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Light of the Snow-Red Village
Part III - Flame of Growth: The Dream of Kenjutsu - Chapter 6

There was fear hanging in the air, and a great deal of pain, and even in his inexperience, Shinzo could feel it. He watched, his body trembling so badly it was a miracle he was still on his feet, as the Battousai approached his father. 'His eyes have changed,' he though numbly, catching sight of the amber flames and wishing with all his heart that he had not noticed.

He wrenched his gaze away from Battousai — and it was Battousai, not just Himura any longer — to look at his father. The man whom he had followed for several years now was worse off than he was, even with all his age and experiences it rid him of that fear. 'Or,' he realized, 'The fear comes from those experiences. He's seen the Battousai at work. He's witnessed him killing men, just like this.'

Or not, for he could hear the groans of a few of the men sprawled around him. There were many who were unconscious, and most would be extremely sore later on, but there were no casualties.

His father was babbling something, a reward or payment or that everything he said was a lie. Battousai wasn't listening, and Shinzo couldn't help but feel a scowl of disgust.

'Of course... my father plays the part of a bold nobleman, but as soon as he stares death in the face...'

Battousai raised the sword, grasping Kuroi's tunic with his other hand. If his arm fell, his father would be dead instantly, a sword through his heart. A fire of his own came to burn away the numbing fear, and Shinzo moved.

And then, he suddenly opened his eyes and found himself standing in front of his father, staring death in the eyes.

Someone stood in his way again. His sword was raised, and in an instant, that person could be dead and he could continue with the mission the fire had given to him.

There was a single, incoherent thought trying to push its way through the flames. He tried to ignore it, but it was persistent, and terribly strong. It nudged past the walls he had built up, against his mind and his will, and most of all, his memories. Stubbornly he tried to reinforce them, to keep it from coming through, but it broke loose from even those.

It was an image, or an memory. A woman, dark-haired and dark-eyed, her eyes closed in sleep. Or death. It must have been death; there was blood running down her face. The image, instead of calming his soul, fed the flames and made them stronger, more fierce than before. Somehow he knew that this man, cowering behind the single remaining obstacle, was the reason for that blood, for that pain. That was why he had to die.

Suddenly, as if summoned by his plans, another image surfaced through. For when he thought of one, the other always followed.

A child, a young girl, smiled demurely at him. Her eyes were dark, as dark as those of the other woman, whose image had fed the fire and helped build all resistance.

'Her eyes should be violet, shouldn't they?' He thought, then. 'Not so dark, but bright, and happy. Why isn't she happy?'

The darkness and the flaming anger faded, and fled to the corners of his mind in the silhouette of his new vision. What he was doing... wouldn't make her happy.

He released the collar of the man before him and stepped back, one hand on his head. The shattering pressure was still there, and the memory of his killing rage lingered, but when he raised his head to look at the boy, there was emotion and intelligence in his golden eyes. "Shinzo?" he whispered, voice haggard. "What... what just...?"

Shinzo studied him, less afraid than before, still standing defensively in front of his father. "Are you... all right? In control, now?"

Kenshin hated the way the question sounded, but he managed a nod. "I... I'm sorry. I usually don't- that's never happened to me before. I just felt so..." '... so angry...'

Shinzo grimaced. "And I hope you never do again. You really don't know how terrifying that was."

Kuroi suddenly stood, eyes wild and frantic. "Battousai!" he hissed, brushing one hand over his mouth to hide his chattering teeth, "This won't go unnoticed! I'll get the police — you'll never escape this place! They'll hunt you down, they'll take your daughter... this is your punishment for attacking me! You should have-"

The three turned, as another figure approached. Kuroi brightened, a fiercely triumphant grin on his face. "Ah, Chief! Better late than never, I suppose."

The police chief eyed him scornfully, flanked by several other officers. "Don't be so confident, Mr. High-Ranking Official. I'm here to arrest you."

Footsteps approached the officer from behind, and Heiji stepped up beside him. Hikari came only a moment later. Heiji sent the man a friendly wave, a large grin plastered on his face. "Oi, Kuroi-san!" He crowed. "We told him about all the interesting stuff you've been doing — you know, drug smuggling, funding for illegal acts... oh, and of course, all those armed men you've employed. Swords have been banned, remember?" He sent a quick wink in Kenshin's direction, as Hikari elbowed him sharply. Kenshin suddenly felt uneasy, though his body blocked his sword from view.

