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Tanabata Jasmine: Chapter 12 - Twice Saved

by Nekotsuki ::: 16.Aug.2004

His first reaction, one that he would never confess to, was blind panic.

Yahiko clawed at the hands holding him aloft, feet kicking wildly beneath him. The man's fingers cut brutally into his windpipe; even if he'd had the chance to yell for help it was unlikely he would be able to manage anything beyond a hoarse croak. The hand across his mouth was large enough to engulf half his face. Lack of air caused spots to dance in his vision. Beyond them, he could see the man's eyes fastened on him. Not angry, not amused, but flat and expressionless. The sheer lack of emotion on his face was terrifying in itself – as if murdering a ten-year-old boy was merely a minor addition to his daily routine.

Yahiko could picture quite clearly what would happen next. He would suffocate to death, and this man would turn and drop him into the churning river as if he were a sack of unwanted kittens. He knew true horror, facing the idea of dying in this fashion without even a chance to fight back. His shinai was pinned between his shoulders and the wall, unreachable. This was no combat, no honourable match. He was going to die a coward's death.

Kenshin certainly wouldn't let himself die without a fight.

That thought – the image of disappointed violet eyes that flashed in his mind – brought him back to reason. The spots before his eyes were larger now, the roaring sound of the river drowning out all else. He went limp in the man's grasp, closed his eyes and tried to centre his thoughts. Then, wrapping both hands around the man's wrist, he pushed his legs away from the wall and twisted his hips sideways, planting both feet as hard as he could into the man's gut and groin. Now, there was an expression at last; surprise, and pain. The grip around his throat and mouth loosened, and he took advantage of that fact to sink his teeth viciously into the flesh between thumb and forefinger. The act elicited a yell of agony from his assailant and – mercifully – both hands snatched away from him. He fell roughly to his knees on the dirt, frame shuddering as he struggled to draw breath into his deprived lungs, arms already reaching back and drawing the shinai.

The air had never tasted so sweet.

Yahiko fought the urge to stay huddled on the ground and forced himself to his feet. A booted foot caught him in the shoulder as he rose and sent him sprawling against the wall. He took the brunt of the impact on his left arm and shifted his back to the stone once more. Only this time, his shinai was free, hilt clutched in both hands – and if his legs were still shaking from his narrow brush with asphyxiation, his arms were steady.

Pride gave him the words. "I am Myoujin Yahiko, of the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu." His voice was cracked, hoarse and painful. He swallowed. "And I challenge you."

The man regarded him silently, clutching his bleeding hand, a speculative look on his face. Then he flipped the fold of his cloak back, and drew his sword. The sakabatou was still tucked into the sash at his waist. Yahiko eyed it for a moment before he lifted his face to glare at his opponent.

The man took a step forward. "Don't be arrogant, boy."

"You're the arrogant one!" Yahiko shot back. His words were ragged, stripped to barely above a whisper. "Running around with his sword like it's yours!"

The man struck, blade a deadly arc aimed for his neck, and he ducked. The sword sheared through the ends of his hair before striking against the wall. In retaliation, Yahiko's shinai slammed into the man's ribs, drawing a grunt from his opponent. He continued moving, feet sliding across the grass as he stepped past the man and turned, bringing the shinai up again.

"Yoshida Koujiro," the man offered unexpectedly.

Yahiko blinked at him.

"My name, boy," Yoshida added. His eyes were dark with amusement as he shifted grip on his sword to hold it two-handed. "I accept your challenge."

There was mockery of a sort in those words, a quiet arrogance that set Yahiko's teeth on edge. The man was humouring him, at best, confident in his ability to win. He weighed options as they circled each other. He was smart enough to know that his shinai was not a match for Yoshida's katana at the best of times, let alone when his legs still trembled beneath him and his raw throat made breathing difficult. Not with conventional means of fighting, at any rate. He was going to have to be creative.

"Don't make me wait, boy," Yoshida growled.

Yahiko leapt for him, shinai held high.

Yoshida swung his sword sharply downward to meet his charge, anticipating an attack similar to his last. As the sword came down, however, Yahiko planted both feet and threw himself to the left out of harm's way, rather than attempting to dodge beneath the blow. He landed, twisted, and with a look of willful determination pushed upward off the ground, hands wrapped around the base of the shinai hilt, and rammed the blunt tip of the bamboo sword up into the underside of Yoshida's jaw. There was a sharp clacking sound as the man's head snapped back, and the large man reeled backward with a muffled cry.

