected." Okina stated. "Most people these days don’t believe in demons, so when you say a person is possessed, they will laugh at you."
"Here’s your sake." A woman said; she had long black hair, tied up in a ponytail using a single pink ribbon. She wore a white gi, and a blue hakama. When she saw the man and boy, she smiled kindly, and she placed the sake bottles in front of them.
"Who’re you?" Zanza asked, his eyebrow rose in curiosity.
"Wattashi no namae wa Kagome desu. I work here; and who’re you, sirs?"
"Zanza, and this brat here is Moujin, Yahiko."
Yahiko looked at Kaoru in such a way that made the goddess curious about him. His face was blank, but his eyes spoke all; it was a mixture of amazement, wonder, and… anger. It was as if he knew who she truly was.
"I’m very pleased to meet both of you."
"Would you like some help in the kitchen?" Yahiko suddenly asked as he rose to his feet.
"No, it’s okay." Kaoru replied, shaking her head.
"I insist… Kagome-san."
The way the boy’s tone was told Kaoru that it was not a request; it was a demand. Shocked, due to the fact that no mortal demanded something of her, Kaoru numbly nodded in agreement. She allowed Yahiko to lead her into the kitchen, but then he continued on to the customer eating quarters, and the goddess followed.
"I know who you are, Kaoru-sama." Yahiko stated simply, not bothering to look at the one that he use to pray to so much, and so whole-heartedly; but she betrayed him. She betrayed his faith and trust.
"How did you know, when even the others had trouble believing me when I said who I was?" Kaoru asked, amazed at the perception of such a young child.
"I saw your eyes." Yahiko said, moving towards the shrine that was always standing in the corner, and the candles were always burning. It was the only source of light after closing time, and the flames flickered and danced; the light bounced on the faces of the only two in the room. "You’re eyes are an inhuman color, and when I looked into them, I saw everything reflecting from them. No mortal could have that pure of a soul."
"Yahiko…"
"And no immortal being could exist whom I hate more than you." Yahiko said viciously, taking the ivory statue of the very goddess he was cursing in to his small hands. "I hate you!"
The boy suddenly threw the ivory statue into the wall and it shattered into pieces. He blew all the candles to the shrine out, and he took it from its corner and threw it on the floor.
While Yahiko was throwing his fit, Zanza and the Oniwanbanshuu charged into the room, turning on the electric lights. Aoshi was filled with anger when he saw his goddess’ shrine being desecrated right before, not only his eyes, but Kaoru’s as well.
The priest was about to throw the boy out of the Aoiya when Kaoru grabbed his arm. Aoshi looked back and saw Kaoru’s beautiful crystal-blue eyes filled with tears, and yet she shook her head.
Don’t stop him. She seemed to say. It’s okay; let him scream at me and destroy my shrine. I deserve it.
Aoshi shook his head back, and Kaoru nodded, pulling him back to the other observers. The boy, Yahiko, seemed exhausted after his fit around the room and he collapsed into sitting position, breathing hard as perspiration dropped from his face. It also could have been mistaken as tears as well.
Kaoru slowly walked to his side to help him up when he swatted her helping arms away. The goddess seemed helpless as the boy sobbed in pain; it was not physical pain, it was emotional pain.
"How dare you!" Yahiko yelled at Kaoru, jumping to his feet and pointing an accusing finger at her. "How dare you try to help me now! Why didn’t you help me four years ago when my parents were slaughtered by a possessed human?! You didn’t hear my prayers!
You didn’t listen to me! Naze (Why)?! Why didn’t you help me when I needed you the most?! You’re awful! You’re an awful goddess! I hate you! I hate you!"
By this time, Kaoru’s eyes were filled with tears, and they fell from her face. Yahiko collapsed to his knees and cried; his hard sobs shook his small body.
He’s right. Kaoru decided to himself. I didn’t hear his prayers, and I didn’t help him. Why? I should’ve helped him. I… I’m not worthy of my father’s throne if I can’t even help a boy that was in desperate need.
"Yahiko," Kaoru started, falling to her knees in front of the boy. "Gomen nasai. I truly am very sorry, even though no matter how many apologies I make, it won’t ease your pain. I have hurt you, and because I have, you have permission to just call me Kaoru. No honorific at the end at all; just Kaoru."