"Now wait just a minute!" Kuroi objected, as two of the officers came forward to arrest him. "What proof do you have of his claims? I will not allow this!"

The chief reached lazily into his uniform, then pulled a sheet of paper from his jacket. He held it up for them all to see. "This is a receipt, taken from your home, stating several of your business transactions with these men. It seems you've been very busy, Kuroi-san. There's more where this came from."

The officer smirked. "Certainly not. But your son was more than happy to provide the first document. The rest came when we earned a warrant to search your mansion. There are no doubts regarding your guilt, so it's best if you come quietly."

Kuroi stared at his son, utterly flummoxed. Shinzo himself didn't look happy at all. "Shi-Shinzo...? You betrayed me!"

Shinzo looked down, stubborn and miserable. "Well, you weren't making my life any easier!" He retorted. "You know as well as I do that we didn't need to do anything illegal. We had enough money already. You were just being greedy, and it was tearing the family apart! I had to do something!"

"Well, you certainly did," Kuroi growled. "And you even joined with Battousai! If we had set the deal I've been working on, we would have been finished! It would be all over! But now-"

"It was never really going to end, was it, Father?" Shinzo interrupted, shaking his head. "You always claimed that we would soon be done with them, and it never happened. I just... I wanted you out before the yakuza killed you."

"They were planning to!" The boy retaliated. "Your own men were never led by you. They only let you think so."

"Battousai told you this?" the official offered suspiciously. Shinzo faltered. "Just as I thought. You've been tricked, boy, and now you've lost everything. I never want to see your face again."

Shinzo winced, recoiling, as the policemen took his father away. He fell to his knees in the dirt, looking as if his entire world had crumbled around him. Heiji glanced at Hikari, who stared back at him, just as helpless, and the man gave her a gentle nudge towards her own father, who stood motionless in the yard, his back turned. The sword was still drawn, even in front of the policemen who swarmed around, arresting the fallen men, and when she saw that she rushed over, tugging on his hand, whispering. "Tousan, the sakabatou! We have to go! Heiji-sensei says he'll meet us back at the store later. But... come on!"

Slowly, he tore his gaze from the sky, or whatever it was he had been staring at, and she was startled by his bleak gaze, and by the paleness of his eyes. 'I've never seen them so flat,' she shivered, her hands loosening in his.

Suddenly his grip tightened, and he held onto her as if she was a lifeline. Seeing her worry, though, he turned away, and sheathed the sword. "You're right, ume-chan," he murmured, his voice quiet and somber, "Let's get out of here."

Tugging gently on her hand, he turned her towards the road, and together they returned to their temporary housing, without looking back for even a moment.

Kenshin stared into the eyes of his reflection, desperation and fear shining clearly in their depths. The shade had remained the same, even after his return to the shop with Hikari, even after he had kissed his daughter goodnight and sent her to bed. He had frightened her, and he would hate himself for a long time because of that fact. His eyes had frightened her.

'But they are supposed to be violet. This colour does not belong in my eyes. Not anymore.'

He closed his eyes, blocking out the hated amber pupils, and pressed his forehead against the mirror that hung on a wall in Heiji's store. The glass was cold and impassionate, and the wooden frame creaked slightly under his skin. His fists clenched in frustration; why wouldn't they fade? Why wouldn't they return to normal, as they always did? He resisted the urge to smash the mirror, despite what his heart demanded of him, knowing that it would both wake Hikari and force himself to be under greater debt to Heiji, something he certainly could ill afford. His hands twitched at his side, one lingering near the hilt of his sword. The earlier, overwhelming emotions of that night were fresh in his mind; fresh, and awake, and so very terrifying.

'... blood... there would be blood on my hands again... kami, I couldn't stand to have her hate me...'

Kenshin whirled, fingers still perilously close to the sword, his eyes wild and protective. Heiji stood at the door, hands held up, watching him cautiously. Slowly, Kenshin relaxed, shaking his head to brush away his brief panic. "Heiji-dono," he greeted, "Has everything gone well?"

Heiji managed a nod, lowering his hands. "Yes. The police have taken care of everything, and Kuroi is in jail. They'll be able to hold him until he has a trial, but it won't go well for him, especially with Shinzo's testimony and the documents they found. He'll be confined for a good while."

