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Recovery: Chapter 11 - Duel by Torchlight

by Haku Baikou ::: 20.Apr.2003

A glint of metal, a blinding arc, a streak of motion backlit by flickering torchlight. The two fighters fought in silence, a lethal dance of gleaming blades. Their constantly shifting positions were hinted at in the dim torchlight, but the details were partially obscured by the rain, only to be revealed in brief flashes of lightning. Onlookers from both factions watched quietly, transfixed by the liquid movement of the combatants.

Komagata Yoshi’s skill was admirable, no doubt of it. He possessed a grace and competence not commonly seen in young men of the new Meiji Era. Evidence of his formal training was made obvious by the precision of his attacks, by the consistently clean and efficient movements. His katana traced a downward path towards Himura Kenshin’s head in a move remarkable for its speed. But it bit into empty air as it missed its mark by a fraction of a second. A jarring impact and a resounding clang of metal followed as Kenshin deflected the young officer’s swing with a precise flick of the sakabatou. The blades glanced off each other as Komagata landed gracefully from his leap.

The young man twisted at his waist and, using the momentum from the sideways motion Kenshin’s sakabatou had forced on his blade, brought his katana around for a second pass, this time aiming for the rurouni’s neck. Again, Komagata’s sword was denied its target as Kenshin deftly side-stepped, and with the saya held in his left hand, struck a glancing blow to the young man’s shoulder. Komagata hissed in surprise and spun about to face the rurouni, wariness obvious in his eyes.

The young man was good. But he was fighting Himura Kenshin. And the level of skill wasn’t even close, Megumi thought. She saw that the drastic difference in abilities was not lost on Shishio’s men either. They exchanged nervous looks among their ranks as they watched the fluid motions of the lithe rurouni. To Shishio’s men, who had never seen Ken-san in action, the speed and agility of the legendary Battousai must have been a terror to behold.

To Ken-san’s friends, however, it was terrifying for a completely different reason. They were troubled by the fact that they could actually behold anything, that they could see Kenshin’s moves at all. The rurouni’s current weakness was painfully obvious to those who knew him well. And although he retained his grace and defended more than adequately against the young officer’s swift attacks, it was all too apparent that something was terribly wrong.

Ken-san’s style of fighting was markedly subdued, almost unrecognizable without its characteristic lightning-quick charges and aerial assaults. The rurouni kept to the ground and restrained his defenses to a minimum of movement in an obvious effort to conserve strength, a strength which was flagging by the minute, apparent even to Megumi’s untrained eye.

“Komagata-dono, please listen,” said Kenshin between passes. The rurouni’s voice was strained, his face eerily pale in contrast to the darkened mass of drenched red bangs that plastered against his forehead. “Shishio Makoto was on his knees-“

“Shut up!” The young man cried as his sword shot forward, narrowly missing the rurouni’s jaw.

“He was on his knees, defeated,” continued Kenshin without relenting. “And Yumi-dono intervened. She placed herself between us, shielding Shishio with her own body.”

“I said shut up!”

Another ringing impact as the sakabatou swept aside another sideways blow. A blur of red hair glinted in the firelight, as the smaller of the two men leaped backwards to avoid being cut in two. A glimpse of an angry profile as the taller officer spun in for another round.

“Shishio took his sword and struck through Yumi-dono in an attempt to finish this unworthy one.”

“You lie!” The young man’s attacks reached new heights of fury. Ken-san visibly flinched at the impact as he defended.

“Yumi-dono died protecting her lord. Sessha cannot pretend to understand it, but she didn’t think it was a waste. She was happy in the end-“

He was interrupted by a frighteningly quick series of attacks by the younger man whose advances were fueled by a barely contained rage. Ken-san gasped as he brought his sword arm up, wincing suddenly, apparently from a sharp pain in his injured side.