Yahiko landed on his feet, readjusted his grip on the shinai and turned to press the advantage with a triumphant grin. The boot caught him in the stomach before he could register anything more than Yoshida's look of utter fury. He went flying as the air exploded out of him, sprawling on the grass, hand white-knuckled on his weapon. The man was fast, and already on the move, stalking across the ground towards him, lifting his sword for the killing blow. There was blood on his chin, leaking from the corners of his mouth. Yahiko wondered if he'd bitten through his tongue. It was an absent thought, almost swallowed by the pain and his body's need for air. The sword flashed down and he rolled to avoid it, lifting the shinai in an automatic attempt to block.

Yoshida's katana sliced through the shinai above the hilt and continued into the ground, missing him by a hair's breadth, leaving a splintered blade only a few inches long left in his grasp. He came up from the roll on his knees and staggered to his feet, staring at the hilt in shock.

Yoshida straightened, sword held casually, watching as Yahiko finally managed to suck air into his lungs again. The man tilted his head and spat a mouthful of blood into the grass, wiped his mouth clean and began his steady approach.

Yahiko threw the hilt at his face.

Yoshida knocked it aside with the sword.

Yahiko took advantage of the sword's movement and launched himself at the man, ramming his shoulder into Yoshida's stomach. He was too small, or Yoshida was too muscular; the swordsman's only reaction was to give a derisive snort and reach for him with his free hand, but by that time, Yahiko's thieving fingers had closed on his only other option.

He screamed as he was lifted bodily by the hair. Yoshida turned and flung him brutally into the stone wall several feet away. His head struck with a crack and he fell. The world went hazy – he was conscious of nothing more than the sound, once again, of Yoshida's approach through the grass. He heard the whistling of the sword as it descended again, and cried with the effort of lifting his arms ...

...and parried with the sheathed sakabatou.

The world faded for him, then, despite all his desperate effort to hold on to it. He registered Yoshida's surprised intake of breath, but try as he might he could no longer react. The roar of the river seemed to drown out all else. He tried to form thought, an apology to Kenshin or Kaoru for failing them, but this, too, seemed beyond him.

---------

He woke to the rushing of the river, and a slurred voice. After a moment, he recognised it as Yoshida's. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

He struggled for the words to tell the man he didn't understand. He heard the muffled voice of another person, but failed to catch the words. Someone else had arrived at the scene. Yahiko opened his eyes. The world was blurred, but he was still at the river bank, still curled on his side in the grass. The sakabatou was still clutched in his hands. If he was alive, his blackout had only been momentary.

"You're already injured," Yoshida went on. His voice was thick and distorted – apparently he had bitten through his tongue. "I won't go easy on you just because you're a woman."

Woman? Yahiko struggled to sit up, and winced at the sudden pain that shot through his head as he did so. He stared past his assailant to the woman who now challenged him. Kaoru, still dressed in her training hakama and gi, with the bokken held firmly in her hands. Her face was pale and angry. How the hell did she find me?

He found his voice. "Kaoru!"

She glanced at him briefly, her lips thinning, before turning back to Yoshida. "That's fine. Attack me however you want, but you will not touch my student again."

Iie, Kaoru! Yahiko staggered to his feet and leaned against the wall, gripping the sakabatou to his chest, and gave her a stricken look. She was still favouring the twisted ankle, geta kicked from her bandaged foot, toes pressed into the grass. Her bokken was outstretched, extended towards Yoshida. The Shinken stance: total defense, with no opportunity for attack. Kenshin had used it once before, against Hannya.

He wasn't the only one to recognise the tactic. Yoshida stared at her in bafflement. "Woman, you cannot win like this." He gave an experimental, almost gentle swipe with his katana, easily blocked by her bokken. "Your sword is made of wood. Eventually, I will destroy it. You would do better to test your luck with offense."

Kaoru said nothing. She merely watched his face.

Yoshida struck, a thrust aimed for her chest. She deflected the stroke safely over her shoulder. He drew back and thrust again, for her neck, with the same result. He snarled and swung his sword around in a vicious, backhand slash. She sprang back from the attack, wincing as the jump put strain on her ankle, and brought the bokken up to the same defensive stance.

"Attack me," Yoshida invited.

"Iie."

