#rurouni kenshin fanfiction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pauking5 · 1 year ago

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Addicting Taste ~ Chapter 1 ~

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: Enishi Yukishiro was on a mission to execute his piece de la resistance. A plan to avenge his beloved sister. Until you showed up, rattling open the icy closed gates of his heart. Will you be a part of his downfall or will you try to save him?

Pairing: Enishi Yukishiro x fem reader oc

Genre: strangers to lovers, sunshine and grumpy, slow burn, a lot of fluff, occasional smut, angst by the bucket

Words: 6.7k +

A/N: I couldn’t hold back anymore and had to make a fic for Enishi. It won’t exactly follow the Rurouni Kenshin timeline for now but it will later develop into it. This is the first chapter in the series with more chapters coming. It is a reader insert as I couldn’t help but indulge myself in it completely. Powered by Mackenyu’s outstanding portrayal of Enishi’s character in Rurouni Kenshin: The Final, I hereby present you a story ripped from the figments of my mind. I hope you’ll love their story as much as I do. Enjoy lovelies, Paula.

Also thank you @eureka-its-zico for supporting me with this and getting me writing again 🫶

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Bonus Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

“Just how stupid are you?”

A loud smack echoed in the room upon connecting with his cheek, heavy rugged palm twisting his face to the side. He clicked his jaw menacingly, facing forward once more with another devilish smirk.

“You thought you could just get away with it?”

Another heavy punch collided with his face, this one making him drop to his knees. He might have been kneeling, completely at the mercy of someone with much more power in command, but this show of authority trying to assert him into submission did absolutely nothing for him.

Lest the displeasure of being Shanghai's commander in chief's unexpected catch of the night. Maybe even the catch of his whole career.

“You’re a fool.”

Heard that one before, he prepared to spit out like burning acid crawled out of his throat.

Just as the rims of his mouth opened to let the words out, he got cut off by an uppercut digging hard under his chin, throwing his body backwards. He tasted iron on his lips. The force of the blow made blood pool in his mouth surprisingly. He didn't think the old man capable of this much damage but as it turns out he had a thing for facial damage. A pleasure Enishi wanted so badly to return.

Spitting it out through clenched teeth at the side, staining the limestone carpet with crimson splotches to redecorate the man's office with a little color. He would've added other shades of red to the whole carpet, rounding it up on each and every shimmering golden seam until everyone in the room contributed. If only his hands were not bound behind his back, constricting most of his movement.

The man standing tall before him left his face full of cuts and bruises. But that was the least of Enishi’s worries right now.

Many months were spent tracking down the biggest shipment of weapons set to leave Shanghai for Kanagawa. Tonight, Enishi’s men were supposed to rob the storage by the docks completely dry before the ship set sail in the morning with empty cargo. But it turned out to be a harder task than it was intended to be.

He couldn't tell where it all went wrong.

Was it just bad luck? That would've been a first under the remarkable security he had around the area.

Was it a tip-off from the inside? Highly unlikely. If that was the case, he would've smelled the motherfucker who chirped before they even thought it possible to cross him.

Whatever it was, changed the course of the whole plan, rendering it nothing short of a total fail.

That fail was also what led to his current position - with his hands tied roughly behind his back, bloody with his patience running thinner with each breath, lying on the floor of the most secure precinct in Shanghai.

A few hours ago

“These dumplings are amazing,” you sighed happily, munching on three baozi dumplings at once.

The lady vendor grimaced at you. Well, less at you and more at your clear lack of manners since you were practically inhaling the soft dough before it even landed in the palm of your hands like a famished grizzly bear.

Leftover crumbs decorated the edges of your lips as you chomped down on the dumplings. You forgot all about etiquette when the food literally melted in your mouth. Heaven was definitely found in food and not in the afterlife and these little desserts were the very proof of it. Your stomach also agreed with that claim every time your mouth touched dumplings in any shape, form or filling.

Who could resist those plump, freshly made babies?

Not me. Ya'll stay safe though.

A little boy walked by with his mother when he caught sight of the dumpling cart. He ran to the cart gluing his face to the glass to watch the lady work the next batch. His breaths fogged up the glass as he gaped at the steaming dumplings in awe and adoration. But when he turned his head and saw the way you were devouring the small pastry like a goblin from the woods his face turned to pure disgust.

What do you want child, you muttered, cheeks filled with the new cherry filling you were trying out. He said nothing, continuing to stare you down as if you had some unresolved business with him.

You were getting annoyed by his staring, so you shot the little boy a slightly threatening look in hopes he would turn back to watch the magic dough rather than try to make enemies with you. Instead he started crying, running off in the direction he came from. You watched until he got tinier and tinier, disappearing somewhere in the depths of the street.

His mother watched the whole exchange from behind you. Upon meeting her burning gaze, she regarded you with a condescending look then followed after her child.

You turned back to your dumplings, chewing slowly in guilt. It wasn't your fault children had the temperament of the unpredictable weather forecast. The vendor lady did not seem to share your opinion, pinning you with an icy authoritative glare typical of her generation. The one that usually scared off the youngsters.

“Can you leave before you scare all my clients away?” she said, irritated with the fact that you’ve been hogging her cart for the past half an hour and you didn't look like you would be leaving anytime soon.

“Listen lady, I am your only client. Plus, I could buy your whole cart if I wanted to. Just let me enjoy these,” you said with your mouth full, reaching for another bag of dumplings on sale. She smacked your hand away, looking down at the bags you were already holding safely on your chest.

“I’ll be the one leaving then," she hissed as she started to put away the steaming buns away and gathered all her tools, folding the cart faster than you could catch up to her. "You might spoil my dough from raising if I stay here any longer,”

“Wait! You can’t just leave -"

By the time you yelled after trying to stop her from leaving with the heaven-sent goodies, she was already gone. Old ladies really are a different breed these days, you thought. Cooking, knitting and chit-chatting were activities that seemingly didn't provide them with enough soul sucking out of people to their heart's content.

Anywho, there went your only meal for the day. At least it was a nice filling one to last you some time and kick in some energy your body desperately needed. You looked down at your stomach with a sigh, patting in a comforting manner before you turned to go on your own way.

The crisp air of mid-October made its presence felt as an icy gust blew against the sleeves of your cotton dress making the material flutter and fill you up with cold air. Your attire was nothing short of inappropriate for the lingering cold season, but the leather bits, like the corset laced up over your chest or the pants under it, kept a fraction of warmth with you.

The chilly weather made it harder to do any jobs, take out hitlist services not requested as much in this period of time. Rage requests usually came with the hot scorching summer rather than the fall of the first autumnal fog. That meant you never knew where your next meal would be coming from most of the time, so you powered through with anything you could find. Though your money was slowly running on empty, you always made sure to keep some aside for your delicacy cravings.

Only mad people walked the streets of Shanghai, the city of all things food confectionery, without indulging in at least one treat from the vendors. Broke or not, you emptied your pockets here on good measure.

There was a downside to all good things in life.

The once bustling street, buzzing with chatter and sizzling pans where savory and sweet scents danced in the air, turned awfully quiet with nightfall. It was the norm in this part of the city. Vendors were quickly packed away and activity was slowly coming to a halt in the wake of the coming night. Any normal person in these parts would know that being on the streets when the last flicker of daylight disappears wasn’t safe in the slightest.

Who would want to be out in the dark with the Shanghai mafia having a full blown war with the commander in chief on the streets until the early hours of dawn? Definitely no one in all faculties of the mind or at least some.

Clutching the rest of your dumplings closer, you made your way down the narrow pathways circling the outskirts of the city. As you padded the cobblestone road, windows hatched closed, doors shut and all light dimmed to ward off danger. The people of Shanghai lived in fear of this war every night. You did too. But at least you had weapons and could defend yourself in case of anything.

The place you resided in for the time being was just a hop down from the city docks. It was a modest room at the top of an abandoned jewelry shop, furnished with a desk, a small wardrobe, and a corner to store the little belongings you carried around. It was not the comfiest nor the safest place in the world, but it provided a space to roll your futon for the night and that was as good as anything.

The bags in your hands shuffled with each step you took. You cast a look at the buns, the delicious smell still wafting up to your nose even as they were covered and tucked inside the paper. On impulse, you bought a bunch of different flavors with all kinds of fillings you haven’t tried before. Just thinking of taste testing all of them made your mouth water and your step quicken with happy strides.

Whilst getting lost in your pastry daydreams, you were shaken back to earth by persistent yelling. As you were making your way further down to the docks, more agitated shouting ensued and the quick pace of your walk slowed down. You were far away from the entrance, unable to really see anything, but the growing commotion piqued your curiosity.

It wouldn’t hurt to take a closer look, right? It's in the way anyway, you shrugged.

Inching closer to the side of the docks entrance, you hid behind an abandoned fishing boat perched up on empty fishing crates. They might've been rusty from being left outside for god knows how long but they still smelled like few days old catch that went off. Ignoring the horrendous smell and tucking your petite form well enough so you wouldn’t be spotted, you looked over the edge of the boat to see what was going on.

Moving your eyes around you counted about twenty masked men, all dressed in black with swords attached to the hip. Mercenaries. You didn't need to see more than the blades and their eyes to be able to tell they were possibly wanted people.

Most of them were frantically rushing in and out of the biggest storage on the other side, holding cases filled with… guns?

As more of them came out you realized it wasn’t just guns - there was long and short range artillery, fuses, even more blades and all kinds of artisanal bombs. It looked like the place to be for pyromaniacs and sadists. Depending on which category took your fancy, there was something for every sin you wanted to commit, from arson all the way to testing out painful killing methods.

Whatever these guys were planning was nothing short of mass destruction.

“We’ve secured all the weapons, Master,” a shushed voice spoke in Japanese from your right. He came closer, standing right in front of the boat you were using as a hiding spot.

He looked about half a person in height. If a wild gust of wind blew his way he would most likely topple over and become dust. Besides that, what caught your attention was the unsure nature of his Japanese accent. He definitely wasn't Japanese but whoever he talked to just now was because they replied in a grave pronounced tone, one hundred percent of Edo origin.

“Good work,” said a deeper voice from the left as he approached too. The way he spoke those simple words was enough to make tremors run down your spine in sheer thrill.

Weird, you shook them off trying to get a better view of the owner of the voice. A curly, tangled mop of white hair entered your vision. The roots were darker than the silvery ends shimmering in the pale blue moonlight.

Damn, this guy was long overdue for a haircut. And a hair dye session. Who was this gramps?

Trailing your eyes further down you took in his sturdy physique that was outlined through the clothes he was wearing. Wait. This is no gramps body. You could tell he was trained in some kind of martial arts. No one just walked around with heaps of muscles like those. You could easily draw a map of the world between those wide shoulders if you focused hard enough on just what lay beneath those tight, crunched up cotton creases- Snap out of it, Miyu.

The loud crash of crates rattling to the floor brought you back to reality. You weren't supposed to be there, eavesdropping and peeking like a spy when these people could probably cut you to pieces in one breath.

I need to get out of here ASAP.

You couldn’t risk getting caught and brought in by the commander in chief. If he wasn’t alerted yet he sure got wind of things by now. That man definitely has mutant senses. You didn't need to get caught by this mafia either because from the looks of it they definitely were part of one.

The last thing you needed was them catching wind of your location. You've spent so long staying under the radar and now was not the time to advertise your whereabouts like you were the main specialty on sale in the morning newspaper.