“Kenshin!” Megumi heard Kaoru’s alarmed shout. Megumi spared a quick glance towards the girl. Kaoru’s eyes were riveted on the small swordsman, her hands fisted in the folds of her kimono. She looked every bit as frightened as Megumi felt.

“He’ll be all right,” Megumi whispered, partly for the girl’s sake, but more for her own peace of mind.

Megumi didn’t know how he was managing it, but Ken-san was still holding his own, despite the pain from a wound that would have left a normal man utterly incapacitated. As ever, the rurouni’s indomitable will allowed him to do the impossible, to fend off his opponent’s advances and drive the young policeman back once again, giving the red head a moment to breath, to muster his strength.

“Why won’t he attack? Why is he just defending?” asked Megumi in frustration. Was it exhaustion? Or perhaps guilt? She didn’t know, but she was truly alarmed now by Ken-san’s deteriorating condition. Indomitable will or no, Ken-san’s strength could not last indefinitely. A few more passes like the last, and his strength was bound to give.

“I’m not sure that he can,” Sanosuke answered quietly.

Megumi suppressed a shiver, hugging her arms close to herself.

The two fighters were watching each other in the grim silence. Megumi took some comfort in seeing that Ken-san wasn’t the only one affected by the fight. Komagata also seemed to be tiring, his face lacking the confidence he displayed earlier, his breathing not quite as controlled as it had been.

“Sessha never wished to fight you, Komagata-dono,” whispered the rurouni. He had dropped the tip of his saya to the ground and was leaning on it for support. “Is there no other way to resolve this?”

Komagata’s eyes were hard. “This duel will end in a death, Battousai.” His voice was low, surprisingly calm now, his earlier battle frenzy fading to a harsh determination. “Yours or mine. There is no other option.”

“There are always other options!” a new voice pierced the night air, a familiar and young feminine voice, filled with urgent concern.

A dozen rifles whipped in the direction of the newcomer, a slight figure, a blackened silhouette on the main rooftop of the courtyard. The small figure was accompanied by a larger one, cloaked and solid, twin blades held in a backward grip. The two newcomers seemed unaffected by the sight of a dozen firearms pointed their way. Kitada spared a glance upwards, frowning, trying to make out the identities of the new threat.

“Misao-dono. Aoshi.” The shock of recognition made Kenshin’s voice tremble slightly.

“What are you doing here!” Okina cried in alarm after having been silent the whole time.

How had they known? How had they made it here? Megumi had no idea, but now was not the time to ask. She was relieved though. Her knees felt weak as, for the first time in her life, her heart leapt with joy, welcoming the dark presence of the former okashira of the oniwabanshu. As much as she hated him, his presence was a most welcomed surprise.

Aoshi and Misao leaped silently down from the roof into the firelight of the courtyard. Misao was breathing heavily, fresh exertion plain on her face. However they had made it here, they must’ve traveled hard. Even Shinomori’s face was slightly flushed from running, although he still managed to look as cold and unperturbed as ever. He eyed the rifles pointed his way with a hint of disdain and then ignored them as he stepped closer to the two combatants.

“Shinomori Aoshi, this fight has nothing to do with you,” Komagata said coldly. “This is a duel strictly between myself and Battousai. You’ve no right to interfere. You will not stop me from killing him!”

“So, kill him,” said Shinomori to the young officer. “If you can.”

His green eyes flashed, and somehow, he managed to convey contempt without ever altering his expressionless face. “But afterwards, you deal with me.”

Shishio’s men stirred, shifting about uncomfortably. Some of them looked at each other with unease plain in their eyes.

“If you’re strong, you live…” continued the former okashira softly. Megumi thought she saw the man smile ever so slightly. “You won’t live.”

“Aoshi,” interrupted Kenshin. “Sessha appreciates your help. But there is no need for you to be involved with this.”

“Himura-san, I don’t know what’s going on here, but we can’t let officer Yoshi fight you like this. You’re hurt!” cried Misao indignantly, answering for the both of them.

