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A clouded path

@LupinIII

Published in

Fan Fiction

· 1 Sep 2024

From: "Zlmndra" <tamago__chan@NOSPAMPLShotmail.com>

NOTE: What is posted here is copied from the files I uploaded to fanfiction.net under the nick "Zeddy". Enjoy, read and review please! :))

Author's Notes

Hello all, this is my first #FanFiction, so go easy with the flames! :P

I first started watching Rurouni Kenshin about a year ago. Althought I only managed to collect about 60 episodes, and part of the manga series, Kenshin's world has long been an area of interest for me. The conflicting nature between Kenshin's hitokiri and rurouni ways was just the start of things to come. Although the series on first inspection seemed to be put in shades of black and white, repeated viewings opened my eyes to the rather grey areas that are often glossed over and left to the reader's imagination.

We all knew Kenshin was hitokiri. But how can we even begin to comprehend the thoughts that ran though his mind, the pain he caused, and the pain he suffered.

Recently, I personally experienced a loss of sorts. Though it may be small on the scale of the world, it affected me very deeply. In this time, emotions such as anger, bitterness and hate seemed to be the only things I fed upon. At times I'd almost feel split in two; one part of me would scream and lash out at everything that touched it, while the other would weep in shame and distress at what I felt. I don't have the arrogance to say that this is anywhere near the level that Kenshin experienced, but it gave me a small taste of what may be. If Kenshin had been a real person, he'd be an inspiration to me. Hell, he still is an inspiration.

After all this rambling... the point? Well, this fic could be considered a small part of my recovery. For someone who perceived the human world to be separated from my own, I can only wonder at the games that our hearts play with us. Love. Flip the coin. Hate. And when we think it can never turn over again. Love. Switching between the two in a blinding blur, back and forth.

I'll admit for many, this will make very little sense. And to those it does make sense, I feel sorrow and can only ask these questions: is it worth it, and are we only deluding ourselves?

Anyway, so in one sense, this fic is for me. Despite that, I'd like to share it with others. After reading some fics on the net, I got bitten by the writing bug. Only problem is that I haven't written any large work since high school. While that may have not been long ago, the struggle with words has never been so intense! ;^^ While the story is somewhat twisted at the beginning, there is a decidedly waffy feel to the second part. :)

Enough with this rambling.... hope you enjoy the fic.

Regards, Zeddy

"indicates normal speech - in Japanese of course"

PS: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, it's characters, etc, yadda yadda....

A CLOUDED PATH

Rating: PG (Violence, some dark themes)

Rain spatters down on the drenched form huddled beneath the withered tree. Rivulets run down his face, streaking soft brown locks across a face almost childlike in its innocence before being lost amongst the waterlogged sky blue folds of cloth.

A passing traveller, sheltered beneath a brightly coloured janomegasa, turns to look upon the youth with concern. A moment passes, an instant in which time seems to pause, as a chill not born of the lashing rain runs through the man's veins like cold ice. Attempting to shake off the feelings of disquiet, he turns away and continues on.

Behind him, a smile is frozen on the young man's face. With eyes staring into space, one could almost believe him to be daydreaming. Yet behind the gentle grey eyes rages an intensity barely contained, that seem to make his eyes glow in the foggy air.

Smiling inanely at the crystalline droplets falling around him, Seta Soujiro turns his face to contemplate the tumultous sky. A short distance away, the road leads into a small town, shelter and warmth. Yet he feels his journey has not yet begun.

--------

"This world says the strong can live, but the weak must die." The words seemed to echo in the vaults of his mind. In his memory, the man speaks harshly, clear memories of pain and the bitterness of betrayal giving his words a razor-sharp edge.

"Shishio-san".

The bright chirping of songbirds slowly nudged him into consciousness. Squinting at the bright light, Soujiro slowly stretched muscles aching from sleeping against a tree. Sitting upright, he cast his eyes over the lightening land before him. At that moment, the sun broke the horizon, bathing him in its warmth and transforming the land into a vibrant mass of colour and sound. The chirping of birds filled the air as they flitted amongst the rustling leaves in their search for food.

Taking this in, Soujiro smiled as he knuckled the small of his back. He could swear that the knot there was as hard as the stump he slept on.

His stomach rumbled noisily as he dug a small bundle wrapped in oiled rice paper from his wrinkled clothes. , he admitted to himself. <Shishio-san wasn't poor>. Even taking his leave, no-one had questioned him as he gathered a large sum of money from their accounts. After all, he had reasoned, without the Ju Pon Gatana, there was no need for this money. Whatever funding had been allocated was now useless; Shishio-san was gone, and the surviving members of Ju Pon Gatana had gone over to the government. He could not help but smile at the irony of that. Once standing in such violent opposition, Shishio's secret army now served the Meiji government.

Another rumble from his stomach woke him to the present. Scratching at the itch that seemed to go hand in hand with sleeping under a stormy sky, he slung the small bundles over his shoulder, and set off towards the distant buildings down the road.

--------

"Fresh meats, cheapest you'll find!"

"Fish and garlic ramen!"

"Vegetables, finest available!"

The cries of vendors plying their wares filled his ears. The town bustled with people, all going about their business. Women and men shopping, chatting in the streets. Apart from the occasional policeman, he noted there was not a weapon in sight.

Mixed feelings arose within him. Disdain and pity warred with envy and wonder. He was surrounded by weakness, a flood of people who lived and died without the strength and will to fully control their own lives. Bound by the laws of others, laws so many of them barely understood, they seemed to revel in it. Even now, eyes carefully avoided the armed police who passed among them. Yet, despite their weakness...

.... they were happy.

They had joy in their lives, purpose. They were content - something he could not lay claim to, and barely understood. These people had something that he longed for. A sense of belonging, a feeling he ached for just as much as he had once ached for mastery of the blade to prove his strength.

At that moment, his stomach gurgled loudly. Conscious of the eyes turning curiously on him, Soujiro hastily swallowed and leaned away from the pots of cooking food. Pushing his way through the jostling crowd, he could feel their happiness, and pretend for a while he was as happy as they.

For a fleeting instant, something seemed to tickle the edge of his senses. A feeling of unease that quickly faded away as Soujiro ran his eyes over the crowd.

Smiling, he shrugged it aside. It was not his intent to become involved with the people of this place. A day or two, and he would move on, as he always had. But first....

His eyes searching through the signs adorning the streets, Soujiro soon found the one he sought. Increasing his pace, he deftly wove his way through the crowd towards his goal.

--------

"Irasshai!" A smiling waitress welcomed him. Long black hair tied back at the nape of her neck, she stood a full two heads above Soujiro. Soft brown eyes met his, crinkling slightly as the corners with her smile. Bathed in an aura of comfort and warmth, Soujiro was hustled to an empty table. Sighing in pleasure, he savoured the softness of the cushion beneath him. It seemed a lifetime ago he has a soft futon to sleep on, even longer since his last hot meal. Placing his order, he was amused to catch a glimpse of the woman wrinkling her nose as she hurried away.

After all, one could not spent days outdoors without developing a certain odour. The showers that were so common this time of year hardly helped, usually causing his clothing to develop a rather unpleasant aroma. Taking care that no-one was watching, Soujiro delicately sniffed one sleeve. <Strange, I could have sworn there was a small earlier...> Pushing his nose deeper into his sleeve, Soujiro sniffed again, loudly this time.

"Ahem..." The sound of a woman's voice brought him back to the present. Hastily dropping his sleeve, Soujiro leaned back as the smiling waitress placed a steaming bowl of soba before him. This time, he could have sworn he glimpsed an amused smile on her face as she arranged the food before him. As she straightened, her expression seemed innocuously blank. However, he could still feel her mirth as he raised his chopsticks. Annoyed at himself, he drew a mouthful of soba and let his gaze wander over the room.

Strangely, the restaurant seemed somewhat deserted despite the late morning rush outside. Two men sat in one corner, laughing and talking loudly, while other patrons seemed withdrawn and silent.

"The fool deserved it - he knew the price of his disloyalty to the government. Smuggling. Hah!" A tall, scar-faced man spat contemptuously on the floor. "His family are just suffering the rightful consequences of his actions." Out of the corner of his eye, Soujiro saw his waitress stiffen abruptly, almost dropping a plate of sukiyaki on the floor.

"Koichi!" The man's stockier companion slopped sake over the table. Weaving dangerously, he rose on two rather stumpy feet to wave his chopsticks over his head. "We're running low on sake here!" Dropping the chopsticks on the floor, he smirked as a young man rushed from the kitchen, pitcher in hand.

Casting his gaze between the man and the waitress, Soujiro concluded the two must be sister and brother. The same soft brown eyes, the same angular features. The only difference was their expressions. While the young man's fear was palpable, even to those without Soujiro's heightened senses, her face was almost scarlet with fury.

Fawning over the two, Koichi was all smiles, pouring generous amounts of sake and laughing rather hesitantly at their bawdy jokes. Despite the cool day, the sheen on sweat could be seen breaking out on his forehead.

"Enough! Crawl back to your kitchen." With a contemptuous flick, Koichi was dismissed. As the youth scurried off, the scarred one started to turn back to his food. However, chopsticks halfway to his mouth, he paused, glaring directly at Soujiro.

Staring unabashedly, Soujiro's mind was racing. <The strong feed off the weak>. Was that not what he had just seen? That was what Shishio-san had hammered into him since the fateful day he had taken the offered wakizashi.

Suddenly, Soujiro became aware of the man's piercing glare. Blinking in surprise, he glanced around, finally realising that they were the centre of attention. Turning his gaze back to the hostile glare, his most unassuming, polite smile came to the surface. This soon had the desired effect. Lifting one eyebrow at the stupidly grinning Soujiro, the scarred face scowled and turned away. Only then did Soujiro let the smile fade away.

Picking disinterestedly at his food, Soujiro turned the scene over in his mind. Glancing at the faces of his fellow patrons, he sensed their curiosity. Who was this empty-headed boy with such a vacuous smile? What on earth possessed him to display such an unhealthy interest in the affairs of others?

A commotion arose at the other end of the room. The two troublemakers had finished eating, and rose with loud belches. Apparently oblivious to her red faced anger, they leered at the waitress as she approached with the bill.

Soujiro gave a small start of surprise. Reaching under the table, each man pushed a katana into their belt. Ostentatiously stroking the hilt of his katana, scarface strode out of the restaurant without a word with his drunken friend in tow. Neither deigned to glance at the bill.

Deep in thought, Soujiro ignored the embarrassed silence and signalled the waitress for his bill. Reaching into his sleeve, Soujiro's hand sought his purse.

And discovered it was not there....

--------

"There's another load coming in after this one Soujiro, so stop loafing around, you don't have time for it!" Rock hard eyes bored into Soujiro's skull as he dejectedly ran a soapy cloth over a wasabe spotted dish. Beside him, a pile of dirty dishes stood, the odd fly buzzing back and forth.

Dumping another stack on top of the mountain of dishes, Chisato's glare took in the slowly growing pile of pristine white dishes beside Soujiro. "Just keep this in mind next time you think of getting a free meal in our restaurant."

As he scrubbed at a particularly stubborn spot, Soujiro reflected on the complexities of the female mind. On the way in, she had seemed like such a nice woman. Not at all like the dishwashing demon she was now. Absently, he wondered if Shishio-san had ever had such problems with Yumi.

<Not likely>, he decided. <Yumi was far nicer>.

Koichi smiled at him from near the wood-fired stove. "Don't mind her", he smiled. "She's actually being far more lenient than usual."

Watching the young man turn back to shoving wood into the stove fire, Soujiro's thoughts tumbled over in confused knots as he absently scratched at a piece of fish stubbornly glued to a dish. <This man is weak> he thought. . Even now as Koichi watched a simmering pot of noodles, Soujiro could see the softness in the way he handled the ladle, the clumsiness of motion as he stirred the soup. Turning back to the boy, Koichi was startled to find himself the subject of such intense scrutiny. Slightly uncomfortable, he shrugged his shoulders to shake off his discomfort from such intense curiosity and gave an embarrassed laugh.

"A few more minutes, and it'll be done." Koichi felt strangely at ease with this boy. Perhaps he reminded him of the innocence in the world, the purity. It helped him forget the less attractive aspects, he concluded. Such as those two of the now defunct sword-wielding police, Jinno and Oji, who had just left. Shifting his gaze back to the sweetly smiling boy before him, he wondered what had led his away from home and down the harsh roads that surrounded the town. Especially in the recent weather - he was surprised that the poor boy hadn't frozen to death already.

"I'll tell you what", Koichi said enthusiastically. "You look worn to the bone. After you've finished that lot of dishes, why don't you go out back. There's a tub there if you want a bath. I'll heat water for you. Since you've helped us out so much over the last few hours, it's the least we could do."

Drawing his hands out of the soapy dishwater, Soujiro curiously inspected then. All pink and wrinkled, they certainly didn't look like the hands of a swordsman. Looking back at Koichi, he could feel all the aches and pains of the last week. Especially that tree stump. A warm bath would be relaxing, he conceded.

"Domo arigatou, Koichi-san." He smiled as he bowed his thanks. Grasping the sodden cloth, Soujiro attacked the plates with renewed vigour, much to Koichi's amusement.

"Poor kid", he thought as he turned back to the soup. Such innocence had no place on the uncaring roads. "Where are his parents?" he wondered.

--------

Brushing down the wrinkles in the slightly faded grey kimono, Soujiro contemplated the soft grey material with delight. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, his skin didn't itch. Stretching out on the futon, he sighed contentedly at its softness, the way it caressed and soothed his wind-chapped skin with its coolness.

A nearby shoji slid back to allow Chisato to enter, a steaming bowl in tow. Smiling, she crossed the room and placed the bowl before him. Taking in his new appearance, she nodded her head in approval. Somehow, that made Soujiro feel even more nervous than the hard gaze from the kitchen. It made him feel like she was sizing him up for something.

"It suits you." Her voice was much softer now, tender even as she arranged the folds of his kimono. Sniffing the air delicately, she gave a wry smile. "At least you no longer smell like you've been dragged through a pig pen." Her hands moved back to the kimono. "Very nice... with this on, we could almost pass you off as a semi-handsome young man."

Surprising himself, Soujiro grimaced. Apparently, there was a limit to how polite she could be in one day.

Noting his discomfort, Chisato seemed to take some strange pleasure in it. Running her fingers through his hair uninvited, she smoothed back the wild tufts of his still wet hair. A satisfied murmur left her lips as she stroked the soft strands into place, before turning and leaving the room. Soujiro relaxed as the shoji slid shut. For some reason, her mothering made him distinctly uneasy.

