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Disclaimer: The wonderfully complicated character of Himura Kenshin is the property of Watsuki-sensei and Sony *bows* I’m just a humble fanfic writer, so please don’t sue! Arigatou ^_^

Sorry for the long delay in getting this chapter out guys, October was a really busy month in RL. Let’s see, my computer crashed and I had to wipe my C drive twice and reinstall windows about four times (it turns out the hard drive in my year-old computer was physically failing. Mou!). Then I got busy doing a panel on kimono with my friend at Sugoi Con. And then I went to St. Louis for a family visit. Yare yare -_-;; So all that ate up writing time…but also this chapter was just hard to write. Figuring out the interaction of Yahiko and Battousai was trickier than I had imagined and it was an editing nightmare, going through at least twelve revisions and rewrites before both my beta-reader and I were satisfied with it -_-;; I hope this installment was worth the wait, on with the fic!

Prism - Chapter 10

A strong breeze blew across the dojo yard and Yahiko shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold. The others had long since passed through the gates but Battousai still stood there, lost in his own thoughts. Looking at his turned back Yahiko could almost see the indignant anger pouring off the older boy in ice-cold waves. Kenshin was furious; every inch of him screamed it. What Yahiko didn't understand was why. So they had gone shopping, big deal; Kenshin did that every day. Besides, Battousai didn’t even seem to like the other two all that much. You’d think he’d be happy to be rid of them. He’s always angry, no matter what.

Kenshin’s voice cut abruptly into the thick silence. “They just blew me off and left me behind. Damn that rurouni, who the hell does he think he is?” The hitokiri’s voice, though only a whisper, shook with fury.

Yahiko swallowed nervously. He didn’t understand this younger Kenshin. Eerily calm one moment, murderously furious the next, insane was the only word he could think of to describe such an erratic personality. But Kenshin wasn’t crazy, at least Yahiko had never believed him to be. Sure, he could be a little eccentric about some things, especially laundry, but that was nothing to be frightened of. The Kenshin Yahiko had come to know, while frighteningly strong in swordsmanship, was nothing like the nightmarish child’s tales of Battousai. Those stories made Kenshin out to be a bloodthirsty, temperamental, psychotic murderer, the kind of man you’d expect to have slain hundreds of men. Even faced with the very specter of Kenshin’s past, he still had a hard time matching what he knew of the legendary hitokiri to the man who did Kaoru’s laundry and played with Genzai-sensei’s grandchildren. After all, Yahiko’s very first memory of Kenshin was of his kindness; he’d caught the boy stealing his wallet and instead of handing him over to the police like anyone else would have done, he’d simply handed the money back, flashing his trademark rurouni smile. “Don’t get caught next time,” he’d said cheerfully, before being dragged off by the hair by an impatient Kaoru. A man like that wasn’t a killer…it was impossible.

Yahiko couldn’t deny the evidence of his own eyes though, and Battousai had to have come from somewhere. Kenshin split into three bodies, so the hitokiri was once part of the whole. Just how much has Kenshin really been hiding from us?

Perhaps what frightened Yahiko the most about the hitokiri was the fact that he wasn’t entirely unfamiliar; they’d all seen him before, when Kenshin had fought Saitou. Then he just up and left for Kyoto without even saying goodbye…he hurt everyone so much when he did that. Kenshin had never apologized for his insensitive behavior back then, and Yahiko was bothered by its similarity to Battousai’s actions over the past few days. It meant that the image he’d built up in his mind of a perfect, gentle and wise Kenshin wasn’t completely true, and it was hard to idolize someone who had flaws like everyone else. He supposed this situation was the perfect opportunity to find out for sure just who Kenshin was, but now that he was alone with the hitokiri he had no idea what to say to him.

He waited for some kind of acknowledgement from Battousai, but the older boy seemed oblivious to the world around him. Finally, out of desperation, he just started to talk. “Um….so what should we do now? I mean I can just go practice or something; you don’t have to talk or anything if you don’t want to. You look kind of pissed off, so I’ll just go now…”

“Wait.” The command was no more than a whisper, but Yahiko stopped immediately. Glancing back, he found himself staring into Battousai’s strange golden eyes, which were surprisingly gentle. His anger seemed to have suddenly vanished, which Yahiko found just a bit disturbing. “I’ll watch you practice if you like, since Kaoru’s not here.”