“Arigatou, Misao-dono. But sessha can handle this,” said Kenshin to the girl, his voice not unkind.

Komagata Yoshi was staring at the former okashira, his face unreadable. He shrugged then, as if resigned to his new fate. “So. Whether I win or lose, I die. So be it. But tell me one thing, Shinomori.”

The green eyes waited silently.

“Who killed Komagata Yumi?”

The tension was nearly palpable as Yoshi and the rest of Shishio’s men waited for the answer.

Shinomori’s eyes narrowed slightly, hinting at a trace of puzzlement. He and Misao had left the Shirobeko before Yoshi’s plot had been revealed. The question must have seemed quite odd to the two oniwabanshu members.

“Shishio Makoto,” he answered.

An audible murmur rippled through the small crowd as Shishio’s men responded in shock. Aoshi Shinomori was the last person either side should trust. He had betrayed Shishio’s men just as he’d betrayed his own people. But despite his previous actions, no one could say that Shinomori had ever covered his intentions in pretty face-saving lies. For all his ruthlessness, Shinomori was still considered by all to be an honest man.

Komagata was the first to regain his composure. His lips thinned into a determined line, his eyes brilliant and cold as he dropped into a fighting stance, preparing once again to fight.

“No! Didn’t you hear him?” cried Kaoru, ignoring Kitada as his rifle swung back towards her. “Why are you doing this! Kenshin didn’t kill your sister! You don’t have to fight anymore! There’s nothing to avenge!”

Yahiko grabbed his instructor’s shoulder, keeping her from dashing madly out to the fighters.

“There’s nothing you can do! Nothing’s going to stop him now!” said the boy.

With a pained grimace, Kenshin straightened, turning to face his opponent, his attention fixed on the young man, concentration unwavering. And then the rurouni did something odd: He switched his sword to his left hand and took the saya in his right.

“Kenshin.” Kaoru’s face was white. “Oh no, Kenshin, you idiot, what are you doing….”

“What’s going on?” Megumi whispered in confusion.

Kaoru’s eyes were huge as she regarded the older woman. “I don’t think he can wield the sakabatou in his right hand anymore. He hasn’t the strength on that side.”

“So whatever he’s planning on doing,” Sano finished the thought for her, “Is going to cost him.”

“It can’t be the ougi,” said Kaoru softly in concern. “He doesn’t have the strength for it.”

“It doesn’t have to be that,” said Sano. “This isn’t Shishio or Seta Soujiro he’s fighting. He can do this, jou chan.”

But the street fighter’s voice lacked the conviction of his words, and worry tinged his sharp features as he watched his exhausted friend prepare himself to resume the fight.

“It’s the battou-jutsu stance,” Yahiko breathed, as they watched Kenshin sheath his sword and crouch low, ready for his opponent’s charge.

With a furious yell, Komagata rushed forward, his blade sweeping in a blindingly fast arc toward Kenshin’s side. The rurouni’s response was like nothing he had displayed the whole night, his movement a blur of dark blue and red. A silver flash was all that could be seen as the sakabatou, with a keening metallic whir, whipped left-handed from its saya, slashing at its target, connecting hard across the young man’s chest.

Komagata Yoshi was knocked off his feet, his katana flying from his hand. He landed with a sickening thud, the breath knocked out of him, as he lay gasping in the wet mud of the courtyard.

Kenshin’s sword completed it’s arc, just as the rurouni sank forward, unable to maintain his stance, falling onto one knee. His head was bowed, his chest heaving in ragged breaths almost as pained as those of his winded opponent. He managed to keep himself upright, barely, supporting himself with the sakabatou, its tip buried deep in the mud. His right arm maintained its hold on the saya but hung uselessly at his side.

“Ken-san,” Megumi mouthed silently, unable to scream. It was all Megumi could do to keep from going to him, to put her arms around him and support him. She thought she would go mad if this duel didn’t end soon.