A rumble of thunder sounded outside. The patter of rain reminded him of the coldness of the roads, a far cry away from his warm futon. Drawing the bowl towards him, Soujiro ate, listening all the while to the harsh sounds of the storm. It was a strong storm outside, even in comparison to yesterdays downpour. Listening to the sharp crack of lightning, he lay aside the empty bowl and sat back on the futon, the warm blankets wrapped around him.

Closing his eyes, Soujiro let his thoughts roam back to another stormy night so long ago.

--------

"Here... I'm loaning this to you as payment."

"Move those bundles! I want all the rice packed before lunch."

"Why don't we just kill him instead?"

"That looks expensive, you'd better give that to me."

The glinting blade of the wakizashi, dripping with blood and rainwater, seems to glow even as he drags himself out of hiding from beneath the house. A severed head lolls before him, spreading a crimson stream. Shocked faces surround the boy, sporadically highlighted in the flashes of thunder.

Soujiro grips the hilt with all his might, directing all his hatred and fear into the blade as he cuts left and right, letting the pain-filled cries fill his ears once again. Sprays of blood erupt all around him as the blade finishes its flashing dance. The colour of it drenches his clothes, even his skin. The smell fills his nostrils, the taste is acrid on his tongue.

In his memory, he stands panting, looking at his handiwork. The faces of those he called his family are frozen in pain and terror, the ground darkening with their blood. Lifting his face to the uncaring sky, Soujiro once again feels the storm of emotions slam into him. Joy at his survival. Remorse for his actions. Anger at their lack of understanding. Hatred at himself for what he has become.

A shadow coalesces from the shadows to his left. He turns, knowing who is already there. A man in bandages, a man of strength and power. A man without remorse or pity, one who will hammer into him over the forthcoming years a number of simple truths. "The strong survive, the weak must die."

"The strong live off the flesh of the weak."

Yet even as he turns, he senses something is wrong. The shadow is the wrong height, the wrong build. A slender build in place of a more muscular one. Long red hair tied back in a thick ponytail. A sweeter, more human smell instead of the sooty odour of charred flesh. A cross shaped scar marks the gently smiling face as a tender hand reaches out and touches his face.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU PROTECT ME!? WHY!?"

--------

An anguished scream filled the third night in a row, bringing Chisato and Koichi bolting from their beds. Rushing down the corridor, the two threw open the shoji to reveal a scene that shocked them still, even after the previous night.

Soujiro lay in a twisted bundle, hands clawed as he ripped the flesh from his arms in agony. Droplets of blood stained the flow as he threw back his head again, screaming in unbearable grief as he began pounding his head against the hardwood floor.

Chisato moved first, throwing herself to the ground beside Soujiro. Grasping the struggling boy, she held his close as yet another scream tore at her heart. A confusion of grief, hatred and self-loathing seemed to fill each cry, ripping the air with unbearable emotion and bringing tears of pity and hopelessness to her eyes as Soujiro continued to refuse her gentle touch. Pushing her away Soujiro grasped his head and staggered back before collapsing unconscious.

Silently, the Koichi stepped forward and lifted the comatose boy back onto the futon. Leaving the two for a moment, he quickly returned bearing a moist cloth. Pushing back Soujiro's sleeves, he began cleaning the wounds as Chisato worriedly inspected the darkening swell on the youth's head.

Finishing their ministrations, the pair quietly pulled the sheets back over Soujiro before leaving the room and sliding the shoji back into place.

Chisato, her eyes brimming with tears, looked at her brother helplessly. Finally breaking the silence, she spoke the question that had plagued them since Soujiro's arrival.

"Why?"

--------

The clatter of plates and chopsticks filled the air, along with the strong scent of fish, wasabe and human sweat. Now and again, a cloud of steam would rise from the far side of the kitchen as Koichi tossed yet another batch of noodles onto the pan or raised the lid of a boiling pot to inspect the contents. Beads of moisture ran down his face as he worked, dampening his clothes, while tangled snarls of hair plastered across his forehead lent to his dishevelled look. After almost fifteen hours working in the kitchen, exhaustion painted lines across his face and weariness filled his eyes.

Soujiro on the other hand was dead tired.

Standing wearily next to the stack of dirty dishes, Soujiro squinted at the pile with sand-filled eyes. He could have sworn that it was much smaller a minute ago. And why was that kitchen table next to it wobbling so crazily? Shaking his head to clear the woozy feeling of unreality that comes with deep fatigue, Soujiro closed his eyes against the harsh glare of the burning lantern for a moment, reflecting on the day. Running back and forth between the market, serving customers always asking for food *now*, running back the to kitchen, returning to find even more demanding faces.... Strangely, even the heated days spent on the wooden dojo floor with a katana did not seem that bad in comparison. Still.... there was a peculiar feeling to this place. At the end of the day when he collapsed into his futon, or when he found himself dozing during a brief lull in business, Soujiro could almost feel at ease with his new surroundings. Sometimes Chisato would smile at him as she clattered past with a new stack of dishes, or Koichi would laugh as he ruffled Soujiro's hair. And sometimes he would almost find himself smiling back.

Yet, most peculiar were the expressions on their faces as he rose each morning. Deathly quiet, the pair would regard his brightly smiling face and cheerful greeting for a long moment.

Chisato would always break the silence, bringing forth an uncertain smile and a gentle "Good morning" as she spooned out his morning meal. Even then, Soujiro was uncomfortably aware of the uneasy glances passing between them, and the even more disquieting looks of concern levelled at him by Chisato.

A loud crash interrupted his reverie. Startled shouts filled the adjoining dining room, followed by the heavy thump of furniture being overturned. A scream filled the air, followed by the "crack" of flesh against flesh. Peering curiously around the kitchen door, Soujiro blinked at the scene of confusion and chaos before him. Jinno stood, his back to the door, sheathed katana in one tightly clenched fist. Oji - more drunk than ever before - sagged against the doorframe, his mouth open in a startled "o" of disbelief. Even from a distance, Soujiro could see the red hand shaped swelling on his cheek. From the fuming Chisato standing barely two metres away, he could guess the source of that mark.

For a long moment, the scene seemed to freeze before him. The dripping of an overturned cup filled the silence, accompanied by the slow oozing of noodles sliding off the edge of the overturned table. Oji was trembling, torn at the edge of rage and disbelief. Hate filled eyes glaring at Chisato, then slid over to Koichi, who was standing gaping behind Soujiro, face pale with shock and fear.

Suddenly, a shrill whistle broke the moment. The sound of booted running feet come from down the road, and Soujiro saw the local police charging towards the restaurant. For a moment more, Oji glared pure murder at the trembling Koichi. Pushing their way past terrified patrons, lashing out at anyone too slow to move, the pair forced their way out and fled down the street. Feet slapped against the stony road as the police gave chase, leaving Koichi and Chisato alone in the shambles of their restaurant.

--------

Koichi regarded Soujiro with a gaze that kept slipping towards the empty sake pitcher that lay on the table between them. The smell of it stained his breath, the drink glazing his eyes slightly as he tried to forget the events of the day, much to Chisato's disapproval. The source of her outrage and vast displeasure however, sat directly opposite him.

"Not much of a drinker, eh?" He smilingly regarded the visibly drunk Soujiro, who was trying to determine exactly why he could not stand up properly. Shaking his head, Soujiro again tried to lever himself up using the table which, in his opinion, had an annoying habit of constantly moving out of reach. However, upon discovering the room would spin most annoyingly as he rose, Soujiro decided that collapsing back onto the table would be a much better option.

Chisato levelled a viper's glare from her corner of the room.

Koichi laughed, for once a cheerful despite his already spinning head. The sake had done its work, banishing the demons of the day and bringing some enjoyment back to his life. Leaning across the table, he prodded the inert Soujiro with one finger and roared with laughter as the boy rolled sideways and fell off the table.

Chisato's gaze promised to strip the hide off his back, and so Koichi carefully avoided meeting her eyes as he spoke.

"He only had two drinks." Koichi stumbled to his feet. "How was I to know he couldn't handle it?"

"He was begging off after the first half" Chisato said acidly. "It was you who pressed more of it onto him. Couldn't you tell he was only trying to be polite? And it *was* you who said that it would be most impolite if he didn't try keep up."

Koichi frowned, her accusations passing most foggily through his mind. Regarding the curled up ball on the ground and the empty pitcher on the table, he reconsidered the circumstances involved.

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" Chisato's harsh voice was at odds with the gentle way she gathered the sleeping boy up her arms.

Koichi blinked at her owlishly for a moment before deciding he did have something to do.

Rushing outside, Koichi was most violently sick, much to his sister's disgust.

---------

Suddenly awake, Soujiro sat up abruptly. Almost immediately, pain struck him between the eyes with a massive mallet. Groggily, he pushed aside the thoughts of an empty bottle. <Did I really drank that much?> Soujiro could not remember. The events seemed distant. At the moment, the only thing that concerned him was the little devil trying to create a hole in his head with a very blunt drill.

What had awoken him?

Listening intently, he heard it again as the wind drifted past his window. Arguing voices, two harsh with anger, the third shrill with fear. The third was Koichi's voice. Curiously, Soujiro stood and crossed to the shoji and slid it open. The glow of a burning lamp struck him, seeming to pierce them and drive into his brain. Wincing, he raised one hand and peered underneath.

Koichi and Chisato huddled together in the harsh light, while Oji and Jinno stood over them, drawn katana in hand. Grinning crookedly, Oji tore at Chisato's kimono, ignoring her panicked pleas. Once again, Soujiro took this all in, thoughts tumbling around, his headache all but forgotten.

"The strong devour the weak."

"Why didn't you protect me?!?!"

"I did not give you an answer..."

"Why didn't you protect me?!?!"

"... Living your life to atone for your sins."

"The flesh of the weak is the food of the strong."

This last thought seemed to reverberate through his skull. Shishio-sama's words, as he led Soujiro down some forgotten road.

"Soujiro, run!!"

The scream brought him back to his senses. Refocusing, he saw all attention fixed on him. Chisato's face was pinched with fear and concern. Oji's face twisted in hatred. Jinno stood by, smiling with amusement.

"Hello boy... did you sleep well?" Oji brought his katana up to eye level, sighting Soujiro along its gleaming length.

Blinking in the light, Soujiro nodded back in reply. "Hai!" His head bobbed as his usual smiling facade came into place. Below that.... he could feel a burning, an excitement that he had not felt in months.

One eyebrow rose. "Something funny, boy?"

Soujiro tilted his head to one side, his gaze roaming away to settle on the huddled pair.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, boy!" A feral snarl. Snapping his attention back to Oji, Soujiro took in the man's charging form. Lamplight gleamed off a razor edge as it lifted, then began its lightning descent.

To Soujiro, the images seemed to freeze in each flash of the bobbing lamp. Oji's face, twisted in a snarl of hate and anger, loomed large in his vision. Victory was beginning to suffuse his face as the katana descended towards the boy's unprotected head.

Leaning almost disinterestedly aside, Soujiro watched as the blade pass mere millimetres from his flesh. Grasping the katana hilt with both hands, he unleashed a blow with his leading foot.

A force capable of keeping Soujiro's body level with a galloping horse slammed into Oji's sternum, hurling him back. A wet crack filled the air as bone snapped under the enormous pressure, sending shards of it through shattered flesh.

Oji struck the ground with a crash. Mud sprayed as he tumbled in shock across the rain spattered earth.

Soujiro raised the katana before him, feeling the perfection in the layers of steel before him. A weapon unmatched in balance and honed to a scalpel sharp edge. A tool for conquest and destruction.

A tool for death.

Reverently, Soujiro reversed it in his grasp. Eyes closed, he slowly slid into place at his side. Holding it between finger and thumb, Soujiro exulted in the familiar calm, the pleasure of having a katana by his side.

"You think yourself a samurai, boy?" The voice, made harsh by anger, disturbed his reverie. Jinno indicated the sword held at his hip. "You think that you are even worthy of holding such an honourable weapon?" A metallic rasp filled the air as Jinno finally drew his blade. "Drop the weapon boy, and I won't cut you apart. Stay there and I'll turn you into carrion for the street mongrels. Assuming you don't cut your limbs off by yourself."

Floating in the calm void within, Soujiro slowly turned his body side on. Leaning forward, such that Jinno was barely within his view, Soujiro's hand stroked the hilt of the katana. Such smoothness, such perfection in that shining blade. One leg stood wide, the other cocked and ready.

Jinno frowned at the peculiar attitude before him. All the standard attitudes were familiar to him, yet his mind struggled to define this stance. While his mind screamed for blood, a small voice seemed to shout from within. Where had he seen this stance before?

Mentally shrugging, Jinno levelled his sword point at the boy's throat. Such inexperience, such innocence. Such stupidity, leaving his sword in a place so unreachable. Whatever luck the boy had used to brush Oji aside seemed to have run out.

Soujiro only watched his approach with detached amusement. Weakness mewled this night, in many forms.

Screaming with released fury, Jinno streaked towards Soujiro. Reaching back, he swung his katana with all his fury and might, envisioning the irritatingly smiling head exploding in a shower of blood and bone.

"This world says the strong must live..." A whisper, yet said with such sadness. For a moment, Jinno was transfixed by the gentle smile, seeing the storm of madness that raged behind the serene faade.

Lightning streaked from right to left, leaving searing pain in its wake. A spray of blood abruptly released filled the air as Jinno saw the blade return to Soujiro's side, its hunger for blood quenched.

"...but the weak must die." Soujiro raised his sad smile to the shocked man's face. Jinno stared in shock for a moment before crippling pain swept him from his feet.

Gasping in agony, Jinno watched through a haze of pain as the unknown boy ran the comatose Oji through. His mind gibbered in disbelief as he felt the warmth seem to seep from his body into the cold earth, before darkness descended.

--------

Soujiro watched life depart from the shattered corpse at his feet before glancing back at Jinno. Jinno lay exactly as he had fallen, almost severed at the waist. Fingers spasmed in their final moments, before lying still forever.

Soujiro raise his gaze to the still huddled pair, gazing in shock at the maimed corpses before him. Again and again, their unbelieving faces would look at the lifeless bodies, his emotionless face, and back. Koichi was the first to stand, waveringly followed by his sister.

"Soujiro?" Koichi took a hesitant step towards the youth. His face now hidden in shadow, Soujiro gave no reply. "Are you hurt?" Even as he asked the question, he knew the stupidity of it. He had seen the mastery in the lightning sweep of the blade. He had made both Oji and Jinno seem clumsy and incompetent by comparison. Since he knew that Oji and Jinno had been masters in their own right, Koichi's mind struggled to comprehend what had just happened.

