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Under the Shadow: Chapter 4 - Part 2: Fate of a Hitokiri

by Ayashi ::: 06.Sep.2003

Chika-chan stirred in her sleep.

Next minute she opened her eyes and stared at me; the next she had crawled from her warm futon into my lap.

"Onii-chan," she whispered dreamily, "You’re home."

She had mistaken me for someone I’m not, I knew, but she was warm, so cuddly that it seemed impossible to resist the temptation of acting as her ‘onii-chan’ for the while. So I held her in my lap, wrapping the blanket around me over her shoulder, and took a closer look at her face.

Chika was very fair, so to speak; literally her skin was milky pale, except for her two rosy cheeks. Her hair was a dark hazel colour, with neat fringes across her forehead. She was quite well built for a child of three years of age; rather chubby and short.

Witty, I thought, and strong in character. She would be the kind of person we need to support this new era; the kind that would be willing to believe in the people, with strong leadership, and most of all, radiant with hope when she stands up.

I could not remember the last time that I was able to properly fall asleep. Even then, with the warmth of Chika-chan in my arms; despite the safety of the remoteness of the village… the hitokiri that sleeps within me does not allow any tense muscles to relax; not a moment to let my guard down… I was tired! I was damn tired of this almost insane alertness at all times. Yet I was scared. I could not die- I had a duty to live; if only for the lives I had sacrificed. The hitokiri knew that danger still lurched in every corner.

And now, the hitokiri sensed danger.

Instinctively, I gripped the hilt of my sword.

Approaching… approaching…

My mind was clouding…

Unthinking, my ears tuned in to every sound of the night.

The sound of dripping water.

Sound of howling wind.

A yell from some distance.

Ten meters… eight… if not closer still…

Footsteps.

My vision focused on the narrow distance between the screen of the shoji and the corner of the room.

Fingers gripped tightly around the hilt, I waited with a strange mix between anxiousness and anticipation of whatever that shall happen.

A soft click.

The sword was out with a mighty swing, precisely at the point to slit a human’s throat.

The sword was held with firm accuracy in the hitokiri’s expected threatening manner, until I heard the thump of the prey falling on the ground.

The sudden sound snapped me out of my trance, my sword arm dropped by my side, and I found myself grasping heavily for air.

A pair of frightened, purple eyes came in to my clearing vision as my sense came back to me.

"Gomen-nasai! Okusan…I must have been having a nightmare, I’m so sorry to have frightened you like that. Truly sorry… I…"

At my outburst of words, she shook herself out of the fright she received and bought a finger to her lips as gesture to hush me- the children were still asleep.

Not another word was passed. The children’s mother tugged Chika back into her futon and went back to her room.

Everything seemed back into place.

Except my mind.

Running out of the house as quickly as I could remain silent, I fled pass the neighborhood, scrambling right into the river.

Frantically splashing the freezing water into my face, waking myself.

I howled into the night.

I crumbled. Into a pile under the bridge.

I had nearly done it. I had nearly taken another innocent life.

I tried to shake the thought out of my head.

Red. The colour of blood.

"Stop it! Stop it!"

Some kind of light pierced through my closed eyelids. Something smelt like it had burnt.

Tomoe, did you forget to put out the stove’s fire again?

They said he was around here somewhere…

Look at that scar on his face!

…Like lighting! Right at her throat!

The poor mother was only checking on her children…

Bloodthirsty…horrible, just horrible…

Kami-sama bless the children! Who knows what he was about to do to them!

All those murders… they say they never wake up from it…

I knew he was no good… covering it with his friendly rurouni face…

Tricked the poor mother… His son was killed in the Bakufu war…

Hitokiri…

Fire on torches.

"He’s awake!"

A child screamed.

"Baka! Run! Before he wakes… run!"

Sound of a panicking mother.

My eyes snapped open, and I sat up.

The crowd dramatically gasped and took a step back.

What was going on?

It seemed obvious; yet the lit torches dizzied my mind.

Curious women and children were hiding behind their men, who were armed either with torches or wooden rods, standing in an assortment of protective stances.

All these frightened eyes.

I tried to stand up, but was barked at.

"Don’t move!" one of the men yelled, "You might be strong, but you’re outnumbered! Don’t move… or… or we’ll attack!"

He waved his wooden rod as if to make his point. When I didn’t reply, another man continued with more confidence.

"It’s you! I knew it! I knew it as soon as you walked in to the village! Hitokiri Battousai!"

I winced at the name.

The next seconds was a blur. Maybe it was the smoke from the torches; maybe the muffled battle cries.

Maybe it was the reminder of my identity.

I only knew, as the men swung down the rods in their hands, I launched myself and aimed below the knees. In one blow three or five men fell instantly; the next I shot into the air and swung down the sakabato at the shoulders.

I felt nothing as I heard their screams.

Only one question was on my mind.

Was this what I deserved?

Maybe it was.