“Yoshi-kun!” Kitada cried. “Are you all right?” He remained where he was, however, too disciplined to forget he was guarding the enemy.

Komagata Yoshi sat up with difficulty, clutching at the left side of his chest. “You’ve been toying with me,” the young man managed to accuse, his voice tight with pain. “All this time, Battousai, you could have beaten me. You’ve been holding back.”

Kenshin leaned heavily on his sword as he got slowly back to his feet. He stood a bit unsteadily, and Megumi was alarmed to discover the stain from his right side had grown substantially, spreading down his hakama now as far as the rurouni’s knee.

Ken-san shook his head. “Sessha wished to avoid further bloodshed. Sessha had hoped to end this peacefully.”

“Peacefully?” the younger man spat. “I don’t know the meaning of that word anymore! End this, Battousai! Finish me off now. Or by the gods, I will finish you!”

Ken-san looked at the young man a long moment, his face unreadable.

“Iya. No more,” the rurouni said softly as he turned his back on his opponent and slowly walked away.

Komagata Yoshi’s answer was a feral snarl of unadulterated rage.

And before anyone could react, he sprang to his feet. His hand reached to his belt, traced a blurred arc, and whipped a hidden knife in a glittering, shrieking whirl towards the rurouni’s head.

“Kenshiiin!” Kaoru’s terrified cry reverberated in Megumi’s ears.

Megumi’s world shattered. Time slowed. She watched in frozen horror as the deadly metal gleamed in the air, hurtling towards Ken-san with nothing to avert its path.

Kenshin didn’t move.

Didn’t so much as flinch as the blade struck, burying itself in a far wall after missing the rurouni’s head by a scant hair’s breadth.

The wind blew. And the rain fell.

But the stillness, the absolute stillness in the courtyard, was deafening.

“Kenshin!” gasped Kaoru breaking the silence, her voice ragged. The girl had fallen to her knees, eyes shut in mixed horror and relief, the fabric of her drenched kimono clutched tightly in white-knuckled hands. Next to her, Yahiko’s face was ashen, the young boy’s eyes larger than Megumi had ever seen them.

Megumi remembered to breathe again, trembled, was surprised to find herself still standing. Saw with dismay that her own fists were clenched so tightly, her fingernails had drawn blood. She looked up to see Sanosuke, struggling to contain pent fury, attention riveted on the two fighters. She touched his arm lightly, and he started violently at the contact, blinking as he looked down at her. He nodded briefly, as if to say he was all right, before turning in concern back towards Ken-san.

Kenshin had finally turned around. He stood, regarding his opponent silently.

Komagata Yoshi had once more picked up his katana. Without another word, he raised it before him and strode forward, until the point of his blade rested against the rurouni’s skin. Kenshin looked down at the blade and made no move to avoid contact. He remained where he was, standing quietly as if a knife had never been thrown. As if the sword at his chest wasn’t drawing a thin trickle of fresh blood. As if his friends weren’t going mad from the strain of holding back the near-irresistible urge to spring into action, to fight, to protect their beloved rurouni.

His face was obscured by a fall of thick red hair as dark as the blood trickling down his skin, as dark as the deep stain that already marked the side of his hakama. If his wounds were bothering him now, he gave no indication of discomfort. In fact, he gave little indication of anything at all. Just stood stock still, sword held lightly in hand. Waiting.

“You’d walk away? Just like that?” asked Komagata, breathing heavily. The rage had dissipated, apparently cast aside in the very moment he’d flung the knife. In its place was a pained confusion, an anguished bewilderment in stark contrast to the rurouni’s quiet composure.

“How could you turn your back on me, Battousai?” He shook his head. “I swore to kill you!”

The rurouni’s eyes were still lowered. “Sessha knew you would not strike.”

Yoshi’s sword wavered.

“You couldn’t have known!” The young man shook his head violently. “You couldn’t have! Even I didn’t know what I would do!”