Breaking into a stumbling run towards the boy, he threw open his arms and wept with relief.

--------

Chisato could barely contain her tears. Less than a few minutes ago, all hope had been lost. The memory of Oji's invasive hands reaching through her clothes, closing brutally on her flesh made her gorge rise. Her brother's pleas had seemed distant as Jinno's mocking laughter urged Oji on.

Suddenly, it was all over. In what seemed less than a minute, both of them lay dead at her feet. Soujiro had saved them. Her mind screamed for answers even as she watched her brother's stumbling approach.

Then Chisato felt the hair on the back rise as Soujiro's soft voice again filled the air.

--------

"While the strong may live..."

Soujiro beheld the oncoming Koichi with a confused mixture of sadness and abhorrence. The scream was in a voice of memory, demanding action. He was unaware he was repeating it aloud, even as Shishio Makoto shouted it in his mind.

Soujiro saw the expression on Koichi's face, a blend of astonishment and relief. Tears streamed down his face as he held out his hands to embrace the unmoving youth.

"THE WEAK MUST DIE!!" Soujiro dimly realised he was screaming as he swung the katana. For an instant, he saw the smile on Koichi's face turn into a look of disbelief and horror. Then the katana was on its way, cleaving through flesh and bone.

Koichi's head tumbled through the air, a grotesque ball spurting blood. Beyond the spray of red, Soujiro saw Chisato's eyes widen with terror and the shock of loss as Koichi's beheaded corpse slumped to the ground.

Chisato collapsed to the floor in disbelief, watching the blood seeping from the severed neck of her brother.

The reality of the situation suddenly struck Soujiro as he dropped the blade with a clatter. Clasping his hand to his mouth, he stared in shock at the damage he had wrought. His stomach churned with the realisation of his actions.

Lifting his gaze, Soujiro met Chisato's eyes for a final instant. Anger, hate, and pity all seemed to war within them as she locked eyes with him.

The accusations in Koichi's vacant stare were more than he could bear. Tears streaming down his face, Soujiro turned away from the grieving woman and fled into the night.

--------

Well, that's it for the first part! Warning: The next chapter is probably going to be very waffy. Feedback to: zlmndra@hotmail.com In retrospect, I hope the next chapter's going to be better than this. One can only hope! =) And by the way, if anyone wants to try proofread some of my dribble, applications would be most welcome! =) Regards, Z

--------

24/03/02 Supplementary: Ok, I think I've corrected the major errors in the piece. I can't imagine how some things slipped out in the first place. Especially the pieces of missing speech! ;^^ Argh, how embarrassing.

From: "Zlmndra" <tamago__chan@NOSPAMPLShotmail.com>

NOTE: What is posted here is copied from the files I uploaded to fanfiction.net under the nick "Zeddy". Enjoy, read and review please! :))

Author's Notes
---------------

Well, finally after two months of procrastination I knuckled down and wrote part two. Even though I initially called it a "short" fic (a one off piece), it seems that somehow Clouded Path has grown to a two part fic... with a third one under works. :\

My thanks go to StahlFaust and Natural Chaos for their input. And for accepting my drafts so long after the first chapter! And is it Natural Chaos or Saphire Chaos, I can't figure it out! Whatever! I've had to upload twice cos I can't figure it out! :\

And finally, regarding the wild ramblings that preluded the first chapter... uhm, well, not that much has changed. But then again, as one man said, "Living is an embracement of change." Can anyone name this man? ;)

On that topic: Life is Beautiful. Sometimes. Other times... well, suck it and see. ;P

Hope you like part two of Clouded Path! Read and review please folks! :))

--------

A CLOUDED PATH

Rating: PG (Violence, dark themes)

--------

The stinging rain lashes at him as he flees through the night. Rainwater floods down his face as he recalls the accusing faces left behind him. A face full of loathing shrieks in an agony of loss in his minds eye. Another face quickly replaces it. Eyes stare blankly from the severed head, while the mouth gapes open in a silent scream of shock and horror.

Finally, when his strength gives out, he slumps to the ground and struggles to regain his breath. In the distance, he can still hear someone screaming. Stumbling to his feet, the fatigued youth travels only a few more steps forward before the burning in his legs become unbearable, and he finds himself facedown on the ground once more.

As darkness takes him, Soujiro finally realizes that the screams that have been pursuing him through the entire night...

.... have been coming from his own throat.

---------

"Grandpa, are you sure he's okay?"

The voice seemed to come from a great distance as Soujiro slowly edged his way back to consciousness. The aches in his body told him that he had spent the night on yet another stump. His muscles protested as he thought about rising.

"Asou-chan, don't go so close to him! He might be dangerous."

"Don't worry, he's too young to be a bandit. Plus he looks too stupid to be one!" A girlish giggle filled his left ear and a finger poked him none too gently in the ribs. "Hey! Are you still alive?" Squinting in the bright sunlight, Soujiro twitched slightly as the finger prodded him yet again.

"Asou-chan!"

Before he knew what was happening, someone grabbed Soujiro shoulders and hauled him upright. As his eyes opened in surprise, a smiling face entered his field of vision.

Her soft brown eyes regarded him for a moment, taking in his wide-eyed gaze as their noses almost brushed together. In turn, Soujiro took in her elfin features, noting the clean smell, the way her brown hair betrayed frequent brushing.

Asou turned her nose slightly upwards as she caught the first whiff of him. Flinching as her brown locks whipped across his face, Soujiro was abruptly dumped unceremoniously back onto the ground.

"But he smells terrible!"

"Asou-chan!" The other voice laughed, much to Soujiro's disgruntlement. "Be a little more polite!" An elderly face loomed over him now. The eyes wrinkled as a smile broke out. "Ah, I see you're fine after all."

Finding himself somewhat disorientated, Soujiro carefully sat up. "So it would seem." Brushing himself down, Soujiro looked uncomprehendingly at the large tears in his clothes. Concerned now, the older man tried to help him upright.

"What happened? What brings you down this road by yourself?" Ignoring the questions and the proffered hand that came with them, Soujiro climbed to his feet, trying to smooth the holes in his garments away. Failing that, he turned his attention on the man.

Stooped over somewhat, the man carried a bundle of papers under one arm. Despite his obvious age, he moved with alacrity, stepping back slightly as Soujiro turned his gaze upon him. No calluses marked his hands, though several ink stains were plainly visible. <He doesn't do any physical work then. Ink? He works with books?>

"Hrrmph." Soujiro's study was interrupted as the man cleared his throat. "What happened? Did those bandits chase you? You look like you've been running through the night." He peered closely at Soujiro's face. "You look pretty run down." He cackled at his own terrible pun.

"Something like that." Soujiro tried to determine whether the man was merely eccentric, or slightly insane.

"Well never mind that." The old man puffed out his chest. "You're in safe hands now. "

--------

As he walked, Soujiro wrapped himself in thought. In his minds eye, Koichi's accusing gaze burned holes in him, while Chisato's horrified shriek seemed to ring eternally in his ears.

<Why do I feel this?> Soujiro kicked a stone off the road. <*What* is this feeling? Do I regret killing those two?> Jinno and Oji's hard gazes filled his mind. <Do I? I didn't know them very well... and they did try to kill me first. Am I not justified for defending myself? Why should I care? The strong live, the weak die. That is the way of the world.>

<Isn't it?>

He raised his gaze to the blue sky above. For a while, he marvelled at the purity of colour, the untroubled, almost majestic sailing by of the clouds. The sun shone down brightly, as if trying to dispel his darkest thoughts.

The question seemed to twist inside him. Koichi and Chisato. They had taken him into their home, into their lives. <It wasn't totally unpleasant, was it?>

Soujiro's mind reeled as memories of almost a week past surged back. His jaw tightened and his fists clenched. A wave of nausea spilled over him and he struggled to breathe.

A smiling face, half hidden in shadow filled his mind. A cross shaped scar revealing pain, the anguish of betrayal. Shishio-sama had told him of Himura's wife. Yet... a gentle smile, of one at peace. He lived at such odds with his previous life.

"What are you thinking, Soujiro-chan?" A pair of brown eyes glared into his, the edges turned downwards in irritation. "Why have you stopped?"

Soujiro blinked. Asou's grandfather Kenji strolled back to where Soujiro had come to a halt. "Are you all right, boy?"

Trying not to grit his teeth, Soujiro nodded, speechless as his mind turned back to its internal struggle.

--------

"You're an accountant?" Soujiro enquired. Such people were rare these days... he had been lucky Shishio had seen fit to teach him the rudiments of reading and writing as well as swordsmanship. Yet, the skills had come in useful. Writing letters were just one way of contacting the Ju Pon Gatana, while numbers were always useful when planning out a campaign.

"Yes, though I thought of giving it up a while back. But since Asou's parents passed away..." Kenji shrugged, obviously ill at ease with the subject. "We need food." He shifted the bundle of scrolls under his arm, and stretched in the morning sun. "So, where were you bound? Where can we find your family?"

Soujiro blinked in surprise. It had never occurred to him that others would assume he was travelling with an elder. Although sixteen was a fairly respectable age, in his mind at least, it was not unnatural for others to think him too young to travel alone.

"I have no family."

Soujiro walked on several more metres before realizing that Kenji had stopped walking, and was staring at him dumbfounded. He studied the silent man, tensing slightly at the expression of pain and horror on his face.

<Father... mother... family... those I called by those names.> Another set of sightless eyes, staring at him in his memory. <Slain by my hand. Regret? No. They hated me. I hated them. I was stronger and survived... they were weaker and died.>

"I'm sorry to hear that." Kenji's words brought him back, surprising and shocking him. "It seems that Asou-chan is not the only one who has had to be alone." Kenji strode past, not looking back in case pain showed on his face.

<Of course.> Soujiro hid his amusement as he regarded the passing man. <He does not know I slew them myself.> A bitter laugh sought to free itself from his throat. <What would they do if they knew the truth?>

Towards noon, Soujiro caught sight of a village in the distance. Smoke rose from the tiny chimneys, and his sharp eyes picked out movement as the residents went about their daily business. Soon they began to pass fields, with farmers busily tending their crops.

It seemed that his travelling companions were well known. Men standing ankle deep in water looked up from their rice fields to wave as they passed, sometimes calling out in greeting. Housewives too paused and acknowledged their passing.

Soujiro sensed their curiosity with a detached amusement at first. Peasants, going about their daily tasks, ignorant of the struggles for power that could suddenly end their precarious lives. In his mind, Soujiro saw Shisho Makoto once again, inspecting his newly purchased Nagasone Kotetsu. <A fine katana... to test this edge...> Blood spurted, as Shishio smirked and brought the blade towards his face for closer inspection. <How many koku was this again?> He inquired of the previous owner, now lying decapitated on the ground before him.

<Is this how it is?> The thought came unbidden. Once again he crouched on a thick branch, playing with a small tanto in his hand. Through the heavy foliage, he watched in confusion as an irate woman chased a redhead around, waving a broom in the air. <Oro? Suman de gozaru...>

Another memory immediately leapt into his mind. A stack of dishes lay before him, food spotting every surface. Chisato smiled at him, sweeping back his hair with one hand and wiping his sweating face with a cool cloth. Waking in a soft futon, without a care in the world.

"Soujiro-chan is smiling!" Asou's delighted voice came from directly behind him, making him start at her closeness. Her brown eyes regarded him playfully. Grinning impudently, she took off after Kenji, who had strode on ahead and was presently speaking to a farmer. "Come on, we're almost home!"

Scowling after her, Soujiro recalled Yumi's teasing, then Chisato's mothering. Why was it that the women he met never respected him? His thoughts darkening, he caught up with the pair and tried to ignore the impish look on Asou's face.

----------

"Soujiro, why don't you keep Asou company during her chores?" Kenji looked up from the roll of paper laid before him. Carefully laying his brush next to the ink, Kenji stretched. "Go out and see the village a bit."

Soujiro laid aside the duster he had been using. "I appreciate the hospitality you have shown me." He bowed his acquiescence. "I hope I have not been too much of a burden. I will help in any way I can, of course."

Kenji watched the boy leave somewhat sadly. <So young to be alone in this world. He cannot be happy.> He wistfully recalled the moment his daughter had given birth to his grandson. Those had been happy days, before a plague had carried the boy and his parents away, leaving him with Asou.

He had always mourned the loss of that boy. Although Asou was a wonderful child, he would always wonder what it would have been like to have a grandson. Looking at Soujiro, he could not help but imagine what his grandson would have looked like had he survived. <Perhaps that's why I keep him so close.> He smiled to himself. <What a foolish old man I am. Still, it hasn't been totally one sided. He *has* helped out with minor errands as much as possible. Besides, there's no way I would abandon a child out into the world at his age. He hasn't been a burden over the last week... perhaps Asou-chan would develop better with a sibling?>

Turning back to the paper before him, he frowned as another thought crossed his mind. <But he is always smiling. Always. Why is he always smiling? And why do his eyes always look like they are crying? What kind of past has he had?>

----------

"But you *promised*." Asou wheedled, dragging Soujiro towards the well. "I definitely remember you saying 'I'll help in any way I can'. Soooo..." She indicated the large stack of uncut firewood that lay behind the run down home. "Do your best!" She gave him a warm smile and handed him the axe.

Soujiro looked in dismay at the mountain of logs piled haphazardly around the yard. It seemed there was enough to fuel the household for an entire year. In his mind, a small army could keep themselves warm with the present supply. Sighing, he placed a log on a nearby tree stump and cut it in half.

"Very good! You're doing just fine." Asou seated herself in a shady spot under a tree.

---------

"So where were you going anyway?" Asou stared skywards, watching the little tatters of cloud passing through the gaps in the thick foliage above her.

Soujiro dropped the axe and rubbed his aching back. "Nowhere in particular." He stacked up the last of the wood and set it in a neat pile near the rear entrance of the home. Straightening, he found Asou regarding him curiously.

"What do you mean 'nowhere in particular'? What were you doing wandering around like that?"

Soujiro shrugged, unfazed by her close scrutiny. "Just wandering. I have no family, no home. I was looking for something." He looked at Asou. <Who was correct? Himura-san? Shishio-san? I have to find the answer.>

"I'm sorry about your family."

Once again, Soujiro shrugged. They had meant nothing to him anyway. Something howled deep inside, struggling to be released. Viciously, Soujiro clamped down on it, forcing it away as he had learned to do so years ago.

Silence fell as Soujiro sat, leaning back against one wall of the house. His back ached from bending over for hours. He felt distinctly cheated as he watched Asou sprawled comfortably on the ground some distance away. <Just *who's* chores were they meant to be anyway? Then again... the food, the bath, the futon... I suppose I am grateful... though she doesn't seem to acknowledge my help.>

"What did you intend to do though? You weren't going to spend *all* your life wandering, were you?" Her voice was strangely intent.