I am void. I don’t care. I haven’t seen anything.

I am not getting involved with this.

Repeating that mantra several times in your head in order to calm down, you had to figure out a way to sneak out as smoothly as possible without alerting anybody. Not even a fly and especially not the strong muscular white mop of hair who hasn’t moved at all from his spot right in front of you. He was probably one of those people gifted with extended field of vision that could see the world in one side to side look like a bird, so any move or choked breath of yours would fall on his alarm sensors instantly.

After a quick scan of your surroundings, you came to two viable options that would help you avoid getting skewered: going left, straight through the docks and to your hideout located just on the other side; or going right, having to circle around the whole city to get back.

It wasn’t hard to figure out which one was safer. You’d rather go around the whole city as many times as you needed if it meant staying away from whatever they had planned. You just had to wait for the right time to make your way out.

Any minute now...

The two continued supervising the undercover operation, not once moving away. Not even one accidental turn of their heads somewhere else.

More like any day...

If you didn't know any better, you'd think they picked up on your scent and were just waiting for you to breathe through the wrong nostril before they jumped you. The singular possibility of that drenched your spine with cold drops of nervous sweat. You've done the stake out thing a million times before, but this one was somehow so different - gut twisting in churns and knots like you took a hit of deja vu different. Like disaster waited patiently at those rusty gates to catch and cradle you sweet like a lover from the very moment your eyes first laid on the docks tonight.

After an agonizing long while, the two men blocking your view finally moved, heading towards the rest of their squad on the other side of the docks. That was your chance. All you had to do was get set, lift your ass from the floor and sprint the hell out of there before someone caught you and made you fish food.

If only things would play out like that but they rarely do for normal people.

Raising to half your height, trying to keep cover behind the boat, you turned to the right. In your rush to escape, you missed a teeny tiny key detail that was in your way to freedom - a dark brown fishing cord extending from the boat to the other pile of empty crates behind you.

You didn't see it in the darkened confined space around you and if you did, you took notice of it too late, barely making it two steps before your leg tangled in it and you were falling face first to the hard concrete floor, taking the crates behind with you. Disaster caught up to you, smiling sickly at your futile attempt to escape so easily.

The steaming buns you tried so hard to keep close spilled all over the ground in the process. That was the least of your worries. What should've worried you was that you just made the loudest sounds known to man that were probably heard under the sea. The clangs from the metal cages rattling on top of each other before crashing to the ground with a thud, rolling into other piles like rumbling waves of a raging sea, echoing deafeningly in your ears.

Once they stopped, the loud screeching of the crates was replaced by the loud beating of your heart with the realization that your body was halfway exposed to the other side of the docks. In full view for anyone to snap your details. The danger alarm rang multiple times in your head but your body just refused to move.

There was nowhere for you to run without getting caught now.

I’m. so. fucked.

“What was that?” growled one of the masked goons on the other side.

Mophead stopped in his tracks, muscles in his back contracting with impending doom. He turned around swiftly, faster than a wild feline, locking eyes on you. Lifting your own gaze from your uncomfortable spot on the floor, you connected it with his. You choked on a breath caught halfway in your throat before it could reach your lungs.

Dark black eyes akin to predators that lurk in the dead of night pierced yours. They screamed murder. The ‘chop you apart for funsies’ kind of murder, in a silent, more maniacal and lethal manner than serial killers normally sported.

But something about those eyes caught you off guard. He was just a few feet away. Close enough to reach for you and squeeze the life out of you. Close enough to catch the blue hue outlining his pupils. Something about those eyes, though eerie and downright terrifying, awaking every urge to take off to safety, was so oddly familiar that it froze you in place.

Where have I seen these eyes before?

He seemed to be stuck in his own reverie, fixed on your own for a good while. A tilt of his head could only signal his confusion to your presence. Or was it recognition? It could be both.

You don’t even know how long you were both stuck soul searching each other until the roaring sound of gunfire descended down on the docks.

Breaking your staring contest apart, you frantically craned your head behind trying to locate where the firing came from. Then it dawned on you.

The commander in chief is here. Knowing him, he was just waiting for his cue to shine like the superstar pawn of the government he is.

Mophead set off in your direction, most likely to grab you, but he only managed to take a step before bullets lined up a few feet in front of him. With a low grunt, he spared you one last deadly stare marking you as a new enemy to his possibly extended list before retreating back to his gang.

The bullets flew closer and closer to your spot and the intense smell of gun powder filled your nostrils. This was your cue to exit stage. In any direction at this point.

You got to your feet in seconds, saving what was left of your steamed dumplings and made a run for it. A few bullets narrowly grazed the low ends of your dress but you quickly made it to the safety of a dark alleyway close by.

Checking on your precious dumplings in the crumpled paper bags, you saw most of them were unharmed and let out a breath of relief. Then you cursed yourself for leaving your weapons on your neatly folded futon the one time you could actually make use of them.

The blaring gunshots halted all of a sudden. The docks were quiet again. Way too quiet. Strange. Did they run out of ammo this fast? I thought the police got endless resources in that field. Nevermind that, the mob had thousands of them at hand, itching for a little assembling and bullets. A showdown between a gang and the authorities couldn't have just ended this fast. Something felt off.

You made sure the shadow of the brick wall covered you whole before peering over to the docks from the corner of the alley. Assessing the situation, you noticed that half of mophead’s party was shot down by the commander’s force. Blood was everywhere, splattered on the cement from the entrance as far as you could see. Possibly all the way to the other end of the pier. Big and burly bodies that were swarming the warehouse and executing orders just moments ago, now laid lifeless next to and on top of some of the crates filled with weapons. Some of them managed to flee the scene when the firing started, abandoning ship cowardly. The rest of them that were still alive and kicking were captured and put in restraints to be taken into custody, together with their leader who must have been a ticking bomb of rage on the inside by now.

The more you looked at it, you didn't take him for someone that would get caught so easily. He gave the impression of the superior kind of thug. The type that calculates and plans until all doubts, variables and collaterals were executed off the table.

Something didn't add up.

What is really peculiar was that this part of the harbor was not even on the open side, clearly to make the storing of arm supplies as reclusive as possible. But anyone who wanted a hit and run, quick and fast, could flee the scene absolutely undetected under the safety of nightfall. The only way you could get caught was if someone chirped like a hummingbird, loud and close to the commander's ear. You nearly giggled at the possibility until you took another look down at the pier and all amusement in you dissipated.

Maybe it was the smug look on the commander’s face as his men rounded up the thugs. Or the way most of his force came out from what looked like stationed places at the other end of the docks entrance. Even the sure nods the officers shared as they shoved the last of the goons to their knees behind their leader.

It almost seemed like they knew mophead and his crew were going to be here tonight, set on stealing the armament.

No way.

Was this a set up?

Back at the precinct

Enishi was fuming.

Things went sideways too quickly for his liking tonight. The only feasible explanation was that someone talked and he was going to make sure they weren’t seeing the light of day under his watch. Once he made it out of the shithole he was currently held in that was. Which seemed to be somewhere in the far future.

The old man ceased his relentless show of authority punches, changing the plate for questioning, trying to intimidate Enishi. Too bad. Having the man breathe opium smoke in his face did not phase him at all.

“I’m going to ask again," sneered the commander, puffing up his chest with another intake of the drug. "Why were you stealing weapons?”

His patience was running thin, beyond irritation, showing in the way the veins on his neck strained. But he could press on as much as he wanted. Enishi wasn’t going to give him shit.

“Either you talk or your good for nothing squad will suffer in your place.”

He really thought he did something with that line. Those men were disposable. The real ones waited back at the base. He wasn't mad to deploy them for a mission that was supposed to be easy. But this was probably the last time he employed outside resources for a mission.

“I don’t give two flying fucks about them,” spat Enishi. He hoped some of the drops of blood flew to land on the commander's face.

That geature only earned him another punch, this time deep to the stomach. The guards who were holding him let him drop to the floor, more blood dripping on the side of his mouth.

The commander handed his pipe to one of the officers, discarding his coat on a chair before letting his fingers work to roll the sleeves of his shirt up. He moved around his golden desk furniture with the grace of an old dragon, aware of the ways of the world. That was what he wanted his assailants to believe. Truth be told, he was nothing but a puppet for the higher ups.

“I guess I’ll have to beat it out of you then,” said the commander, cracking his knuckles.

Bracing for the commander’s punishment, his thoughts wandered somewhere else. Not to the mission. Not to the missing weapons. Not to his men. But to the girl who was there tonight, hiding behind the boat.

He wasn’t stupid. He sensed someone was eavesdropping from somewhere. It just wasn't in his benefit to do something about it when they weren't showing up to lay claim to the weapons or to stop him from taking them.

But you weren’t supposed to be there. You were a variable in his plan that he couldn’t have predicted. A wildcard? A hidden weapon he could've used? He didn't know. Where a handful of questions swarmed around in his head, three of them stood out the most, distracting him from the incoming hit to his side.

Why were you there tonight?

Who were you working for?

And where have I seen you before?

Ten armed guards at the front of the building. Another two securing the entrance from the inside. Five more moving around the halls. None on the top floor.

Bingo.

Sliding open the glass window on the roof of the precinct, you snuck in quietly. You landed down swiftly, arching your heels like a cat to keep you steady. Stealth mode switched on in your head as you carefully inspected your surroundings.

The top floor is clear.

Tightening the grip on your twin Remingtons, you straightened and advanced to the walls on your right, opposite to the railing on the other side overlooking the secured entrance. No one seemed to be on this level at all.

As you rounded the corners, you spotted a staircase going down to what looked like a meeting hall.

Angry shouting and what resembled the sound of slapping got louder the more steps you descended. Someone was either receiving a beating or they were just into kinky shit.

You were on the last three steps when a guard's boots fell in step close by. Aligning yourself with the wall, you became one with the shadows. You held your breath, keeping your heartbeat under control as well as any other signs that could get you spotted. On the inhale, he walked by. On the exhale, he continued on his path. As he got further away, you tilted your head towards the glass ceiling and released the breath you were holding.

This was a terrible idea.

What were you even doing here in the first place? This was not your fight.

But your conscience convinced you that you were somehow responsible for the unsuccessful outcome of mophead’s mission. Call it remorseful helping.

You weren’t supposed to be there tonight. It was just incidental. Your stupid craving for dumplings made you come out of your extremely comfortable refuge and one thing led to another and you found yourself in the middle of the crossfire. The very thing you hoped to avoid at all costs.

Without thinking too much of your bad choices for the day, you geared up to save mophead. You didn’t know why you were going this far for someone you didn’t know. But you felt needed for once in a while and like you finally had a job to do. That and the fact that the betrayal under his command hit a little too close to home.

There was something else that bothered you about your encounter with him. The moment he locked eyes with you was branded into your head like a burn wound. Your brain replayed it over and over again for no specific reason until it drove you crazy.

Those eyes bugged you to the world’s end. There was something so addicting and familiar to them. But you couldn’t recall where you’ve seen them before no matter how hard you tried.

You needed to find out who this man is. So, like any normal person looking for answers, you went to ask him. Well, you will ask him. As soon as you busted him out of the most secure precinct in Shanghai.

In the meeting hall

“This would be so much easier if you just talked,” yelled the commander in chief.

“How about… fuck you. Good talk,” said Enishi with a sick grin.