“Oh…all right.” Yahiko wanted to kick himself for sounding so dumb, but his mind was reeling in shock. He didn’t feel at all like he should. After all Kenshin, the greatest swordsman ever was going to personally supervise his practice session! He should have been giddy with excitement…but instead he was filled with dread. The idea of having Battousai as his instructor was downright frightening. He didn’t dare object though; Kenshin was still Kenshin, and in Yahiko’s mind the assassin demanded triple the respect of the rurouni. He quickly headed to the dojo to get ready.

Betrayed. I’ve been betrayed. Battousai tried and failed to keep the furious glower off his face as Yahiko ran through his forms, apparently doing his best to ensure that the older swordsman wouldn’t have a single complaint. It was an admirable effort…if completely useless.

“You must be cleaner with that down-strike Yahiko, otherwise you won’t get it up to speed. Speed is a must if you want to prevent your enemy from breaking through your attack.”

The boy gave a frustrated sigh and started another run, this time trying to swing as fast as possible. Kenshin suppressed the urge to groan in disgust as Yahiko’s form suddenly become hopelessly sloppy. He knew Kaoru would probably have his head if she caught him teaching the young samurai, even if it was just supervision. It wasn’t that she didn’t respect his expertise, quite the opposite in fact, it was just that he was not trained in Kamiya Kasshin Ryu and she didn’t want him inadvertently teaching Yahiko the wrong thing. Really though, as well as the young samurai had done in the handful of fights he’d been involved in, the child still had so much to learn. Kenshin respected Kaoru’s strength as a swordsmaster, but her fighting skills were a bit lacking, and Yahiko was not improving in that area as much as he should have been.

I can’t believe they just left me behind like that. They did it on purpose, I’m sure of it. Distracted by his thoughts, Kenshin’s frown deepened. He was so sick of this, of being constantly disregarded by his other selves. They both treated him like an errant, slow-witted child whose opinions and feelings simply didn’t matter. They talk behind my back, yell at me for being what I am, and then just take off with no explanation. They obviously feel I have no right to know what’s going on with our situation. Dammit, this is ridiculous; I used to control them both! He clenched his teeth in anger, then forced himself to remember where he was. Sighing gently, he attempted to rein in his temper, which was once again threatening to fly out of his control. Shinta told me to talk to Yahiko. How convenient that we’re now here by ourselves, with no other distractions. He wondered just what his younger self was up to. Shinta was a mysterious entity. While his nature was essentially childlike, he nevertheless carried all of Himura Kenshin’s memories inside him, and so he could be astonishingly clever and manipulative. There was no doubt in his mind that Shinta had engineered this moment between him and Yahiko, and he’d pulled it off with amazing finesse, even if it did leave the teenager feeling like he’d gotten the short end of the stick. Oh hell with it, he meant well enough I suppose. I might as well play along for now. Besides, that form is getting even worse. Turning his attention back to Yahiko he watched the boy for a moment. Figures that the only way I can talk to this kid is through the sword. Shinta, you know me far too well. “Stop!”

“Now what?” Yahiko snapped irritably; an instant later he froze, a panicked look on his face. Remembered who he was talking to, did he? Kenshin observed wryly. Yahiko’s obvious fear of him bothered him; he considered the young swordsman to be a member of his family, and he was very protective of him. I need to be careful how I handle this. Shinta was right about that; Yahiko doesn’t know me, and I don’t want to frighten him any further.

Choosing to ignore Yahiko’s moment of rudeness, Kenshin stood and walked forward, being careful to look relaxed and non-threatening. “I think you misunderstood. To gain speed the form has to be both correct and precise. One does not come before the other. That was very sloppy, Yahiko. I said clean the form up, not rush through it.”

The boy blushed bright red in embarrassment, obviously realizing his mistake. Kenshin decided to take pity on him; he would just have to show him how it was done, that was all. Turning away he walked over to the bokken rack on the far wall. Selecting one, he turned to face Yahiko. “Watch me, all right?”