Soujiro frowned slightly at that. <How long was I going to wander? How long until I have my answer?> "I don't really know."

Asou propped her head up on her elbows and stared at him for a while. Finally, apparently reaching a conclusion, she dropped back onto her chest.

"Soujiro-chan is stupid. Now go draw some water."

---------

Soujiro staggered along the dirt path, a pole slung over his shoulders and a full bucket attached to each end. <She didn't mention the river was a full kilometre away.> he thought sourly. The pole pressed into his neck, adding to his discomfort. As he approached the home, the sound of voices reached his ears.

"It's okay, Hu-chan. Soujiro helped me with my chores today. I don't need your help this time."

"But Asou, you always rely on me to do them." A male voice this time. Soujiro groaned inwardly as he dropped the buckets next to the front door and made his way to the back. Just what he needed, a run in with Asou's infantile love life.

Reaching the rear of the building, he was not surprised to see Asou accompanied by a heavyset man, who appeared at least five years his senior. "Asou, I've drawn the water from the river. It's by the front door." His tone was somewhat cold; he disliked being jerked around like a puppet.

Asou looked at him as if he lacked any wits whatsoever. "The river? There's a well about four minutes from here." Her eyes narrowed. "And there's no way you could have travelled the distance to the river and back in just ten minutes."

Soujiro sighed inwardly. At least the exercise had done him good. <The last time I ran... Okubo.> He shook away the unpleasant memory, only to find himself looking into the glaring visage of the man along side her. Once again, he reminded himself that he had no intention of being drawn into this child's puppy love problems.

"Gomen." He bowed deeply to the stony faced man before him. "I had no intention of causing problems. I am simply staying with Asou and her grandfather for a time." Inwardly, he cursed himself as soon as the words left his mouth. <What other kind of response can it bring, he will be angry.>

As Soujiro reached the lowest point of the bow, he felt an angry stirring in the spirit before him. Dully curious, he studied the dusty ground as he sensed the other's approach. A pair of feet stopped in front of him. He could feel the heat of Hu's glare upon his neck.

"Don't think you can usurp my position with Asou-chan." The words were heavy with malice. Hu's face was a dark red, flushed in anger. Soujiro observed him dispassionately, taking in his hatred. Briefly, he studied the wide-set nostrils, flaring in fury as Hu's hands opened and closed into white knuckled fists.

"I assure you, that is not my intent." Soujiro smiled politely, if not more than a little coolly. "My path lies elsewhere, not in this village."

For a moment longer their gazes remained locked as Hu stared down at him. In return, Soujiro did little. Letting his smile grow slightly wider, and even more vacant, nothing betrayed his inner emotions. <How did I get into this in the first place. Why is this happening?> For a brief instant, he was tempted to strike the man down. He had seen so much insolence since he had left Shishio's side that Soujiro thought he had become inured to it. However, being the recipient of it... felt altogether different. Still, his heart beat slowly, calmly.

Finally satisfied he had asserted his dominance, Hu let out a grunt of sorts and roughly shouldered past Soujiro. Suppressing his irritation, Soujiro recovered his poise and carefully replaced his smile before turning back to Asou.

"He is quite the driven man." Starting back along the path, he picked up the two buckets of water. Idly, he fished out a butterfly floating on the water surface. It squirmed in his hand, wings soaked. Soujiro carefully turned it over, curiously studying the vivid colouring of its wings. <So delicate and fragile, this small life.> Weakly, the butterfly stirred its wings, struggling to spread the damp folds of its wings.

"I'm sorry about that." Asou's voice was quiet. "He is sometimes like that. Hu can be very intimidating when he tries to be." She flicked some of the grass off her clothes, pausing for a moment. "But's he a gentle person at heart."

Soujiro shrugged. It meant nothing to him. Once again, he berated himself for being drawn into this foolishness.

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it." He closed his hand.

Soujiro dropped the crushed insect to the road and ground it into the dust.

He had no time for the naive feelings of children.

---------

"Here... I'm loaning this to you as payment."

"Move those bundles! I want all the rice packed before lunch."

"Why don't we just kill him instead?"

"I did not give you an answer... the answer..."

"The strong live..."

"... living your life to atone for your sins"

"The weak shall die."

The man before him screams in agony for an instant before the next blow takes his head from his shoulders. The mouth gapes open in shock as he kicks it out from under the wooden floorboards, watching the crimson stream it leaves in its wake. The wakizashi weighs heavily in his small hands, the point dragging along the ground as he moves.

"What a womanly scream..."

The voices reach his ears as he approaches the end of the floorboards. Another sharp kick, and the head bounces around before rolling out into the open.

Screams fill the air as he steps out, swinging the blade in a short arc. A spray of crimson answers his thirst for blood, and a woman slumps to the ground, clutching her throat. Gurgling noises come from her mouth before the blade claims its second victim.

It is quickly over, and he stands panting, catching his breath. Tears flood his cheeks as horror fills him to his core. Once again, the sight leaves him nauseous. An oily feel covers him, the clinging blood soiling his soul. Raising his face towards the sky, he wishes for an even heavier storm, something that will rid him of this unbearable sensation.

Even as he lets the freezing water wash over his upturned face, he knows it cannot come to pass. The defiled feeling sinks into his bones, into his heart, making him weep at the vile nature he sees within.

A dark figure emerges from the shadows to his left. A burned smell fills his nostrils, the stench of charred flesh. The man in bandages regards him impassively for a long minute.

"Are you crying? Why are you crying"

Suddenly, the weight is too much for him to bear. It is as if all the souls he has stolen with the weapon are dragging it down, and he lets it fall to the earth. Despite the heavy rain, the blood clings the edge, refusing to be washed away. Somehow, he knows the blade will be stained forever by these deaths.

"I don't know."

---------

A gust of wind gently swirled leaves around Soujiro as he worked his way across the yard. Wielding the straw broom, he focussed on the work before him. Dirt, leaves and small stones were all whisked away by the hard bristles as Soujiro let his mind become blank.

Working like this, Soujiro found that he could easily pass hours blessedly free from inner turmoil. The last week had been spent like this. Despite his broad range of intellectual skills, Soujiro had always found menial tasks such as this the most relaxing. It was times like these, he could almost forget the events in his past.

The crunch of footsteps on gravel alerted him to the approach of others. His sharp senses picked up the most minute details. Whoever it was, they were trying to be circumspect. Careful, deliberate placing of steps, designed to make a minimum of noise. Grasping the broom tightly, Soujiro almost seemed to flicker as he darted into the small copse of trees that hid the approaching figure.

A yowl filled the air as the terrified cat streaked across the yard, hurtling into a small pile of bushes on the other side. Blinking, Soujiro grimaced. <Foolish... my senses must be becoming dull to have made that mistake.> Amused now, he cautiously approached the quivering animal. Spreading his hands wide, he made soothing noises as he reached down into the bush to pick it up. The soft fur caressed his skin as he absently stroked its back. The cat made a rumbling noise, purring in contentment. The noise made him start, pausing his strokes.

For an instant, he had the urge to wring the animal's neck. However, before he could act out his urge, the cat suddenly arched its back, scrabbling from his hands and streaking away.

"I told you Mai, he's not so bad." Asou's lilting laugh filled the air. "Isn't it said that animals won't approach a bad person?" Her tone along with her words indicated she was not alone. Now and again, Asou would bring some of her friends by to visit. Most were content to pass by with hushed whispers about his past. Half a dozen rumours had sprung up already, but he had paid little heed. None had intruded into the pleasant days whiled away at the small run down cottage.

"But he is weird... every time we pass by, he's always sweeping or cleaning. It's unnatural." Soujiro grimaced slightly. Of all Asou's acquaintances, he disliked Mai and Asuza the most. Loud and overbearing, their very presence disturbed the serenity he enjoyed.

"I must say Asou, you always did have a strange taste in men. First, that thug Hu, and now this... tramp." From the scarlet flush on Asou's cheeks, Soujiro could guess what the tales around town had fixated upon again.

"It's not like that!"

"Oh no, you can't get away with it that easily!" The two pounced on Asou, ignoring her squealed pleas of innocence. Standing to one side, Soujiro looked on with a sense of detachment.

"Why does everyone come up with all these twisted ideas?" Asou protested, scuttling away from the smirking pair. Towards him, Soujiro noted in displeasure. "Like I would fall in love with such a dull person."

"Then why do you always protect him, Asou?" Mai's toothy grin irked Soujiro somewhat. It seemed that the more Asou protested her innocence, the more convinced Mai became of her involvement with Soujiro. It seemed that his attempts to remain untouched by their childish affections would be in vain.

"At least he's good with the housework." Asuza stroked his cheeks with a bold hand. "He'll make a fine housewife... maybe you could loan him to me for a while Asou, I'll return him after all my chores are done."

A silent moment passed before the three burst out into laughter, much to his annoyance.

Snickering still, Mai, slapped one hand onto his shoulder. "Asuza can have him after my turn first."

Suddenly Mai withdrew her hand as if she had touched a hot plate and retreated several steps. "Uuuh... no need to be upset." Stammering slightly, she fought to regain some dignity.

Soujiro blinked. He had not realised he had such a hostile expression on his face. <Why am I so upset?> He rolled the question in his mind, a slight frown touching his features. Soujiro tried to grasp the feeling, to examine it more closely. However, each time he tried to analyse it, the feeling seemed to slide away, as if trying to avoid his questioning mind.

Asou regarded his stony visage for a moment before impulsively throwing her arms around him. "No! He's mine, you can't have him." She giggled, ignoring his hostile glares. Encircling his neck, she turned to the still gawking pair. "So keep your hands away from him, he's *my* Sou-chan. See!" Squeezing him tightly, Asou planted a kiss on his lips.

Shock raced through Soujiro like a lightning bolt. One instant he was glaring at the smiling Asou, the next a soft warmth pressed against his lips, stirring a well of emotions he had capped away for years.

--------

Sitting alone on the hard wooden floor, tears still flow down the boy's smooth young cheeks. Although almost a week had passed since the news of his father's death, the pain has not lessened. Memories of a kindly man holding his hand, embracing him... each seem to tear bloody holes inside him.

He is not alone though. Some people whisper behind his back, calling him the bastard son. He will not be welcome, they murmur. However, in his innocence, he cannot even imagine this. Why would they hate him? He has done nothing to them.

<Footsteps move across the floor towards him, and his heart lifts in expectation. This is his family, they say. Already, he aches for a gentle touch, a tender understanding that will soothe the pain of loss. He pictures in his mind the welcoming smiles as they take him in their arms.

"So this is the bastard son."

Dazedly, Soujiro picks himself up from the floor, staring unbelievingly at the person who has kicked him.

The figure lashes out again, catching him under the chin and throwing him to the ground.

"Why has the old man left us with this garbage?"

Suddenly, a woman's face appears before him. Waves of ebony hair ripple around her as she smiles at him lovingly. <Chisato.> Reaching out, he touches her face, wanting to be held.

Abruptly, she recoils from him, a snarl of hatred and fear on her face. Blood soaks through her clothes as she struggles to push the headless corpse away from her. Eyes filled with revulsion turn towards him, as she screams in a voice that makes his heart crack.

"I HATE YOU!"

---------

Asou stared at Soujiro in shock as he screamed in agony. Her two friends fled, squealing in terror as Soujiro went berserk. Grasping fistfuls of hair, he tore bloody chunks from his scalp as he writhed in the dirt.

Moments that passed seemed to be an eternity. He was in hell and did not fully understand why. Through all the pain surging within, through all the terrified screaming and fear-filled faces that filled him memory, one thing had become abundantly clear.

Beating his fists against his cheekbones, Soujiro's eyes rolled back into his head as he drowned in a flood of memories. Dead faces stared at him from his memory. Pain and anguish filled some, while others seemed to weep in grief terror. Worst of all, a child's eyes wept a river of blood as it stared at what he had wrought. His mind felt like it was coming apart at the seams, as each death burned in his memory, returning to haunt him. Always looking on was that child's eyes. For every death, another teardrop of blood fell, until it ran down his cheeks in a flood.

"Soujiro-chan!" A frightened voice called from far away. Dimly, he was aware of somebody tugging his arm. Without thought, he lashed out with one hand, pushing blindly away at the source. A scream sounded distantly, before the tide of pain swept over him again.

Senkaku looked at him sadly, seemingly oblivious to the blade protruding from his forehead. "Himura-Battosai spared me." A crimson trickle made its way down the pointed forehead as Senkaku lowered his head. "But you... why?"

When he raised his eyes again, Chisato looked on at him sadly, shaking her head. Blood dripped thickly from her severed neck. "Why?"

Soujiro screamed in terror and revulsion, before beginning to choke. His self-loathing was so heavy, it seemed he could scarcely breathe. Blackness overwhelmed him.

---------

"Soujiro?" Anxiety filled the brown eyes in front of him. "I'm sorry, I didn't meant to make you so upset. Her eyes glistened now, and tears dropped onto his cheek, smearing the bloody marks on his face.

Soujiro stared blankly for a moment, before becoming aware she was cradling him on the ground. His fingers twitched, one hand feeling the coarse dirt. The other ached dully, the padded tips torn after being dragged across the hard soil. She reassuringly stroked his cheek, and he became aware that his head was being supported on her soft lap.

Gingerly, he raised himself upright. Reluctantly, she let him go, shifting to one side to allow him to move. Passing one hand over his face as he rose, Soujiro winced slightly at the purple coloured marks on his face. Looking at the sun, he realised that it late afternoon.

"It's time to go back." Giving her a brief smile, he turned and strode away, leaving her on the hard packed road.

Asou nodded, knowing he could not see her movements, before following him at a distance. A tear ran down her face as she covered the deep bruise on one cheek that he had not seen.

--------

Cold water sluiced down his face, washing away the incriminating marks. Inspecting his reflection carefully in the river, Soujiro smoothed down his hair, ensuring it covered the gashes in his forehead. Ignoring the pain, he scrubbed his hands in the running water, cleansing the dirt embedded in his torn skin. Satisfied now most of the damage had been repaired, he turned back to Asou.

Sitting a few metres away, she still refused to look at him. <Not surprising,> he thought. That evening was still a blur to him, almost a gap in his memory as he fuzzily recalled brief flashes of pain before waking on the hard packed road.