"You won't be able to hurt me if you don't."

"I'm not interested in hurting you," Kaoru said quietly.

Twice more, he attacked her, only to be parried. Yahiko was finally standing unaided, uncertain whether he should be getting involved. He had no idea what Kaoru was playing at. If she wasn't interested in hurting him, what was she trying to achieve?

Yoshida's next strike targeted the bokken itself, and Yahiko flinched as Kaoru's sword met the same fate as his shinai. She stepped backward again, gingerly, and raised the hilt to guard, second hand bracing against the shortened shaft much the same way she had against Kamatari. The expression of concentration on her face hadn't changed. Yahiko took a step forward, and she stopped him with a brief shake of her head.

The shrill sound of police whistles split the air.

Yahiko's head jerked up in surprise. How had they known? He caught the unguarded relief on Kaoru's face, and knew they were expected by at least one person here. It clicked, then, what she had been trying to achieve. Hampered by a twisted ankle, it was possibly the only thing she could have done to save his life.

Yoshida's face, ugly with malice as he glared at her, showed that he had reached the same conclusion. "You were buying time for the boy," he stated. His mouth twisted. "Coward."

"I'm not the one who picked a fight with a boy half his size," Kaoru retorted. Her gaze flicked to Yahiko apologetically. "If you don't want the police to arrest you, you should leave before they get here."

He snarled again, a sound full of rage, and lunged at her wildly. Yahiko yelled her name, feet already moving across the grass as he lifted the sakabatou. Kaoru spun sideways, jerking her head away from the blade as it thrust past her face, and slammed the hilt of the bokken across his fingers. Her ankle turned underneath her and she fell with a cry of pain, but the sound was nothing compared to Yoshida's howl, staring at his broken hand as the katana dropped from his grasp to stab into the dirt. He turned in rage and struck her with his other hand, hard across the face. Her head snapped backward, and he raised his fist to punch her again.

Yahiko hit him from behind, bringing the full weight of a sheathed sakabatou across the back of his knees. The man flailed, managed to catch his balance, and shoved Yahiko hard in the chest, knocking him down.

The sound of the whistles grew closer. A shout, further along the river, let them know they'd been spotted. Yoshida clutched his broken hand with the other, and glared pure hatred at Kaoru. "This isn't over," he said.

And then he was running, past Yahiko, away from pursuit, leaving the two of them sprawled in the grass at the edge of the river, and his katana still upright in the dirt.

--------

The police came past a moment later. When one stopped to check on their welfare, Kaoru shooed him onward, assuring him that the two of them would be okay.

They sat there for a while in silence, surrounded by the splintered remains of shinai and bokken. Yahiko stared at his teacher almost remorsefully. The beginnings of an impressive bruise were already discolouring her cheek.

"Tsubame found me," Kaoru said suddenly.

He blinked in astonishment. "Tsubame? What for?"

Her gaze softened, and she reached out to touch gentle fingers to his neck. The touch stung, and he pulled back with a hiss at the pain. "Gomen," she said quietly, drawing away. "Your voice sounds terrible."

He remembered the first few moments of Yoshida's attack – the panic he'd suffered – and ducked his head in embarrassment. "Kaoru ..."

"Well," Kaoru interrupted, cheerfully. "It's all your own fault, running after a man like that without thinking. You're just lucky you were so busy trying to sneak after him that you were blind to Tsubame sneaking after you. You know, sometimes your stupidity really amazes me, Yahiko-chan."

"Don't call me chan, busu!" he flared, shoving at her shoulder in retaliation. Tsubame had followed him? Which meant Tsubame had seen him get into trouble ... and gone for help ... and found Kaoru. "Why'd she follow me?"

Tsubame had followed him?

"She said you were acting funny in the market place. You worried her. I sent her on to the police." Kaoru looked reproachfully at him. "You shouldn't worry the girls that like you."

He smirked. "Were you worried about me, then?"

She glared at him. "It's a good thing you already look half dead, Yahiko." She painfully rose to her feet, and held a hand out to him. "Come on. Seriously, you do look terrible. Megumi will kill both of us."

He hesitated, and then held out the sakabatou to her. "He had Kenshin's sword."

"I know," she said softly. "I saw. Arigatou, Yahiko."

She took the sword from him, and offered her other hand, which he accepted, and she drew him to his feet. Then, sharing a shaky smile with each other, they helped each other stagger home.