“You son of a—,” the commander was cut off by the sound of shots being fired outside the meeting hall. Grunting and yelling ensued for a good minute until everything turned quiet. Everyone’s ears perked up listening for what could follow.

A powerful kick thundered against the golden door to the hall, making it come off its hinges and cave in on itself. The bolts creaked, splintering on the sides and the door fell with a loud thud. You stepped over it, the click of your heeled boots bouncing off the echo in the room.

All eyes were trained on you.

“Who’s ready to have some fun?” you chirped, enthusiastically twirling the guns in your hands. They landed perfectly in your hold and you cocked them right at the men in the middle of the room.

“Who are you?,” asked the commander in chief.

“Let’s just say I’m someone you don’t want to mess with,” you said confidently.

“You’re just a stupid girl if you think you can just come in here —“

“This stupid girl just took out most of your guards on duty. It will be her utmost pleasure to take you out too,” you said with a smirk.

Enishi was watching the exchange, his head swimming with confusion for the second time tonight.

Just who exactly were you? And why were you crossing paths again? Also, were you insane to just waltz in the commander in chief's lair like that?

You first show up as a hindrance to his plan and now you’re here to probably mess up more than you already have. He was also kind of blaming you for the situation he was in at the moment. You weren't of any help in his eyes.

At least you proved useful in distracting the guards and the commander so he could work on getting his hands free of the rope tugging at his wrists. Okay, maybe you were useful.

Looking over at mophead, you noticed he freed himself. You haven’t worked in a team in so long so you threw him a look asking for guidance on what to do now. What he saw however, was more of a weird face that kind of creeped him out, but he quickly caught onto what you meant.

He wasn’t sure whether to trust you. But he didn’t have the luxury to audition for partners right now. So, sending a silent nod your way, you let the fun begin.

Mophead lunged for the commander in chief while you preoccupied yourself with the five guards in the room. You easily took out the first one by the couch at the side. Pointing your gun to the next one, you pulled the trigger but nothing happened. You tried the other gun receiving the same vacant response. You were left without bullets having emptied most of them on the guards outside.

Strapping the guns back to your belt, you took a fighting stance and beckoned the officers to you.

Hand to hand combat it is.

The closest guard lunged at you and your fist connected with his nose. A loud crack echoed upon contact, blood seeping through his hands as he cradled his nose.

“You bitch—,” you cut him off by hooking your leg to the back of his neck, dragging him to the floor.

“Did your mother not teach you how to speak to a lady?”

He got back up and got ready to throw another snarky remark but you wasted no time in shutting him up with a nearby chair. The wood broke to pieces as it made contact with him, knocking him out cold. Once he fell to the floor, you directed your attention at the other three guards that started circling you from different sides. Showtime.

You let them come at you. The taller one came first, swinging a baton at your head. Ducking successfully to avoid having your head turned into a baseball, you went for a roundhouse kick to his head. He got projected to the other side from the force you put into the move.

The last two attacked you at the same time. One of them had a knife that managed to get a few cuts through the sleeves of your dress as he kept swinging at you recklessly. He wasn't even looking where he sent his blade. He probably just hoped they got you. If this was the training they got the armed forces were doomed.

You huffed disappointedly as you lifted a slashed piece to check the damage. “I just got this one."

Getting annoyed with his incessant flailing about, you caught his hand just as a slightly smaller in stature officer came from behind you. Kicking back your right leg into the stomach of the one behind, you got a chance to take the knife, throwing it away and out of his reach. You turned and elbowed the knife wielder in the stomach, directing another knee at his ribcage letting him fall flat to the floor.

One more to go.

Standing face to face with your last enemy, you spared mophead a quick look. He was struggling with the commander as he pushed him face down on the big wooden desk. He quickly turned the power around and got him into a deadly chokehold instead.

You didn’t even notice his outerwear was discarded and he was left only in a tank top. His huge biceps flexed dangerously as he tightened his hold on the commander’s neck, pushing into him with all his strength. Sweat was piling like rain drops down his arms and you found yourself drooling. Maybe you digged the whole white mop of hair look.

You were snapped out of your fantasies by the small garden goblin running towards you with a spiked staff. Where the fuck did he get that from?

Do these guys not have one normal weapon on them? Where do they get all this ridiculous stuff from?

You dodged his attacks and his futile attempts at trying to spear you like Dracula, until he got tired and his swings turned sloppy. Finding an opening way too easily, you caught the end of the staff with your right hand and turned your left into an uppercut diving it under his chin. The impact of your hit had him landing in a star shape on the floor. His eyes rolled around unable to focus like birds chirped around his head.

Just as you were finished with him, mophead finally squeezed the living daylights out of the commander and let him fall splat to the floor. He wasn't dead. Just out of service for the day.

Sensing the ruckus in the hall, the rest of the guards from outside started piling up into the hall. You both walked towards each other until you were back to back. In other circumstances you would’ve loved the way your heavy breaths mingled and the way your shoulders shyly grazed each other. But now was not the time to crush on your new partner.

“Any chance you have a plan to get us out of here?” asked mophead. Guards surrounded you from all sides, covering all exit points. The only way to escape was to fight your way out.

“I’m guessing breaking some more necks wouldn’t hurt,” you replied hastily.

“You take the ones on the right. I take the ones on the left,” he directed.

With another nod, you both got into position and waited as the guards descended upon you.

A storm of fists came your way. You tried blocking them as much as you could but five to one was too much to handle without a weapon. Mophead noticed your struggle and tried to get rid of the three baton swingers in front of him. With a low sweep kick to their ankles they all fell over at once, hitting each other with the bats they were holding.

You were holding onto three bats with all your might, pushing your arm muscles to greater strength than they were capable of. Two guards sneaked behind you, ready to deliver a dangerous blow. Enishi intercepted them before they could carry out their plan, catching their arms mid swing and twisting their arms to inhuman angles.

“Don’t you know it’s bad manners to hit a lady, especially from behind?” he said, towering over them, pushing them to their knees as they writhed in pain.

You finally managed to throw the three men backwards, taking to delivering a kick to each of them. By the time you were done with them you were breathing heavily. You were a good fighter, but your stamina was always holding you back. Mophead seemed to be more trained in that field though as you saw him cutting through the lines of guards with ease, taking down two or three at the time. And he was injured.

Five more guards circled both of you.

“Give me a hand,” you said as you ran towards mophead.

He sensed your idea right away. Latching your hand with his, you created enough momentum for him to pull you around in a circle to kick down all of the guards. Once you got both feet back on the ground looking for your next victims, you noticed the secure hand sitting idly on your waist.

Looking up at him, you saw he’s about a head taller than you. He was scanning the room too. Feeling you tense in his hold, he quickly dropped his hand from your waist and trained his gaze on the broken down door.

“We have to go before more of them come.”

“What about your crew? Are you just going to leave them here?”

“They can get out just fine by themselves,” he growled, annoyed and pissed enough to think of those fuckers too.

And with that he grabbed your hand and you made a run for it, stepping over the bodies of the commander's regiment, falling out into the precinct.

Thank you for reading! Comments, notes and reblogs are always welcome :)

#Addicting Taste #enishi yukishiro #enishi yukishiro x reader #enishi yukishiro x you #rurouni kenshin #enishi yukishiro fanfiction #fluff #sunshine and grumpy #badass mcs #stay tuned

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dawnrider · 3 months ago

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Once again, I am following in @flannelfangirl's footsteps and putting out a call for prompt asks! Send an ask with any number between 1 and 100, a fandom (try to stick to ones you've seen me posting about) and pairing (platonic or romantic) and I'll write a vignette to go with whatever song the number corresponds to from my 2024 Spotify Wrapped playlist! (You can also just specify a fandom and I'll pick a character or pairing myself.) Happy prompting!

Ask Box

#dawnrider fanfiction #spotify wrapped #wrapped prompts #inuyasha #voltron legendary defender #kamisama kiss #the apothecary diaries #ranma 1/2 #escaflowne #otome youkai Zakuro #rurouni kenshin #nurarihyon no mago

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scarletdawnwolfblogs · 1 year ago

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Enishi Yukishiro x Reader

When you saw Enishi on his knees after his battle with Kenshin and Heishin, you can see so much grief radiating from his body.

The realization hitting him into knowing that he will lose his sister's smile forever after listening to Kenshin's reasoning to not hurt anyone anymore.

The realization of never seeing his sister ever again.

The realization of his wrong doings and believing that revenge is what Tomoe wants when it is not the right thing to do.

Despite his obsession for his revenge against Kenshin, you can see so grief he has been going through the years.

Consume in believing he had failed to protect his sister even though she sacrificed herself for Kenshin.

So you approached Enishi and got down to your knees in front of him, causing him to look up at you with the tearful eyes.

Then your arms reached out to wrap around him and pulled him close to you in an embrace, causing him to bury his face into your shoulder.

You ran your fingers through his silver strands, ignoring the dried blood that cakes in his hair.

You did not say anything... just sat there as Enishi buries his face further into your shoulder as warm tears rolled down his cheeks.

His hands clutched onto the back of your shirt/dress as he hold you close to him, not wanting to let you go. Afraid you would be gone too.

Hi, everyone! I want to say thank you so much for reading. This is the first time I've written a "canon character x reader", and I am hoping to do more in the future. I saw the live action, and so much emotions hit me. Again thank you and have an awesome weekend!

-Dez

#enishi yukishiro #rurouni kenshin #enishi yukishiro fanfiction #enishi yukishiro x reader

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thequeerranpokinnie · 6 months ago

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i'll be posting some (relationship/romantic) headcanons for a few different characters soon (im definitely writing for Chishiya from aib and Takahashi from Hanalei Bay, lmk if there's anyone else you'd like me to include, thanks in advance♡)

#fanfiction #fanfic #headcanons #alice in borderland #alice in boderland x reader #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x reader #chishiya shuntaro x reader #hanalei bay #takahashi #rurouni kenshin #shoji okita #the gun #mukoku #nijiro murakami

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quotablefanfiction · 7 months ago

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“Simply watch. Your mind will wander, that it will. Guide it back. Be gentle.” Humor glinted in violet as Kenshin patted the archaeologist’s head. “The poor creature is obviously overworked.”