Yahiko was staring at him in open amazement, his mouth hanging open slightly. Kenshin wondered why the boy seemed so surprised, but dismissed it. He adopted a stance identical to Yahiko’s and raised the bokken over his head. “Stead and clean, Yahiko.” Centering himself, he struck with full force, controlling his swing so that the tip of the bokken just touched the floor. He heard the boy gasp in awe. “Whoa…do that again.” Kenshin complied, and wondered if Yahiko was observing what he was supposed to. Not the speed of his strike, but the technique that allowed it: the way he stood, the position of his arms, his grip on the hilt. His question was answered when he looked over at the young samurai. The child’s face was determined and set, obviously understanding what he was supposed to do, and Kenshin mentally congratulated Kaoru’s training of the boy.

As the training session progressed Yahiko couldn’t conceal his astonishment at just how helpful Battousai really was. His style of teaching was very different from Kaoru’s; he was a lot more patient, for one thing. Kenshin corrected his technique with each strike, gently pushing him in the right direction with the kind of confidence and expertise that came only from years of practical experience. It was a nice change from his constant bickering with Kaoru (though he always found that quite fun), and Yahiko was surprised by how comfortable he was becoming in the hitokiri’s presence. Battousai seemed to be enjoying himself as well; Yahiko caught him almost smiling on several occasions, and his eyes were warm and gentle as he corrected the boy’s grip on the bokken’s hilt. As his fear of Battousai subsided, Yahiko’s curiosity grew to fill the void. If Battousai really was as much a part of Kenshin as the rurouni, then why was he helping him to train like this? Kenshin never instructed him. He decided it was time to find out. “Hey, thanks for all your help, Kenshin.”

Battousai shrugged and casually propped his bokken on his shoulder. “You seemed like you needed it.”

A shadow fell over Battousai’s expression. He didn’t seem surprised by the question. “No, I suppose he wouldn’t have. He is too afraid.”

Battousai’s reaction floored Yahiko; he actually laughed. It was more of an amused cough than a laugh, but nevertheless hearing that from Battousai was as unexpected as seeing Saitou give someone flowers just to be nice. Seeing Yahiko’s poleaxed expression, the hitokiri smiled slightly. “I’m flattered Yahiko, but I know you know better. Himura Kenshin is a man like any other, and he fears many things. The rurouni doesn’t teach you because he is afraid of you becoming too strong too quickly and gaining power before having the wisdom and maturity to use it.”

Yahiko’s shock was immediately replaced by indignation. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? I’m not some stupid kid!”

“Of course not,” Kenshin relented, “that’s not what I meant. You have a lot of talent Yahiko, enough to easily master Kamiya Kasshin Ryu in the next few years. It would be so easy for you to be tempted to use that strength unwisely, no matter how noble your intentions. He simply didn’t want you to repeat his mistakes.”

“What, you mean being a hitokiri and all that? That’s stupid! You know I would never kill someone with Kamiya Kasshin Ryu! There isn’t even a reason to; it’s not like there’s a war going on right now. I’m not so weak I’d take the easy way out and kill to get what I want!” The minute the words left his mouth, Yahiko knew he’d said the wrong thing.

Battousai’s almost friendly demeanor quickly vanished as he drew in a sharp breath of anger. He glared at Yahiko with dangerous eyes. “Weak?” he whispered in a voice that was far too calm. “You think I killed out of weakness? Then you truly do not understand me, Myojin Yahiko.”

The boy took a nervous step backward. “H-hey look I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sor—“

“Do you really believe that?” Battousai interrupted harshly, “That all men kill simply out of weakness of spirit?”

“No! I’m sorry, that was dumb thing to say, it’s just you made it sound as if I were too weak to control myself, that I wouldn’t know my own strength in a fight.”

“I never said I shared that opinion. It is the rurouni who feels that way. But while I understand his reasoning, I don’t completely agree with it. Whether you are weak or strong has nothing to do with murder, Yahiko. Back then, I knew my strength. That was part of the problem. I knew I was not weak, and it was that arrogance that led to my role as hitokiri.”

Yahiko bowed his head slightly. So much for my perfect mentor. I've always known he wasn't, though. It's stupid to believe otherwise; I was just being childish. Even so, I have to ask. I have to know for sure what his intentions are. “But…when you told us about the Bakumatsu, you said you killed to create a better Japan, that you wanted to help people.”