Heiji shrugged, walking towards the back to enter his housing section. "No idea. He's part of the government, however twisted he is, and that means he has certain immunities. If it was my word against his, we'd be the ones napping in jail right now. I don't know how you managed to convince Shinzo to join with us against his father, but it's all thanks to you that we managed to succeed." There was a deep gratefulness in the man's voice.

Kenshin shook his head with a soft sigh. "Iie. Shinzo chose on his own. I merely helped to open his eyes to what his father was doing. I had no right... to ask him to betray his father."

"It was the father who betrayed him first," Heiji growled, clapping a hand on the wanderer's shoulder. "Don't berate yourself for setting him free. It was probably the first choice he's been given in a long time."

Kenshin brushed him off, recalling his own words to the boy. "That may be so... but it still doesn't feel right. What of the yakuza?" He quickly changed the subject before Heiji could continue his point.

"Nearly all of them were arrested. A few managed to escape," Heiji looked disgusted, "Including Masaki and Kage."

"Surely they won't escape so easily now that the police can control the situation."

"Well, you know how it usually goes," Heiji grimaced. "The government and the police will tolerate the yakuza so long as they keep themselves moderately behaved and legal. But this group has been so badly exposed that there's no getting loose. If they can take down a government member, a local gang will definitely go down with him. I have a feeling that they won't have any place to run now that Kuroi is out of commission."

"I thought you said that the police were practically allies to them," Kenshin said dryly.

Heiji chuckled, waving a hand. "I said that because they never do anything to stop the gang. It was also a good way to get you to help me, and it worked right?" The swordsman snorted and turned away. "Hey, don't be angry."

However, Kenshin's eyes were on the mirror again, and his thoughts were far from angry. He watched his reflection again, fingers tracing across the glass. "Oh, love," he murmured, half to himself, "What's happened to me?"

Heiji pursed his lips, unable to respond. He hovered near the door, wondering if he should leave the man to his thoughts. Kenshin seemed lost to the world.

In a way, he was. The cool amber gaze watched him, an accusing glare that bore into his soul and seared his heart a million times over. The eyes spoke to him, telling him exactly what needed to be done. He heard, and understood, and though part of him wanted to ignore it and return to his room to rest — surely they would be normal in the morning — he knew that it would never truly go away until he finished it. If anything, the memories would stay with him.

He didn't want that. He wanted to move on, to forget. To remember, with a smile and not tears.

Carefully, almost reverently, he slid the sakabatou from his belt, then held it out in front of him, hilt first, in Heiji's direction. "Can I trust you with this for one night?"

Heiji's eyes widened in surprise, and he took the sword after only a moment's hesitation. "May I ask why? Hikari told me that you always wear it."

Kenshin turned towards the door, and left the store without looking back. "Where I'm going, wearing that sword will put me behind bars."

He didn't stop to see Heiji's growing astonishment, instead stepping into the shadows of the streets, and as they enveloped him, they were almost welcoming.

Kuroi sulked in his jail cell. He didn't like to admit it, as intolerable as it was, but he knew it was true. Equally intolerable was that he was in the cell in the first place, despite what he had demanded of the guards who had taken him away.

'As soon as I'm out of here, those men will lose their jobs... if not their heads... for this indignity I've suffered.'

Although he was loathe to say it out loud, he was also rather lonely. He almost regretted his words to his son; at least the boy would have come with him to the police station. But Shinzo was a different person now, a traitor. He was worthless to the world.

His wife had warned him, he remembered. "You're destroying him," she had hissed, her voice defiantly angry. "You're destroying my son."

"I didn't ask him to join in my enterprises," he had retorted, easily brushing her comments aside. Why should the woman's arguments matter? They were men — well, Shinzo was close enough — and had made their own decisions.

His wife had not been convinced. "He joined simply because you never ask! He is your son, and you ignore him at every chance! It's not wonder he follows you to that terrible place... I'm telling you now, if you do not start paying attention, that boy is going to get himself killed!" Her eyes had softened, when she had said that. He remembered. "He would die for you, anata. Don't... kami-sama, just stop it. We don't need the money so badly... what you need is to save your son from destroying himself!"

"Enough," he had quietly ordered, and she had relented, obviously reluctant, her eyes smoldering with fresh objections. She had been trained to do so for a long time; she had some freedom, when it was allowed and appropriate, but when he spoke there was a order that had to be obeyed. She had not touched him that night. She had gone to visit her mother, and had stayed there for several days until she returned, refreshed and calm, yet still fiercely defensive of their son. He didn't like her reckless behaviour and abandonment, but he had never been fond of being alone.