Kenshin goes over meditation techniques with Daniel (chp. 2)

Spin Cycle by Vathara (AO3, FF.net) Stargate: SG-1/Rurouni Kenshin – Teen – Himura Kenshin/Kamiya Kaoru #Alternate Universe #Crossover #Fandom Fusion #Airwolf #Spirits #Magic #Japanese Mythology #Youkai

Late-night laundry leads to a few other people keeping an eye on Cheyenne Mountain…

#fanfiction #quote #Stargate: SG-1 #Rurouni Kenshin #Himura Kenshin #Spin Cycle #Vathara

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kitsune024 · 1 year ago

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Crossovers

Jujutsu Kaisen

MCU

blackugou widow by @wonhaebunny I Chapters: 11/? I BAMF Bakugou Katsuki, Reincarnation, Natasha reincarnates into Bakugou

Rurouni Kenshin

Echoes of Your Silence by LLewtwo, Popjeckdoom I Chapters 27/40 I Immortal Himura Kenshin

Fullmetal Alchemist

How to Solve a Murder and Incite a Rebellion by Kastaborous I Chapters: 16/16 I BAMF Edward Elric, Canon Divergence but Ed is the Divergence to BNHA Canon

A Study In Deceit by @mentallyunawareofpapaya | Chapters: 15/? | Sherlock AU, Bakugou has the intelligence of Sherlock, Bakugou Katsuki & Todoroki Shouto Friendship, Bamf Bakugou, Psychological Horror Slope by sunfleurmoon | Chapters: 35/40 | Bakugou Katsuki Redemption, Bakugou gets expelled, Bakugou Whump, Torture, Bakugou adopts Eri, Quirkless Bakugou, Bamf Bakugou Your Sun in the Night Sky by @jothebakuho I Chapters: 10/11 I Bakugou Katsuki/Todoroki Shouto, This time Bakugou saves a kid instead of Midoriya- He gets too into it, Kid Fic Ground Zero by Windschild8178 I Chapters: 18/30 I Bamf Bakugou, Bakugou/Deku sibling shaninigans, Torture, Psychological Torture. Mental Anguish, Chronic Illness I Provide Protection by hitomi_mimii (PuffedGill) I Chapters 87/100 I Bakugou/FemOc, Cute fic, slow burn Can't See Shit by alice_tryingtowrite I Chapters 36/? I Bakugou has a different quirk, child neglect, bakugou and Izuku stay best friends, bullied bakugou, bullied Izuku, childhood friends, good parent Inko, class representative bakugou I Wasn't Here (But I am Now) by Emo_With_Ink, Sunshines_Catharsis I Chapters: 22/? I Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku Gets Hit by a Quirk, Traitor Bakugou Katsuki, Slow Burn, Alternate Universe

Completed

Flip Off by @bern-the-bridge I Chapters 1/1 I one shot 5+1 Things, ooc Bakugou, Personality switch, Quirk Shenanigans End of the Line by LinatheLoud I Chapters 10/10 I Bakugou Katsuki & Class 1-A, Bakugou becomes Class 1-A's medic, Class 1-A as Family, Graphic Descriptions of Injuries, Hero Public Safety Commission Bashing, Blood and Injury, Injury Recovery, you won't like All Might here Ignition Point by noodle_writes I Chapters 17/17 I AU - Canon Divergence, Bakugou is a child soldier, Hero Public Safety Commission Bashing, AU- Dystopia

@ladygreenfrisbee

Standing at Ground Zero I Chapters: 16/45 | Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku but not main focus, training camp arc, Vigilante Bakugo Katsuki, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Bakugou doesn't get rescued, Canon Divergence The Ticking Time Bomb | Chapters: 15/25 | bakugo angst, Violence, All for One is a scheming monster, Dabbling in Quirks Elixir I Chapters 13/40 I Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku, AU- Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, HealingQuirk!Bakugo, secondary quirks, Angst Bookmark Series All That Is Left | Part 1 - 2 | Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku, All for One, Possession, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Canon Divergence

@anonymoustwit

Completed Our Hero I Chapters 8/8 I Earthquakes, Whump, Hurt!Bakugou, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Implied/Referenced Bullying, Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuku Friendship, Soft Bakugou Katsuki A Little Demonstration I Chapters 3/3 I BAMF Bakugou Katsuki, Bullies, Protective Bakugou Katsuki, In This House We Appreciate Bakugou Katsuki, Bakugou Katsuki Is A One Man Protection Squad Stray Bullet I Chapters 4/4 IHurt!Bakugou Katsuki, Gun Violence, Blood, Injury, Self-Sacrifice, Midoriya Izuku Needs A Hug, Class 1-A as Family

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ink-dusted-dreams · 11 months ago

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The Melancholic Dance of Time - A Rurouni Kenshin Fanfiction

Enter the shadows of Bakumatsu, where Battousai, an enigmatic Ishin Shishi, holds the dual mantle of god and demon. As a ruthless killer, he holds the key to Ishin Shishi's dominance. However, when he crosses paths with the mysterious Tomoe, the narrative takes a riveting turn.

FF | AO3

Author: ink-dusted-dreams/floatingrumi

The Bakumatsu era in Rurouni Kenshin has always captivated me. Perhaps it's my historical fascination with that period, or maybe it's the story's intricate plot. While the plot complexity deserves praise, the real credit goes to the compelling nature of history itself.

I've always lamented the limited Bakumatsu era chapters. However, I understand the constraints of the shonen genre, which likely necessitated significant filtering.

Furthermore, Kenshin's heroism is debatable. The Meiji Restoration's merits are still a subject of historical debate.

Initially, the Ishin Shishi's methods bordered on terrorism. This makes portraying Kenshin as a pure hero difficult, which is reflected in the fanfiction.

My goal is to rewrite the Remembrance Arc with greater historical nuance.

#kenshin x tomoe #rurouni kenshin #himura kenshin #himura tomoe #yukishiro tomoe #samurai x #るろうに剣心 #kentomo #love #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #fanfics #ao3fic #enemy to lovers #historical #japanese history #bakumatsu

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the-merry-meek · 11 months ago

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HELLO?

Checking for a pulse... none so far :sob:

Check out my Ao3! I posted some goodies :3

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plothooksinc · 2 years ago

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AHA. I have learned!

Thanks to @shadowbends who pinged me and went AHA I KNOW HOW, so here. As I'm a few chapters away from the end of NRFTW, if you have a preference, let me know! (I won't necessarily keep to that preference, but it would be good to know what people would most like to see so I can work things out. Here's a hint: I intend on working on them all so no fear there.)

#nekotsuki #fanfiction #rurouni kenshin #final fantasy VII #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2007 #rottmnt #no I'm not explaining that last part #not yet anyway

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eureka-its-zico · 10 months ago

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Violent Delights Pt. 2

Summary: On a trip with your father to Shanghai, your caravan is overrun. You are taken back to a compound of one of the most ruthless Mafia bosses in all of China: Enishi Yukishiro. Who was in need of a new plaything.

Pairing: Enishi Yukishiro x f!reader

Words: 5.6k

A/N: Whelp. Here we are again. Completely unhinged and riding the train to filth town. While the first one may have been filthy, dare I say, part 2 is like mega filth. Idk if I keep writing parts to this if it’s just going to get more unhinged (you know, porn with plot and all) or what it’ll be. For now, I just hope it’s something everyone can enjoy. Welcome to the deranged part of my brain. Much love 🖤 Jenn

Warnings: This shit is dark besties. It’s dark. Mentions of kidnapping. Dubious consent. Mafia trope. Knife play. Harem. Mentions of violence. Fingering. Voyeurism. Unprotected PnV. Oral sex. Its Smut. It's Filth. Please do not read if you are not 18+ (If I miss anything please let me know).

Part 1

Enishi’s solution to ruining your dress was simply getting rid of it all together.

The moment he’d stepped out of the bath, droplets clinging to the ends of stark white hair and racing down an exposed chest, he made his way to where you sat on the bed. Your hands were still clutching to the fabric - the last known extension of yourself. It didn’t take long for Enishi to easily knock your hands away. A strong grip on your thigh controlling you to keep you from scooting away.

His grip was vicious enough that you knew it would bruise.

The only thing left for you to do was to reminisce on what little was left of your former life. The home you would never see again. The fiancée who you’d been promised to and barely gotten to know. Would he move on easily once everyone heard about what happened? What about your friends? Would the lingering ghost of your presence haunt them in any way, or would they easily dismiss you? The plans you’d had for your life were now a fading memory - left standing inside a burning house. The truly worst thought that plagued you was the thought of your father’s body floating out into the Pacific Ocean never to be found.

You hadn’t even been able to mourn him, yourself, and your now-dead life. The only thing you could focus on was survival and surviving meant fighting.

And you wanted to fight him.

To claw your nails down the hard plains of his muscles, until they created a river to rival the water on his skin. You wanted to lash out with kicks, slaps, and hate-filled words until it dimmed the look of conquest in his eyes.

You would do anything to prove to him that, just because he’d coaxed your body to come apart on his fingers, it didn’t mean he got to claim you.

You weren’t his.

But Enishi was always in control of everything around him and now that included you.

He was quick to squash your small act of defiance. The arms you’d placed across your chest to help hold what little of your bodice remained - what remained of your dignity - were knocked away. A controlling hand applied pressure on your throat - delicious pressure - just enough to ease you back against the bed. Into the sheets that housed the sweat of your skin and your orgasm that soaked into the cotton fibers.

Enishi kept the pressure of his fingers wrapped delicately on your throat, holding you down, as his free hand tugged and ripped what was left of the top of your dress. Once he worked the material free off your shoulders, it only took a matter of seconds for him to work it down to your hips.

During the whole process, you’d remained motionless for him. Your pulse threaded against the callous digit of his thumb. Deep down you knew he placed it there - perfectly - to take notice of what would make your pulse tick faster.

Enishi was all about control and, while he held you on the bed, you practiced your own form of control to not show him how his roaming eyes affected you. The way they darkened - darker than shadows - as his gaze drank in every inch of your body he revealed.

You fought to keep your breathing even; your face expressionless. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of showing him a hint, one fucking ounce of emotion, besides hatred. A hatred you were struggling to hold onto as he drew his fingertips to trace across your collarbone, dipping down between your breasts.

It was such an intimate touch. One Enishi didn't deserve to give. In that one touch, it held the exploration of a lover, but a tenderness you hadn’t expected. Not from a man like him. It made your brain struggle against what it was shown, what he’d done, and the softness of his next touch.

You’d remained unmoving through so much. You didn’t struggle when he knocked your hands away or fight him while he removed your dress from your shoulders, or wrapped his fingers around your neck like his long fingers were meant to grasp it. Through all of this, you were a good girl and didn't move.

Not until he touched you so sweetly, and his eyes lost the hard edges of demand. The soft dimming of control exposed something else you weren’t ready to see.

You knew the minute Enishi felt your pulse speed up. The sneer at the thought of winning wore itself plainly on his face, and whatever softness his previous touch had lulled inside your consciousness quickly evaporated.

All your earlier rage sparked fresh and all attempts to obey were wiped away. Without thinking, your hand lashed out and you felt your palm connect with his cheek. The sound of flesh meeting flesh fell heavy in the room. Enishi’s face didn’t even move from the impact, but before your hand was able to drop, you found your wrist caught tight in his hand.

His grip tightened - tighter, tighter - until blackness cropped in your vision. You thought this was it. This would be the moment he finally discards you, possibly kills you, like you’d witnessed him do so many times to so many others - your father - in the few days you’d been held prisoner in his room.

You welcomed the idea of oblivion. No longer being a prisoner to uncomfortable change - a prisoner to thoughts of a man who held you captive - and maybe Enishi could feel it too. Or maybe he just meant to get you close to the edge before he brought you back with your lungs greedily sucking in air through a cough.

Enishi’s hold on your neck remained, but the wrist he’d held captive was gone. His free hand was back to violently tugging, pulling, what remained of your skirts. The rich baritone of his voice carried as if he was yelling. His words deepened and rose in tone while he jerked on the last bit of your skirt until you heard the tearing of cloth crack like thunder.

You were jarred by the burst of cold that hit you. Then came the shock of realizing he’d completely removed your entire dress and your underclothes. You were naked before him, and Enishi hungrily drank every inch of your exposed skin.

You attempted to cover yourself. A choked sound of shock made its way past your lips as your legs tried to rise up off the mattress, your hands back to guarding your chest. Again, Enishi shoved them away. His hand gripping behind your knee to pull you closer to the edge of the bed.