Battousai nodded, his expression dark. “My intentions were noble enough, but even though I was older than you at that time, I was still too young and naive to appreciate the power I wielded. I was so desperate to achieve my vision of a world where people could live without suffering I became blinded. I lost sight of the value of human life, and allowed myself to be used as a tool. I still suffer every day for that mistake, and though it may seem foolish to you the rurouni only wanted to spare you that kind of pain.”

Yahiko lowered his head even further so he didn’t have to meet Battousai’s unnerving gaze. “I see what you’re saying but…we’re in a time of peace. I don’t have to make those kinds of choices. It’s not the same.”

“No,” Kenshin agreed quietly. “It isn’t the same, at least not right now. But, just because we live in peace now doesn’t mean we’ll still be living happily tomorrow, or next week, or next year. War doesn’t care about the happiness of people, and governments are fragile. At any moment the Meji may break, and so I am always prepared to fight. Anyone who wishes to be strong, like you, should be prepared to defend those he cares about. I am helping you today because I can’t share in the rurouni’s blind optimism. You shouldn’t be denied the skills you may someday need to survive, and this is the first time I’ve been able teach you without his interference. Normally my opinion does not hold sway, so this was a rare opportunity.”

Yahiko was stunned by Battousai’s words. I already knew this, didn’t I? All this time Kenshin’s wanted to teach me, but because of his dream for a better world he won’t let himself. I didn’t expect Battousai to sound so…familiar. Kenshin’s said all this before, not with words, but with his actions.

Kenshin closed his eyes briefly against the conflict he saw in the boy’s face. Talk to Yahiko. He does not know you. “Do you know what I am, Yahiko?”

Yahiko blinked and raised his head, wondering if Kenshin was also a mind-reader. “No, not really I guess. I mean, it’s strange hearing Kenshin talk like this. I thought he didn’t believe that the world was a bad place.”

“Of course he does,” Battousai said with surprising gentleness. “Neither of us are fools, and we have lived in the wider world too long to believe otherwise. Life is cruel, people are cruel…but the rurouni wants things to be different. It was that wish that created me in the first place.”

Kenshin tilted his head slightly to the side, his expression almost curious. “Tell me something, Yahiko. When you look at the Kenshin you know, do you see a killer? Do you see a man who has known nothing but the world’s darkness for most of his life?”

“That’s because he is no killer, Yahiko. The Kenshin you see every day is no lie; he is the closest thing left to the man who existed before the Bakumatsu. He still has hope for the world, even after everything he’s seen and done. It is not in his nature to harm others but, because he wanted to help others so badly, and because the men he looked up to told him that murder was the only way he could make a difference, he was willing to make a sacrifice. He was willing to learn another way to think…to create a different belief within himself. The rurouni is far too gentle to ever harm another person, but to do his duty he had to. So he created a shield for himself, a persona that would allow him to do what was expected of him. That shield is me.”

I knew that already. I knew that. Yahiko looked up at the hitokiri and suddenly, instead of a stranger he saw Kenshin standing before him. “So…you are Kenshin, but you’re a Kenshin who can kill?”

Yahiko frowned slightly. “But, just because you can kill doesn’t mean you will, right? You wouldn’t do anything the rurouni wouldn’t…”

Battousai sighed wearily. He figured Yahiko would ask him something like that, but he knew his answer. It hadn’t changed in fifteen years. “I have always despised killing, and I avoid it whenever I can. But there isn’t always another way out, Yahiko. Sometimes, situations arise that force a man to make a hard choice: kill to protect those he loves, or see them die in defense of a belief. If he couldn’t find another way, the rurouni would allow those precious lives to be stolen from him. I on the other hand would kill to save them.”

Wait, he can’t mean… “No,” Yahiko whispered, realizing what Battousai was implying. “You can’t do that, it would destroy him! You can’t kill Yanagi!”

“I may have no choice. Yanagi is a man who strikes because he is weak, and he will not stop until he reaches whatever insane goal he’s set for himself.”

Yahiko felt sick at the idea of Kenshin killing anyone. The rurouni had worked so hard to banish the very philosophy Battousai was now following and he was suddenly, horribly sure that if Yanagi died the rurouni would not survive. If Battousai was his shield, then in their current state there was nothing to protect Kenshin’s gentler half from the guilt of that man’s death. He’s already broken down once, at Rakuninmura, and that was when he was whole! Where was Battousai then? “You can’t,” Yahiko repeated fiercely, “you can’t! Don’t you get it? Killing Yanagi wouldn’t just hurt Kenshin, it would hurt you too! Eventually the three of you will be whole again, and then you’ll have to deal with that guy’s death the same as the rurouni! And what about Kaoru, do you think she would agree with you? Killing is wrong, you both taught me that!”

