Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Steps Of Courage ❯ Ultimate Revenge ( Chapter 15 )

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--------- Chapter 15  

December, 1867

Enizu stood with his sword in front of him. Rain poured down around him, but he was too focused on his sword and his task to care. The pounding droplets obscured his vision, but he could feel his target.

In one quick slash, the rope-bound log was hacked, albeit unevenly, in two. He glanced discreetly around, wondering if the Choshu warriors had seen that. They had been coming around to where he and the other hired thugs trained, hoping to recruit some one who showed promise.

Enizu knew he had what it took. He had taken lives before, and rather than feel remorse he took delight in the spray of blood. He was strong and kept to himself. He was tired of being a hit man. He was exactly what they wanted in an assassin.

Much to his dismay, the Choshu warriors weren’t even glancing in his direction. Up on the hill Enizu could see them. He shifted his position so he was looking exactly where they were looking.

That red-haired, scrawny-looking kid held their attention. He must have been nearly four years younger than Enizu, and looked as though the wind and rain could blow him right over.

What were they looking at?

Enizu soon got his answer as the child took one look at his target and cleanly sliced the wood in half. Enizu with enraged. He sheathed his sword and stalked off, his blood boiling.

He kicked a particularly tall tree, its branches sopping wet with water. He screamed but the raindrops swallowed the sound of his voice. He heard varied footsteps coming near, so he quickly ducked behind the tree. The Choshu warriors, accompanied by the keeper of Enizu’s thug syndicate, gather around under the tree’s branches. It was then Enizu noticed the runt among them.

“Well Kenshin,” a swordsman—Enizu couldn’t tell which—said, his tone almost friendly. “It seems you are very skilled in the art of swordsmanship.”

The boy—Kenshin—remained completely silent.

“Though you are only a child—”

“I’m fourteen,” Kenshin broke in, his voice in between pitches.

“Despite your young age, Katsura-san would greatly like to have you among his soldiers. Specifically as an assassin.”

Kenshin surveyed the man slowly with his eyes. “If that is what Katsura-sama wishes.”

A softer male voice spoke up. It was Katsura Kogoro himself. “I want you to be my sword. Come to the designated area tomorrow evening for your first assignment. Uno-san will care for you until then.”

The older swordsman strode off, and young Kenshin strayed from the tree as well.

Enizu didn’t trust himself to move, his fury was so great. That good-for-nothing bastard! He chose that runt of me? How could that beggar possibly begin to fill the role of Katsura-sama’s sword? Damn him… the Ishinshishi will meet their end from Kogoro’s mistake. My father would be shamed to see me rejected. Kogoro will pay for disgracing me. He will pay. And so will that bastard Kenshin…I will not be made a fool of! First the Ishinshishi will fall…then the rest.

Enizu sneered inwardly and walked away.

Three years later

A new moon. The stars hid themselves behind a layer of smog and clouds. It was a perfect night. Enizu grinned wickedly as he crept about. He was in a rightful place for him, a hitokiri for a clan supporting the Shogunate and Shinsengumi. He took pride in that. Even if the most elite clan had refused him, he could still feel the spray of blood. It didn’t matter which side won, now. Enizu knew what he wanted, and he had always worked for himself.

He wanted Kenshin and the rest of his enemies dead.

His face turned bitter at the thought of Kenshin. He was famous now, oh yes, everyone knew the name of the great Hitokiri Battousai. He spat down. It could have been his name everyone knew…but tonight none of that mattered.

All that mattered was that Battousai, Himura Kenshin, would meet his end.

At the end of a long alleyway stood a dark silhouette. Enizu crept closer. His eyes widened in horror when he saw the figure step out of the shadows. It wasn’t Battousai, it was his very own clan leader.

“What are you doing here, Enizu?” Waotaka demanded in his raspy voice.

Enizu had no answer. This had not been his assignment, but he had figured if he killed the man whose job it was…he could get it to himself. The death of Battousai for his own name.

“You are never to set foot here again, do I make myself clear?” Waotaka boomed.

Enizu spun around in disgust. It had been a fluke, and Battousai was out of his grasp once again.

A few months later

Enizu approached the Choshu from a cautious angle. He could only speak to Katsura’s subordinate, and he advanced in the light of day.

“Sir,” Enizu whispered into the Choshu fighter’s ear. He had to be picky with his words. “I am the man that had been requested from Hokkaido. I was sent to fight in Kyoto as Katsura’s personal…assassin.”