This time Enishi slotted himself between your legs and a gasp you refused to name etched itself into your throat.

Unlike the first time, there was no cloth, no dress, to keep away the feeling of his cock as it pressed against your folds. Nothing to keep him from seeing your arousal - the way your body shamelessly hungered for him. His eyes were transfixed on your cunt and the way it coated his hardening cock.

You watched his cock swell and grow in length - thick, so impossibly thick - pressed against your cunt and inches away from your entrance. For a brief moment, you were almost compelled to beg, to plead and cry for him to destroy you. Your mind selfishly followed the desire that flooded your body. A need so potent to know what it felt like for your cunt to stretch around him, and to feel the delicious searing pain as he pushed deeper and deeper until you threatened to burst.

You knew the raw power Enishi wielded. You’d witnessed it dozens of times whether it was in the form of violence or sex. He was always in control and maybe that’s why you didn’t want to be just another tally added to the list. A conquest he’d have the satisfaction of claiming.

He spoke again. While you couldn’t understand his words, what it was he truly meant, the fire in his eyes told you plainly: you were his.

You belonged to Enishi, and he would not be denied what he claimed as his.

You waited to feel the tip of his cock press at your entrance, and it left the air in your lungs suspended in anticipation. Your eyes took in the rise and fall of his own chest and realized for the first time it wasn’t steady. He was breathing fast as his eyes roamed over your body and you realized, for the first time, maybe he wasn’t as in control as he wanted to be.

In a dizzying moment, you went from being pinned back against the bed, embarrassingly ready to let him fuck you, to feeling the absence of his demanding touch. Enishi released the hold he kept on your neck and moved away from the bed. The sound of his feet padding across the floor was enough to tell you his presence was still here.

You wanted to get up but you knew what was coming. The sound of the chain rattling in the distance was a reminder of the nightly routine you’d fallen into since you’d arrived at the compound. Before Enishi went to sleep he always made sure you were secured to one of the marble pillars that lined the grandeur of his bedroom. You waited for him to come back, to grab you by your arm and haul you off the bed.

Except this time that’s not what happened.

Enishi grabbed you by your arm but only to force you up towards the headboard. Once he had you where he wanted, he released his hold on you and moved to wrap the chain around your right ankle and locked the lock into place. You watched, dumbfounded, as he wrapped the other end of the chain to the wooden leg of the bed frame.

You couldn’t ask him what he was doing or why he was doing it. What it was that suddenly made him decide to chain you closer, closer to him, in his room, and what that meant for you. All you could afford to do was guess his intentions, his next steps, by the body language he rarely showed outside of rage. You barely knew Japanese and it’d become painfully apparent Enishi spoke both Japanese and Chinese. Neither one of them you understood.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the mattress tipping as his weight distributed on the bed. Your body swayed gently as if pushed by a wave until he settled back into the sheets. He barely covered himself in the soft goose-down comforter, the deep v of his hips devilishly exposed, with his head resting against his arm with those endlessly dark eyes trained solely on you.

How did you know he was looking at you when you refused to acknowledge him? Your spine was brutally straight and unyielding to lie back against the soft cradle the bed provided. The answer was simple. When Enishi’s eyes were on you, it sent an electric current of want and fear - a maddening mixture - to flare across your skin.

Just like now.

He spoke to you. His words ghosted over your exposed skin like an intimate caress that seized you as violently by the throat as his hand had earlier. His words were drenched in a drowsy alto that only seemed to grow deeper the longer he spoke. Enishi was so close to sleep and yet…

Your body lurched forward at the callous touch of his fingers drifting over your hip. It earned the sound of a deep chuckle that burrowed itself inside the marrow of your bones and took ownership.

——

At some point in the refusal you’d strongly held on to not falling asleep beside him, you’d done exactly that. You were woken up by one of the concubine’s, Keiko, you believed was her name, raised up in caution. She was Enishi’s favorite concubine from the few days you’d been here. She never protested to anything he did to her or objected to what he asked. Not that you would know what he said, because you couldn’t understand.

And here she was kneeling beside the bed. A bed that was now empty of Enishi’s presence - the whole room empty of it - with just Keiko and you being the only souls inside. You were suddenly very aware that you were still very much naked. Keiko didn’t appear to be the least bit fazed and offered you a small smile to try and ease your panic.

“The master - he asked me to prepare a bath for you.”

It surprised you how well she spoke your native tongue. The surprise displayed on your face no doubt was the reason a smile spread across her face. Warm and bright enough to make you forget for a split second where you were. Who she was.

“Would you like a warm bath?”

Did she even have to ask? You couldn’t answer her right away. A sharp nod of your head was the only response you were able to give as your mind mulled over her words.

Master.

It’s what she’d called him without hesitation and with no hint of disdain tinging her words. A part of you wondered if she enjoyed calling him that - if she called him that while he buried himself to the hilt inside her.

A flash of jealousy flared in your chest as you followed her to the washroom. As quickly as it rose up, you were just as quick to squash it. Bury it down, down, down inside the graveyard of your mind and refuse to allow yourself to dig it back up.

Keiko pushed open the washroom door and, when you stepped inside behind her, found a Japanese soaking tub full of warm water.

A bath. A real honest-to-goodness bath.

It’d been so long since your skin was scrubbed clean. You weren’t sure if you were allowed to just step right inside the steaming water or if you would need to wait for Keiko’s instructions. In the end, you focused on the latter and when she gave you another soft smile, her hand gesturing towards the tub, you didn’t hesitate to sink beneath the water.

When you surfaced from the water a sigh made its way from deep in your chest. A bath couldn’t soothe everything, but it was enough to help make you feel human again. You were leaning against the side of the tub, your head back and eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the water, when soft fingers began to massage your scalp.

Your body involuntarily jerked away and you spun to see who touched you. It felt silly. You knew it was Keiko. It could only be Keiko and yet, you couldn’t swallow past the dread that lodged itself inside your throat. Your own heart pounded like a caged beast against your ribs.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I only want to help wash your hair.”

Keiko’s hands were where you’d left them: splayed open with the suds of soap and the scent of bergamot lifting up to greet you. She didn’t push you to return to her. She waited patiently for the panic to subside before she gently motioned for you to return.

“Can I wash your hair for you?”

“Yes. Yes.”

It’d been so long since you've used your voice, aside from yesterday when Enishi had torn curses and moans from you. A memory that sent heat rising to your cheeks that you quickly tried to hide by giving your back to Keiko, offering up your head for her to finish what she started.

After you were properly bathed, and your skin and hair were drying with scent of oils, you expected to be brought a kimono. If not a kimono at least a robe. So, when Keiko instructed you to sit back on the bed after she’d combed your hair, with no clothing in hand, the first real sting of panic began to bloom.

You watched her while she moved around the room. Her hands tidied up areas and her eyes carefully trained on her task at hand. Never on you.

You knew better than to ask her if you could have any clothing items. You were sure part of the instructions Enishi gave her also dictated what you could be given after you were made clean, which was nothing. Enishi was going to make you wait for him with no way to hide your body.

A wave of blinding rage overtook you in that moment. The realization that you weren’t even being given the dignity of having clothes, a robe, or a fucking towel, to cover yourself with made you want to scream. You wanted to tear him apart. Instead, you scooted back farther on the bed, your legs working closer together with your balled-up hands in your lap and your arms desperately trying to cover your breasts.

You were completely lost in your thoughts. So lost, you hadn’t even realized when Keiko departed the room. You didn’t realize you were alone until the sound of the door opening and closing brought you out of your thoughts and back to the present.

It was Enishi and Keiko who’d walked back inside the room. Keiko was closing the bedroom door behind her while Enishi walked further inside. His hands were tucked inside the large open sleeves of the amber and cerulean Haori draped over his body that matched the hakama pants he wore. The material looked finally woven - silken - and expensive. The hakama was cinched tight on his powerful waist and against a thick black vest material. A pair of small glasses adorned his face and sat low on the edge of his nose.

It felt surreal seeing him dressed. You’d grown so accustomed to his naked frame moving with intensity, power, around the room - commanding to be witnessed. The clothes he wore now did little to dim that unspoken demand.

He made his way over to the desk in the corner of the room. Not one ounce of his body showed any sign of acknowledging your presence. He simply pulled his hands free from inside his Haori and placed a scroll, rolled tight and sealed with black string, inside a glass jar.

A part of you was beginning to worry. The whiplash of going from panic, rage, and now fear made you dizzy, but you needed to focus. Focusing meant you realized not even Keiko acknowledged your existence. It felt silly to be worried about the lack of a look because shouldn’t you want to be invisible? To go unnoticed?

The sound of rustling brought you back from your thoughts. A flash of amber drew your eyes back to Enishi who removed his Haori and left it dangling over the back of a chair. No longer were his eyes intent on his scroll, his desk, or anything else. The discontent you felt at being ignored was now answered with the full attention of his gaze.

You immediately dropped your gaze from watching him make his way towards you. The sound of his glasses being placed on his small table made your hands squeeze tighter together. Your knees press closer. Enishi was almost to you and the only thing your brain could think to do was two options: run or hide.

Enishi must have known because his pace quickened and, within a few more steps, he was in front of you. His fingers pressing underneath your chin and forcing it up to bring your gaze to meet his.

You didn’t know if it was night or day. If you would ever see the outside of this room again. If you’d leave this compound wrapped in cloth or on your own two feet. If one day you’d get to remember what it felt like to be free. The only thing you did know for certain was the look in Enishi’s eyes was a warning of what was to come.

He kept a tight grip on your chin, refusing to give an inch, as he spoke. His Japanese was commanding, harsh, and left no room to be disobeyed. Enishi words weren’t directed at you, you realized, but to Keiko who was still in the room. You couldn’t see her any longer. Enishi didn’t allow you to look at anyone - anything - that wasn’t him, but you could hear the shuffling of her feet. The soft sound of her kimono as it rustled until she came to a stop.

“Master has instructed that, starting tomorrow, I will tutor you in Japanese.”

Why?

Why did it matter if you could speak Japanese or understand him? It wasn’t like you were brimming with conversations that could be had about art or philosophy. Did he think you would learn and you’d both what? What did Enishi want from you?

“To be able to speak without me present.”

Keiko’s words jolted you out of your thoughts. Had the question left your mouth without you being aware of it? It must have happened because Keiko answered.

He spoke again and released the hold he kept on your chin. You were about to search for where Keiko stood when you felt Enishi’s hands dip between the mattress and your legs. You didn’t have time to think, to try and comprehend what was about to happen. One minute you were sitting upright on the bed fighting for modesty and the next your back was against the sheets.

It was the surprise of it that trapped your next breath in your lungs. It quickly escaped in a yelp of surprise when his hands pulled you closer to the edge of the bed again. Your hands lashed out to find purchase in the sheets, to pull you away, but you knew it was pointless. It wasn’t until Enishi had your ass hanging halfway off the bed that he stopped pulling and used both hands to spread your legs wide.

The suddenness of having your cunt exposed to the room - to him - caused a scream to tear free from your throat. Your hands scrambled to peel his hands away from your thighs. The hands that kept your legs pried open under his watchful gaze. The thunderous sound of his words ricocheted off the stone walls and, for a split second, the fear from his voice, the fury behind it, left your body still. Keiko was quick to tell you what he said.

“He said behave or he’ll tie them open.”