Kenshin finally looked up. Megumi bit her lip as she saw his face. The look in his eyes was one she knew well. A barely perceptible smile tinged with sadness, a look of wary, ever-so-fragile hope.

“Komagata Yoshi would not throw away lives for personal vendetta,” said the rurouni gently. “Sessha senses that Yoshi-dono is a good man. Not one who would wantonly kill. He is a man who would sacrifice everything for his friends and loved ones. In that respect,” continued the rurouni, “He seems very much like his sister.”

Yoshi’s face paled.

“Sessha barely knew Yumi-dono, but from what sessha saw of her in the short time she guided us, she was worthy of admiration and respect. Yumi-dono was devoted to her lord to the very end, and she gave of herself completely in her efforts to save him.” The rurouni’s eyes lowered. “Sessha deeply and truly regrets her death.

“It is unfortunate that you believe your sister died in vain,” the rurouni continued. “But sessha cannot allow you to have your revenge. Vengeance will only bring about more killing. And sessha fears the first death after this unworthy one’s would be your own.

“You have heard what Aoshi said. He is not one to break his word. If sessha dies tonight, Komagata-dono will be next. Sessha does not approve of Aoshi’s decision, but sessha cannot prevent him from doing what he feels in his heart must be done.”

Komagata Yoshi backed away slowly from the rurouni, shaking his head. He resumed a fighting stance and stared at the smaller swordsman, his expression flat, inscrutable.

“You talk too much, Battousai.”

The hope in Kenshin’s eyes died.

With weary resignation, Kenshin tightened his grip on the sakabatou and matched his opponent’s stance. His movements were strained, as if what little reserves he had left had now drained completely away. He prepared once again for the younger opponent’s charge.

It never came.

Instead, Komagata Yoshi sheathed his sword.

The rurouni frowned. It was Kenshin’s turn to be confused.

“If I surrender,” Yoshi asked slowly, barely above a whisper. “If I surrender, will you let my men go?”

Amethyst eyes widened slowly in vulnerable surprise as Ken-san stared at his opponent in disbelief. The rurouni seemed afraid to hope, afraid to trust his own ears, afraid to believe that for once in his life, an opponent was agreeing to surrender. Was backing down, taking a non-violent path instead of forcing Kenshin to defeat him.

“Hai,” the rurouni whispered, voice barely audible above the sound of the rain.

As Yoshi’s men realized what was happening, they suddenly broke out in shouts of protest.

“Yoshi-kun, what are you doing?” Kitada cried. “You have him! You’ve won! He can’t last much longer.”

“That’s enough!” shouted Yoshi, instantly silencing the other men. The eyes that turned to the older warrior were tired, their fire gone. “I’ve been a fool, Kitada-san. I’ve been such a fool.”

“Iya, Yoshi-kun.”

The young man threw his sword to the ground.

“We were wrong, Kitada-san. My sister wasn’t murdered in vain. She died a worthy death. She died fulfilling a dream.” His voice shook with fatigue and other emotions Megumi couldn’t even begin to guess at.

“I believed Battousai from the beginning,” the young officer continued. “But I couldn’t let go. Someone had to suffer. Someone had to pay.”

Unexpected tears glistened in his eyes as he smiled ruefully at the old warrior. “It’s over, Kitada. Take the men and go. Leave Kyoto. Live…. Grow stronger.”

“Yoshi-kun….” Kitada said gruffly.

“Do it, Kitada-san.”

The older soldier stared at his friend for a long moment.

Megumi didn’t know what kind of relationship the two shared, but it was apparent that they’d had a long history together. It was obvious Kitada thought of the young man as a son, and his pain at being ordered to leave without him was etched plainly on his rugged face.

“If you say it’s over…then it’s over,” the old warrior said quietly. “As always, I obey.”

Kitada turned to face his comrades. “I stand by Komagata-san. We were mistaken, my friends.” His voice softened. “We’ve had enough fighting to last a lifetime. Now it’s time to go home.”