“Requested?” the Choshu put on a blank face. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Enizu cringed. His bluff had not gone over. Even worse, he was now trying to gain the position as Kenshin’s successor. He hated the thought of being a little boy’s follow-up, but if he proved to be more successful that the red-haired assassin, it was his name they would remember always.

“You can’t possibly believe Shishio Makoto won’t turn on you the first chance he gets. All that man has is blood lust and a need for glory,” Enizu hissed.

The Choshu fighter twitched involuntarily. “That is not for you to say.”

“You’ll fall into the trap of mistrust again,” Enizu replied evenly.

The soldier was very angry now. “If I ever see you within six miles of this town, I will personally kill you. Do not meddle in Katsura-sama’s affairs. That is not your right.” With a swish of his cloak, he was gone, leaving Enizu to his own bitterness and rage.

Weeks later

Battousai…the Ishinshishi…Kogoro…Enizu ticked them off methodically. And now Shishio Makoto. They will all pay.

He didn’t need the Choshu and their idealisms. Even if he had trained all his life to join them and honor his father, he didn’t need them at all. But soon they’ll realize they needed me. He only had to wait. Enizu worked for himself. Only himself.

Battousai is the one piece I cannot figure out. I need to make him suffer. Feel the torment I have felt from his very existence!

Shishio is almost as bad as him. Almost. He is ruthless, so I will get straight to the point and kill him. But at the moment, the one who itched at his brain most was Katsura Kogoro. I will exact my revenge on him first. It is his fault I was disgraced. He should have chosen me. He was my father’s friend…why didn’t he see me? I will find him. I will kill him.

Slowly, he would get his revenge.

At the moment, though, Enizu needed some information. And information was best gotten in underground highways. And Enizu happened to know just about the most powerful person underground.

“Onii-san,” Enizu spoke, stepping into the dim, stuffy office.

A thick black leather chair spun around. “It’s been a while, Enizu.”

Enizu narrowed his eyes. This was a man he despised, but needed. “I want only two things.”

“Please. Tell me,” his older brother drawled. He set down a glass of red, bubbly liquid. “It’s wine. A western drink.”

Enizu ignored that. His brother had always been fond of western-style things. He supposed it was because the western countries were famed as being rich and powerful. And those were two things Enizu’s brother liked best.

“I need money. And information,” Enizu stated flatly.

“I can’t say I’ve never heard those words before,” he acknowledged. “I suppose I can’t give it to you for free. How about a trade? You tell me what you’ve been up to the last…five years? I know you didn’t get that job you wanted. I don’t see why you strove for it. Otou-san is dead. I’d rather have money,” he gestured around at the room where Enizu’s eyes followed from pile to pile of scattered paper bills. “Rather than try and follow his footsteps.”

Enizu sneered. “To each his own, brother. You love money, I love killing.”

“And as for your whereabouts the last few years?”

“You haven’t been keeping tabs on me?” Enizu countered.

“Oh, I check up on you every now and then,” he chuckled. “But I’d just love to hear it from your own mouth.”

“My job was stolen by a scrawny little brat who ended up becoming one of the most famous hitokiri,” Enizu’s fists clenched with the notion. “I tried to re-join the Ishinshishi. Shishio Makoto was in my way.”

“Shishio? He’s quite well-known around these parts,” his brother said breezily.

He meant underground, Enizu surmised. “Can I have my information?”

His brother inclined his head and gestured for him to proceed.

“Katsura-san. Where is he? The Ishinshishi won’t let me get a trace on him.”

“That’s no surprise. I imagine they’ve been very cautious since Ikedaya,” he leafed through a few folders and stacks of paper. His eyebrows rose. “Deceased, or so I’m told.”

Enizu slammed his fist on the wooden desk. “Dammit!”

“It seems he left behind a son! Younger than myself…and a granddaughter.”

Enizu looked up, a malicious glint in his eyes. “I’ll take it.” He snatched up the paper and tucked it quickly into his cloak.

“And the money?” his brother inquired.

Enizu gave a grim smile. “I can’t live off nothing.”

He handed Enizu a stack of paper notes. “A pleasure doing business with you, brother.”

“So long, Kanryuu.”

One month later

Enizu looked down at his hands, dripping with red blood, and smiled. He had done it. He had killed Katsura’s son. He had expected him to fight him off. What he hadn’t expected was for Katsura’s son to take a blunt sword and try to take him down with it.

Kogoro Katsura’s son was a pacifist. Imagine.

Enizu looked around the one-room house, not quite satisfied. His hunger was insatiable. He needed something, a material possession to have in memory of his first triumph. He needed a souvenir.

