Rurouni Kenshin

The Silent Sword

by Moguera

 

Disclaimer: See prologue.

 

Chapter 2: Companion Swordsmen: Soujiro Returns to Kyoto

 

            “Alright, if it’s a fight you want, it’s a fight you’ll get.”  The words were barely out of Soujiro’s mouth before the two combatants closed with incredible speed.  They came together so fast that their very forms became indistinct and blurry.  They reached one another in the time it would have taken a bullet to leave the barrel of a gun.  But to the two of them, it seemed like an eternity before their bokken came together with the resounding clack of wood on wood.

            It was this sound that caught Otsu’s attention as she was doing the last few dishes for the day.  Putting down the one she was wiping clean, Otsu scrambled outside to see what was happening.  The sight made her cover her mouth with her hands to smother a scream before it could escape her lips.  She did not want to distract Soujiro.

            The two fighters were locked together, each straining against the other to try and push him back.  However, their strength seemed roughly equal and neither gave ground.  It was like that for about ten seconds when Soujiro began to lose ground.  Realizing that in a battle of raw strength he would lose, the former Tenken decided to use his opponent’s strength against him.  Soujiro suddenly gave up any form of resistance and leapt backwards away from the other swordsman.  He hoped that the sudden loss of resistance would force his opponent to stumble and become open.  His hope was in vain.  The black-haired warrior did indeed move forward, not stumbling, but rather in a perfectly controlled lunge, thrusting and slashing with his sword.  Soujiro leapt backwards again, but his foe stuck to him as stubbornly as his own shadow, forcing the young man to parry and dodge with all the skill he could muster.

            Which, surprisingly wasn’t actually all that much.  If there was one thing Soujiro the Tenken was not used to, it was being on the defensive.  Normally, Soujiro relied on his fantastic speed to catch his opponent off guard and force him to fight defensively.  Even when he had sparred with Mr. Shishio, the bandaged manslayer had always waited for Soujiro to come to him, not the other way around.  The Shukuchi was primarily an offensive technique, designed to bring a target within reach in an instant, not to put distance between two close combatants, though it could be used as such in a pinch.

            Unfortunately, Soujiro did not have the luxury of being able to bring the Shukuchi into play yet.  Using the legwork necessary to achieve such speed was difficult and one misstep could send the user sprawling with enough force to break every bone in his body.  In order to successfully use the Shukuchi, one had to tap his foot in order to set a rhythm which he would use to regulate his legwork and control his movement.  And it appeared that his opponent would not give Soujiro the time he needed to start tapping.

            Somehow, Soujiro had to find a way to put some distance between himself and his mysterious adversary who dogged his every step.  Soujiro hit upon an answer when he sensed that his dodging had brought them around to the edge of the forest.  Parrying one last swing, Soujiro leapt backwards with all the strength he could muster and positioned his feet behind him.  They connected solidly with the trunk of a tree.  Before gravity could take hold of the Tenken, he pushed off and upwards, going into a twisting flip that brought him down behind and facing his opponent.  The instant Soujiro’s feet connected with the ground, he pushed off again, jumping as far back as his legs would carry him.  He was very surprised to see that his challenger did not pursue this time, but instead, stood facing him, sword arm hanging easily at his side.  Despite his apparent openness, Soujiro could see the muscles, though relaxed, were like coiled springs and ready to bring the sword instantly up into a parry.

            Soujiro rested the back of his bokken against his shoulder.  As he began to tap his foot rhythmically on the ground, Soujiro realized that he was smiling.  He was enjoying himself.  He had not fought using a sword of any kind since Mr. Himura and he had clashed.  The feeling was…exhilarating.  And for once, it wasn’t a life or death situation.  I could get to like this, he thought.

            The pace of his tapping increased.  He kept tapping for another five seconds.  There!  He had it.  Without any warning, Soujiro pushed off the ground in a straight charge at his opponent.  With each step, his foot impacted with the force of a gunshot.  He moved with such incredible speed that he vanished in the sight of both his opponent and Otsu, watching from the kitchen door.  As was usual, his rhythm was perfect.  Soujiro loved the feeling, the wind in his hair, the ground beneath his feet being reduced to dust as he moved with speed never thought possible for a human being to achieve.  He had not fought in a long time, but his old skills had come back to him quickly and his strength had not fled with him.

            His enemy did not flinch as the super fast swordsman bore down on him.  Soujiro brought his bokken down in an overhead slash, hoping to score a blow across the head.  Then, his target was no longer there.  Soujiro reversed the pattern of his footwork and came to an instant stop.  Turning around, he saw that his foe had sidestepped the attack with the greatest of ease.  His eyes moved rapidly, surveying the deep impressions left in the ground by Soujiro’s feet.  Resting his bokken on his shoulder, the look on the man’s face turned from blank to one of curiosity.  Then, slowly, he began to tap his foot while resting his bokken on his shoulder and looking thoughtfully at the footprints left by Soujiro.

            It took a few seconds, but Soujiro figured out what he was doing.  The man was studying Soujiro’s technique, maybe even trying to learn it himself.  But that was impossible.  The Shukuchi had taken Soujiro years to learn.  It was a technique that required a great amount of practice to build the leg power and the endurance needed to reach such speeds and stay there.  Granted, what Soujiro had used against his opponent hadn’t been true Shukuchi, but the legwork pattern at a much slower rate, three steps short of the Shukuchi as he called it, referring to the difference in tempo.