You watched him as she spoke. Enishi’s eyes were no longer dark with desire but were replaced by something fiercer, darker. One that requires obedience and would accept nothing less. You knew he meant it. The words he spoke and forced Keiko to share in warning. If you didn’t give him this, give him your body freely without a fight, he would punish you for it.

You fought to relax your legs in his grip and to hide your shame you tried to turn away from him. To hide yourself back inside the sheets once more.

You should’ve remembered your lesson from yesterday.

The minute you went to turn away, close your eyes, Enishi’s fingers dug into your cheeks and brought you back to face him. Another angry shout. You didn’t need Keiko to tell you what he meant - what he wanted.

When Enishi was sure you wouldn’t try it again, that your eyes were focused where they needed to be - on him - he drew his hand away from your face. His fingers lazily traced a path along the curve of your jaw, a thumb under your lips, and down to the hollow of your throat. As he etched out a path along your body his eyes followed with each movement of his fingers causing his pupils to grow wider, ever wider, with lust until his entire iris disappeared.

A shaky breath rattled through your bones. A sound that only seemed to excite him more. His fingers moved between your breasts and his eyes caught sight of the perfect imprint he’d left of his teeth in the soft skin. The pad of his index finger lazily swam up to trace along the bruising flesh. His next words registered so low, almost non-existent, you weren’t even sure if he’d spoken. It wasn’t until Keiko spoke his next question that you knew he had.

“The Master - he wants to know if you’re married. If you’ve…been with any men.”

What should you say? You weren’t a virgin. You knew the desire and wants of men. How a woman’s body could turn them into helpless fools when they confused a woman’s sex for love. You were engaged to be married and you and your fiancée hadn’t waited for your wedding night.

You could vaguely recall your fiancée’s touch. The way you felt. It wasn’t anything like the way Enishi made you feel. A hard truth that you loathe to admit even to yourself, but a truth nonetheless. You’d both been fumbling in the dark and while your fiancée had come, you hadn’t experienced a real orgasm until Enishi had been knuckle deep inside your cunt.

You refused to tell him this.

If you told him you’d had plenty of lovers would he throw you out? Discard you?

Your train of thought came to a screeching halt when two of his fingers moved through your folds to scissor your clit. You sucked in a shuddering breath. Your hips dipped down against the bed as your back arched up. You tried to keep your moan housed inside your body but Enishi began to massage the pads of his fingers against your swollen clit, driving a cry of pleasure to tear free from you. Your legs involuntarily clamped shut around his arm and Enishi was quick to punish you. His free hand smacking down on your thigh that only coupled with the pleasure of the next flick of his fingers.

The hard smack against your thigh was enough to release his arm, and Enishi dropped to his knees between your thighs. You wanted to ask what he was doing - demand to know. All thoughts were silenced as he gave one last stroke of his fingers before he pushed both between your folds.

The minute you felt the delicious pressure of his fingers another moan crawled its way up your throat. It quickly turned into a scream at the feeling of Enishi’s teeth biting down into the soft flesh of your inner thigh. Pain and pleasure melded together until you weren’t sure if the sparks behind your eyes was from the curve of his fingers inside your cunt or the way your nerves came to life under the pressure of his teeth.

He pulled away just enough - his voice guttural - to ask his question again. Again Keiko repeated it and with the next curve of Enishi’s fingers, curving, curving up, up, you felt yourself close to breaking. You were about to give him the answer that he craved, coaxed, out of your body. You would’ve told him right then and there as his thumb massaged your clit, fingers sliding in and out of you, when he growled his next words in English.

“Answer. Me.”

It wasn’t perfect, but those two words didn’t have to be for them to make the impact they did.

“I was engaged.” You huffed out. “I was going to be married.”

You couldn’t tell if Keiko relayed your answer to him. You weren’t sure of anything except the coil that was tightening low in your belly, tighter and tighter. A mewling sound filled the room and was growing in octaves. It took you a moment to realize it was you making the sound, but it was the only moment of clarity you had before you felt something unexpected.

Enishi’s fingers removed themselves from your cunt with a squelch. Before you had time to mourn the loss of him, his mouth latched over your mound. His tongue mapping out a figure 8 between your folds.

Your chest collapsed in a moan that violently rippled through your body. Your legs shook and you tried to find purchase, to hold onto something while the waves of pleasure rolled through your body. Another roll of his tongue and the feel of his lips gently suckling at your clit sent your body spiraling. Your hands fisting deep to the roots of his hair - pulling, pulling, and it didn’t feel enough.

Another breathless moan shuddered through your body. What Enishi was doing felt salacious - under heard of. Your mind raced to remember if any of your girlfriends shared stories of their suiters, fiancées, ever latching their mouths to their cunts. Their tongue greedily lavished relentless strokes - the way Enishi did now - as your body trembled in his palms. Your hands fisting his hair harder at the root.

You were sure Enishi would let go. Punish you for touching him this way. His hands only dug further under the mattress and took hold of your hips, to bring your cunt closer to his mouth. It allowed his tongue to fuck into you; three solid thrusts before he stopped.

Keiko was still in the room. You knew she was. She had to be. Enishi hadn’t dismissed her and you knew they wouldn’t just take it upon themselves to just leave without being given the order. The thought alone should’ve been enough to drive the cloud of desire from your mind but it wasn’t. A sick thrill of the thought that for once they were watching Enishi take pleasure in you only peaked your arousal.

The coil that’d been tightening low in your lower abdomen grew and grew. Your fingers dug tighter in his hair and you did something that, if you’d been in your right mind, you’d have felt the heat of shame on your cheeks.

You didn’t have time for shame right now.

Your hips moved up to meet the next thrust of his tongue. Eager and wanton in chasing your own release. You wanted to come on his tongue. To coat those pretty lips in the memory of how you tasted long after he’d finished with you. It was in the next flick of his tongue that sent you barreling over the edge.

You thought you were screaming the way your mouth tore open, but no sound came out. It was shuddering breaths that shook free from your chest. You were well aware Enishi was still between your thighs. His tongue hungrily lapping up every last drop your orgasm offered until a quiver of a whimper came from your lips. Your hands that had fisted in his hair to keep him there were now trying to push him away. Your clit overstimulated and sensitive to the touch.

Oh, so deliciously sensitive.

Enishi pried his mouth from your cunt and you wanted to take a moment of pride at the sight of your arousal around his mouth. His chin. You watched as he worked the metal latches on his vest off one-by-one until it dropped to the floor. He worked his way out of the hakama and let it fall at his feet.

His cock sprang free from the fabric aching and hard. You watched, wanton and eager, as Enishi took his cock in his hand and stroked it. He was already hard, painfully hard, so you knew it was meant for you to watch. So, you watched a pearl of precum leak from his tip. You watched his thumb gently smear it like lubricant before he moved to the edge of the bed. With his hands back under your hips, Enishi aligned his tip with your entrance and in one hard thrust was inside you.

Your walls gripped him tightly as Enishi pushed his way into you. You knew he felt it too - the tightness, the resistance that your cunt offered. You could feel it in the way his hips stuttered and the sharp exhale that escaped him once he was fully sheathed inside of you.

You didn’t have time to prepare for the stretch - the searing delicious, oh so, so, delicious pain - that came as your cunt tried to accommodate his thickness. You remember seeing him. You remembered imagining what it would feel like to have him take you and to feel him break you and make you anew. With the next role of his hips you felt your lips part to give praise just as he bottomed out.

Your fiancée didn’t feel like this. Your fiancée hadn’t fucked like this.

Enishi moved your hips further off the bed. His hands pulling you up at an angle that on the next thrust created stars to spark behind your eyes. He pulled your thighs up towards his hips and somehow it only deepened the next. Deeper, deeper, until you threatened to hollow out. The wet sounds of your bodies meeting over and over began to fill the room and you felt yourself becoming lost.

With each unrelenting brutal thrust of his hips, Enishi claimed more and more of you. You struggled to remember why that was a bad thing. How could it be so bad when he made you feel so good?

You were trying to remind yourself of what he’d done - who he was, but with his face inches from yours, your mind went blank. You didn’t know why your hands cupped his face or your thumb touched the small bell of his earring. Enishi was so close, so vulnerable, that for a split second you believed if you brought him down to kiss you, his mouth would’ve eagerly met yours.

In all the times you’d watched him fuck his concubine’s - women like Keiko - you never witnessed him sharing a kiss with any. He used their bodies relentlessly. He broke them and whittled them down to puddles of sweat and come. Never did he kiss them. Never was he truly intimate with any of them.

Did he want to know the intimacy of your mouth? To claim you fully in a way he hadn’t claimed any other?

It was a question that remained unanswered because with the next brutal thrust of his hips your world exploded. Your nails found a home in the groove of his back and dug in as your orgasm overtook you. It felt endless as his cock continued to stroke your walls until you felt his hips give one last thrust and, seconds later, felt his spend spill fill you.

For a brief moment, you should’ve been worried but you couldn’t think past your racing heart and aching body.

The afterglow of the moment quickly vanished and the two of you were left a sweaty, heaving mess. You were painfully aware how close you both were - foreheads almost completely touching - and it made you wonder, if only for a moment, if anything changed. Your hand ached to reach out and push the sweaty strands of hair out of his face.

Your chest was tight with a need to bridge the few inches between you. Enishi hadn’t shook away your hands that were still cupping his face. There was no denying in such a small confined space that his eyes were lingering on your mouth.

Did something change?

You received your answer a moment later when Enishi violently tore himself from you leaving you raw and aching alone on the bed. You were vaguely aware of him barking orders at someone - most likely Keiko - as his padded feet stormed off to the bathroom. The door slamming shut behind him.

___________

As always, thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated.

___________

Tag list: @ellisaworld @missroro @ram716 @misfits1a

#Violent Delights #enishi yukishiro #enishi yukishiro x reader #enishi yukishiro x you #enishi x reader #enishi x you #enishi yukishiro fanfiction #enishi yukishiro smut #rurouni kenshin #rurouni kenshin the final #mackenyu #mackenyu characters #99% smut and 1% filth

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pauking5 · 7 months ago

Text

Addicting Taste Chapter 11

Pairing: Enishi Yukishiro x fem reader oc

Genre: strangers to lovers, mutual pining, found love, fluff, spice, a lot of teasing, angst

Word count: 32.3k+

TW: blood, stabbing, violence, brief mentions of torture and kidnapping

A/N: Hello... So, first thing's first, Addicting Taste kinda went on a hiatus (against my wishes) since I was in a pretty bad slump writing-wise, emotionally, mentally. But, gear up for hopefully back to back chapters this month. Managed to draw out some pain for these ones.

I realise Chapter 10 was a bit of a wholesome, extremely loooong read, but I hope you liked it. I don't know if people even read it since it's been radio silent on that front, but I hope some of you still are. For now, please welcome insane mayhem, a mess of feelings, hopefully great plot and a few new characters. Enjoy the revelations.

For Nina. Hope you're happy wherever you are.

Playlist: Up In Flames - Ruelle, Atlantis - Sleep Token, Radioactive - Imagine Dragons, The Grey - Bad Omens, Viva La Vida - Sofia Karlberg (Acoustic Version), Alibi - Sevdaliza, Pablio Vittar, Yseult, Start A Riot - Duckwrth, Shaboozey, Lovesong - Adele, Carnival of Rust - Poets of the Fall, The Love You Want - Sleep Token

"You."

