Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Tanabata Jasmine ❯ Complications ( Chapter 23 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

This chapter has the potential to be confusing, not so much in what the characters are doing but where exactly everyone is. Be nifty if I had a map and a pointer stick. (Uh ... that you were all capable of seeing...) If you find yourself falling victim to Nekotsuki's inability to describe locations well,let me know and I'll post a mini-guideline at the beginning of next chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin or any associated characters.

Warning: The authoress may exhibit a lack of knowledge in the security habits of estate guards in the Meiji era. She's not sure. Ssh! Just look the other way.

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Tanabata Jasmine Chapter 23

The crack of a pistol.

The guard's cry, giving away intruders.

At the second gunshot, Bayushi finally raised his head, glancing toward the window in his study. Twice? He listened sharply, but heard no more. Yamato was a poor shot the first time, or he was merely making sure the hitokiri couldn't rise again. Either way, his vengeance seemed to be complete, even if Yamato had forced him to make his decision ahead of time.

His son's murder had been avenged.

He should feel more satisfaction than this.

Bayushi thought on that a moment, and wondered. Why did his victory seem so hollow? Was it because Yamato had taken the death from him? Perhaps. He didn't think so, however; given circumstances, he'd grown used to, and accepted, the idea that when the time came, it might not be his hand that dealt the killing blow. Then why ...?

The guard's cry. Bayushi blinked. So deeply immersed in his own dark thoughts, he'd failed to pay attention to the obvious. His estate was under attack. The hitokiri's allies, no doubt; a little late, but nevertheless. He wondered what mistake had been made to give Kenshin's location away. His gaze shifted to the door expectantly.

A moment later, there was an almost frantic knocking, and the door opened, the servant's haste overcoming protocol. “Bayushi-sama—“

He forestalled the report. “I know. How many?”

The servant blinked, then continued. “A man and a girl at the rear of the house, but there are reports of a second group of three coming through the front gardens.”

Only five? He supposed the girl would be Kenshin's woman. “Have the guards on the boundary check for others.” It was foolish to mount an assault with such small numbers. He considered for another moment, and then added, “Tell them to spare the woman if they have the option. And I want Battousai's corpse brought to me when the battle permits. That is all.”

The servant bowed and left hurriedly, leaving Bayushi to his own thoughts, hand curled loosely on the hilt of his sword.

The rot in his lungs precluded him from taking an active part in the melee below, but with only a group of five thus far, his guards should be more than enough. As for the body ... he held no grudge against the woman. Bayushi would allow her to leave, and take the hitokiri's body with her for a proper burial. Given the coward's death that he had just meted out, such an act seemed only just.

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By the time the second gunshot rang out, Misao and Aoshi were caught in the middle of a large-scale brawl. The guard's call had brought reinforcements in plenty; from the buildings the shots had originated from, and several of the men that they'd just painstakingly crept past to get to this point. Stealth that was wasted, now, thanks to her humiliating incompetence.

It wasn't as if she'd screamed Kenshin's name - at least she could pride herself on refraining from that particular stupidity - but in the dead silence following the crack of the gunshot, caught standing in the open, her gasp of shock had been just loud enough to draw one solitary guard's attention. And now what held Misao's thoughts, more than the cover she'd inadvertently broken, was the realisation that when they were done extricating themselves from her blunder, she would have to turn and look Aoshi in the face.

The second crack of the gun only served to remind that if she'd kept her mouth shut, they might have been able to find the gunman before he'd managed to fire again. If the Oniwabanshu weren't under attack, that left only one person she could think of who'd be the target. Any sense of the romantic - the ideal of a heroic rescue - was stripped away as she considered the very real possibility that the man they were here to find had just been killed.

Don't go there, Misao. She steered her mind stubbornly away from such disturbing thoughts, and concentrated instead on what she was doing.

“Kecho giri!”

Namely, smashing one ever-so-delicate foot into the side of her current assailant's jaw. She landed deftly before the man finished crashing to the ground, a look of dazed bewilderment replacing the smug expression he'd previously been wearing. Was every person there going to underestimate her just because she was a girl, and short to boot? That made three idiots who'd merely tried to grapple with her rather than draw a weapon. She flicked her braid over a shoulder and dared a brief glance behind her.

There was a clang of steel as Aoshi, back loosely to hers, trapped a man's sword between his own two blades, lifted a strong leg and almost lazily kicked the man in the ribcage, sending him flying with an explosion of breath. Misao turned back to her own battle, and wondered why he was being so gentle. Comparatively, at least. The former Okashira seemed more intent on incapacitating his opponents rather than killing them outright.

Between the two of them, they'd managed to put down eight men thus far from the group around them. Not without injury; Bayushi's men - or Shishio's former men, she wasn't sure - were hardly unskilled. On the other hand, from what she could see, Aoshi's few trailing cuts were minor, and she herself had suffered only bruising from overzealous fools who apparently didn't think she was worth the edge of their sword.