            Shukuchi was very different from simple running.  First, the leading foot never extended past the knee, enabling Soujiro to put maximum power into each stride.  Second, the leading foot always hit the ground at the exact same time that the other foot left the ground to go into the next step.  Thus, each step fed on the power and momentum of the last, enabling it to push off with even more strength which in turn fed into the next step, making the Shukuchi’s speed and acceleration unmatchable.  Finally, by tapping one’s foot, one assigned a rhythm to the movement that made the Shukuchi more than a simple dash.  The rhythm is what gave the user control and even enabled him to do things like come to a stop or change direction instantly.

            But the important thing was that the wielder needed to have the leg strength to supply power for the initial kick.  If he didn’t have that, he wouldn’t be able to even start.  So Soujiro watched with growing confusion as the man continued to tap his foot at a slowly increasing pace.  When it matched what Soujiro’s had been, he pushed off and vanished.  Soujiro saw a line of pockmarks form in the ground almost simultaneously, moving perpendicularly to Soujiro’s charge.  His opponent came to a halt a little more slowly than Soujiro did, but it was enough to completely stun the former assassin.

            How could that be possible? He marveled.  When he thought about it, he realized that it wasn’t entirely improbable.  His opponent had mimicked Soujiro’s three step speed, easily, but he hadn’t yet seen what the real thing could do.  Despite that, even three step speed was faster than the infamous godlike speed of the Hiten Mitsurugi style; fast enough to vanish from sight completely.  And yet, this man had dodged it with the greatest of ease, so maybe he already had the strength to manage the Shukuchi technique.  Well, whatever it is, I’ll just have to deal with it, thought Soujiro grimly.

            Hefting his bokken and resting it on his shoulder again, Soujiro looked at the man.  “Who are you?” he asked.

            The man smiled and with the tip of his bokken began to draw on the ground.  Soujiro was just about to ask him again when he realized that the man must have been writing his name.  Looking down, Soujiro mouthed the characters that his opponent had written.  “Takezo.”

            Looking up, Soujiro eyed the guy carefully.  “So that’s your name?”  The man nodded.  Then, Takezo began to tap his foot again.

            Soujiro began to tap his foot as well.  “By the way,” he said, “My name’s Soujiro Seta.”  A second later, they both vanished in a flurry of dust and debris as they used three step.  Soujiro was out of his element.  He had never fought an opponent who could match his speed.  True, Mr. Himura had been able to equal it in the last attack of their bout, but that had been a duel of Battoujutsu, something completely different from what he was doing now.

            They ran alongside one another for a brief moment.  Takezo suddenly switched directions and Soujiro began to alter his course.  They circled each other, looking for an opening with which to attack.  They closed simultaneously and their swords came together.  They parted after that single strike.  Soujiro pressed forward with another attack, hoping the keep Takezo off guard.  Takezo parried his bokken to the side, sidestepped and came back with an underhand slash aimed at Soujiro’s chin.  Working his blade around in a quick circle, Soujiro managed to deflect the attack and countered with a horizontal slash at chest level.  Takezo reversed his direction and backpedaled out of the range of the attack.  The two parted again and continued to circle.

            The entire exchange had occurred in less than a handful of seconds, both warriors performing at full speed.  Soujiro realized that Takezo’s use of the Shukuchi was just as good as his, despite the fact that it wasn’t full speed.  Soujiro decided he needed to use one of his tricks to gain an advantage.

            The Shukuchi builds up an enormous amount of momentum.  One of the best uses of the technique is to defy gravity.  Soujiro was quite used to running up walls and across ceilings as if they were level and upright ground.  Even though there were no walls or ceilings he could use here, the trees that lined the clearing included more than a few thick trunk specimens that were wide enough to give Soujiro ample room to run up.  Picking one such tree, he circled Takezo until they were lined up with the tree with Takezo between Soujiro and the broad trunk.  Suddenly, Soujiro changed direction using the Shukuchi’s exceptional maneuverability and charged straight at Takezo.  Takezo turned and rushed at Soujiro as well.  At the last minute, he swerved aside and tried to use a backhanded slash at Soujiro’s back as he passed.  However, in doing so, he had removed himself from Soujiro’s path, leaving Soujiro with a clear path to the tree.  Soujiro put all his strength into a final acceleration and he was past before Takezo could complete his attack.

            Takezo came to a halt and spun around, his eyes following the plume of dust kicked up by Soujiro’s stride.  To his amazement, Soujiro did not stop or change direction as he reached the tree, but rather used the Shukuchi to run straight up the trunk.  About halfway up the trunk of the tree, Soujiro kicked off while turning his body so that he was facing the right way.  He held his sword arm across his body at chest level with the sword cocked for a powerful backhanded slash.  Takezo was vulnerable and open, or so he seemed.

            Takezo settled into a fighting stance with his right foot leading.  Taking his right hand off the handle of his bokken, he slid it partway up the blade and held it there.  Then he kicked off with the Shukuchi, the all important rhythm still fresh in his mind.  As he charged towards the flying Soujiro, the hand that steadied the blade of his bokken became a fist, situated underneath the blade.