Shrugging he stood up and turned back to the road, not bothering to check if she was following. <It's always like this. I feel like I've forgotten something... something important?> His thoughts skittered around annoyingly. <What was the last thing I remember? A moment of anger, followed by confusion... for what?>

Abruptly, he became aware of the sun sinking below the horizon, casting its dusky purple light across the land. He paused for a moment to take in the sight, watching the dying light slowly fading into darkness.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" He did not need to turn around to know who the speaker was. Asou stood next to him, drinking in the sight. "On one hand, it reminds me of the good things in life. Sunsets, sunrise... there is beauty in everything, depending on how you look at it. On the other hand, it makes me sad... the darkness reminds me of those who can't see it."

Startled, Soujiro swung towards her. In the dying light, her face half hidden in darkness, she seemed almost another person. As he watched, the sun sank further below the horizon, hiding them in deeper shadow. Still, Soujiro stared. <What does she see... in the sunset, and in others? It sounds like she has seen both sides... in people? In me?>

Abruptly Asou laughed, turning towards him. "That must have sounded strange, huh? I sometimes get carried away like that, saying things that mean nothing. Grandpa always told me not to be so sentimental."

She froze as a hand touched her temple, tracing its way downward. Gently, it smoothed her hair back over one ear, before coming to rest on her cheekbone. It paused for a moment over the dark mark on her cheek, stroking it with a feathery lightness. Abruptly, the gentle touch was gone, the chill of the night wind blowing across her face.

"We should be going. Your grandfather will be worried." He vanished into the night without another word.

Straining her eyes against the darkness, she followed, stumbling slightly over the uneven ground. <What was that?> She wondered, even as an unseen snag caught her feet.

---------

The fire crackled low in the hearth when Soujiro woke, sweat pouring off his brow. By the dim light, he estimated it to be early morning. The sun had not yet fully risen, its feeble rays barely penetrating the early morning gloom.

Rising, Soujiro bathed his face in the bowl of cold water left beside his bed. <What was that? What happened?> The familiar agony of confusion filled him, as he sought to calm his mind.

In desperation, he crossed to the table and grasped a knife from the previous evenings meal. Dragging it across the inside of his arm, he savoured the pain, feeling it spread through him. Focussing on the pain, he struggled to command the storm of emotions raging within him.

"Urmph."

His attention was diverted to the blanket wrapped figure on the other side of the room. Asou stirred in her sleep, muttering incoherently as she tossed and turned, the blankets wound tightly around her, trapping her feet. A shadow seemed to pass over her face as Soujiro watched. Fear... she was obviously dreaming.

Through the open shoji, Soujiro could see Kenji's pallet. The old man lay snoring, oblivious to the world around him. A brief shudder shook him as Soujiro's stood over him.

A peculiar lassitude came over Soujiro as he watched the steady rise and fall of the man's chest. His fingers tightened on the blade in his hand. Visions filled his mind... the blade passing through the ribcage, Kenji screaming as he woke with a knife embedded in his vitals. Flesh splitting, rupturing as the knife drew across his throat, laying open his windpipe. Choking to death, drowning in his own blood. Or perhaps embedding it through his eye... one moment in the repose of normal sleep, a brief flaring of pain, then nothing as he slipped into his eternal rest.

Turning away from the pallet, Soujiro crossed back to Asou, the knife still clenched in his fist. <Perhaps her first>. The silent, gasping death of a broached windpipe, her screams as the knife rips into her core. The blade plunging into her breast, stilling the beating heart within.

Soujiro's hands shook as he watched her mumble something in her sleep and turn over, grasping her pillow to her. The blankets twisted in a complex knot about her legs, and she struggled for a moment, whimpering at something he could not see. Asou tilted her head, exposing her throat to him as he gripped the knife tightly, his knuckles turning white with the strain. The fresh soap scent of her filled his nostrils, mixing with the mass of confusion in his head. A fierce desire to kill, followed by an indescribable ache... a strange sadness.

<The weak die.> A voice lamented in his mind. <Weakness...> Tears ran down his cheeks. <Tears? Why am I crying?> His mind made up, he grasped the knife handle, his mind calm as it hurtled downwards, a crescent of light in the gloomy morning.

"Sou..." An exhalation, accompanied by a slight smile. She struggled against the knotted sheets around her legs before settling to her fate.

---------

Asou bolted upright, confused at being suddenly awakened. Something was screaming in her mind, filling her heart with fear. Sweat dripped off her forehead.

Sunlight streamed in through the open window, dispelling some of her fears. Looking down, Asou stretched sleepily, taking in the smooth untangled bedding laid over her.

"Wow, that was some dream." Groggily, she pushed her hair back, letting the cool air dry the sweat on her neck. Smiling now, she lay back down and drifted off to sleep.

---------

"Be more careful this time, will you?" Kenji frowned at the retreating pair. "Don't scare me like you did last time, falling out of trees like that. Coming home with bruises and scratches everywhere." He shook his head. <And I would have thought Soujiro had more sense than that.>

Asou smiled at his worried expression. "We'll be fine, Grandpa. Stop worrying so much."

"Hmph." Feeling slightly miffed, Kenji watched the pair stroll over the hillside towards the town. <Damn them for raising the taxes yet again. Now I have to go over that entire list again and recalculate it.> In his mind, he contemplated the thick stack of paperwork that awaited on his desk. <Too bad I can't hire anyone to help. Pah, I'd be lucky to find another person in this town who could read fluently, let alone do simple sums.> Grumbling now, he slouched into his chair and took up his writing tools. <What?!>

Before him lay the stack of papers, the answers all neatly written out.

---------

He was aware of the whispers before they even reached town. People passing by seemed to look at him with suspicion. Asou however seemed oblivious to them, chatting animatedly as they neared town.

"You really should get out more, Soujiro-chan. Everyone thinks you're strange because you spend all your time up in the hills." She paused to wave at a group of laughing adolescents nearby. "This way, people get to know you better. Then they won't pick on you as much."

<She really has this way of illuminating what should be obvious.> Soujiro grimaced to himself. Faces flashed by him as walked the streets, each one freezing in his mind's eye for an instant. <Chisato.>

In disbelief, he whipped around, staring down the street. Not a sign of the grieving woman could be seen. <But I did see her.> Disquieted, he turned to the questioning look on Asou's face.

"What is it Soujiro?" She looked around curiously, then back at his stern visage. "Don't be so moody all the time Sou-chan!" She laughed, a carefree sound, then threw her arms around his neck. "People will think you're such a dark person.>

<But I am a dark person.> His eyes felt strange, almost damp, as she danced around him, arms around his neck and laughing. <And these people...> Still, his spirits rose unbidden, carried up by her untroubled laughter. Suddenly, her hands landed on his cheeks, holding him in place.

"See?" She smiled at his expression. "Sou-chan can smile with his eyes after all." With a sudden flit of her kimono, she skipped on ahead, leaving his staring after her in confusion.

<I'm what?> He blinked in sunlight, feeling somewhat lost. <But I always smile... I'm sure of that. What does she mean?> Shrugging his shoulders, he tried to recover his train of thought.

A heavy sense of disquiet settled on his shoulders. <Someone watching me.> Immediately, he thought of what he had seen before. <Chisato?> He turned around in a full circle, observing the people flowing around him. Not a sign. Yet he seemed to catch sight of her in the corner of his eye as he turned, disappearing every time he tried to look closer. <What is going on?>

Shaking his head, he ran after Asou. <It can't be. Chisato lives a long way from here. She couldn't be here.> Yet he could not shake of that feeling, which seemed to grow even stronger as the hours passed.

Every now and again, he looked over his shoulder, feeling the pair of eyes on him. Hostile, always. Chisato haunted the edges of his vision.

"What do you think, Sou-chan?" Asou's wide eyes stared at him.

"Eh?" Soujiro blinked.

"What's wrong with you, you've been like this since we arrived." Her tone carried disapproval as she bent back to the pile of vegetables on the table before her.

"Suman de goz-" He stopped, appalled. <What made me start to say that?> Yet all thoughts were driven from his head as he saw the pages of the paper the vendor was reading.

Chisato's name was on the page facing him.

Feeling dizzy now, he quickly scanned the words before him. Chisato Kumiere, daughter of Akiko and Takedo... found hung in her restaurant... following death of Koichi... last of the Kumiere bloodline.

"Soujiro? Soujiro!" He found himself leaning against the wooden stall, his senses swirling as though he was going to pass out. "What's wrong?" He felt hot, and struggled to comprehend the girl in front of him worriedly shaking his arm.

Dimly, he was aware of being led to a side street. The girl rushed away, saying something about a cold drink, but it fell on deaf ears as his mind roiled. <Chisato is dead. My fault.>

Gradually, he became aware that he was alone. The shopping basket lay next to his knee, still piled with that mornings groceries. <Asou? She said something about... what?>

A shadow fell across him. "Asou?"

"I thought you were leaving soon." The words were laced with anger, edged with hatred. Hu looked down on him contemptuously. "I won't let you drag our names down to your level."

His frustration surging, emotions swinging wildly, Soujiro focussed on the figure before him. "Get lost. Don't bother me now." As he wanted, as he *needed*, he felt Hu's anger surge in reply. Gritting his teeth, Hu stepped forward and prepared to deliver the blow.

Smiling in anticipation now, Soujiro watched him with frenzied eyes. He had no weapon on him, but already the fingers on his left hand were held as hard as a spear point as it shot towards Hu's exposed left side.

"Sou-chan?" <Asou?!?>

His concentration abruptly shattered, Soujiro stared at Asou in consternation. <What? Why... it stopped?>

Suddenly, his vision went crazy as the ground rushed up to meet him. White blossomed in his vision as he struck the ground hard. Shaking his head to clear the ringing in it, he saw Hu standing over him, sneering.

"Let that be a lesson to you." The words were low, venomous. "Stay away from Asou."

Soujiro could only stare in shock as Hu walked away, shouldering his way through the crowd on the street.

He became aware of Asou kneeling beside him, touching his cheek. She was babbling, tears running as she repeatedly asked him if he was hurt badly.

"I am unhurt." His tone cut through her queries, closing the line of questioning. In the uncomfortable silence that followed, he replayed the events over his mind.

---------

Thunder fills Soujiro's ears as he stumbles across the muddy yard, a heavy bale of rice strapped to his back. The heavy rain makes it almost impossible to see, stinging needles of cold striking his face as he squints against the storm. Mud churns underfoot as Soujiro struggles to simply keep his balance, let alone cross the yard.

Awareness of the present fades as the dream fully takes hold. The warmth of the futon is replaced by the biting wind, and the treacherous ground seems to waver as he sways in each powerful gust.

A flash of lightning makes his vision turn white for a moment, the afterimage seeming to burn into his eyes. Flinching, he fails to see the thick mud slick before him. Another step, and Soujiro crashes to the earth, sending up a spray of mud. Clawing at his eyes to clear his vision, Soujiro sobs silently even as he smilingly draws the package onto his back again.

. He would not. Doing so would only bring more pain. Shouldering his burden Soujiro smiles at the lashing downpour, knowing that the rain will hide his tears.

Passing the house, Soujiro looks longingly at the glowing light. He can almost feel the warmth inside, the luxury of being dry and clean.

Seemingly beyond conscious control, his feet gradually carry him towards the dwelling. With each step, the warmth seems to grow. <This time they'll let me in. It has never happened before, but somehow...>

The shoji is now within his reach. Reaching out with a hand trembling in the cold, Soujiro savours the heat on his palm.

"We'd better just kill him, and get it over with. What a pity, the dangerous rebel must have caught him outside and carved him to pieces."

Soujiro's eyes widen, his hand freezing in place. Cold fear runs through his veins, making his previous suffering seem almost laughable. Footsteps approach, raucous laughter echoing around him. <RUN!> His mind screams at him, but his body refuses to respond.

The shoji slides open in front of him, silhouetting the figures before him. A flash of light reflected off a drawn blade. Wide lips part in a feral smile, teeth gleaming. The expression reminds him of a wolf.

"Hello Soujiro... come here boy."

He is the prey.

Suddenly, his body jolted back into action. "Someone help me!!" His screams are drowned out by a burst of thunder. Almost falling over himself in terror, Soujiro flees, feeling their hungry gazes on his back. "Please! Someone help me!!"

The darkness looms invitingly in front of him. Scrabbling on his hands and knees, Soujiro hurls himself under the building, not caring as the rough wood tears into the soft skin along his arms. Oblivious to the pain, he forces himself deeper, squeezing between two beams. Without thought, his hands reach around a column.

Even in his sleep, Soujiro is aware of the deep sigh that shakes him. A sense of the inevitable fills him as his face presses against the wooden post. His hand searches the darkness in front of him. His mind is filled with that gleaming blade, the source of all his salvation, and the damnation that followed.

Behind him, he can hear someone crawling after him. A scraping noise fills his ears, followed by a coarse oath as the dark figure behind him pauses for a moment to yank out a splinter. "Come here boy!"

Suddenly, dread fills him. Something is wrong. <Where is the wakizashi?!?> Nerveless fingers groped the empty space again. <It is meant to be here! I know it was here, where is it?!?>

Spinning around, he stares in panic as his pursuer pauses not a meter from his position. Wide eyed, he stared transfixed as the gleaming length emerges from the scabbard.

His cry is choked off as the blade slams into his chest. Bone separates cleanly, even as organs behind are suddenly ruptured. Blood drools from his mouth as he grasps the steel that pins him to the wood behind him, trying to withdraw it from his body.

A bubbling scream is ripped from him as the razor sharp edge jerks free. Wrapped around the now tarnished length, fingers are abruptly severed as the blade twists from his grasp.

Recoiling in agony and shock, Soujiro watches the katana draw back, preparing for another blow. Each breath is a struggle, a heavy liquid filling his lungs as he coughs up a deep reddish froth. Cradling his ruined hands, he stars in incomprehension at the rough stumps. Blood pools around him, filling the air with an all too familiar acrid stench.

The second blow catches him completely by surprise. Even more astonishing, it does not seem to hurt at all. A hot bite across his windpipe, and Soujiro slumps to one side, struggling to breathe as the cold air rushes through the gap in his throat. His remaining fingers claw futilely at the edges of the hole, as if trying to repair some of the damage.

Lying helplessly on the cold, uncaring earth, Soujiro can only watch as the katana lifts for the final time. The descent begins, arcing towards his exposed neck. For an instant, an incredible pain fills him as flesh peels aside like rotting fruit, bone being severed an instant later.

<NO! THIS CANNOT HAPPE... >

---------

Soujiro woke, screaming in terror. Kenji bolted from his pallet, flailing around to rid himself of the blankets that clung stubbornly to his arms.

"What? What is it boy?" Even with his sleep addled brain, Kenji could feel the anguished outpouring. Tears stung his eyes as he helplessly tried to comfort Soujiro, who was curled in a foetal position and shrieking his lungs out.