Battousai glared at him, but did not answer. Instead, he slowly and deliberately dropped into battou-juutsu stance. Yahiko’s eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

Kenshin’s voice was cold and detached. “Our session isn’t finished yet. Let’s see if you can apply what I just taught you.” He paused for a moment, then added in a slightly gentler tone, “I’ve told you what I am, Yahiko. I meant what I said when I said you were strong. When your moment as a swordsman comes and others are depending on you, I trust you to make the right decision. In this situation, can you trust me to do the same?”

Yahiko felt the conflict in his heart. I don’t want to have to trust someone who will kill…it’s the wrong answer. It wouldn’t solve anything. But…he’s still Kenshin, and he’s learned from his past mistakes. I have to believe in him. “I trust you, Kenshin.”

He struck her again, but this time she didn’t get back up. There was a long moment of silence as Yanagi hovered uncertainly over Akari’s body. Now that her screams had stopped, the part of his mind that was lost in bloodlust was confused. Slowly his rational mind took over again, forcing the crazed haze that had enveloped his brain for the past several hours to clear. Reality came crashing back and Yanagi realized that his wife wasn’t moving at all. Frantically he fumbled for her neck in the dark, and he was relieved when he felt a pulse under his fingers. “Akari, can you hear me? Akari?” He shook her gently, but only got a faint whimper of pain in response. Why had he hit her so hard? He hadn’t meant to actually knock her out, only frighten her a little. So Himura would get angry. That was the only reason.

It was then that he became fully aware of the wet blood on his hands. Akari’s blood, all over him. Oh gods…what have I done? Suddenly afraid, Yanagi tried to think of what to do but his mind refused to work properly. Guilt tore at him without mercy. I hurt her! I hurt her to get to Himura. Why did I do that? What’s wrong with me? He pressed his fingertips to his temples and moaned softly, terribly confused.

Yanagi whirled in place, still crouched, and stared up at the tall white-clothed man who now stood in the shattered doorway. He recognized him from the other night, the man who had been with Battousai. His brown eyes were now bright with anger, and as he stared past Yanagi they grew wide with shock. “Akari!”

Sano took in Akari’s state with a glance, and clenched his teeth in fury. Damn it, there’s blood all over her. Gotta make this quick. “What the hell is going on here Yanagi? You made such a fuss over Battousai taking care of your woman and now you do this?” Sano brought his fists up and slammed them together, baring his teeth at the stunned-looking man who was still kneeling on the floor. “I’m so gonna kick your ass!”

Sano waited for a response—any kind of response—but Yanagi just sat there, his gray eyes large and unfocused. He was breathing fast and he seemed to be in a state of panic. He stared at Sano uncomprehendingly, beads of sweat running down his pale face. “Yanagi! You listening?” Sano barked. Still no response. “Oi, I’m talking to you asshole! You gonna fight back or am I gonna kick your face in?”

“Which one?” Sano didn’t wait for an answer this time; he rushed in and aimed a solid punch at Yanagi’s jaw…

…which suddenly was no longer there. Sano felt the air shift behind him and he spun around immediately, bringing up a kick to nail Yanagi in the gut. As he got a look at his opponent though, he realized his mistake; he was now facing with his back to the outer wall of the hotel. Sano suddenly remembered the rapid end to Battousai and Yanagi’s fight the other night. Oh man he’s not going to… “You’re an ally of Himura’s aren’t you? You’re not the one I want, get the hell out.”

There was no way to avoid it; Sano felt the invisible wave of ki hit him hard in the chest. As his feet left the ground he was reminded sharply of his fight with the warrior monk Anji; this blow was easily just as powerful. Sano hit the window, and then he was falling in a rain of glass. Operating completely on instinct he struck out for the windowsill with both hands and just managed to grab on. He could hear shocked screams from the people on the street below as he determinedly swung a leg over the sill and tumbled ungracefully back into the room.