            Soujiro’s surprise nearly cost him the duel.  Takezo’s countercharge had caught him off guard and Soujiro only just barely managed to complete his downward stroke in time.  However, it wasn’t so much Takezo’s counterattack that surprised him as it was the attack itself.  Soujiro’s suspicions were confirmed when Takezo pushed off the ground and launched himself upwards at him, fisted right hand forcing the blade up for a powerful strike which would have dealt Soujiro a crippling blow to the chin when its power combined with his momentum had they collided.  Soujiro’s own attack managed to stop Takezo’s.  Their bokken were now braced against one another and Soujiro, like most swordsmen a good improviser, used that to his advantage.  Forcing all of his weight onto his bokken, Soujiro forced himself up and over Takezo in a forward flip that carried him into the clearing where he landed in a crouch and came up spinning to face the next attack.

            During the process, Soujiro’s head was spinning with confusion.  Having seen the technique itself, Soujiro knew beyond all doubt that Takezo’s strike had been none other than the Ryu-Shou-Sen, one of the techniques of Kenshin Himura’s Hiten Mitsurugi style.  It was interesting how such techniques suddenly became much more dangerous when they were combined with the sheer speed of the Shukuchi.  He’s already learned how to combine the Shukuchi with other techniques that he knows and using its momentum to add to their power.  But how could he know that? wondered Soujiro frantically, where did he learn techniques from the Hiten Mitsurugi style.  Or did he fight Kenshin too at one time and learn his techniques the same way he learned mine?  They were questions that Soujiro put aside to consider later.  He understood that he would probably find out, for better or for worse, when this duel was concluded.  So he forced the thoughts aside and prepared for his opponent’s next attack.

            Takezo had indeed turned and was coming at Soujiro.  Once again, he vanished as he used the Shukuchi to close the distance.  But Soujiro was able to track him.  Used to moving at such speed, Soujiro’s eyes were equally good at watching someone else moving at that same speed while he was standing still.  When using the Shukuchi, you had to school your eyes to track just as fast as you could move; otherwise your targets, and everything else, tended to vanish to you just as you did to them.  Soujiro held up his sword, ready to block what he suspected was another straightforward attack.

            Takezo surprised him yet again when, instead of completing the charge, Takezo leapt straight up into the air.  Soujiro realized that this was another of the Hiten Mitsurugi style’s techniques, the Ryu-Tsui-Sen.  True to his realization, Takezo raised his sword above his head as he began to fall.  Just before the moment of contact he slashed straight down with it.  This meant that his swing was at full strength when they would connect and  Takezo was in a perfect position to put the full weight of his body behind the attack.  Soujiro was out of time.  It was too late to try and use the Shukuchi again; he needed to reestablish the rhythm, the thought of which had been abolished by his mind by surprise at facing somebody who used the Hiten Mitsurugi style.  So he took the only recourse open to him and held his bokken over his head, holding the hilt in one hand while bracing the blade with his other.

            Watching from by the kitchen door, Otsu could not stop the gasp from escaping her lips this time.  For some strange reason, she instinctively knew that this would be the defining moment of their fight.  The outcome would be determined in the result of this one attack.

            Their bokken collided.  Soujiro stood rooted to the spot, his feet forced into the ground by the force of the attack.  For a second, time seemed to freeze.  Then, with an almighty crack, both wooden swords broke simultaneously.  The strain on the roughly made weapons was too great.  The front half of Takezo’s went spinning of into the air while Soujiro’s hands suddenly held a separate chunk of wood each.

            Takezo landed in a crouch, his sword level with the ground.  Soujiro merely stood, hands still clutching the broken pieces of his bokken in a blocking position.  Then, slowly, Soujiro lowered his hands to his sides and looked down at Takezo, who slowly got to his feet.

            Their eyes met and they gazed at one another for some time.  Then, Takezo dropped the pieces of his bokken and bowed a gesture of respect and deference.  Soujiro did likewise.

            Otsu jumped as she heard applause coming from beside her.  Looking over, she saw that Osugi had also come out to watch the fight.  The girl had been so enthralled by the spectacle that she hadn’t noticed when the older woman came out to join her.  “These young ‘uns certainly know how to fight,” she crowed, laughing as she did so.  It was clear she had found the whole incident somewhat amusing.

            Soujiro looked over at their small audience and blushed slightly.  Then, he turned to look back at Takezo, who watched Soujiro with the most curious gaze.  Takezo was holding his chin in his hand and seemed deep in thought as he observed Soujiro.  After a moment, he smiled and nodded to himself and pulled something out of one of his pockets.  It was a slip of paper, folded.  He handed the paper to Soujiro, who took it and unfolded it to get a look at the message inscribed on it.

            Greetings; I am Seijuro Hiko, master of the Hiten Mitsurugi style.  If you have been given this, then you have been chosen by Takezo, my previous apprentice, as an acceptable candidate to teach the Hiten Mitsurugi style.  Twice now I have taught an apprentice who completed his studies yet declined to become master himself.  If you accept my proposition, you will come to my abode outside of Kyoto to learn from me.  Takezo will show you where it can be found.

            Soujiro looked up.  “So you want me to come and train under your master,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

            Takezo, who smiled widely, nodded.

            Soujiro looked back down at the paper.  He wasn’t so sure he should do this.  Going back to Kyoto meant many things to him.  If he went back, he risked getting found by Saitou.

            “Can I think about it for a little while?” he asked finally.  Takezo nodded.  He turned and left the clearing, stopping only to pick up the sword he had thrown aside at the beginning of their fight.  The young man disappeared into the foliage like a wraith.

 

            Soujiro lay on his back, staring at the sky dotted with stars.  He was giving serious thought to the proposition of becoming apprentice to this Seijuro Hiko.  However, there were a number of difficulties.  In addition to the risk of being caught, Soujiro had a number of other reasons why he might have chosen not to.