Asou could only stare in horror at what seemed to be a replay of what had happened that windy day in the courtyard. Again, blood streaked his face as the newly healed gashes reopened to his clawed fingers. His eyes wild, Soujiro seemed to be possessed, snarling like a rabid animal.

Weeping herself, she wrapped her arms about him, rocking him as if he were a newborn child, whispering assurances in his ear. Each wholehearted shriek made her flinch, as she held him to her and prayed that he would recover.

Gradually, his cries began to fade, and his body relaxed. Silence reigned for a long moment as she cradled him, refusing to let go even for a moment. For some reason, Asou was struck by the fear that were she to let him go, the events would replay themselves.

Kenji, watching the two, was at a loss for words. Unlike Asou, he had never seen Soujiro like this before, and it disturbed him deeply. For the first time, he considered the comatose youth before him, wondering if he had made a mistake.

<What possesses him to such a wild degree?> He watched Asou smooth the wild locks of brown hair, unmindful of the blood that slicked her fingers as a result. <This could not be the result of a normal nightmare.>

Sweeping his hair back tenderly, Asou stroked the peaceful face before her. Tears dropped to run in bloody rivulets down the side of his face. Finally, his eyes opened, revealing the gentle grey orbs, seemingly clear of all previous pain.

Somehow, Asou felt rather than saw the relief when she did not pull away as a hand reached up to touch her cheek. The only emotion that seemed to show in his eyes was sadness, as he traced the fading bruise on her cheekbone.

His eyes burning, Kenji turned away from the scene before him. <What have I let into my house? And had I known... would I have made the same decision?>

--------

"You'll be leaving tomorrow?" Asou froze in mid-step.

"Yes." Soujiro shifted the heavy basket of groceries to his other arm. Rubbing the imprints left by the woven reed handle, he continued down the street, oblivious to the fact she had stopped. Running to catch up, she caught his sleeve and pulled him around.

"But why?" The tone made him take note. It sounded... hurt. Pleading almost. <Then again, she always is able to whine her way around everything.> He thought sourly.

"The rain has cleared, the weather has warmed. It's a good time to be travelling." <The sooner I get out of this village the better. Too many people are asking too many questions. And the matter with Hu.> Collecting his thoughts, Soujiro failed to notice the flash of anger on her face.

The next instant, Soujiro tensed he felt a wave of fury being directed at him. His eyes narrowed as he sought the source, his body poised. Muscle carefully unwound, becoming relaxed, ready to strike out in any direction at the slightest signal. <Hu? When did he come by? How could he get so close without me noticing?> Then, as his heightened senses fixed on the threat, he froze in confusion. <What in th-?!?>

The blow slammed into the side of Soujiro's head, scattering his senses. As he crashed to the ground, bright spots danced around in his vision. Blood seeped from the inside of his mouth where his teeth had opened cuts. Pain flared red hot on his cheek as he fought to regain his composure.

"Asou?!?!" His words fell upon deaf ears as she stormed away. <What in the hell is going on?> Dazedly, he placed one hand to his cheek, feeling the burning sensation. <She slapped me? Why?>

Struggling to his feet, Soujiro became aware of the gazes the shopkeepers were directing at him. Pity, amusement, and even a little sympathy tempered each gaze. Suddenly furious he streaked after the rapidly disappearing Asou, much to the surprise of the shopkeepers. In the blink of an eye, Soujiro had moved from a standstill and was hurtling down the road. <What makes her think she can do that...>

Yet, even before Soujiro could reach her, a shrill scream reached his ears. Filled with panic and fear, it was like a bucket of cold water being hurled over him. Slowing down, Soujiro gazed in shock at the scene before him.

A passing man had suddenly grabbed Asou's purse, brutally wrenching her fingers back in an attempt to loosen her hold. As Asou cried out in pain, her assailant struck her a blow to the side of the head, sending her reeling away. Turning, the figure sprinted away, leaving a street of chaos behind him. People rushed by, some to console the sobbing Asou, others to chase the purse-snatcher. Shouts erupted further away.

"Someone catch him! Thief!"

Without thinking, Soujiro streaked after the distant figure.

---------

Sitting on the handrails of the bridge, staring at the rushing river below, Soujiro let a blade of grass tumble downwards. Almost instantly, it vanished in the violently frothing water. Tossing in a pebble, Soujiro watched as it too vanished beneath the raging surface. The recent storms had swollen the river beyond its normal beds, turning it from a placidly running stream into a white-capped vision of nature's fury.

At the sound of running feet approaching, Soujiro finally stirred, rubbing his aching cheek. Already the flesh was turning slightly purplish. Grimacing, he let his hand drop. There would be time enough later to deal with it.

The would be purse-snatcher stopped about a dozen paces away, dropping into a semi-crouch as he took in the silent boy barring his way. A knife flicked out in his hands.

"Get out of my way." He could not quite shake the sense of unease he felt as he looked at the silent figure in front of him. Even after he had drawn his knife, there had been no visible reaction.

Soujiro contemplated the man. Thin and bony, it was not hard to guess why he pursued his selected profession. <Even in this "enlightened" age, people are still starving to death>, Soujiro mused.

"I'm not warning you again, bo-" The man's words were cut off as Soujiro's elbow slammed into the his ribcage. The muffled crack of ribs violently breaking was lost in the sound of the raging waters below. Dropping to his hands and knees, the doomed man coughed up blood and struggled to breathe.

"No...help..." Soujiro ignored the desperate words as he bent over and retrieved the fallen purse. Frowning, he wiped away a droplet of blood with his thumb before nodding his head in satisfaction.

"I have a family... a wife and a son..." The man drooled blood, wretchedly grasping at his chest. From the pinkish foam, Soujiro could see that the shattered ribs had punctured his lungs. He turned his head, surveying the wilderness around them, then peered over the railing at the white capped water several metres beneath them.

"I had to feed them... forgive me please, I need help..."

Soujiro cocked his head to one side, listening intently. Muffled by the rushing waters, he could hear the trilling of birdsong. Brightly coloured birds flashed across the sky. <So free, not a care in the world... was I ever like that?> Sadness filled him as he watched the man grasp the rope handrail and laboriously haul himself upright. One hand reached towards him imploringly.

"Give me your h- "

<"That looks expensive, boy. You'd better give that to me."> Shivering as the shadow fell across him, Soujiro clasped the wakizashi close to him. A hand emerged from the shadows, grasping at the weapon.

The doomed man barely had time to register Soujiro was moving. The heel of Soujiro's hand landed just under the chin, throwing the man's head back with a bone-breaking snap. Toppling over the side of the bridge, the already lifeless corpse was lost in the waters below.

--------

"Asou-chan?" Her tear stained face gazed up at him uncomprehendingly as she knelt next to her on the busy street. He shifted somewhat uncomfortably. As he looked into those eyes, he recalled the embarrassing moments that had led up to this.

Asou's eyes dropped to his shoulder. Following her gaze, Soujiro gave a start as he saw the crimson streak on his clothes. Gentle fingers pulled apart the cloth, revealing the shallow cut beneath.

"It's not serious." He smiled down at her, then pulled her purse from his sleeve. Amused by the shocked expression on her face, he placed it firmly into her hand. "Let's go home." Smiling still, he picked up the basket and helped her up with the other hand. Pushing through the gathered crowd, the pair set off on the road leading towards the hills.

As they reached the open fields, Soujiro pushed out slightly in front, keeping his senses questing the open fields ahead. Behind him, Asou was silent. <She must be still upset.> Searching for words, he wondered what he could say to cheer her up.

"Asou-chan? We'll be home soon." The words sounded inane, even to his own ears.

Behind him, Asou simply smiled at his back.

<Asou-chan? He never called me "chan" before. And... he said "home".>

The smile hidden from his sight, she raised her face to the soft breeze and picked up her step.

--------

And so part two ends... part three in... uhm... it'll be done when it's done! If you want to be notified of its release, please email me at zlmndra@hotmail.com! Proofreaders are also needed! Apply at the same place! :)

Hope you all like it!

Regards,

Zeddy

From: "Zlmndra" <tamago__chan@NOSPAMPLShotmail.com>

NOTE: What is posted here is copied from the files I uploaded to fanfiction.net under the nick "Zeddy". Enjoy, read and review please! :))

--------

A CLOUDED PATH

Rating: PG (Violence, dark themes, some smooching - nothing lewd though :P)

--------

Author's Notes

Finally, at long last is part three of Soujiro's little tale. As predicted, some of the waffy parts have arrived. I almost proved some of my pre-readers correct too, when they said that I might find it hard to make the story turn somewhat waffy. But hey, waff is waff even when mixed in with darkness and violence! ^_^

For those of you who haven't guessed yet, I hold the first two cds of the Rurouni Kenshin OAV in great reverence. I aim as much as possible to capture the same darkness and light it displays, though I doubt I'd ever be able to capture the beauty it displays.

That said, onto part three of a Clouded Path. Read and review please people! ;)

Zeddy

--------

Long blades of grass whipped his legs mercilessly as he ran across the field. The setting sun glared into his eyes as he struggled on his hands and knees up a small knoll and paused for a moment to survey the land before him. Verdant fronds stretched as far as the eye could see, broken now and again by a distant farmstead. There was no place to hide.

Swinging around, Soujiro scanned the land for his pursuer. Behind him, the thicker, tangled overgrowth blocked his line of sight. Closing his eyes for a moment, he slowed his breathing, letting himself become accustomed to the background noise. The sound of his inhalations rapidly faded from his senses as Soujiro opened his mind, searching for the slightest hint of pursuit. The sound of the wind rustling through the grass filled his ears, then the noise of small animals and birds passing by. He relaxed somewhat, thinking that he had lost the hunter.

At that moment, Soujiro heard a distant crack of a broken twig. Instantly alert, he listened to the telltale sounds of grass being pushed aside, of branches being pulled back to allow a person passage. From his observations, the person was heading at an angle away from him. There was no chance of them crossing his path again at that rate.

Sighing to himself, Soujiro sped into the woodland, deftly avoiding the reaching branches that threatened to snag his clothes and betray his presence. Startled animals milled about in confusion in his wake, staring in bewilderment at the rapidly receding youth. Finally reaching his destination, Soujiro slowed in a small clearing, casting his eyes about warily. Finding no sign of imminent discovery, he selected a large flat warm rock and lay back to stare at the sky.

For a few minutes Soujiro lay there, watching the white puffs of cloud scudding by. The sounds of the woodland gradually returned to normal, as curiosity of the nearby animals faded and they went back to their business.

Finally, a crashing in the undergrowth signaled the approach of his pursuer. Ignoring the sounds for the moment, Soujiro closed his eyes and basked in the sunlight, enjoying the warmth on his face and the cooling breeze on his skin. A stray gust of wind blew dust over his face, making him sneeze.

The forest had gone silent again, too silent. Soft footsteps padded around the edge of the clearing, keeping carefully out of sight. Rolling over onto his side away from the noises, Soujiro watched a small sparrow land a few metres away. Pecking at a few grass seeds, it hopped towards him before tilting its head to one side, watching him.

Abruptly, it launched itself into the sky with a startled fluttering of wings. Behind him quiet footsteps approached, and Soujiro braced himself for the inevitable.

"Sou-chaaan!" Asou flung her arms around his neck. As he let out a protesting squawk, she dragged him half upright and tried to squash all the air out of him. "I knew I would find you eventually! But really, you shouldn't have run so far." She gave him a disapproving stare, brushing twigs out of her soft brown locks. "Grandfather will be upset if our clothes are all dirty."

"Gomen, Asou-chan", Soujiro apologized. <It probably isn't the best time to point out that she's the only dirty one.> Past experience had told him better.

"Well, never mind!" Asou gave him another squeeze, ignoring Soujiro's strangled gasps for air. She regarded him curiously, a small frown passing over her face. "For a moment, I thought that I had lost you." Her eyes clouded over. "I started to imagine that there might have been some bad people in the woods, and that they might have taken you away."

"Aaaa... no need to worry." Soujiro smiled, inwardly amused. <They might have tried to take me away?> Using his fingers, he drew her lips into an upward curve. "I'm still here!"

Abruptly, Asou's eyes hardened, glaring into his. "It's not funny!" Grabbing his cheeks, she squashed them together. "I was worried about you, what's so funny about that?!"

"Iie!" Soujiro's eyes teared as she pulled his cheeks, contorting his face. "Gomen! Gomen! Sumimasen!" He put his hands to his cheeks as she let go, feeling the existence of the muscles like overstretched rubber bands. The next moment he was knocked back as Asou piled into him, sprawling uncomfortably over the stone. At the last second Soujiro remembered to hold his head high to avoid striking the hardened surface. Contorted beneath her, Soujiro tried to extract the arm painfully twisted under him then gave up as she made a protesting noise.

Silence again filled the glade as she rested her head on his chest. Her face buried in his shirt, her breath warmed his skin as she sighed deeply, wriggling to a more comfortable position. Soujiro winced slightly as his arm was further twisted. Snuggling down, her even breathing soon told him that she was asleep.

<Nani?!? Now what?> Soujiro looked at Asou in confusion. Deciding he was not going to be moving anywhere anytime soon, he resumed his contemplation. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply, seeking to clear his mind. In those moments, he sought calmness, ignoring the numbing arm beneath him, the itching of insect bites on his legs. They soon faded as he breathed, focussing inwards.

Suddenly, Soujiro's thoughts crashed to a halt, and his eyes snapped open in confusion. Asou's scent drifted to him on the wind, and he inhaled involuntarily. The fragrance filled his nostrils, a mixture of soap, flowers and her own indescribable scent. Looking down at her, he watched as strands of hair fell across her face as she shifted.

Moving one hand as if entranced, he gently lifted the locks with one finger and placed them behind Asou's ear. Running the same finger down her cheek, he remembered the dark mark that had stained it almost two months ago. Soujiro traced out the shape with his finger, examining it in his mind.

Withdrawing his hand, Soujiro looked at it as if it were a disembodied entity. <Why am I doing this?> His other arm tingled uncomfortably, and he gently shifted to move it out from under him.

"Umph... no..." Asou's hand slapped down over his face, pinning his head to the rock. Freezing, Soujiro felt it slide down his face and stop at his neck, a soft warmth against his skin. The delicate fingers splayed across his throat, rising and falling with his breath. Her other hand bunched in his clothes, twisting the fabric as she balled a loose small fist. "'s comf'ble... don'... move... an..y...where." Asou wriggled upwards, fitting her face into the crook of his neck. Each breath tickled his skin, and she nosed his neck before settling down.