Yanagi stood in the doorway and watched in amazement as the street thug he’d just launched out the window quickly reappeared, bleeding slightly from the glass shards but otherwise unharmed. He’s tough. Figures he’d be one of Himura’s friends. Shouts from downstairs grabbed his attention and he could hear heavy feet coming up the stairs. Yanagi had forgotten about the lobby guards. He could count on one hand the number of physical fights he’d actually been involved in, and never once had he been one of the victors. He couldn’t handle all of them at once; his ki blast had used up a lot of energy, and there was no way he could use another one so quickly. Glancing at Akari’s prone form he made the only decision he could: he ran for it.

Heart racing in panic, Yanagi abandoned his wife and darted out the door, running down the hallway as fast as he could from the shouts of the guards. Sprinting almost blindly, he found a back stairway at the other end of the building and raced down to ground level, escaping out into the street. Cursing himself all the way for his cowardice, Yanagi vanished into the vast city of Tokyo.

Sano stood in disbelief for a moment, staring at the spot where his enemy had just been. He actually abandoned her? What the hell is going on here? If there had ever been a doubt in his mind that Shimizu Yanagi was completely nuts, there sure wasn’t any now. Unfortunately, it was Akari who had paid the price. Shit, I knew something like this was going to happen. I have to get her out of here. He walked carefully forward, painfully aware of the glass shards caught in his clothes, and knelt to pick her up.

Sano looked up at the two hulking men who had appeared in the doorway, one of whom he recognized as the lobby guard he’d passed on the way up. Oh crap. He immediately began to talk in his defense, even as he gathered Akari into his arms. “Hey I didn’t do this man, it was her husband! I came up to help her and he tried to chuck me out the window!” He nodded to his back. “Look at me! He ran off down the hallway when he heard you guys coming, if you don’t hurry he’ll get away!”

The other guard put up a hand. “Go see if there was someone else involved in this, I’ll keep an eye on this one.”

Sano glared at him. “Didn’t you see me come up? I only came in after she screamed. I told you I didn’t do this!”

The guard scowled. “That will be for the police to decide. We do not tolerate violence in this hotel, no matter the reason. I will have to take you into custody now, please put the woman down so we can send for a doctor.”

Sano straightened up, pulling Akari to his chest. “Sorry, but I can’t let you do that. Our situation is a bit hard to explain, and she can’t wait.” Sano backed towards the window. Man, Kenshin’s gonna kill me when he finds out about this.

The guard’s eyes widened in alarm as he saw where Sano was heading. “Wait, stop! You can’t escape like that!”

Sano cast him a bemused glance. “No worries buddy, I’ve been doing stuff like this since I was a kid. See ya.” Sano turned, stepped up on the sill and jumped, holding Akari tightly to his chest. Landing catlike on his feet on the street below, he took off at a dead run for Megumi’s clinic.

Yanagi raced randomly through the streets of Tokyo, not even looking where he was going. It had finally happened: he’d fallen as low as he could possibly go and allowed his obsession to harm the person he loved most in all the world. He’d just been so angryI made Japan’s most powerful swordsman into triplets. What the hell was I thinking? Like a true madman, he’d stirred the hornet’s nest with no thought of the consequences…or who would have to pay the price of his foolishness. God, I’ve become just like him. What have I done? after that meeting with Battousai, his worry for Akari turning into an awful feeling of betrayal at her hands. When she’d finally appeared as a messenger for Himura that feeling had become overwhelming, and something in him had snapped. He’d beaten his own wife, possibly even killed her, and he didn’t even understand why. For sure now Himura, or rather the three current forms of Himura, would come after him.

Yanagi shifted on his knees the dingy darkness of the bar, trying in vain to make himself more comfortable in the presence of the man sitting across from him. Politely he pushed a sake cup across the table and lifted a jug of the liquor to fill it, never once taking his eyes off his “guest”. It had taken months of work to find the swordsman sitting in front of him, and he couldn’t risk insulting him. The other man drank deeply, draining the cup quickly, and set it down to be refilled. “Ken-ki, eh? That’s an interesting request. And why would you need something like that?”

“I wish to challenge a certain man.” Yanagi explained quietly. “Himura Battousai.”