The sly snake looked down at you with sheer delight like the very sire of satan he was. That victorious smirk sitting idly on his face was enough to make your hands shoot out to grab onto his neck and twist it backwards. That would've been possible if your wrists didn't get yanked back by the harsh pull of the metal shackles restraining you to the stone walls behind.

He bent down to you, tilting his head with sheer amusement etched on his lips at your struggle. There was a blackness in his eyes that consumed his orbs like a toxin, brimming in dark pools of oil, much like the one burning in the lamp one of his men was holding in the corner.

"Pleasure to see you again, kiddo."

"The pleasure will be mine once I stomp my foot all over your face," you spit back, continuing to pull on those chains to get as close to him as they could let you without splitting your hands away from the base of your palms.

"Ah, ah, ah," he stopped you, moving his finger from left to right right in your face, like he was ordering an animal, a pet, to stand down and know its place.

You were no damn pet but more of a wild animal at the moment. And you bit fucking hard if provoked. And by gods, he provoked every cell in your body with just that wiggling finger.

Before he had a chance to reel back on his feet, your head jerked forwards and you caught his finger with your teeth, gripping onto his pointer with wolfish strength. Terror flashed in his eyes for a brief moment, so fast and fearsome you might have just missed it. Rugged arms were on your shoulders in an instant, rough fingers digging into your skin to pull you back to your place against the wall. While more of his men tried to restrain you, pushing you to your knees, the reptile pulled on his precious little digit to shake your hold off like you were a stinging bug but your sharp teeth hung on damn tight, dragging the skin over the bone with each agitated flail of his hands. Your teeth dug into it more and more, determined to rip it off his hand or at least detach it from his hand a little, but with the resistance behind pulling on your shoulders and your throat, you kept to it until you felt a crack between your canines, tasting iron on your tongue.

Blood, you smirked.

Satisfied, you relaxed your mouth and let go reeling back, letting him reef his bloodied, damaged finger back to his chest in pain.

He's going to have a hard time doing anything with it for a while. Good for him. Would've bit his whole hand off if I had a bigger mouth.

Spitting the leftover blood in your mouth before it started tasting like poison, your gaze turned back to his, dark eyes now watching you in alert. He didn't expect you to attack so soon or even at all. You could see it on his face. Whatever he had planned facing you, it all fell down the minute you bared your teeth literally.

A guard handed him a cloth to wrap around his injured finger, while another stomped your way. He unwrapped your chains from the wall behind dragging you along with them. You fought against it but it was useless. His hands reached up to lock the chains to the rusty hooks on the ceiling, securing you in the middle of the dark cell. Your hands were pulled above your head making you rise to your feet, unable to move too much in any side.

Standing to your full height, your bruised hands fell bound together in front of you, keeping you still like a lamb about to be butchered. The good thing was that it let you make an estimate of your wounds. Sharp pain pulsed through the numbness in your legs and in every other part of your body that was still recovering from almost being crushed to pieces by the wooden carriage. Most of your right side suffered deeper injuries since you were thrown against the walls more times than you could count. A lot of bones felt broken - a few lower ribs, a collar bone, twisted elbow and opposite ankle among the main major ones - but you were sure there were more you couldn't see or feel. Crumpled up on the floor you didn't feel the pain so bad, but standing on shaky legs, swaying lightly, drawing sharp breaths through your parched throat, you felt it all.

All you wanted to do was lay down and cry it all out. But you couldn't collapse to the ground in front of this life-sucking serpent before you found out what he wanted or where you were. Any sliver of information was more valuable than anything right now.

"Why am I here?"

"For my entertainment and curiosity," spoke the Snake, tightening the cloth around his wound until he was satisfied it was tight enough.

"What is this? The fucking circus gathering?" you laughed dryly, chains jangling as you wiped the leftover blood from his finger still on your cracked lips with the back of your palm. "Thought you had better taste."

"Smart mouth she has. Quite like her mother," he harked a broken laugh that bounced off the echo in the cell. "You'll be quiet and docile in no time."

Docile? Am I getting married off or something?

"For what?"

"For my plans."

From where you were standing, his plans looked to be nowhere in particular. Or you were still dazed from that solid hit to the back of your head before these people kidnapped you. Either way, his words made no sense. What could he possibly want with you? Why was he working with the Triads for that matter? More and more questions pooled in, rendering you profoundly confused.

"I'm not sure I'm following."

"A little birdie told me you were quite the rouse in Edo not that long ago."

Your breath caught in your throat, heartbeat suddenly too loud in your ears.

That's what this is about.

Barairo me, not me.

"The Crimson Rose of Yokohama they called you," he said, crossing his arms over his chest, drawing closer to you. "A teenage girl laying death to men more dangerous and lethal than the demons of hell walking the earth, the very best mercenaries in Japan."

"That bird of yours must be mistaken," you chuckled, trying to play the fool a little longer. But that dry chuckle fell unsure from your lips. a weak distraction in face of his conviction that he had the right person. He was confident it was you and had confirmation of it.

"I don't think so." He paced around you, circling you like you were the serpent's precious prey. "You see," he stopped right behind you, shadow leaning over your shoulder, his heinous whisper falling right in your ear. "You're here to fight for me, sweetheart."

You snorted. A fits of chuckles bordering on strangled laughter escaped your throat in a meager attempt to seem saner than you looked. He was crazy, maybe even borderline delusional, if he thought for one second you would do that for him of all people.

Rounded back to your front, he steered clear within a couple cautionary steps away from you, as if he anticipated another surprise attack of yours. His eyes raked your arms, legs, even your mouth, looking for a sign that there was any on the way at all.

He fears me. Good. I can use that to my advantage.

"In your dreams."

You punctuated your words with a good tug on the chains making sure to rattle them loud enough. Whatever those fucked up illusions of his were, they were not lined up in your program today, tomorrow or ever in the near future. You might have been up on the hire for anyone a few months ago, willing to do dirty work for whoever paid more. But the only people you fought for now were your own.

"Well," he turned for the door of the cell, nodding to his men on the other side of the iron bars. The door creaked open with a shriek, metal scraping the floor of the corridor lit with torches. Before he stepped out fully, his head craned back to you. "I hope you're ready. My dreams have a habit of coming to fruition lately."

"Do they include working with the Triads?"

"Ah, so you know," he nodded to himself, not once denying your accusation. "Saves me a lot of explaining to do. I am indeed."

"Why?"

That was kind of a loaded question. One he answered with a response that didn't really give you anything to work with - a goddamn shit-eating grin that went right to the pit of disgust already drawing in your stomach since the very first light flickered over his face. With that limiting conversation and a grin that gave you nothing, he left, taking the guards with him.

You didn't move until their steps faded away and all that was left in the air was silence and the light crackle of the torches. Blowing a breath you didn't know you were holding, you sank to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Everything hurt and pulsed uncontrollably along the rhythm of your rapidly beating heart. Some of your injuries ached more, alerting you they needed some attention now. Looking around the dark confinement, you noticed the small glow of light falling on a good portion of your cell. The only impediment was that is fell near the door

Pulling your feet from under you, you drew as close to the amber twinkle as your chains could let you before they tugged your wrists back painfully.

In that thin fragment of light, the long velvet skirt that was a beautiful ruby red at the start of the night was now a wet brown shade with patches of mud and grass sticking to it. Shoving it off your leg, you found a line of cuts and bruises all around each side you rotated your leg in, some of them deeper and dark red still bleeding, others just light grazes almost closed up. Your ankle looked like it felt - destroyed. Almost shattered, still usable if you ignored the angry purple swelling around it. Checking your other leg, you found the same grazes from your knee downwards but it didn't look as bad as your other leg. You gave it a test roll receiving less pain in response.

Your attention moved to your chest, feeling it too compressed with every breath you took. The corset manage to hold your middle together, protecting important organs. From what you could see there were no tears in it so nothing got inside or where it shouldn't be. And to think I doubted the extra double cover. But with every inhale of air, the boning pressed too hard against those few ribs that were broken. There was no way you could undo the laces, at least a little, since your hands couldn't reach behind.

Arms-wise, there were a few more cuts peeking through the ripped sleeves and some bruises. Your right elbow spasmed numbly, twisted inwards. You had to put it back and soon. This was not the best place to do it, nor did you have enough space to move it since both of your hands were chained, but it was worth a shot.

Getting up on your knees was harder this time around, all adrenaline to start a fight gone. Levelling your arms together, parallel to each other, you moved so your elbow was as straight as you could get it in that angle. Your left palm caught onto your right wrist to hold it in place.

I just need to pop it in. Nice and easy. It shouldn't hurt that bad.

You took a deep breath to steel yourself, then all at once drove your body forwards as if you pushed your hands into dough to mold it into shape. Though you weren't pushing into soft dough but repositioning your own arm in its right location. Pushing your shoulder and wrist towards each other, you moved your elbow back into place. Teeth grinding, you swallowed your scream and sniffled the tears away as the spasms were replaced by shooting pain, continuing to push forwards relentlessly until it clicked back in.

"Fuck," you hissed, sinking back on the floor, hands drawn above you by the chains. Head falling on your suspended arms, you sighed.

What now?

Wait?

Try to escape?

Fight them when they come back?

None of those options were viable routes to take in your condition. Your thoughts barely aligned in order with the pain coursing through you and your body took way too much damage tonight to stand up to anyone without ripping fresh scars. For now, as much as you hated it, just waiting was the best call.

For a while, you just let it hurt. You felt the torture throb through your body ruthlessly, slow and cruel, turning into soreness, discomfort that you couldn't move more. The laborious breaths leaving you went from aching gasps to much more controllable exhales. The minute some of the pain receded to mere stabbing sensations and your head cleared a little, you turned to planning.

From what you could gather, the way to the outside world had to be on the left, since that reptile and his guards took off that way. Then what was on your right? Your eyes shot up to find that the burning torch upfront was the only light source you could see alight. The rest of them on the right were not burning, drenching that area in complete darkness. You just prayed whatever awaited you down there was better than this - being locked up in a cage like a wild animal waiting to be domesticated or sold off for your services.

Your eyes widened with another thundering thought that caught your breath.

The boys.

Were they okay? You hoped they woke up and weren't laying still on the cold, wet and muddy ground of the forest. They must have woken up by now. They took worse damage in battle than that tumbling carriage could inflict on them. They weren't pussies to lie in pain until it passed on, though the scope of their injuries did worry you. One was barely breathing while the other looked on the verge of death when you reached him.

That self-righteous mop of hair worried you the most. To think he called you an idiot before it all went sideways. You chuckled dryly with a shake of your head reminded of the insults thrown around before the impact. Even when you were close to embracing death several times, he was talking your ear off about your shitty life choices like a worrisome mother would her rebel child. Absolutely convinced was he that you only made mistakes back there at the club. You came to learn that was just his nature - worrying about others before himself.

Thoughts bounced back and forth in the cold air carried down by the wind currents. The wind howled down here just as loud as outside, scaring the shit out of you when it started sounding like a real wild beast was down there, patrolling around to make sure no one left their deathtrap. Some torches ceased burning, drawing to a smoky kindle until no more light shone inside your cell at all. Only darkness and cold surrounded you, both crawling down your spine with rippling chills. The ripped velvet sleeves and the wet dress did little to keep you warm. But little was better than nothing. Shivers still shook you well, still with the searing pain inside the cold felt bearable for now.