His eyes swept from one edge of the room to the other.

Perhaps if she hadn’t inhaled at that very moment, Enizu would have never seen her. Perhaps she would have remained crouching there until the police found her father’s bloody body and took her away. Perhaps she never would have had to seen the face of the man who had murdered her father.

But she did. She took in breath, and he heard her. He saw her shadow, a dark shape he had ignored just prior. There she was, not even six and crouching behind a table, her innocent eyes unable to see the murderer in front of her. All she saw was a man.

Enizu suppressed an insidious grin as he knelt down to her height. “I’m so sorry about your father.”

The girl didn’t move and her child’s eyes didn’t link the blood on Enizu’s hands to the murder of her father. A coincidence; not even that. It was not worth noting. “You can stay with me, and I’ll make sure those…” a sly glint accompanied his blue eyes. He cleared his throat and spoke gently to the girl. “I’ll make sure you are safe from the Battousai, and he won’t harm you like he killed your father.”

The girl stared at him solemnly, her green eyes standing out from her pale skin and frail face. Without warning, she flew past Enizu and tore around the room, kicking open cabinets and disheveling papers. Enizu watched in silence as she popped open a wooden floorboard and fisted up a crumpled piece of paper. With this paper in hand, she ran outside to where the stars glared down at them. Enizu followed her. He placed both of his hands on her small one and tried to wrench the paper from her grip. The blood that coated his hands was smeared onto the little girl, but she glared at him fiercely. Their struggle lasted a while, even after Enizu had successfully twisted the paper from her grasp the little girl sank her pearly teeth into his hand. He bit back an outburst of pain and smoothed out the paper to read. What he saw did not please him.

“If anything should happen to me, my daughter, Kokorei Naruku, is to stay with a man named Shinomori…” The personal name of this man was smeared by blood. There was more writing on the paper, probably describing where most of this man’s possessions were to go, but Enizu could care less about the rest.

How am I supposed to have this souvenir if the little brat is entrusted to someone else? He wondered furiously. Why couldn’t she be just an orphan? Goddamn these people for building a whole chain-work of safety for their goddamn kids!

He bunched the paper into a ball and was about to throw it into the night, when he remembered something. Kokorei Naruku? Not Katsura? Was it possible Enizu had killed the wrong man…taken the wrong daughter?

He shook his head and jammed the final words of Kokorei Hisashi into his coat pocket.

He had to see Kanryuu again.

“Back so soon, Enizu? I didn’t know our family ties were so important to you,” Kanryuu drawled as Enizu stepped into his office.

Enizu snarled. “Cut the crap, Kanryuu,” he replied gruffly. “Were you lying to me?”

Kanryuu chuckled. “Oh, but that depends.”

“On what?” Enizu couldn’t help but say.

“What you think I’m lying about,” Kanryuu went on.

Enizu took in a sharp breath. “Did you give me the real address of Katsura-san’s family?”

“Why? Did you find no one there? I was expecting them to have gone into hiding, yes. Too many people are looking for Katsura, even I can’t track him down. If he’s even alive,” Kanryuu responded smoothly. “But if you must know, little brother, I gave you the truest information you could possibly have.”

Enizu’s nostrils flared. “Oh, they were there all right, Kanryuu. Except it was a family called ‘Kokorei.’ Not Katsura.”

Kanryuu tugged a packet of paper out from a fat stack. He flipped through it. “Well, were you really expecting them to be going by their real names? As if they weren’t in enough danger. I happen to know that Katsura Katsusaburo changed his name to Kokorei some time after Kogoro began leading the Choshu warriors. Think about it. This peace-loving fool stuck with the last name of the most prominent person in this war? I have no doubts that he changed his name.”

Enizu flexed his fingers and started pacing. So he had killed the right man. Now to make Naruku his.

“What about Shinomori?” he asked suddenly.

Kanryuu tipped his glasses down. “Excuse me?”

Enizu bit a knuckle. “Do you know anyone with the name Shinomori?” he exploded.

Kanryuu raised an eyebrow. “No need to be violent.” He riffled through a file.

From outside the office, a small voice peeped, “Eni-chan! Can we go home now?” A small figure shuffled into the doorway, her head lowered so her vibrant red bangs hung in front of her eyes. “Are you done yet Eni-chan?”

Enizu tried to hide a growl of frustration. “Nearly.”

She raised her head and a smile broke out on her face. “Am I going to go live with Shim—Shoni-Shiori?”

“We’ll see,” he answered testily.

“And who might that be?” Kanryuu inquired in an amused voice, eyeing Naruku.