Until now, at least ... Misao grinned fiercely as the long rasp of a blade unsheathing caught her attention. It seemed someone was finally taking her seriously; a man barely a foot taller than she was, face twisted in outrage as he spat an insult and swung for her chest. She dropped to the ground, fast enough that his sword sheared through the very end of her braid, and with both hands pushed into the grass she swept his feet out from under him.

He fell hard, and she spun to her feet to press the advantage, when she caught movement from her left. Misao twisted away from the surprise attack, and was mostly successful; the blade's arc scored a shallow gash across her upper arm. A far better result than her ambusher's original intention, but that knowledge didn't make the wound sting any less. She stifled her surprised cry of pain, and noted with worry that her first attacker had used the distraction to roll, climbing to his feet. She glanced from one to the other, and cursed inwardly. She couldn't take both. It was hardly fair - from nobody taking her seriously, to two swordsmen, on either side, intent on killing her? She shouldn't have complained—

“Misao.” Aoshi's sharp voice. “Right.”

A split second hesitation as his words registered. Confidence returning, she turned her back entirely on the man to her left and instead concentrated on her first opponent. She heard the battle cry of the guard behind her, and then the distinct sound of Aoshi's effortless parry as he interposed himself between them, defending her back.

Her opponent sneered at her before raising his sword again. She avoided his first two strikes, the second one barely, jerking her head away from the tip of his blade, earning herself a mild scratch across the temple as the edge swung up through her bangs. His third attack was a thrust, aimed for her chest. Misao blinked as she saw an opening. Swordsman or no, she could disarm him.

She dodged left, letting the blade skim past her, and shot her right hand out to snatch at the wrist of his swordarm. As her fingers closed, she gave him an apologetic look and yanked him further along his path, pulling him off balance ... and swung up her free hand to smash it into the outer curve of his elbow.

With his arm pulled straight, the joint snapped inward under the tension. Misao let his wrist go as the man shrieked and stumbled, curling protectively around his arm. She struck him in the back of the neck. This time, he stayed down.

Aoshi's opponent had already fallen, apparently from suffering the impact of twin kodachi hilts to the face. He was collecting his sheath from the ground, his back to her. He really is being gentle. Misao wondered for a moment why he'd stopped fighting - and then realised that there was nobody left to fight. Apart from the men that were unconscious on the ground, they were alone.

She could still hear a commotion in the distance. Closer to the front gates. Kaoru and the others were over the wall, and obviously already fighting. She wavered on the edge of indecision - to turn back and help them, or to press on and find Kenshin?

They'll have to wait, she thought uneasily. Himura's situation is more urgent. There had been no more gunshots; on the other hand, that in itself was an ominous sign. At least they knew he was in one of the smaller buildings - now it was just a matter of finding him. The buildings were large enough in their own right.

She raised a hand to inspect the bleeding gash on her arm. Not deep enough to inflict lasting damage, but still painful. She winced and glanced up, to find Aoshi staring at her.

The flush of humiliation returned to her cheeks. “Aoshi-sama...”

He reached out a hand to take her wrist and pulled her forward firmly. She started at the unexpected contact, and then realised he was merely taking a better look at the cut. Oh. She tried again, striving for an almost formal tone. “Gomen nasai. I blew our cover.”

He didn't answer, his eyes shifting to someone behind her as he dropped her wrist.

Misao turned, to see a small man, new to the scene, falter under Aoshi's piercing stare. He wasn't wearing a weapon. Servant? No fighter, at least; after the briefest hesitation, the man turned and fled for the main house.

He didn't get very far. They were on him before he managed to make the door. With a yelp, he fell under Misao's tackle; she rolled with him, snaking her arms up under his own to drag him upright. A light man, and clearly terrified, trembling slightly in her grip. Someone who hadn't expected to find them the only two standing, perhaps. She turned him helpfully to face Aoshi, who regarded the servant with a cool gaze.

“Your employer has a prisoner,” he said. “Where is he?”

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He had no idea where he was. Kyoto, certainly. A private estate? Kenshin followed the corridor as it turned sharply around a corner, and padded as quietly as he could past several rooms. The building seemed empty enough - which was odd in itself given Yamato's gunshots - but he was unwilling to take the chance of disturbing any potential occupants. Right now, he felt as if he could run into a six-year-old with a sling and he'd still have difficulty.

He didn't realise he was bleeding until he made it to the door at the end of the hallway. He placed a hand on the wood and blinked at the fresh blood on his arm, streaking away from Yoshida's kunai cut. Apparently he'd stressed the injury enough in the fight to re-open it. Not a serious loss of blood, but the last thing Kenshin needed was to leave a trail marking his passage. He leaned against the wall as he wiped his arm across his mud-stained hakama, smearing crimson against the hip.

