Three Days of Blood | By : NihilEtNemo Category: Rurouni Kenshin > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 2651 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: Ruroken is not mine and makes me no money. |
TITLE:
Three Days of Blood
CHAPTER: 4/4
AUTHOR: Ankh Ascendant (
setosgirl0 / neferseti0 )
DATE: 10-12-09
FANDOM: Rurouni
Kenshin
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Rurouni Kenshin, or make any
money from it.
PAIRINGS: Saitou/Aoshi
TYPE: Action
RATING:
PG
WARNINGS: none
OCs: none
BETA: none
WORDS:
2598
SUMMARY: Aoshi gets his prize.
NOTES: This was written
(kinda) for the prompt ( http://yaoigirl.com/?p=373
) “justice”.
* * *
Three Days of
Blood
The Fourth Day – Jinsei
A vast land of skeletons stretched
out into the darkness, hills of bone that rose up toward nothingness.
Aoshi blinked once, wondering if
he were dreaming, and looked slowly down. Beneath his foot, a skull
turned, then came dislodged and rattled away down the hill,
disappearing into that same empty darkness. His hand tightened on the
sheath that held his kodachi.
"Welcome to Hell, Aoshi."
He glanced over without moving;
his hand gripped the sheath a little tighter at Saitou's voice, but
that was all.
There was no sign of the leashed
policeman Aoshi had known. He had never seen the Shinsengumi in
person, but he recognized the yellow-striped kimono he wore as the
uniform of them. Saitou looked perhaps younger, and very much alive
and healthy, but no less harsh, even given that he was smiling. It
was not a pleasant smile; he had come to believe Saitou did not know
how to have a pleasant smile.
"It's a fitting place for
people like us, isn't it?" Saitou mused. He lit a cigarette from
the butt of his previous one and flicked the remains into the valley
of bones as he started to smoke the second. The glowing ember fell
for a while and disappeared into the darkness.
"Aa," he agreed quietly.
A dead land. Decorated with the souls of their victims, he was sure,
ready to mete out whatever justice they deserved.
He glanced at himself, curious. He
was in his black shinobi garb, purple tenigui tied at his back, with
his dual kodachi, and mercifully uinjured. His left hand, whole,
passed his sheath to the other and touched his stomach, where there
was no gaping wound, and no pain of reopened scars. He was ready,
then... Ready to fight them for the rest of eternity.
Saitou was smoking again beside
him, pondering the lifeless landscape. "You said I made the
wrong decision," he said finally, his voice mellow and even
contented, drawing his attention. "I think you're wrong."
He gave him a sidelong glance,
letting his hand fall to his side again. "You died for it."
"I did," he agreed
mildly. "And dishonored my name and left all sorts of
embarrassment for the police force and Tokio, I'm sure."
"That doesn't bother you."
"No. Well, I might regret
leaving her." He took a drag on the cigarette. "But she'll
be fine. She has relatives that need heirs anyway, they'll take her
and the boys in. And here I am."
"Aa," Aoshi agreed. Here
they were. And Saitou didn't seem to mind.
"This should be
entertaining." He tossed that cigarette away after the first,
and laid his hand on his sword. "I could probably amuse myself
for an eternity hunting Shishio alone, and he's not even the greatest
evil here. There's more than enough prey for the both of us."
What, both of them? Saitou wasn't
intending on getting his revenge, then...? Aoshi turned to watch him.
"You hold no grudge?"
"At you, for killing me?"
He smiled slightly... it was more nostalgic than bloodthirsty. "Of
course not. It was fun."
"You are a strange man,
Saitou," he said quietly.
"No... I'm a wolf." His
smile turned into a grin. "But you are a strange man, finding
peace so close to the edge of violence. Maybe it's a good balance.
That strength you found there at the end... Strange, but impressive."
He didn't answer, watching Saitou
watch the fields of bones. He'd never had forgiveness from the mouth
of someone he'd killed before... He didn't know how much it meant,
coming from this man. His place of peace may have been near violence,
but Saitou's was far over the edge, drenched in blood, a delicate
balance on the tip of a sword.
Saitou looked at him. "If you
don't bear a grudge of your own, you can hunt with me... or if you
do, you can be my hunter and my prey... whichever you prefer."