Kaoru turned to the others who were watching the display solemnly. Choking down her tears and embarrassment that the great goddess, Kaoru-sama, failed to save even one boy, she said, "I will punish myself by cleaning up my own desecrated shrine. Gomen nasai." And she gave a deep bow of humbleness.
OOOOOOOOOO
"You mean to tell me that you are the great Princess of the Heavens?" Zanza asked, leaning up against the wall as he watched the fallen goddess clean up the mess. Many of the other Oniwanbanshuu asked if they could help, but she refused.
Kaoru nodded as she swept the broken pieces of her ivory statue into the dust pan. She was not even half way done with the cleaning.
"Prove it." Zanza requested, still not moving from his spot against the wall.
"You’re real name is Sagara Sanosuke." Kaoru answered softly. "Your parents abandoned you with your cruel uncle, so you ran away."
Zanza did not say anything as he blankly watched the goddess dump the ruble into the trash can, and she continued on with the ex-gangster’s life.
"You were befriended by a gang’s leader, Sagara, and he gave you his name since you couldn’t remember your real last name. He also gave you the nickname, ‘Zanza,’ since you were abnormally strong, and you could lift a Zanbatou. The name of that gang was the Sekiho-tai, cruelly slaughtered by humans that sold their souls to demons to give them power to destroy your gang."
Zanza did not say anything; what was there to say? The Princess of the Heavens was right there in front of him, and she was degrading herself all because of a little brat that blamed her for everything.
"Don’t pay attention to that brat." Zanza said, finally getting into standing position. "He’s just looking for someone to blame, and he found you."
Kaoru shook her head, and said, "Please leave, Zanza; I need to be alone."
"Okay," Zanza said, shrugging his shoulders and he started to head out the door when he stopped. "And you can call me Sanosuke, or Sano; whichever one you prefer."
Sano left without another word, and Kaoru was not planning on saying anything else. She continued to clean up the debris when a loud, booming voice suddenly sounded in her ears.
"Now you know what it’s like to be humble."
Kaoru jumped; the voice was kind yet firm, booming in her ears, yet it was not loud; it filled her very being and seemed to be all around her.
"Father, what’d you mean?" Kaoru asked, looking around; though she could not see her father, she could feel his very presence all around her.
"You have found out what it is like to fail, my daughter." Tengoku said. "You failed because you did not hear the boy’s prayers."
"Why did I not hear Yahiko’s prayers, father?" Kaoru asked, her eyes tearing up ready to cry again.
"It was his parents’ fate to die that night. If you heard his prayer, you would, not doubt, have helped him, thus saving his parents. I couldn’t let you hear his prayers."
"What?!" Kaoru yelled indignantly. "The boy hates me, and you tell me that you did not let me hear his prayers because it was his parents’ fate to die! I want a better
explanation!"
"Kaoru, contain yourself!" Tengoku’s voice boomed, seemingly loud.
"I wanted to help him, father." Kaoru said, trying not to yell at her father again, lest she be struck down. "Poor Yahiko; I should’ve been there. I should’ve rescued him."
"You can’t save everyone, Kaoru."
"I wish I could."
"If you take my throne, then maybe you could." Tengoku exclaimed quietly.
Kaoru shook her head, tears now streaming down her face. It was silent, and the goddess thought her father had left, but then he spoke again.
"We’ll talk later."
"Wait! Father, wait!"
"What is it?"
"I fought a demon the other day… during the night; demonic time."
Tengoku was silent; seemingly thinking about what his daughter just informed him of.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, father. That’s not all; the demon was… Battousai."
"Battou…sai?"
"Yes, so I think there might be a traitor in Heaven." Kaoru explained, picking her broom back up.
"There can’t possibly be a traitor up here."
"I may be wrong, but how could the demon prince know I was here? Just please look into it, father; please?"
Silence met father and daughter again, and then Tengoku answered. "Alright, I’ll look into it. See if there is any abnormal activity coming from up here. I’ll talk to you later, Kaoru."
"Wait!" Kaoru called again, but silence answered her. The presence of Tengoku was no longer there, around her; his booming voice no longer echoing in her ears. "What do you want to test me on?" Kaoru whispered to herself.
To Be Continued…