<What is she doing?!?> Soujiro's mind raced in circles. His trapped arm started to feel uncomfortably numb as the blood flow began to slow. Closing his eyes again, he sought balance and tried to marshal his thoughts. Breath entered his lungs rhythmically, clearing his mind with each cycle. In. Out. In.

A soft, somewhat moist sensation touched his neck, breaking the cycle and making him flinch. "Sou..." The sensation moved on his neck as she spoke, once again freezing him into immobility as he tried desperately to think of a way to escape.

Pins and needles danced in the trapped limb, as he tried to flex his fingers. Finally, when he could stand it no longer, he pushed himself upwards, freeing the limb. <Finally!> He sighed in relief in his mind, flexing the fingers. Blood rushed to his fingertips, making him wince slightly even as he rejoiced at the return of sensation.

"Soujiro..." A dangerous voice gave him pause as he remembered Asou. Turning slightly, he saw her glaring at him from the tangled heap on the ground where she had fallen. Her hair in disarray, her eyes promised a world of pain.

Backing away, Soujiro carefully slid off the rock and placed his feet on the ground.

"Ano... gomen!" Soujiro hit the ground running, and quickly disappeared into the thick foliage.

"Soujirooo!" Her screech followed him as he sped away from the scene of the crime.

--------

The exhausted pair trudged silently down the dusty road. Asou had spent much of the day chasing Soujiro around, seemingly infuriated by his earlier mistake. Finally, when exhaustion set in, the two of them had found themselves far from home, and the sun had settled far past the horizon. Now as the purple of early twilight settled in, Soujiro found himself carrying her on his back. Every now and again, Asou would murmur against his back, shifting slightly as she found a more comfortable position.

As they passed a fork in the road, the distinctive curved architecture of a temple caught Soujiro's eye. The road leading to it was suffering from lack of attention, he noted. Plant life ate at the edges, and creepers ran across the road. The temple itself looked largely deserted, with the woodwork crumbling and the roof in disrepair.

On impulse, he turned down the overgrown path. Carefully picking his way through the vines, he took great pains to avoid waking his sleeping passenger. <Who knows what she'll say if she wakes up in this place,> he thought sourly.

The temple proper had long been ruined, as he had guessed. Skirting the run down building, he came across a series of headstones. Pausing, he cast his gaze down the rows of headstones. Some were relatively intact, while others were crumbling with age.

Standing amongst the rows of the dead, Soujiro contemplated the lives that had passed before him. Looking at the headstones, he saw artisans, peasants, merchants... names all laid out in stone as remembrance of the deceased.

<Yet this is not for the dead.> He crumbled a piece of pitted headstone under his fingers. <The dead have no need for these, do they?> He felt strangely uneasy. <Surely not the dead... no, but rather the living... these deaths do not touch me. Does that make me less a person? Shishio-san said the answer to life was through the blade of a katana. Death did not bother him.>

A memory of harsh lesson came to his mind. <Throw away all thought... throw away all thoughts of life and death. That is what Shishio-san said. That is the true kenjutsuka's path, as Shishio-san said. Wield the blade without emotion, without anger, without hatred.>

<How could that be? He was always bitter.> Flinging the handful of dust away from him, Soujiro faced another tombstone. <None of the schools I have studied emphasised anything else. Yet so many were involved... bakamatsu... the martial schools only seem to have one purpose. Is this what it means to walk the path? It seems that power exists only to be wielded, for whatever ends the user desires. With it, the lives of those less than us are shaped.>

"Sou-chan, what're we doing here?" A sleepy voice disturbed his thoughts. Sleepiness quickly turned to trepidation as Asou cast her gaze about. "What are we doing here? A cemetery? And it's so da-"

Her words cut off as she suddenly slid from his back. Surprised, Soujiro turned to see her walk towards a headstone much fresher than the others. Kneeling before it, she bowed her head, casting her face in shadow.

"Asou-chan, what is it?" Already, he felt some guilt at bringing her here. He had understood that many people felt uncomfortable among the rows of the dead. He had always assumed it was because they feared the reminder of their own mortality, the fact that some day they would pass on and be forgotten. In his mind, there had never been any fear. A part of him had just wanted to live, pass through life unobserved, and then disappear into the mists of time. The other part seethed with fury, raging to be released at the uncaring world that had born him.

"My parents." Her words snapped him out of his reverie. Sadness filled her voice. Soujiro felt a strange pulling, a twisting within his chest that made it uncomfortable to breathe at times.

"I'm sorry." The words were out before he even thought about it. Shocked, he clamped his lips together, as if trying to prevent any other words from spilling out without his consent.

Asou looked up at him, a smile touching her features. "I know... I'm sorry I didn't know them better." She rose, brushing the loose dirt from her clothes. Looking at him, Asou smiled somewhat tentatively. "Tell me about your family?"

Immediately she knew she had asked the wrong question. Soujiro's gray eyes hardened, making her flinch. In her mind, she could imagine the solid barriers crashing down as he abruptly stepped away from her.

"Are the memories that painful?" Refusing to be pushed away, she lay a concerned hand on her shoulder. "Even if they are gone, don't the pleasant memories remain?"

Soujiro almost laughed at the ludicrous statement she had made. At the last moment, he choked it off, knowing it would not be well received. Composing his features, he gave a sharp shake of his head.

Unknown to him, his emotions had already passed across his face, fully in her view. Asou's mind spun as she read the pain and anguish there. <He doesn't mourn them? What kind of family did he have?> Knowing from past experience her overt compassion would not be well received, she simply squeezed his shoulder in reassurance. It had the desired effect; his shoulders lost much of the tension gained following her question.

Sweeping her gaze across the moonlit graveyard, again a sense of loss filled her. Unlike the other children she had known, her family had only consisted of one overly worried grandfather. Although Hu had been quite attentive to her over the last year, she knew she could not give what he longed for. It pained her at times, knowing this, but at the same time she welcomed his company, using it to banish some of the emptiness she felt whenever the topic of family came up.

Soujiro, taking her silence as reproof, turned towards her. The moonlight played across his features, highlighting some places, hiding others. She had no idea what drew her to this strange youth. A gentle touch, so strongly offset by the strength of will she could sometimes see burning behind those dreamy eyes. Sometimes, she could see the wildness behind them, a tinge of madness mixed with grief that tore at her heart. Strangely, it did not deter her. Rather, it made her more resolved to understand him. At no time had she ever felt fear when gazing into those soft gray orbs, but more of a pulling, drawing her onwards into their depths.

Seeing the pain written into her expression, Soujiro's countenance softened. The look on his face changed from grim to surprised as she grasped his head, drawing one hand across his cheek in feathery strokes. She smiled now. His expression reminded him of a stunned animal, staring petrified at the unknown.

"Soujiro..." His breathing increased noticeably as she skimmed his throat with her lips, her nose tickling the skin as it brushed over, barely touching. Still no reaction, which in her book was a marked improvement. Mentally, she blocked the mental image of his screaming collapse last time she had been this close. The scent of his hair, his skin, pushed her onwards as she ran her lips up over his jawline, his cheek.

Finally, she paused for a moment. His breathing stilled with hers, as if he was holding his breath in anticipation of the next moment. That made her smile slightly. <If only he didn't have that stoned look on his face.>

Her sweet lips hung tantalisingly close to his. Soujiro fought to breathe, scarcely being able to believe how close they were. Part of him was afraid to move, afraid she would pull away. Other parts of his mind screamed to take her in his arms, while yet others screamed chaos, demanding she be pushed away.

Her breath tickled the hairs on his skin as she moved perceptibly closer. Her eyes started to close, anticipating the final union, his lips on hers.

Abruptly, she felt his movement, a cold breeze as he whirled away. Her questing lips found only the chill air as he moved apart, lungs heaving.

"Sumimasen, Asou-chan." To his ears, it sounded like a strangled croak. The chaotic screaming of his mind made it hard to concentrate until her words cut through them like a knife.

"Daijobu... it's okay Soujiro-san." The hurt and disappointment in her voice made him flinch. The change in form of address cut him deeply, and he sought to conceal his pain as she walked away, back towards the main road. "It's time we were home anyway."

--------

"Truly surprising... I had never expected that you would have learned so much." Kenji marveled as Soujiro's brush slid over the paper. "And not just the rudimentary skills as well. It's more or less sufficient to practice." He beamed at the youth. "Have you ever given thought to working as an accountant?"

"Iie. I never truly had the time to contemplate such an idea, Kenji-san." Soujiro laid the brush down, careful not to smear his work.

"Well, you should!" Kenji said with conviction. "We represent a minority of the educated who aid the public. And you have so much talent!"

At that moment, the shoji nearest to them slid open, revealing Asou with a tray of tea. Silently, she knelt next to them and served the steaming cups. The familiar aroma of freshly brewed tea leaves filled the room, along with an uncomfortable quiet.

Soujiro was painfully aware of her uncharacteristic muteness. Studying her bowed face, he saw nothing that betrayed emotion. It was as if she had shut off all connection to the outside world. Pained as he was to admit it, it disturbed him.

As the shoji slid shut behind her, Kenji turned his gaze on Soujiro. The youth looked somewhat uncomfortable with the situation. "Soujiro... did you do something to upset her?" Much to his amusement, Soujiro flinched somewhat. <He has come a long way from the reserved child I knew. The mirrors around his mind are beginning to crack.>

"Iie, I-"

"There's the spring festival on tonight." Kenji took a long sip of the tea cup in front of him before replacing it on the table. He smiled at the bewildered look on Soujiro's face. <Children these days can be so predictable.> "Perhaps that would lighten the mood?"

------------------------------------------------------

Brightly coloured lanterns hung in long lines between buildings, and the streets were crammed with people. Garbed in traditional kimonos, the village came alive as night fell and the lanterns were lit. Even as Soujiro watched, more and more people poured into the streets, all talking, laughing. Vendors plied their wares even more feverishly than in the daytime, competing with a host of sideshow games and fortune tellers that had been attracted to the festival.

Feeling slightly out of place, Soujiro let himself be led along by Asou. Chatting animatedly, she pulled him through row after row of vendors.

"It's like it gets even bigger and better every year!" Asou stopped beside a stand, looking at the goods on display. "The others might say that the village is becoming to small for them, but I think that it's just perfect. I can't imagine how the people of the bigger cities stand all the noise and smell. But then the smaller places just don't have enough people in them." Smiling, she turned back to Soujiro and slapped him lightly on the back of the head. "Come on, why so gloomy?"

Scowling at the amused people passing by, Soujiro turned back to Asou. "It is quite different from normal." He scanned the crowds, noting the way people would stop to catch up with each other. <It is *so* different. Everywhere I go, the people are so carefree. Almost like they were born in another world.> His thoughts shifting back, he pictured Shishio-sama in such a setting. Somehow, it seemed ludicrous. Shishio-sama had always reminded him of a coiled spring. He would have found no joy in such festivities.

As Asou towed him towards a distant display, Soujiro tried to snap back to the present. Colourful decorations and the smells of cooking food moved swiftly by, accompanied by the sounds of some not so talented musical artists. "Asou-chan, slow down! He pulled back slightly, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the explosion of sights and sounds around him.

Asou slowed down slightly, frowning back at him. "We're running late already! Hu's demonstration is in just a few minutes!"

<Hu?! Demonstration?> Asou turned away again, not noticing the dark look settling across Soujiro's face. Eyes narrowing, he sought an excuse to pull away. "Asou-chan, look at the-"

"Later, later! We can't be late! I wanna see Hu first!" A dark glare snapped his mouth shut. Recognising the warning signs, Soujiro subsided, resigned to his fate. <What kind of demonstration?>

Suddenly, they broke into a pocket of free space. A roughly circular area had been cleared at the village center. A banner above them proclaimed "Isshogai-do". Silently, he translated it to himself. <"The Way for Life". What a misunderstood concept.> It reminded him of another school he had seen almost a year ago that espoused a similar ideal. He had scorned it before, but now he was merely confused. <Kamiya Kasshin Ryu... Kamiya's School of the Living Spirit... it turned away from the traditional meaning of budo, Shishio-sama said, and so it was almost extinct.> He remembered Shishio towering of him the first time he picked up a katana. <"Kenjutsu is for killing...">

Shaking his head to rid himself of that memory, Soujiro focussed on the small knot of men and youths across the circle from then. Garbed in the traditional white gi, they were stretching their muscles, preparing for the demonstration ahead.

"Hu's family is locally famous for their mastery of jujutsu." Asou bubbled next to him, not noticing his displeasure. "Someday, I hope that I'll be able to do it as well!"

Soujiro looked at her incredulously. "Jujutsu? You?" <They would never allow a woman to practise jujutsu.>

The thought must have been evident on his face, as she scowled in reply and looked back towards the circle. "They're starting!"

"O-goshi."

"Koshi-guruma."

"Hane-goshi."

Trying to hide his growing disdain, Soujiro focussed on clearing his face. As he had suspected, the core philosophy had tainted the strength of each technique. Searching the faces present, he soon found Hu at the edge of the circle opposite, throwing his partner to the ground. To his amusement, unlike the other practitioners, Hu failed to hold his partner throughout each technique. Each throw was accompanied by a heavy grunt as his unfortunate uke was slammed into the ground.

"Isn't it great?" Asou excitedly waved her free hand in the air to catch Hu's attention. Straightening from a throw, Hu smiled back at her. His face quickly took on a dark expression as his gaze slid over the Soujiro.

<Now what is it?> Soujiro thought in irritation, before realising that Asou was holding his right hand possessively. "Ano... Asou-chan?"

"Hai?" Her soft brown eyes turned towards him, sparkling in excitement. <Kuso...>

"Nandemonai." Across the clearing, Hu glared at him for a moment before breaking a wooden board with an open handed strike. The message was clear.

<"This is going to be your head".>

Soujiro groaned inwardly. It seemed that things were rapidly becoming worse.

"Isshogai-do is always open to the population. We strongly believe in the martial values, and our teachings are available to all. Please, those who are interested, approach the appropriate officials."

Soujiro lifted one eyebrow in surprise as Asou suddenly took off, dragging him along as usual. "Asou-chan?" His surprise turned to dread as he realised she was approaching Hu. "Wait, I don't think this is a good idea!"

"Don't be so stubborn Sou-chan. Didn't you hear that man? He said it was open to all! I'm *not* going to give up my chance to practise jujutsu." She paused for a moment, thinking. "Then again, he has been saying that for the last few years..."

Before he could think of any more excuses, they had reached Hu. Hu, Soujiro noted, had been glaring at him all the time, but had the sense to clear his expression when Asou finally looked in his direction.