He considered the offer silently,
watching Saitou. Perhaps he should have borne a grudge, for this man
had unwarrantedly disrupted and then ended his life in a quick spasm
of pain and violence, and taken his body as well as his life against
his will. Somehow, though, he didn't. Perhaps it was seeing him
satisfied and so much in his element now, or perhaps it was the fact
that in the end he had not hurt hurt others despite all his threats,
or perhaps hte fact that it had never been anything but a game to
him... or perhaps he had never held it against him at all. As Saitou
said, it had been a good fight, and had never had any real malice in
it. He did not hate him. Even when he killed him it was not for
revenge, though he would have been entitled for what he had done, but
because those were the rules of the game... Kill or be killed.
And, he reflected, they had been a
good killing team before. They worked well together, and would as
long as Saitou acknowledged that his body was not part of any stakes
again. Though, he doubted Saitou was good at respecting boundaries.
"Aa," he finally agreed.
"Good," Saitou said with
a smile. "Don't lose your edge. I expect to see you back here
again." With a movement not unlike his Gatotsu, he placed his
hand on Aoshi's head and pushed him backward into the abyss.
***
"Aoshi-sama?"
"It's no use, Misao-chan, he
can't hear you... You should go get some rest. You know that he's...
that if he does wake up again, it won't be soon..."
"No, he moved, I saw it! I
think he's coming around. Aoshi-sama, can you hear me?"
Noise... Noise, intruding on his
peaceful darkness... but it was a welcome noise, and a voice to which
he could not refuse to respond. "Aa..."
"Did you hear that?"
"It was probably just a
sound..."
He opened his eyes slowly, trying
to reacquaint himself gently with light and being alive, both things
he had not expected to experience again.
"Aoshi-sama!" Light was
suddenly replaced with dark hair, and there was a burst of exquisite
pain absolutely everywhere. Whatever breath he had was driven out by
the weight of the girl suddenly on top of him; he let out a grunt of
pain, fighting off unconsciousness that threatened again.
"Misao, get off!" She
was pulled off and he could breathe once more. He let out a cough
that made his entire body hurt again, and took a deep breath that he
could feel pulling at the barely closed second-generation scars over
his abdomen, and the suicide wound that had yet to succeed. "If
you open any of those wounds again he'll die."
So, then, he had survived after
all. He must have a guardian spirit looking over him. Or, possibly,
six...
"I'm sorry!" She sat
back, looking at him with wide blue eyes, but she looked ecstatic. He
breathed slowly and let his eyes drift closed once more, simply
experiencing being conscious. He wasn't sure yet if that was a
pleasant feeling or not... It hurt a lot more than being comatose
did. Sleeping a while longer, or perhaps drifting off into the
darkness, held a certain appeal right now...
But, he supposed he should have a
rest before he joined Saitou, and he had not come this far to give up
and take the easy path. He took a slightly deeper breath and held
firmly onto consciousness.
Pulling his eyes open again, he
blinked a couple times and forced them to focus on Misao - her eyes
were wet and she was almost crying, he saw, and clutching at her lap
to keep from flinging herself onto him again. He might have given her
a smile, if he had the energy; he had resigned himself to never
seeing her again when he closed his eyes the last time. If he smiled,
however, she would throw herself on him again, and then he might die
of her overenthusiasm. Best to keep it to himself, and pretend it was
a choice, not the alarming weakness that made changing his expression
seem like an impossible task. He would need much, much more rest and
medical attention before he was all right again...
Omasu was already at the door, and
his eyes shifted that way when he heard her yell. "Okina!
Everybody - come quick! The Okashira's awake!"
The sound of footsteps was like
thunder to his sensitive ears... when had they all lost their
training? They'd be dead running like that in enemy territory.
The other four flooded into the
room, babbling and exuding joy. He closed his eyes and let their
voices wash over him without expending the energy to pick out
individual words, relaxing when he finally saw them all. Misao,
Omasu... Okan, Shiro, Kuro, Okina... At least everyone was all
right... Saitou really had bypassed them all.
Then Okina clapped him on the
shoulder, and instantly sent fiery spikes of pain from his missing
fingers to his ear. He let out another noise of pain and wondered if
the man was going senile, or maybe if that was passive-aggressive
revenge for the wounds he'd had to endure at his hands. Either was
possible. But it had not been the pierced shoulder, the broken arm,
and had not seriously jarred any injuries that could be helped, so it
seemed suspiciously premeditated.
"Okina!" Misao attacked
him, apparently unaware of her hypocrisy. "Don't do that, you
could kill him!"
"Nonsense, he's strong, he
won't die from a pat on the shoulder!" Ah; Okina was reassuring
them, helping them to not worry with his flippant attitude. Shrewd
old man. He was grateful.