Udou Jine paused in mid-swallow and met Yanagi’s gaze, his eyes gleaming eerily though the mop of stringy gray hair that hung over his face. “Ah, the legendary hitokiri. Well I must say you’re ambitious. Battousai is not a foe for the faint of heart.”

Jine grunted. “No, but then I didn’t have to. His reputation is known far and wide. Hell, even children know his name nowadays.”

Yanagi scowled. This was not new information. “I know that already! That was the case even when I knew him.”

Jine lifted his head slightly, eyes gleaming with interest. “You’ve actually met him face to face?”

“Five years ago, in Hokkaido.” Yanagi glanced out into the bar. “I would have known him anywhere. Red hair and crossed scars, just like the stories said.”

Jine chuckled, though there was no humor in the sound. “So what, may I ask, did he do to make you hate him so much you’d associate with someone like me?”

Jine leaned back with an amused grin. “Of course hate! That is the only reason anyone ever seeks that man out. The Hitokiri Battousai is not the kind of man to have friends and allies. Making enemies is his specialty, after all. Anyone with strength like his is to be both respected and jealously admired, but only men with something to prove seek his company. Which is why I’m puzzled by you; what could you possibly hope to use against the wielder of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu? You are no swordsman; I can tell just by looking at you.”

Yanagi looked down into his untouched sake. The truth stung; he had tried and failed to learn the sword many times over the years since he’d left Hokkaido, and it was a failure he didn’t like to admit. The rogue hitokiri was certainly perceptive. “You are right, but his strength doesn’t just lie with the sword. His spirit is powerful as well, and that is where I want to surpass him. I’ve thought of nothing else since the day I met him.”

Jine raised a slender gray eyebrow at him. “Spirited young pup, aren’t you? But I can feel a strong ki from you; it has potential. So what exactly do you want, now that you have my attention?”

The assassin narrowed his eyes slightly. “The first is relatively simple; one only has to look and listen to find such a conspicuous man. But the second…my Shin no Ippo is my own, and I don’t show it to others casually. My services will not come cheap.”

Yanagi nodded. Finally, an area he was good at. “I have more than enough money to pay you, just name your fee.”

Jine laughed again, leaning forward over the table until his face was just inches from Yanagi’s. A chill ran down his spine at the crazed look in the other man’s eyes. “Who said anything about money, runt? I kill men with too much money, it’s delightfully easy. No, I want a different sort of payment.”

Jine described his terms, and Yanagi felt his stomach turn at the details of what he would have to do. He felt his resolve waver; this was not what he’d had in mind when he’s asked for Jine’s help, and as much as he desperately needed this training, he wondered just how far he was willing to go. As far as it takes. he thought darkly. His desire for strength wasn’t just a want, it was a terrible need. Akari’s love simply wasn’t enough anymore; his soul cried out for something more, and he had grown desperate over his year-long search to find a swordsman who even knew what ken-ki was, much less be able to use it. What Jine was asking was almost out of the question, and would require him sinking to record depths to achieve more power, but it wasn’t impossible. He was willing to do it. He was willing to do whatever was necessary.

Yanagi stumbled to a halt and fell to his knees beside one the small rivers that ran through Tokyo, letting out a strangled sob as memories of his association with Jine overwhelmed him. Shuddering, he buried his face in his hands. The hitokiri’s training had carried a price all right, and it was a price that was steadily driving him insane.

He’d always told himself it was worth it, that once he surpassed Battousai, in his mind the very epitome of strength and power, he could finally face Akari as a whole man. Until then, he’d promised himself, she’d be safe from his dark secrets, and from his abilities. For her, he’d maintain the face of the old Yanagi, the man she’d fallen in love with in the streets of Furano, just until he was strong enough to face her as himself. She would never know about Jine…but after he’d killed that old man in Osaka, the wall between himself and the man she knew as her husband had begun to break down. He’d started to use his abilities on her, more and more often…and now this had happened, his most terrible nightmare.

Blood…his beloved’s blood on his hands, and in his soul the blood of countless strangers. He had become what he most despised and admired. *He* was the murderer now, just like Battousai. But he still wasn’t as strong; even after everything he had sacrificed, he still hadn’t surpassed him. Dammit, this wasn’t how it was supposed to be! Akari…

Forcing himself to his feet, Yanagi again ran into the darkness, unaware of the spring rain that had begun to fall in the fading daylight.