Time to go home.

They were words that could have come from anyone’s lips. From Sanosuke, or Kaoru, or any of her friends. Megumi’s perception of the enemy shifted a little then. She saw them for the first time as just ordinary men. Men who had fought for what they believed to be right. They had followed their lord, and their lord had lost, and in their pain and confusion, they’d thought to make amends by punishing one final sin against their lord’s beloved lady. But even that comfort had been taken from them. There was no final sin, no enemy to lash out against, no one to punish.

And now, Megumi could see them as they were. No longer a terrifying enemy army, but a group of tired men. She could see the fatigue in their eyes, could see that they, like herself and her friends, wanted more than anything to leave the fighting behind. They wanted nothing more than to go home.

The wind had died down, the rain a steady drizzle. She was surprised to realize that the lightning and thunder had stopped. The storm had calmed down, as if the night itself could sense what was going on in the courtyard.

Kenshin walked slowly to his opponent. With an effort, he bent down and retrieved Komagata’s fallen sword. He held it before him, presenting it to the young man.

“Sayonara…Komagata-dono.”

Komagata Yoshi looked at the rurouni, bewilderment plain on his face. “You’re letting me go? After all I’ve done to you?”

“Hai. Komagata-dono should leave with his friends, his family…. Together.”

Megumi heard Kaoru give a soft gasp beside her, and her own throat tightened and hurt as she fought threatening tears. Megumi and the rest of Ken-san’s friends knew how important those words were to the rurouni.

There was no way young Yoshi could understand the full meaning of the rurouni’s words, but they affected him powerfully all the same. The young man stared at the swordsman, stricken, about to lose control of his emotions all together. He took his sword from the rurouni and swallowed, unable to speak.

He bowed instead. Once, low and deep. And without another word, turned and walked away into the darkness.

Kitada collected the rest of their men, and the remnants of Shishio’s army followed the young policeman, slowly filing out the courtyard’s main doorway. The old warrior, the last to leave, turned one final time to regard Kenshin.

“Battousai, I thank you for sparing him,” the old man said quietly. “You will understand, however, if I hope never to see you again.”

And with that, he left. And Kenshin and his friends were left alone in the quiet darkness.

“Will Himura be all right?” asked Misao in a hushed voice, her eyes locked on the rurouni in concern.

Kenshin stood quietly, a pale bloodied figure alone in the rain, still staring at the doorway where Komagata and his men had exited. He sighed softly and, with an effort, slowly sheathed the sakabatou.

“Kenshin? Of course,” said Sanosuke quietly. “This was what he’s always hoped for. A duel that ends without bloodshed. Or, uh, too much bloodshed. I mean….” The street fighter searched in vain for the right words.

“You mean for once, his opponent backed down instead being beaten down,” said Yahiko, displaying an insight surprising for his age.

Sanosuke nodded and absently ruffled the boy’s head. “Yeah, kid. Something like that.”

The rurouni’s shoulders drooped. He swayed slightly on his feet. Megumi fought the urge to run to him, for there was another-closer to his heart-who was already headed his way.

“Kenshin!” cried Kaoru, finally free to move. She reached the rurouni and carefully (she’d learned from his battle with Saitou) placed an arm about his slender waist, steadying him.

“Kaoru-dono,” he said on an uneven breath. And strangely enough, despite his evident exhaustion, he appeared calm, almost serene. He managed a wan smile for the girl as she cupped her hand lightly around his face. “Sessha has made you wor-"

“It doesn’t matter!” she laughed weakly in relief, a desperate little sound, her eyes bright with unshed tears. Those eyes drank in the sight of the rurouni, couldn’t seem to get enough of him. “Kenshin no baka. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter….”

“Aa,” was all he said as he took her hand in his own.

Himura Kenshin closed his eyes and bowed his head, content to rest for a moment, his scarred cheek against Kaoru’s shoulder…before his legs finally folded, and he fainted dead away.