“No one. A prize,” Enizu muttered.

“Shinomori is dead,” Kanryuu said in reply.

Enizu glanced up, an expression dangerously close to hope in his eyes.

“But he has a son who is, as much as it may irritate you, of age. Shinomori Aoshi. He heads the Oniwaban, a group of spies whom, as I’m sure you know, have just suffered a great injustice,” Kanryuu gestured at Naruku. “He’d be considered her legal guardian.”

Enizu barely choked down a screamed obscenity. He eyes Naruku. “Fine. I’ll take her there. I wouldn’t want to be convicted before I even have a chance to kill Shishio Makoto. That wouldn’t do.”

Kanryuu wordlessly passed Enziu the papers regarding Aoshi’s address and information. He sat back in his chair and watched Enizu shoo Naruku out the door. The latter was giggling for some unknown reason as they exited.

“Oh, and ototo?” Kanryuu called lightly. “Do be grateful to me. And have fun.”

Enizu shut the door in response.

Five years later

Finally. Aoshi was out of the picture. Kanryuu had infiltrated the Aoiya at some point in the last few years and slowly began gaining power over the residents. Most resisted him, but Enizu had a trick up his sleeve and had blackmailed Aoshi and his most elite spies to leave the Aoiya and work for his brother Kanryuu.

Naruku was left to Enizu. Or, so he thought.

“What do you mean, ‘leave without her?’” Enizu bellowed at the old man. Okina glowered at him.

“What made you think you could get your hands on such an innocent child?” Okina was resolute. “There is nothing you can do to change my mind, and anything else would be kidnapping. Her legal guardian left Naruku in my care. His wishes will be respected, and Naruku will not go to you. Ever.”

Enizu glowered from across the room. “I will have her,” he snarled.

“You had better take that threat back.”

“She will be mine.”

“Leave,” Okina said sternly.

Enizu obeyed and left for Tokyo the next day.

Two and half years later

Enizu was true to his word. He had Naruku at last. They, as well as Kanryuu, his private army and, Enizu recalled with relish, the Oniwbanshuu. Enizu at last had his one souvernir. He only needed three more.

The war had ended, and the Ishinshishi had been abandoned—not the gruesome end Enizu had hoped for, but his attentions were focused on his two enemies. Himura Kenshin and Shishio Makoto. Most of the rest of the Ishinshishi had gotten jobs high up in the government. Some of them, though, had come to Kanryuu’s opium ring. That had been Enizu’s souvenir from the Choshu, who had caused so many of his past problems.

But no longer. It was only the two men who had taken Enizu’s place in the Ishinshishi that were left. His revenge on Kenshin became an obsession. No matter how he tried, though, he could not track down the Battousai. As he searched for his enemy, Enizu dwelled on how to make him suffer.

Really suffer.

Nearly four years later

Enizu paced angrily. He had blown off most of his more violent steam earlier in the day, as the shattered paperweights could attest to. He had tracked down Shishio. He knew if he waited, Shishio would eventually reveal himself to Enizu. Men like him could not just hide away in the government after the war.

Not after what they did to him. Shishio wasn’t satisfied, and he had begun building a resistance against the Meiji. All that waiting had paid off for Enizu.

But he had waited too long. Shishio was dead—by the hands of none other than Himura Battousai. Enizu was infuriated. In addition to this stunt pulled by his mortal enemy, Kanryuu had recently been imprisoned. By Kenshin.

At least he had the satisfaction of knowing those Oniwabanshuu were dead.

“Enizu-san?” A soft voice filled the harshly lit room. “I brought you tea. Omaeko-san said it will help you with your stress and—”

Enizu smiled. He had another satisfaction as well.

“Thank you, Naruku,” he told his young lover. “You are very considerate. Especially at this tense point.”

The girl, at the budding age of nineteen, stepped prudently into the room. She observed the wreckage around her but said nothing as she set down the tray of tea. “Is there anything else you would like?”

There were a lot of things. “It’s fine. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Naruku tried to hide how quick her feet stepped out of that room. Enizu ignored it. He fancied himself quite intimidating when angry. It was only right that the girl should feel threatened.

“Hm…Naruku?” he called languidly.

She was halfway down the hall. “Yes?” she turned sweetly.

“Meet me at the gates tomorrow. Right after the sun rises.”

She gave a shaking smile. “Of course Enizu-san.”

Oh yes. Battousai was soon to pay for everything he had done. He would be tricked, deceived and betrayed. He would suffer and die. It was only a matter of time before Enizu obtained the ultimate revenge.