            Going back to Kyoto meant facing the memories he had of that city, memories of Mr. Shishio, of Ms. Yumi, and of his life with them.  He wasn’t sure if he was ready to face those memories.  In addition, Kyoto meant passing through the thrall of the Oniwaban group.  And though Soujiro was sure that Mr. Shinomori understood him, Soujiro also knew that the case might not be the same with the rest of the group of ninjas.  But if Takezo’s with me…

            Another thing confused Soujiro.  Wasn’t Mr. Himura the master of the Hiten Mitsurugi style?  If that was correct, then who was this Seijuro Hiko person?  Was he a trap set by Saitou, set to lure Soujiro into his clutches?

            And yet, in his fight with Takezo, Soujiro noticed that the young man had displayed exceptional skill with the Hiten Mitsurugi techniques that he used during their duel.  Takezo was obviously an active practitioner of the style.  Perhaps he really was taking Soujiro to meet his master.

            There is always a certain amount of risk in this life, he thought, Sometimes we just have to take a chance and hope for the best.

            “Well,” came a voice from towards the inn, “Does this mean that you’re going to leave?”  Otsu came up behind Soujiro who sat up and turned to look at her.

            “I think so,” said Soujiro softly, “It would probably be best.”

            “Why so soon?” Otsu pleaded.

            “I couldn’t stay for very long anyway,” replied Soujiro, “It won’t belong before the police catch wind of me again.  I have to leave before they know I’ve been through here.”

            “And how will going to Kyoto help matters?” demanded Otsu, “You’d be walking right into their hands.”

            “Because perhaps the best place to hide is right under their noses,” he lied, smiling brightly, “I mean, nobody would expect me to come back to there right?  So that would be the last place they would look for me.”

            “I doubt it,” said Otsu, sitting down next to him.

            “Don’t worry,” said Soujiro encouragingly, “I can run if they find me.  And believe me I can run fast.”

            “I noticed,” replied Otsu wryly.  That brought a chuckle from Soujiro.  “I also noticed that I wouldn’t be able to stop you from leaving if you wanted to,” she continued, “But I want you to promise that you’ll come back and visit someday.”

            “I promise I won’t forget you,” answered Soujiro, “And I’ll come back…someday.”

            “Thank you,” she whispered.  Then, leaning over, Otsu planted a gentle kiss on Soujiro’s cheek.  It was just a feather brush of her lips against his skin, but it sent a tingling sensation throughout his entire body.  Soujiro felt his face grow hot as it turned a color that would have put Mr. Himura’s hair to shame.  Otsu giggled at his reaction and got up to go inside.  A moment later, Soujiro followed her and retired to his room for the night.

 

            The next morning, Soujiro left the inn through the back door.  He had a sack containing food that would last him the way to Kyoto along with a spare set of clothing and the money he had earned working there.  At his side, he wore the handle and sheath of the Kikuichimonji Norimune.  Takezo was waiting for him across the clearing.

            Soujiro walked up to the mute swordsman.  “I’m ready,” he said, “Let’s go to Kyoto.”

            Takezo nodded approvingly.  Without any further acknowledgement, he turned and walked around the inn to the road and took the road in the direction of Kyoto, Soujiro following his every step.

            They walked for many hours.  Soujiro was starting to find his companion’s silence disconcerting.  He had guessed that Takezo was a mute.  But still, that didn’t make the silence any less uncomfortable.  Takezo, for his part, simply walked on as if he didn’t have a single thought in his head.

            In truth, Takezo was considering a great many things.  He wondered if this boy could hold up to Master Hiko’s training.  Soujiro appeared to have a very delicate nature.  His mind was obviously troubled in some way.  While Seijuro Hiko wasn’t insensitive, he didn’t tend to be a sympathizer.  Takezo reasoned that he would have to hang around for a little while at least to keep an eye on Soujiro.

            Soujiro’s head was spinning.  If this man was the master of the Hiten Mitsurugi style, then he must have been Mr. Himura’s teacher.  And if that were true, then this man would probably be ten times better than Mr. Himura.  But would he be like Mr. Himura?  Would he have that kind spirit that Mr. Himura practically radiated?  Or would he be a harsh taskmaster, much like Mr. Shishio had been.  Soujiro didn’t know what to think.

            The sun rose higher and Takezo continued on, never flagging or stopping.  His pace, while not very fast, was steady and constant.  Soujiro was beginning to feel back at home, surrounded by the sights and sounds of the world he had immersed himself in after leaving the Juppongatana.  The sky was clear, dotted by only a few wispy clouds.  Soujiro closed his eyes and sighed with pleasure…

            …and nearly bowled Takezo over as he collided with the man’s back.  Takezo had come to a sudden halt.  His body went loose and his right hand slowly came to rest on the hilt of his sword.  Soujiro backed away from his companion as Takezo eyed the woods around them warily.  There must be someone following us, realized Soujiro.  He glanced around him, taking in his surroundings in detail, both mapping a potential battlefield and looking for any strangers.

            The rurouni’s guess seemed correct when a group of five men stepped onto the road with unsheathed swords.  Soujiro guessed that they were ronin, lordless samurai who often made their livings as bandits.  Perhaps these men had guessed that Soujiro or Takezo or both of them were holding valuable merchandise.  Soujiro mentally chided himself for letting down his guard.  I must be losing my touch.