I must look a mess.

He didn't allow himself the luxury of the wall's support any longer than necessary. Kenshin suspected there was a large chance his body would refuse to move again if he did. Instead, he rested his cheek against the door momentarily, listening for movement on the other side. When he heard nothing, he pushed it open gingerly and was met with an expanse of grass and trees. The night was cool for summer, the breeze a fresh and welcome presence across his face and shoulders.

There was nobody in sight, although in the open he could hear faint shouts in the distance. Perhaps an alert had been raised, after all. He let the door close behind him quietly and stepped onto the grass.

He had no idea where he was going, but it seemed wise to get as far away from Yamato as possible. With any luck, he would find a wall, or a road, and come up with a better plan from there. A wall could be followed to an exit; a road could mean a landmark he recognised. Both options posed a high risk of his discovery. He had little choice, although the thought of just finding a place to hide and collapse was dangerously appealing.

Kenshin had no illusions about the outcome of doing such a thing. Bayushi would turn this area upside down to find him; his chances to escape detection were very slim. Even if he wasn't found, he knew his fever, still mild, would only worsen from here. Stopping for rest would only end his chances to survive altogether; he couldn't defend himself from attack if he lost complete grip on his senses.

With that thought firmly in mind, he slipped quietly into the darkness of the trees

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Though Kaoru would never admit it to him, Aoshi had been right. Fighting was not only difficult, it was almost impossible while carrying the much heavier sakabatou. The sword was too heavy for her to use - and something in her rebelled at the idea of using Kenshin's sword here in any case.

In the end, she'd tried threading it through the waistband of her hakama, the way he wore it. Still unused to it, the sheath banged awkwardly against her hip, but at least she had both hands free to use the bokken. She forced down her worry for Kenshin's safety, and concentrated instead on following Sano's lead, defending herself against those few she met, countering where possible to put them down.

Yahiko fought beside her, protecting her left side fiercely in a display of gallantry she might find irritating in other circumstances. As it was, the awkwardness of the extra sword on her hip made her grateful for his added assistance. Ahead of them, white gi torn by several near misses and fluttering in the breeze, was Sano, forcing them a path through scattered opposition to the interior of the grounds. They trailed in his wake, two steps behind, finishing the job he started.

Kaoru had to admit he was doing reasonably well against his opponents for being bare-handed. She supposed being charged by a tall lunatic wasn't something these people were really expecting - and as personal guards, though hardly amateurs, their level of skill was likely nowhere near Yoshida's trained mercenaries. .

On the other hand, she noted with concern the blood beginning to seep through at his shoulder blade, and after a while realised what that meant: the stitches Megumi had so painstakingly sewn were giving way. Wouldn't be too bad if he was careful, but this was Sano, of all people—

“Kaoru!” Yahiko yelled. “Watch yourself!”

She turned her attention sharply away from the bloodstain and barely caught sight of the sword thrusting directly for her chest, its wielder grinning toothily at her. Yahiko snagged her gi at the waist and jerked her to the left as she flung her arm up and out of the blade's reach. Instead of connecting with flesh, the sword plunged through the trailing sleeve of her gi, ripping through the cloth under the shoulder to scrape at the bandages she habitually wore around her chest.

She stumbled back a step at the force of the attack as the man pressed his advantage, other hand snaking up for her throat. I don't think so. She glared at him as she raised her left hand to grasp the hilt of the bokken and brought it down in a double-handed strike. The bokken cracked across his head with enough force that he began to sag at the knees.

Before he could recover, Sano's bandaged hand hauled the man back by his collar and threw him into a tree. Abandoned, the sword dangled awkwardly, tangled in the fabric of Kaoru's gi. She reached across and drew it out before its weight dragged the blade through the rest of her sleeve, trying not to destroy the cloth further.

“Kaoru?” Yahiko's voice was strained. She glanced at his white face and realised that from her left, he wouldn't have seen the extent of the damage. He'd obviously assumed the worst.

“I'm alright. He missed.” She dropped the sword to the ground in the sudden silence. Apparently Sano had run out of guards to punch. She glanced up at him, a look of irritation on her face. “I could have handled him.”

Sano grinned tightly. “You could've `handled' him a lot earlier if you weren't so busy staring at my back, Jou-chan. Look after yourself, huh? I'm not gonna find Kenshin just to tell him I got you killed on the way here.”

The irritation slid from her face. He had a point: she'd been reckless. “You're bleeding,” she said, by way of explanation.

“I know.”

And with that, he turned on his heel with maddening nonchalance and continued briskly on through the trees. She glared at his back, sighed and began to follow, turning her gaze to Yahiko, who matched her pace. Most likely, he'd just saved her life. “Arigatou.”