The more mature members of the
former Oniwabanshu gathered around him. "Okashira?" Okan
sounded concerned; her hand sat lightly on the back of his arm, a
comforting gesture which at least didn't cause immediate agony. "Are
you awake?"
"Aa..." Though he was on
one level regretting it right now, with the constant assaults on his
badly abused body. On another, he was sincerely glad. He opened his
eyes again, to see that everyone was gathered around, looking down at
him. He felt oddly like a body being viewed... and it didn't bother
him. It was good to see their faces again.
"How do you feel?"
"...Not dead."
No one seemed terribly surprised
at his answer; Omasu even laughed in relief, turning away from him to
hide some emotion.
He wished briefly that he could
smile at them. He was alive because of them... because he couldn't
leave them, and because they had saved his body. He should
have died, and he could not credit his will to live this time... or,
if he had a will to live, it was a will to live for them. Nothing
else in him was that strong.
"Good..." Okan smiled a
little. "Don't try to move... you're badly hurt."
He was smart enough to know that
on his own - he remembered what he had been through, and everything
from his neck to his knees seemed to be competing for what could be
in the most pain. His chest and stomach, both arms, and his legs all
screamed for his attention, but it was fading to a dull roar now that
he wasn't being touched. He was beginning to be able to pick out the
individual injuries, for the most part.
"There's some bad news,
Aoshi-sama," Shiro said, and Aoshi glanced at him. At least his
eyes moved relatively easily and without pain. "Your hand-"
"Aa," he interrupted
quietly. "I know. It won't hold a sword again." The others
looked at each other, and he painfully lifted his left hand off the
floor to look at it. It was wrapped in bandages that did not disguise
that everything between his thumb and third finger was gone... once
again, the sight threatened to make him sick, and did not want to
register in his mind. He forced himself to accept it, though, moving
the muscles and watching it respond. He could move the last two
fingers, but anything more than a twitch and the rest of his hand
screamed in pain. It was in fact the remains of his hand, pitiful as
it was. It was not an insurmountable obstacle, though. He would
adjust his style, become a one-handed fighter, and carry on.
"And your legs..."
"I will walk," he
murmured, and closed his eyes again, letting his hand settle to the
floor. He would let those wounds turn into scars alongside the scars
left by bullets, and definitely walk and fight as ever. He couldn't
allow Saitou to win, after all, and taking his ability to protect
them would be the same as having killed him.
"That's Aoshi-sama!"
Misao cheered; he braced himself as well as he could, but thankfully
she didn't hug him again. "He'll show that bastard wolf-cop!
Man, I wish we could have gotten a hold of him... Aoshi-sama, you're
so mean, you should have saved him for us!"
He wondered if they knew
everything, that he had not only been nearly killed but used for
Saitou's perverse desires as well, and how much that had to do with
her indignation. Someone must know, he knew; someone must have
cleaned and tended to him even there, and that was humbling to
realize. It was not necessarily a secret; his honor was such that he
wouldn't hide it if asked, but it wasn't something everyone needed to
know - especially her. Luckily, he didn't think any of them would
bring it up. Any of them who knew might have kept it completely to
themselves, but even if they could not, they would not have told
Misao. That was another thing to be grateful to them for. She
worshiped him as a hero, and didn't need to know that he could be
beaten like any man.
And she wanted to have had a hand
in destroying him even without knowing that; he was sure all of the
rest of them felt the same. He could see it on some of their faces,
that they agreed with Misao's sentiments. No, he would never have
allowed a rabid dog, wolf or otherwise, alone with his family. If
they had gotten a hold of Saitou, he would probably still be alive at
this moment, begging for them to kill him; it was better that he had
been put down as he had. Mercifully. A dog didn't deserve torture for
doing what was in its nature... "Saitou will be fine..." he
murmured.
"What?"
"He's going back to sleep."
A gentle hand touched his shoulder. That was his broken arm; even her
light touch was pain. Dull, though, now. "He doesn't know what
he's saying."
True that he was drifting again,
on slow waves of pain and leaden weariness that came from too little
blood in his body and too much effort put into talking, but not true
that he couldn't hear himself. Saitou would be fine... He could
entertain himself for a few years... until he could join him, and let
himself go and truly exist for the fight...
There were years until that,
though, however many years of borrowed time he had now to devote to
them. He drifted toward sleep, carried by the murmuring voices of his
Oniwaban family. A few more years of living with, for, them, as long
as they needed him...
And then, in the end, when he
could set his responsibilities aside, Saitou would be waiting for
him.
~end~
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