            To his surprise, Soujiro noticed that the men seemed to have a very business-like air around them as they approached the pair of swordsmen deliberately.  The one who was apparently their leader came to a halt.  By unspoken consensus, his comrades halted as well.

            “This doesn’t concern you,” he said to Takezo, “We would like to have a few words with Mr. Seta.”

            Soujiro’s eyes widened.  The police had never publicly announced that Soujiro was wanted; for fear that word of the nearly successful conspiracy would get around.  So how could these men know who he was?  Were they perhaps former soldiers of Shishio’s syndicate?  That seemed likely.  There had been about five-hundred men on Mr. Shishio’s payroll when he had set his plan to take over the country into motion.  It was unlikely that all of them had been apprehended.  But what did they want?

            “Your cousin would like us to dispose of you kid,” snarled the leader over Takezo’s shoulder.

            Cousin! thought Soujiro frantically, Matahachi!  Soujiro had heard about his cousin…one of those police swordsmen.  Did Matahachi want him dead to punish Soujiro for killing their family?

            Surprising him yet again, Takezo stepped aside almost amiably.  He smiled obligingly and signaled that the men should go ahead.  Soujiro felt anger and sadness both at the betrayal, until Takezo pulled his sword and sheath from his sash and tossed them to Soujiro.  Soujiro caught the sword and tucked it into his own obi before drawing the blade.  At the same time, he took his keepsake sword handle and sheath and tossed them to Takezo, who caught them.  Feeling back in his element, wielding a blade again, Soujiro turned to face his would-be assailants.  For some reason he couldn’t figure out, the sword felt a little awkward in his hand.

            The men spread out and formed an arc around Soujiro.  The two on either end took up their swords and charged Soujiro from both sides, hoping to catch him in a pincer movement.  Soujiro was not one to fall for such strategies though.  Spinning first to the attacker on his left, Soujiro brought his sword up and down in a diagonal slash that cut across the man’s torso, the force of the blow throwing the man backwards a few meters.  In a single fluid motion, Soujiro spun in a complete circle, ducking under the horizontal slash he had sensed coming from the attacking man he had put behind him, and brought his blade cutting up diagonally across his other foe’s torso, catching him on the chin in the process and throwing the man upwards and backwards.

            Taking a moment to take stock of both his opponents, Soujiro was amazed to see that no blood was flowing.  Looking down at his blade, Soujiro gave a start.  He was holding a reverse-blade sword, a real honest to goodness reverse-blade sword.  So this is what it feels like, he thought almost giddily.

            His other three opponents were taken aback by the speed and ease with which Soujiro had dealt with their friends.  All three of them seemed hesitant to attack.  Soujiro simply stood back and waited for them to come to a decision, letting the dull edge of his sword rest against his shoulder.

            The men exchanged glances.  The two flanking the leader spread out and flanked Soujiro from behind, forming the corners of an equilateral triangle.  Soujiro smiled and sheathed his sword.  All three of his opponents looked slightly stunned that he had put his weapon away.  Soujiro however, had not intention of giving up.  Instead, he slid his right foot forward on the ground and faced the leader of the men.  He rested his sword hand on the hilt of the sword and waited.

            There were several different ways to perform the Battoujutsu.  The one Soujiro used the most was the charging Battoujutsu, drawing the sword when he was within striking distance of the target.  Then there was his Shutensatsu, combining his moving Battoujutsu with the speed of the Shukuchi.  It was the one he had been best at.  There was also Mr. Himura’s Amakakeru-Ryu-No-Hirameki, leading with the left foot to give additional power and speed to the blade.  And finally, there was the waiting Battoujutsu, the form that Mr. Shishio had favored.  The user waited until a charging opponent came to within striking distance and then drew.  Soujiro took up the stance and waited.

            Of course, there were risks.  Soujiro was certain that the warrior in front of him would charge first by virtue that he was the leader.  The others, following his lead would attack from behind.  They’ll look to him for their signal to attack.  By using the Battoujutsu, Soujiro could head off the leader quickly then turn to face the two coming from behind.  Things could go wrong.  The men from behind could charge first, or they could charge at the same time.  Soujiro still had options though, so it seemed unlikely that he was getting in over his head.

            Time seemed to slow to a crawl.  Soujiro seemed unusually aware of everything that was happening around him.  As he focused on the man in front of him, Soujiro met the ronin’s eyes.  He’s nervous, he realized.  Sweat ran down the man’s face as he tightened his grip on his katana.

            Soujiro could not truly explain what happened next.  He suddenly felt something change in the man in front of him.  Soujiro had no idea what.  He did realize however, that this change was the prelude to the charge and began his draw.  True to Soujiro’s anticipations, he charged forward, raising his blade overhead for a downward strike, foolish considering the type of counterattack Soujiro was prepared to use.

            Never had a Battoujutsu gone off so perfectly.  The blade connected with the man’s right flank and dragged across, throwing his body backwards and into the air.  As he flew backwards, Soujiro used his swing’s momentum to continue to spin to his right.  As he did so, he raised his sword to block another downward strike coming from the first man behind him.  Bracing the handle with both hands, Soujiro lashed out with his left foot, connecting with his enemy’s belly.  The air whooshed out of the man’s lungs and he fell back, clutching his stomach.  Soujiro continued his spin and swung out to knock away a thrust from the other man.  Before the man could recover from the parry, Soujiro’s sword was inside his defenses, smacking him in six different places in the space of a second.  The man fell without protest, his sword dropping to the ground with a clang.  With him dealt with, Soujiro could turn back to his last remaining opponent.  The final ronin looked at Soujiro, horrified.  He hesitated for a split second.