“Yeah, well ...” he muttered. “Makes us even, doesn't it?”

The colour was still returning to his face. She studied him a moment, then smacked him lightly over the head, ignoring his faint sputter of outrage as she moved to catch up with Sano. “When a girl thanks you, you should just accept it like a man. Now come on. We have people to find.”

Like Misao, and Aoshi. And Kenshin. She thought of the two gunshots, and quickened her step. Yahiko was right in that the shots might have nothing to do with him - but somehow, she didn't believe her rurouni would be that lucky.

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Misao sprinted down the corridor, face pale, giving up all pretense at stealth. Aoshi was a quiet shadow beside her. For once, she wasn't concerned with what he thought of her actions. Her focus was on one person, and one alone. The servant, clearly unequipped to deal with any threat to his person, had babbled everything he knew.

Everything.

“Himura,” she muttered.

He'd given them straight directions to the room Kenshin was in. They'd asked if the room was guarded.

I don't know. There were two. They might still be there.

She skidded to a halt, hand catching on the door frame as she glanced down. No guards in sight. The door was bolted from the outside. They wouldn't bother to lock in a dead man, would they?

Might? Aoshi's calm enquiry. The servant had blanched white.

Her fingers closed on the bolt, and drew it back.

Forgive me, sir! Bayushi-sama had him killed! He's—

With one violent motion, she slammed the door back. “Himura!”

--dead.

Misao slid down the door frame to her knees, as much from relief as from astonishment at the sight within. The floor was a mess; shattered china and congealed chunks of white - was that rice? - littered it. A man in a crumpled police uniform sprawled on his back out cold, a short knife a few inches away from curled fingers. Yamato, by the merchant's description.

She gave a shaky laugh. Kenshin was most distinctly not dead.

Nor was he where he was meant to be. If the gunshots were aimed at Kenshin, then they'd missed him by a matter of minutes. She pulled herself upright and backed out of the room, closing the door before she glanced to Aoshi. He was staring further down the corridor, a calculating look on his face.

Stupid servant, anyway. “He's alive,” she said aloud, not bothering to keep the happiness from her voice.

“He's injured,” Aoshi replied. At her startled look, he strode down the corridor. She caught up to him as he crouched on the ground, tapping at the stain his sharp eyes had noticed. Blood. Not a great amount, barely more than a drop or two, but that wasn't the cause for his concern, she knew. Rather, it was the fact that the blood had been smeared slightly across the floor. There were further, faint imprints of crimson leading away; the curve of a foot, blurred slightly. Several steps away, the traces of blood faded altogether.

From the shape, Kenshin was barefoot; was moving slowly and unsurely enough that he'd caught blood on his own foot, tracking it briefly down the hallway. And hadn't noticed. That bespoke a lack of awareness that was unnerving, considering the man they were looking for had the most finely tuned senses she'd ever seen, next to Aoshi.

Misao scowled, and followed on Aoshi's heels as the tall man stood again abruptly and continued swiftly through the hall. There were no more obvious signs of Kenshin's passage, which indicated the rurouni had caught on. At least, she hoped that was the case.

Aoshi pushed the door at the end of the hallway open, glancing out to the trees. “He'll be trying to find an exit,” he said. “I doubt he's aware we're here. We need to find him before he gets to the boundary.”

”Hai,” she whispered.

If Bayushi had effective security on his grounds, not everyone would have rushed to the cry of alert. Any guard stationed by the perimeter would have held his post, mindful of the possibility that any alert could be merely a distraction. Aoshi had chosen their entry point to Bayushi's estate with care - but Kenshin was travelling blind. And while the rurouni was intelligent enough to realise all of these things, he clearly wasn't functioning at his best.

One misstep, and he'd be back in the hands of men who - to put it mildly - didn't have his best interests at heart. Not if they knew Bayushi had ordered him to be killed. They had to find him, and fast.

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A character note: yes. Aoshi is taking pains not to kill anyone, although he's still happy to hurt them as much as he has to in order to put them down. I'm not of the opinion that he decided to turn pacifist after the events of the Kyoto storyline - Jinchuu kinda denies that; on the other hand, something else occurred to me that has majorly influenced my decision on not having him kill in this situation. He has a reason. (Hell, some of you will probably figure it out fairly easily.) I felt compelled to tell you this in case some of you were wondering what the hell he/I was doing. ::cheerful smile::

Bakachuu! - hehe, I know you've already reviewed me before at other places, but did I mention I really appreciate you doing it again? LOL. More pocky for you!

Next chapter: The Kenshingumi search for Kenshin. The Oniwabanshu search for Kenshin. The guards might search for him if they work out he's missing. And Kenshin just doesn't want to be found by anyone. Playing tag has never been so much fun. (Gah, I feel like I should be saying `stay tuned' or something. Heh.)

Seeya!