Thinking of the Bakumatsu made his mind wander to Battousai, and he repressed a shiver. The man was truly insane now, there were no doubts about that. The way his eyes had glinted as he raised the sword... well, who wouldn't have been terrified?

The image of Shinzo, standing protectively above him in the line of the assassin's sword, suddenly came to mind, and he stubbornly brushed it aside. That was a child's instinct. He had still been shaking, and his voice had wavered as he called for the man to stop.

No, Battousai was no man, but a demon. Demons should be locked away, or killed as he had nearly been all those years ago.

'Damn Katsura for calling off that hunt. One more attack — just a few more samurai — and Battousai would have been dead. Then, everything would have been settled, and I would not be in this miserable situation right now...'

"I'm here to see the Meiji official who was taken into custody this evening. Is that possible?" The voice, familiar and quiet, continuing in a soothing tone that could not be contradicted, even by the guard outside the door.

"... Well, I haven't been ordered otherwise. Five minutes, but that's it. My captain will be here soon, and if he's been told no visitors, then you could get me into serious trouble. Keep it quick."

"I'll do my best." Footsteps moved towards the door, and it creaked open. Kuroi gaped, eyes wide and filled with terror, as Battousai stepped inside, the bars slamming shut at his back. The demon's eyes were slitted, a searing amber fire burning beneath half-closed lids. "Kuroi-san. I have a few questions for you."

He wanted to call for help, but no words seemed enough to describe his fear. He wanted to scream, but his throat was dry. Instead, he watched in silent horror as the assassin approached, fists clenched as if holding the killing sword he had nearly used that very night.

Battousai abruptly reminded him, stopping mere inches from his face and leaning in until he saw nothing but the eyes that had been the last sight for hundreds of men during the Bakumatsu. "I know that what you said this evening was a method of making me angry before you killed me," he murmured, his voice cool and deadly. "But what I truly wish to know is whether it was a method with truth behind it. If you were the one who planned my assassination nine years ago."

Kuroi's breath came out in short, shaking gasps, and he could not find the strength to answer. 'I have to answer... I have to lie... he'll kill me, he'll kill me...'

Battousai's eyes grew narrower still. "If you lie to me," he added, his voice as sharp as the caress of a sword, "There is nothing in the world that would stop me from harming you right now. Nothing."

Kuroi gulped, and finally his voice returned to him. "It wasn't just me!" He rasped, eyes wild and frightened like those of a cornered animal. "There were — there were others! A few of us decided it, and it wasn't even my idea! Don't kill me, please!"

Battousai shook his head, the hair as fiery as his temper flinging across his shoulder as he turned away. "Who else?"

"Not-not many! Those who knew you well... we couldn't tell them! Katsura could not know... we knew he would stop it, as well as... others..."

Kuroi's voice was so shaky as he answered that even he could barely recognize the names he listed, almost sobbing in his fear. "Don't kill me," he pleaded weakly as he finished. He was so badly consumed by his fear, he did not see the almost thoughtful look cross the Battousai's face.

"Yes, that does make sense," the demon whispered. "How many times did I risk my lives for theirs? Such a fool... for so long, I trusted them..." He turned back to the sniffling, undignified figure of the official, huddled against the back wall of his cell. "And in the end, look what they become when they face one whom they failed to kill. Who, in the end, is the real fool?"

Battousai's face twisted into a scowl. "Idiot," he muttered. "I'm not going to kill you. A warning, however. If you ever threaten my family again... remember that while I cannot kill you, there are other paths in this life. I will not tolerate another attack on those I care about. Ever."

The last word carried such finality that Kuroi, staring into the eyes of the shadow assassin, let out a soft, muffled shriek, and hid his face as if he had been burned.

Kenshin looked at the man with barely concealed disgust, and gave the door two short raps. "Finished," he called into the hallway, and waited for the guard's footsteps to bring him to the door. He sent one final glance towards the man who had ordered his death, who had caused the death of his wife and the life he had grown to love. He was surprised, then, that his gaze no longer carried contempt, but pity.

'This is what happens to a man who had lost both dignity and pride,' he thought to himself with an inward sigh, 'And all that is left is the fear of death.'

Later, as he returned to the store silently and passed by the mirror on the wall, he would discover why the guard had seemed so surprised when he left the cell.