            A split second is far too long against the likes of Soujiro Seta.  That was all the time it took for him to close the distance between him and his last target.  Using just his wrist, Soujiro gave the man what amounted to a light tap on the side of the head.  Of course, to the weaker man, it felt like something much more powerful.  He was out in an instant.  Soujiro still had time sheath the sword before his split second was up.

            That was too easy, he thought, feeling curious.  Why had Matahachi sent such weak minions to take him down?  Soujiro thought it likely that Matahachi had either not learned of Soujiro’s reputation as the Tenken, or refused to believe it.  The latter was something Matahachi seemed prone to do.  Soujiro still remembered Matahachi from when the man came to visit his family on their estates.  Soujiro remembered how Matahachi always remarked that little Soujiro would never amount to anything.  Matahachi was arrogant and always assured that he was correct in his judgments of people.  It would be just like him to make a slip like this.

            Takezo stood patiently by as Soujiro pondered the mystery of why his cousin had sent these men after him.  They won’t be able to find me soon, he thought.  Mr. Hiko was obviously a very well hidden man.  Had Mr. Shishio known that the teacher of Himura the Battousai had been living under his very nose in Kyoto, he would have dispatched Soujiro to end Mr. Hiko’s life.  Such a fact meant that Mr. Hiko was very good at disappearing.

            Coming up out of his reverie, Soujiro remembered Takezo.  He pulled the sword from his sash and handed it over to his mute companion.  Takezo took the sword and smiled his thanks.  After securing it on his side, he handed Soujiro the Kikuichimonji.

            “Thank you,” said Soujiro, glad that Takezo had helped, but curious about how he had chosen to help.  Why had Takezo made Soujiro fight.

            The answer, when it hit him, seemed obvious.  He’s taking me to study under his master.  Takezo must want to have a detailed assessment of my skills and abilities so that he can help in my instruction.

            Smiling brightly Takezo turned and took off down the road.  Soujiro hesitated a moment, but shrugged and followed him.  They left behind them the five men Soujiro had knocked unconscious, strewn about the road.

 

            Far away from the trials of Soujiro and Takezo, another man was facing important trials of his own.

            “Kenshin!” Yahiko was practically screaming, “Can you explain to Ugly here that I’ve got more important things to do than clean this place!”

            “You aren’t getting out of your chores that easily!” Karou screamed back, her voice a thousand times more threatening and, when it was contorted with rage, her face a million times more frightening, “You can’t get out of doing your share every time you want to go off and flirt with Tsubami!”  This incited Yahiko’s rage even more, if such a thing was possible.

            Not again, thought Kenshin mournfully, his eyes as wide as western dinner plates as he watched the fierce exchange while he chuckled nervously.  Both parties were on the verge of exploding and Kenshin knew that if he didn’t defuse the situation soon, the brunt of their anger would most likely be directed at him.

            He tried the first recourse, placation.  “Now now,” he said, trying to calm them down, making placating gestures with his hands, “You need to calm down, that you should, both of you.”

            They didn’t appear to Kenshin and their fight was getting more intense by the second.  And so, Kenshin tried his second recourse, compromise.  “Perhaps if both of you cleaned part of the dojo you would finish faster, that you would.”  Kenshin nearly fell over backwards as the two fierce adversaries rounded on him simultaneously.

            “HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT!” demanded Karou with a voice that would have sent Makoto Shishio back to the hole he crawled from and with a face that was equally intimidating, “I HAVE LESSONS TO TEACH!  I CAN’T WASTE MY TIME CLEANING THE DOJO!”

            “I WOULD NEVER LOWER MYSELF TO WORKING WITH UGLY!” roared Yahiko, though he had already done so a number of times, “AND I’VE GOT IMPORTANT STUFF TO DO TOO!”

            Karou rounded back on Yahiko.  “HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU!?  FLIRTING WITH TSUBAMI IS NOT AN EXCUSE FOR GETTING OUT OF YOUR CHORES!”

            “Oro!”  Instead of helping, Kenshin’s second recourse had only made the situation worse.  He sighed in resignation and resorted to his third and most consistently successful recourse, surrender.  “Why don’t I clean the dojo?” he suggested timidly, smiling nervously.

            Karou was calmed so fast one would have never been able to tell that she had ever been in a bad mood.  “Why thank you Kenshin,” she said cheerfully, “That’s so nice of you.  At least you’re polite, unlike some people I know.”  Karou finished with leveling a withering glare on Yahiko.

            Yahiko slapped Kenshin on the back, nearly knocking him flat on his face.  “Yeah, thanks a bunch,” he said happily, “At least you understand my situation better than Ugly.”  He shot a glare of his own back at Karou.  They both left their separate ways, leaving an utterly glum Kenshin behind them.  “Oro.”  Kenshin sighed again and went to gather water and rags for cleaning the floor.

            He was running back and forth across the floor of the main practice room, pushing a wet cloth in front of him, when Kenshin heard a loud voice from the front entrance of the dojo.

            “Yo Kenshin!” shouted Sanosuke Sagara, “You in there?”

            “Yes Sano,” replied Kenshin easily, “I’m in here.”

            Sano came into the practice room and groaned when he saw Kenshin doing the floors.  “They suckered you into doing their chores again didn’t they?”

            “Yes Sano; that they did,” agreed Kenshin, going back to work.