"Asou-chan." Hu held up one hand even as she opened her mouth. "You know how your grandfather feels about this. As much as I'd like to convince father to let you join..." He shrugged his shoulders.

Soujiro threw a quick glance around. None of the other students were female. <Open to all,> he thought with a ironic smile.

"What about Sou-chan here then?" A hand shoved him forward insistently before he could protest.

"Eh? I don't need to learn jujutsu!" Soujiro hastily stepped back again. "I'm perfectly happy and safe as I am."

Hu's warm smile failed to touch his eyes. "Our techniques are designed to promote self-defence," he proclaimed. "They are sometimes necessary in this world, Soujiro-kun. It may not seem like it, but one can never be too careful." He waved away Asou's worried look, and indicated her to step back. "For instance, if you're walking down the road towards town-"

"I'll be fine, Hu-kun. You need not worry-" Soujiro edged away, looking at the vendor stands where he longed to be. <Anywhere but here.>

"-something like this might happen."

Out of the corner of his eye, Soujiiro saw a blur rushing towards him. Instinctively he leaned back, avoiding the first blow, then deflected a gouging strike towards his eyes with his wrist.

Immediately Hu was on him, arm extending in a straight, punishing blow towards Soujiro's head. Slapping it to one side with his palm, Soujiro simultaneously struck out the back of his opponent's supporting leg with his heel. As Hu stumbled forward, Soujiro grasped the extended arm and pinioned it against his chest. Stepping through, he wheeled about in a short arc, brutally dragging Hu face first down to the ground.

A moment of silence reigned as Hu glared up at Soujiro from the earth. Hate and fury filled his expression as he spat dirt. From his vantage point above Hu, Soujiro gazed back calmly in reply. As always, his thoughts cleared with combat. It was his most natural element. Shishou had beaten that into him a long time ago.

"Sou-chan!! Sugoi!!!" Soujiro blinked as Asou clapped her hands together, breaking his concentration. "I never knew you could do that." She beamed at him, not noticing how this further increased Hu's fury.

"I am very impressed!" A shorter, graying man joined them. From the same heavyset appearance and facial features, he could only be Hu's father. "I would never have expected to encounter a master as such a young age!" He bowed deeply to Soujiro. "We would be honored to have you practice with us."

Becoming aware of the painful hold he was inflicting on Hu, Soujiro hastily released the arm he was holding. Hu stiffly climbed to his feet and moved to a respectful distance behind his father. Despite Hu's downturned face, Soujiro could still make out the shame and anger emanating from him.

"Arigatou... I thank you for your kind offer, but I am afraid I must decline." Soujiro hesitated for a moment as he sought to find a diplomatic reason. "I prefer to practice alone."

Taking his refusal politely, the elderly man bowed once more and retreated from them, Hu in tow. <Somehow, I don't believe this is becoming any better.>

--------

The edge of Soujiro's hand crushed the throat of yet another opponent as he wheeled around. Deflecting an incoming straight blow, he broke the extended arm with an elbow before using his shoulder to throw away the attacker.

Ever since the day he had fought with Hu, it seemed like a part of his mind had reawakened. The rush of adrenaline, the sense of inevitable purpose he felt whenever he fought was almost like a drug addiction, calling him incessantly even as he moved through the intricate movements of the kata.

Tearing out the throat of his last attacker with a clawed hand, Soujiro stepped back. <Shishio-sama always told me to envision the reality behind each technique. But lately it's starting to become harder and harder.> The last thought disturbed him. <Does that mean that I'm losing my edge? But Shishio-san never practiced these patterns... he hardly needed to, with that level of skill. > Somehow, the prospect of reaching that level of skill no longer excited him. Rather, he felt a vaguely disturbed sensation, of something not being quite right.

<Shishio-san's philosophy was never the preservation of life, but the destruction of it. Himura-san's on the other hand... Which philosophy reflects the correct path in living?>

A single pair of hands clapping made him whip around, chagrined at being caught off guard while lost in thought. As he feared, Asou stood by beaming.

"Soujiro, I want to learn jujutsu." Her voice had a wheedling quality. It reminded him of the times she used to "delegate" all her chores to him. Not that she did it all that often to him nowadays, he reminded himself. Kenji had found out eventually, and quickly put an end to that with a stern lecture. He wiped the memory of Kenji's amused smirk out of his mind, and focussed back on Asou.

"I don't practice jujutsu." Walking away, he wiped the sweat from his face. <This conversation should not proceed.>

"But I want to learn!" Her ignorant appeal somehow made his blood boil. Spinning around, he nailed her in place with a hawk-like glare.

"Why?"

As he had expected, she looked rather puzzled and backed down a bit. "Do I really need to state some reasons?" She asked plaintively.

His silence was the only reply.

"Well, it's a good way of staying safe, isn't it? Hu-chan's been doing it for ages, and no-one ever bothers him!"

"Hu cannot defend himself." His blunt statement made her blink. "That much has already been demonstrated. These techniques are not simply for self-defence." <And I will be damned before I place her on a path that might result with blood on her hands.> "I will not teach you."

Her brown eyes seemed to catch fire as her temper finally flared to match his. "And why not? Is it only a skill that men are supposed to learn?" Angry now, she pressed onwards. "'These techniques are not for self-defence'." She mimicked, "At least not for women." She turned and began to walk away. "I'm sure Hu-kun will see differently, with a little encouragement."

Standing utterly still, Soujiro could only watch her walk away. In the painful silence that followed, he once again mouthed the words.

"These techniques are not for self-defence."

Sighing, he toweled off the remaining sweat, and headed for the shelter of home.

--------

The dying rays of the sun fill his eyes, blinding him as he swept the doorstep clear of dirt with a straw broom. Enjoying the warmth on his skin, Soujiro turns his eyes away from the light as he wields the broom, scrubbing away at the stubborn clumps of dirt that are stuck to the stone steps.

Pausing, Soujiro lets the ache in his arm muscles fade, relishing in the deliciously relaxed state. Craning his neck from side to side, he smiles as the muscles in his neck release their tension.

At that moment, a shadow falls over him. Shielding his eyes against the glare behind the figure, Soujiro's eyes widen as he recognises the figure before him. A slight, tall build, with soft brown locks of hair above gray eyes the colour of stormclouds.

"Father..." The words escaped his lips like an exhalation.

"Soujiro." The kindly eyes gaze at him, warming his soul.

"You left me here." His gaze falls to the grubby steps he had been scrubbing. "You left me alone with them."

"Why did you kill them?"

His eyes jerk back to the burly figure in front of him. No longer are the eyes warm and kind, but as hard as stone. Merciless. Unforgiving.

"I had no choice!"

"They were family. They were *my* family." The gentle face contorts with fury. "You killed my family. My sons, my daughters, my wife. Your siblings."

Unable to meet the harsh gaze, Soujiro drops his eyes to the floor again. Struggling for words, he is acutely aware of a throbbing in his skull, a burning behind his eyes. Confused thoughts careen around in his mind, chaotic impressions of violence, remorse and anguish.

"You killed my wife."

<No...>

"You killed my daughters. Your sisters."

"No."

"You killed my sons. Your brothers. You killed them all!"

"NO!" Screaming now, Soujiro hurls the broom to one side as he barrels forward towards the apparition. "You are not my father!"

The impact jolts him back to reality as his hand passes through skin and flesh, pushing apart and breaking the bone behind. Blood snakes its way down his wrist as he stares dazedly at the ruined tissue and the dark liquid seeping free. Raising his eyes, every nerve and fiber in his body freezes as a tingle of cold dread and shock sweeps through his body.

"Sou-chan." Smiling at him, Asou's eyes cloud over as her pain and sadness are reflected in her gaze. Tears roll from the corners of her eyes, mixing with the blood seeping from her mouth.

"Asou-chan... no..." His hands are abruptly clumsy as he places then over the gaping wound in a futile attempt to stem the flow of blood. Fighting the urge to throw up, Soujiro pushes his hands more firmly against the rent in her abdomen, feeling the silky skin becoming greasy with blood. "No..."

"Sou-chan..."

"NO!" Ripping a piece of material from his clothing he pushes it wildly against her as he screams in denial. His hands shake uncontrollably as he watches the material rapidly become scarlet, doing little to check the damage.

"Sou-chan."

His head whipping upwards, his eyes fixate upon hers. Reflected in them, he sees the panic on his face in stark contrast to the slow filming over of her gentle brown eyes. One hand reaches up to caress his cheek, curling around one ear as she smiles sweetly at him. "Don't cry..."

An instant later, he realises her eyes have completely filmed over. Her hand, slack in death, falls away from his face leaving his cheek unbearably cold.

"NO! ASOU-CHAN!"

--------

With a throat ripping shriek, Soujiro bolted upright. His stomach churning, Soujiro wiped the sweat from his face then paused to stare at his trembling hand. In his mind, he could still see the blood there staining his skin. The unwanted memory of flesh parting and bone breaking filled his mind.

A cool breeze chilled his skin, though it did nothing to slow the pounding of blood he could feel in his head. The whisper of wind wove icy tendrils around him, raising goose bumps along his arms even as the burning within refused to subside.

Abruptly, he swiveled around, eyes wildly searching the other corner of the room. Ignoring the sick feeling in his chest, Soujiro squinted in the darkness, trying to make out Asou's familiar huddled form.

The bed was empty.

For a moment it seemed as if his heart had stopped, as a flood of pure panic washed through him. Struggling to rise, Soujiro almost hurled himself out of the futon, becoming entangled in the sheets. Frenziedly, he clawed at the material for a moment before losing his balance and falling back. Almost immediately, two more lengths entwined him. In his mind, the sheets struggled against him, smothering his movements. His eyes fixed on the shadowed, empty pallet across the room, Soujiro cursed as he twisted in the restricting hold.

"Sou-chan?"

The sleepy voice brought him to an abrupt standstill. The pair of arms around him tightened, drawing him close into a soothing warmth. Her fragrance surrounded him, dulling the ache and gentling the rapid pounding of his heart. Only a slight start gave away her surprise as Soujiro buried his face in her hair. A moment later, she felt the tickling of his tears as they fell onto her neck before winding away into the surrounding sheets.

"Sou-chan, why?" Cradling his head against her chest, Asou lovingly stroked his brown locks, luxuriating in the softness. <Why does he weep like this? And not for the first time... what did he leave behind?> In her heart crystallised a cold fear. <Or did he leave someone behind?>. The thought seemed unbearable to her, and she forced it from her mind.

Instead, Asou focussed on the shaking of the stricken youth in front of her. As his tears rained upon her neck and shoulders, she gently rubbed his back, whispering reassurances. Trying to ignore the warmth under her hands, the soft press of his lips against her neck, Asou rocked him back and forth, listening to his sobbing gradually lessen.

Finally, when quiet finally reigned, she placed one hand below his chin, tilting it upwards. Immediately, she was struck by the self-loathing behind those eyes, the guilt as he diverted his gaze away from hers.

"Sumimasen." Soujiro finally exerted himself, starting to push her hands away. He could not bear to look into her beautiful eyes at that moment, for fear that the loathing he felt for himself be reflected there. In the dream those same eyes had stared at him sightlessly, accusing like so many before, yet somehow far different.

He froze as the hands on his cheeks tightened. Reflexively, his gaze rose to meet hers in question as he felt some of her emotions through her grasp. Irritation. Compassion. Above all... possessive.

Relaxing her hold, Asou studied him a moment longer before making her decision. Banishing memories of him screaming in anguish from her touch, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

The moment he went rigid, she knew she had made a mistake. Reluctant to leave even then, her lips lingered as she inwardly wept at his reaction. Pulling back, she bowed her head, hiding her face.

Soujiro's mental struggle precluded him even noticing. From the instant her lips had touched his, a now almost familiar barrage of chaos assaulted his mind, threatening to overwhelm him with its intensity.

<Ore wa Tenken no Soujiro!> A part of his mind sang. <Tenken!> A stream of images of pain, of blood, filled his eyes. The unfamiliar surge of fury filled him, demanding blood. <Tenken! My existence means to kill!>

<No!> He felt as if his mind was tearing in two. Revulsion and self-loathing mixed, twisting his anger. His hands shook as the voices within screamed for release, the oblivion found on the edge of a blade.

A single tear dripped from her downcast face onto his hand.

Instantly, the assault ceased.

Almost spellbound, he lifted her face with one hand as she had done to him only minutes before. In those moments, he drank in every feature. The way her hair curled around her neck, the soft skin of her chin under his hand burned itself into his memory. His gaze roamed over the gentle arch of her delicate eyebrows over the warm brown eyes, following the wet streak that ran down one cheek to the corner of her mouth. Those inviting delicate pink lips, that drew him onwards until his mouth fully covered hers.

Asou's mind reeled for a moment at his touch, then unthinking, her hands came up, wrapping around his neck. One of his hands entangled in her own locks, the other encircling her waist, drawing her closer. Her fears, all the pain of rejection, all vanished as her mind seemed to shut down.

For Soujiro, all existence had ended save for her warmth, her lips, her touch. He was drowning in her heat, starved for breath as his lips feverishly traced her lips, then moved across her cheek. Hearing her soft cries in his ears, he rained kisses on the sensitive exposed flesh of her throat as her hands ran over his head, stroking his ears, his neck, anything within her reach. Beneath his hands, against his body, all he could feel was her warmth as he enfolded her in his arms, holding her as close as humanly possible. Even then Soujiro wanted more, irrationally wishing he could mould himself against her slender form, leaving no place without her touch.

Finally, he moved back to Asou's lips, engaging them in a slow, gentle yet passionate kiss that took her breath away. As he pulled away, he became aware of her tears, now streaming down her cheeks.

"Asou-chan... daijobu ka?" To his ears, such tenderness sounded clumsy, awkward in that they could not possibly express the range of his emotions.

Asou smiled tremulously, though with a trace of victory in her eyes.

"Daijobu."

--------

I apologise for the huge gaps of time in between each segment, but I have little chance to write when university begins. Thus, two of the three chapters were written during the mid-semester and end of year breaks. Also, the fact that I like to have largish chunks of writing (16,000+ words over two chapters) tends to slow down releases.

It seems that the wrap up will occur in the fourth and final chapter. Despite what has happened, our Soujiro can't exactly be called a completely healed man, especially in light of the approaching storm. ;) What's going to happen with Hu? Can Soujiro find the true path he has been seeking? =))

zlmndra@hotmail.com is still the place you can send your feedback/flames/praise. Plus, if you want to know when the final chapter is released, drop me an email and I'll keep you informed. And pre-readers are still in great need!

Again, thanks everyone for reading my piece. Now please press the "review" button! :))

Regards,

Zeddy zlmndra@hotmail.com