            “Kenshin,” groaned Sano, “You’re gonna have to stand up to them some day.”

            “I tried to stand up to them; that I did.  However, you know how difficult it can be, especially when trying to stand up to Ms. Karou.”

            Sanosuke nodded sagely.  “You’ve got a point there Kenshin.  But surely after guys like Shishio and Saitou, standing up to the Little Missy and the Brat should be a piece of cake for you.”

            Kenshin chuckled wearily.  “Actually, I would much prefer to fight with Shishio again than Ms. Karou; that I would.”

            “You’re crazy Kenshin,” said Sano, slapping his forehead, “You’re going to have to learn to stand up to the Little Missy if you’re going to marry her some day.”

            “ORO!”  Kenshin was so surprised that his arms slid out from under him on the cloth as he came to a sudden stop, sending him crashing face first into the floor.  The former manslayer leapt to his feet as fast as his god-like speed would allow him.  Kenshin’s mouth opened and closed rapidly, but no words came out.  Sanosuke was, of course, laughing his head off at Kenshin’s reaction to his little jest.  Unable to find his voice, Kenshin lowered his head in defeat.

            As he did so, he thought about how Karou and Yahiko had forced him to clean the dojo, how Sano was always able to get to him with a jest about his relationship with Karou.  “They’re always one step ahead of me; that they are.”

 

            Soujiro and Takezo stopped for a midday break.  They had made excellent time, mostly due to Takezo’s scorching pace.  As he looked down at his worn sandals, Soujiro wondered if his silent companion actually walked at god-like speed as well.  Reaching into the haversack, Soujiro unpacked a small amount of food for a light lunch for the two of them.

            They ate in silence.  As he ate his food, Soujiro was alert, not wanting to be caught off guard again.  Takezo seemed completely at ease.  But he had seemed like that on the road too.  There was no telling how many men Matahachi had sent to take care of him.

            Despite their worries, lunch went on without incident and soon the two were on the road again, making their way towards Kyoto.  At this pace, Soujiro gauged that they would be there within a week.  I wonder if it’s changed any, he thought as he followed Takezo.  Undoubtedly, western influence would be more pervasive than it had been in Mr. Shishio’s day.  But the people probably wouldn’t have changed any.

            The sun dipped below the western horizon, slowly plunging the road into darkness.  Soujiro was starting to think about finding a place to rest when Takezo pointed out something.  Soujiro looked over and saw that Takezo was pointing into the forest that ran along the road.  Takezo stepped off the path and into the trees, Soujiro following behind quietly.  They had barely penetrated into the foliage when they emerged into a small clearing.  Grass covered the ground and the clear sky, gradually filling up with stars, was visible above.  Soujiro understood.  This place was relatively sheltered, making it difficult for anyone to see them from the road.

            Takezo smiled contentedly and lay down on the ground where he stood, staring up at the sky.  Soujiro did likewise.  The sky above them was covered in stars.  The night was warm.  The summer was growing late and it would not be long before autumn came.  They could sleep outside without any need for a blanket or protection from the elements.  At least as long as it didn’t rain.

            “Good night,” Takezo, said Soujiro quietly.  Next to him, he already heard snores coming from his normally silent companion.

 

            The leader of the band that had attacked Soujiro earlier that day came to his senses about two hours after the battle had concluded.  Opening his eyes slowly, the man was mindful of the fact that his entire flank was on fire.  The strike he had received might have even broken a couple of ribs.

            Around him, the rest of his band slowly came to, groaning from the strain of their grievous wounds.  The leader grimaced as he thought about the process of the fight.  Had that boy not been wielding a reverse-bladed sword, they would have all been dead, with their blood staining the road on which they lay.

            “Seta must’ve been crazy sending us out after someone like that,” grumbled the leader.

            “If he is, then that is no concern of yours,” came a voice from up the road a short distance, “At least, not anymore.”

            The five ronin whirled around to look at the man who stood before them.  He appeared to be in his late twenties.  He wore a simple, unobtrusive set of clothing that was brown in color.  His eyes were a piercing shade of green.  Long black hair fell down his back in a tightly woven braid.  A thin mustache arched above his upper lip.  Of course, the most noticeable thing about the man was the sword strapped to his waist.  The expression on the strange man’s face was grim.

            “Who’re you?” demanded the leader of the ronin.

            “I am what you aren’t,” said the man cryptically, drawing his sword, “And what I am is alive.”

            The five men tried to rise in challenge to the implied threat in the man’s words, however, none of them managed to make it all the way to the standing position before the mysterious swordsman was upon them.  Seconds later, bleeding from dozens of wounds each; five very dead ronin fell to the ground, never to rise again.

            With a flick of his wrist, the warrior sent the blood flying from his blade.  He then sheathed it and went on his way as if what had occurred behind him was but a mere illusion.  A traveler who might have come across the scene would have noticed that the ground was covered with a strange series of pockmarks that almost resembled footprints.

 

            Soujiro awoke feeling refreshed and ready for another day on the road.  Looking around, he noticed that Takezo was already gone.  Soujiro sat up and wondered where his companion had gone.  Had Takezo already left without him?

            Soujiro sighed in relief when he saw Takezo coming back from deeper in the forest.  He held a string in one hand with several fish attached.  Takezo must have gotten up early to catch their breakfast.  Soujiro appreciated the effort.  While he carried enough food to last them both all the way to Kyoto if they ate it sparingly, it would be a good idea to supplement their supplies with what they could forage on their way.  In the spirit of being helpful, Soujiro began to gather wood for a fire to cook the fish.

            Ten minutes later, the fire was burning cheerfully and several of Takezo’s fish were impaled on small wooden spits to be roasted.  Some they would eat now while others they would cook in order to preserve and carry with them.  After roasting the fish, they ate two apiece and packed the others for the road.  Once that was done, Soujiro and Takezo went on their way.

 

            Matahachi didn’t take well the news of the failure of his men.  “Are you certain Ishiro?” he asked.  The room he and his companion were in was spacious.  It was mostly bare, save the mats that covered the floor and the windows wood and paper windows that lined the perimeter of the room where the wall met the ceiling, letting in a substantial portion of the light in the room as there were few lamps.  In appearance it was a much larger version of the room in which Soujiro had fought his final duel with Kenshin Himura.

            Matahachi knelt on cushions on the far side of the room, his sword on the floor to his left, betraying his mistrust of the man in front of him.

            The grim swordsman standing before him nodded silently.  “The boy defeated them with little effort on his part.”

            “I can’t believe I employed such bumbling fools,” growled Matahachi, his hands tightening on the fabric of the cushions beneath him, “They will have to be punished severely.”

            “They have already been dispatched,” said the swordsman, Ishiro without changing the expression on his face.

            “I take it that you dispensed with them,” remarked Matahachi.

            “Indeed I did,” replied Ishiro flatly.

            “I’m going to have to employ someone other than idiots to kill my bastard cousin,” hissed Matahachi.

            “The boy is more skilled than you give him credit for,” commented Ishiro, “After what has happened, you must admit that much.”

            “I will admit nothing!” Matahachi snapped, “There is no way the son of a blasted whore could amount to anything more than a common thug!”

            You stake too much evaluation on the circumstances of your opponent’s birth, thought Ishiro vehemently, That will prove to be your undoing.

            Out loud he said, “Why don’t we wait and observe the boy for a while?” he proposed.

            “Why?” demanded Matahachi.

            “If we watch him closely, we can do so much more than simply execute him for his crimes against your clan,” said Ishiro, a cruel smile forming on his face for the first time, “We can find out what people matter most in his life, what things are most important to him and what values he holds dear.  And then, instead of simply killing him, we’ll tear apart every aspect of his life piece by piece and bring it down around his ears.  Then, when he is at the climax of his misery, we’ll send him to hell with the knowledge of who it was and why we ruined his world, causing him ultimate suffering.”

            “I like your plan,” said Matahachi thoughtfully, “We shall go through with it.”

            “As you wish sir,” replied Ishiro respectfully.  Of course, I have my own reasons for wanting to fight this Soujiro, he thought to himself, He is the only other person that I know of who has learned my technique.  That is the only reason I would work for such an obstinate ass such as yourself Seta.  Out loud he said, “By the way, I know someone whom you might be interested in meeting.”

            “And he would be…?”  Seta raised an eyebrow.

            “I won’t give you his name yet, but he was a certain second-in-command of the third squad of the Shinsengumi.”

            “I am interested in meeting him, that is if he is no longer Saitou’s lackey,” said Matahachi smiling.

            Ishiro nodded.  “I will fetch him.”

 

            Time passed by much more quickly than Soujiro had ever thought.  He and Takezo traveled in almost complete silence.  In about a week, they had covered the same ground it had taken Soujiro a year to traverse in his wanderings.  Of course, being exactly that, wandering was much more of a meandering pace than the swift businesslike trek of Takezo and Soujiro as they marched back to Kyoto.

            It was with a triumphant smile on his face that Takezo crested the final hill, Soujiro only a few steps behind.  The city laid spread out before them, just south of their position.  The sun was just setting in the west, illuminating the city with its golden radiance.  Takezo smiled and stepped off the road into the woods a little ways and began to set up camp for the night.  Soujiro followed him, like always.  This would be their final night on the road.  As he closed his eyes, Soujiro wondered what the future had in store for him.  Here he was, about to go and study under yet another teacher.  Would this Seijuro Hiko attempt to instill his truths in Soujiro as Mr. Shishio had?  If he was anything like Kenshin, that would probably not be the case.  In which case, Soujiro’s quest for the truth would once again be delayed.  Soujiro sighed and closed his eyes.  There was no rush to find his truth about life.  Time would reveal all things.  That was his last thought before drifting off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

 

Author Extra: Sword etiquette.

In the conversation between Matahachi and Ishiro, Matahachi’s own sword is placed on his left side.  Normally, when two swordsmen are in conversation talking, it’s considered polite to place one’s sword on ones left.  Since swords are drawn from left to right, placing the sword to the left, where it will be difficult to draw in a fight, demonstrates trust between two people.  Placing one’s sword on the right, where it can be drawn easily in times of trouble shows extreme distrust of the other person and is very rude.  The same rules apply when swords are stored on racks.

 

Author’s notes:  One of the questions that plagued me about the Shukuchi is why Soujiro taps his feet before entering into it.  Every source and other fanfic I read failed to give any kind of satisfactory explanation.  So, in the end I came up with the idea that Soujiro utilizes the rhythm of his tapping to regulate his movement while using the Shukuchi, which would explain why he was able to retain his maneuverability while still moving at such high speeds.

 

The scene with Kenshin was written to introduce a little bit of lightheartedness into the plot.  It also serves as a sort of indicator that Kenshin and company will have a roll to play later on in the story (much later).  With that, it’s time to bid adieu until the next chapter.