At least this is confirmation they only took me, you sighed, burying your head into the small crevice of your tied hands, ready to give in to exhaustion.

Before you let the night take you in her arms, one last thought came through that just about managed to warm you up from deep within with a faint spark of hope.

I hope the boys are okay.

The rainstorm howled, blowing leaves and twigs everywhere it touched down upon. It was relentless, billowing above the tall tree line, shaking the wilderness down to the depths of the woods, ripping apart over him as if he was part of the forest. Like he was some kind of new addition to the open clearing full of wet, wilted greenery. One that wasn't as dead as the nature around him, waiting for the freeze of winter, but he was near becoming one with it.

He wasn't quite dead. Though it looked that way. His ashen locks were matted to his face, slapped dark with mud, dirt and scorched splinters of wood tangled in every strand, way darker than the paleness of his face and the bleeding parts of his body where his clothes were torn to shreds.

If that was how death looked, crimson like a flower of the purest bloom, soft skinned like a blanket of snow, yet so silver dressed resembling the finest royal jewels - then this death was painfully beautiful. Stealing your breath away and welcoming you with warm arms at the same time. A death that was, but wasn't.

Because he wasn't knocking on her doors just yet.

One moment he was still, as if turned to stone. The next, he drew in a gasping breath like it was his very first. His chest was hurting, moving, taking all of his breaths in and pumping the blood around his body as it normally should, but hurting like a motherfucker. He was alive, in piercing pain and trapped in his mind for extra safety, but on all other fronts, he was alive and breathing.

Somewhere between diving in and out of unconsciousness and awareness of endless pain, something moved above him. He couldn't open his eyes, eyelids weighing more than he could lift at the moment. He couldn't hear anything besides that ringing drowning the world out. But he could sense his surroundings. He could always count on sensing the energy around him when his senses failed to work with him.

It, or a person from the light motion, moved around frantically for a while then landed on top of him. He felt that, together with the blinding pain at the hard press of their body against his. If he could move, he would've pushed them away. But he felt desperation in that weak grip around him, so deep and tormented, hanging onto him for dear life, that it made him feel frustrated he couldn't gauge the situation at all.

One moment, the person pressed tightly into him as if in fear. He felt frail shaking wrapping around his arms then his shoulders, doing their best to reach him. Continual and beyond desperate, the shaking stopped on his face, around his cheeks, and he finally felt something beside the pain running through him - warmth. A warmth that was so familiar to him he tried moving something, anything to reach and comfort it. Then suddenly, the weight on his chest was replaced by a hollow emptiness. The person was gone. He couldn't feel them anymore. That's when his hearing started working again, converting the irritating ringing in his ears into muffled movement, rustling and grunting nearby. Really close by.

Something was happening. He had to open his damned eyes and look. Slowly, infuriatingly at that, all his other paralyzed senses started coming to but not his sight. He could feel the sloshy mud under his fingertips, smell it and the rain, taste the blood on his tongue. His sight took its sweet time even as his gut kept telling him to move it and take a fucking look at what was happening, but by the time he did it all turned quiet. The only thing he could hear was the beat of his heart and the rainfall hitting the ground beside him.

His lashes fluttered open, eyes meeting the blackened sky, raining down hard on his face. Trying to move was pointless when his whole body protested against it, tendrils of sharp pain bursting out in waves upon a single jerk of a finger. Moving was necessary, not a need but a must. Even so, his body just refused his orders firing one after the other. It wouldn't work like that - pushing himself in all sides expecting it to work with him. So he took it slow, slower than babies would.

He blinked away the heavy raindrops falling in his eyes, trying to clear the remaining haze of darkness away. Before he managed to gain back his sight properly, that darkness edged back in his vision, trying to pull him under with the irritating pounding in his temple. He couldn't let it take him again when an urgent need to get the fuck up and regain his bearings shook him to the bone.

He sat and sat, waiting for the pain to ebb away a little, enduring the cold rainfall drenching the rest of his clothes. Until the last shred of his patience finally burned to a crisp. Survival was his only friend for the longest but this was not the time to sit nicely with it. It was time to move. With a long grunt, he dragged his arms towards his chest and tried to push his upper body to sit at least on his elbows. Once that was manageable, he moved his head too, raising it in sync with the bend of his abdomen, hunching forwards with a shaky gasp. That was a mistake that only stirred the pounding in his head to unbearable throbbing.

"Fuck's sake," he hissed, managing to throw a hand to his head.

It hurt everywhere, but that spot near his temple hurt the most. His fingers pried and prodded, touching the soft, mellow skin there until he came to the conclusion that was a nasty gash that's been bleeding for a good while. Judging by the stinging around it, he's been laying there for even longer and rainwater bacteria was making itself rather comfortable.

Blinking away the woozy feeling keeping his body hostage to an imbalance he wasn't accustomed to, he focused his eyes in front of him. Embers burned all around - remnants of what was left of the wooden carriage. Some of them still sputtered, swallowing the remains of dry vegetation around them that wasn't completely soaked, others died down to a smoky kindle. Whipping his head to the right a little too fast that he saw his past, present and future in one dizzying flash, he caught sight of a body laying a few feet away. Zeroing in on it, he tried to figure out who it was but by gods if he could even see straight or make out the outline of the bush next to him at all.

Time to take a stroll and find out, he thought, willing his body to move towards that suspicious hunk of meat laying still in the mud.

In one brisk move, he moved to his knees. Way better than laying down in the mud and getting buried under it. But that's where he got stuck. Standing up properly was out of the question. He had to do it like he's never done it before. One foot before the other. One knee straightened fully then the other. He moved with the grace of a newborn calf, shaky and unstable on his feet, but at last he was standing. He took one step ahead of his head catching up with the rapid motion and nearly toppled over, putting way too much trust that it would be that easy to move. After all, he took several tumbles in a wooden box that nearly capsized with him inside it before his body collided with something hard and finally stopped the endless rolling, ending up in this situation in the first place.

Balancing his weight for a good minute, he tested a few more steps to get the blood flowing around before he took off in the direction of the body. The closer he got, the more it resembled a man. Dusty blonde hair peaked out from under heaps of wet maple leaves and mud and he recognized him instantly - blondie.

He fell to his knees, leaning over him. The upper right side of his suit was torn apart completely, burns climbing up his arms over his shoulder in small craters. He was scraped good, a few deep cuts on his face and light grazes over the side of his neck, but he was still breathing. Unknowingly, Enishi released a sigh of relief. At one point, somewhere in the tug of war between them, he started feeling for the guy because of you and your endless nagging for them to get along and grow a pair -

Wait.

You.

Where were you?

His feet acted on autopilot, lifting him up off the ground to take him along the open radius of the clearing, from the scattered pieces of wood still burning on the main road that got separated from the main frame of the carriage, going as far as the last fragments of the benches inside laying in the deeper opening of the forest. He called your name over and over, voice hoarse like it wasn't his own, whirling around every which side like a madman.

He scoured every corner. Lifted every side door or bench residue still standing propped on the ground, thinking you'd be stuck or hurt under it. Checked every bush and raise of greenery in case you were hiding. The rain just poured harder, making the blood on his head run down his face, extinguishing the fires still burning, except the one that sputtered to life in his chest the more he searched for you just to find nothing.

Not one sight of you, as if you disappeared without a trace.

Nothing at all.

In one breath, he was back at blondie's side, shaking his shoulders ready to yell bloody murder. The blond grunted in pain but Enishi couldn't care less about that. If he didn't open those fucking deer-in-distress eyes in the next few seconds, he would be as good as dead. The blonde continued grunting with no sign of waking up. Before he could stop himself, an angry palm planted on the other's cheek, the force of it forcing his head to the side and pulling a rough cough from him, finally awake and conscious.

"What the fuck," he groaned, his own world spinning to above and beyond.

"Miyu's gone. Wake the fuck up," growled Enishi.

That deep growl startled him enough to open his eyes wide. He took in his surroundings, then the angry, profusely bleeding gray haired man holding him by his collar at a close raging angle. Then his words registered and his mouth fell open.

"What do you mean Miyu's gone?"

"Hate to break it to you, but we were kinda hit from the back by a fucking fireball. I'm here. You're here. She's not. Now where the fuck is she?"

Cho groaned in response. "How the fuck am I supposed to know? I've been unconscious until you hit me." At that he paused and narrowed in on Enishi, brows furrowed in anger. "Why the fuck did you hit me?"

"Just felt like it."

Cho turned sideways and spit the blood out of his mouth before pushing the rough hands around his neck away. Enishi's grip never loosened, only tightened until his knuckles cracked.

"Get your hands off me."

"Or what?"

Before he saw it coming, a fist collided with the side of his head, the bleeding one. His sight got blurrier than it was as he fell backwards. He tried his hardest to shake it off, struggling back to his feet. When his eyes landed on the blond, barely standing himself but standing nonetheless, his jaw ticked and he saw red.

Two steps was all it took and he was pushing him against a tree bark with all his might. Lightning flashed above, drenching him in white, making him look like a bloodied ghost set on vengeance that's been overdue for a long time. Way too long.

Enishi's right fist connected with Cho's cheek before he could counter the attack. With that first blow multiple followed, all punches relentless and more powerful than the previous. Each punch held his rage for the past few days heading straight for the blond. One dug into his chin for hurting you all those years ago with empty lies. Another two cut his cheek open for letting him stay under his roof and feeding him when he didn't deserve it the treatment, giving him way too many chances to redeem himself. An uppercut for playing around with you like you were a toy to break his patience.

Pinning him into the bark of the tree with each strike, Enishi was set upon drilling his body into that hollow bark until he became one with it.

Cho let him send blow after blow until he got his world to stop spinning enough to respond. As soon as the side of his face started going numb and the blood in his mouth felt fresh, his hand lifted to catch Enishi's fist in his, longer fingers digging over his, all while launching his other hand to catch his arm, switching places to throw him into the tree bark instead. He dug his knee into Enishi's chest hard, then without hesitation kicked him down into a puddle of sludge he landed into face first.

The time to play nice ended the minute he smacked the blond awake. He wanted a fight? He was going to get one to remember.

This was what they were both waiting for. The anger they had towards each other just kept rising these past few days. Their instincts only knew violence and destruction for the longest time and they tempered those down enough. Each craved to see the other in pain for a multitude of reasons, most of them surrounding their dispute over you, others simply for futile fun of the moment.

It was time to put their powers to the test.

No mercy. No outside interruptions. Just them and their fists.

Enishi got up from the mud pummeling into Cho with a rough tackle, sending him into the ground hard enough to knock the air out of him. Taking advantage of how dazed he was, he climbed on top, bruised hands finding his grazed neck, pressing down with all his strength to cut his air supply. He didn't want to kill him. That hate harbored in his chest was heavy and punishing when he needed it to be but this wasn't the case for it to unlock. He just wanted to make the bastard feel the pain until he gave up on his own. A small part of him wanted to see him beg for it.

Cho struggled under his hold, hands thrashing around to find something he could use against the brute strangling him. He searched and searched ignoring the murderous gaze set on him. As soon as his palm connected with the length of a tree branch he lifted it up and flung it hard into Enishi's shoulder sending him flying off of him. He didn't give himself a chance to catch his breath before he pressed him into the ground with his foot and got a hold of his arm to twist it backwards at an inhumane angle without stopping until Enishi howled in pain. Even after he yelled in agony, he continued twisting with a wicked smirk on his face, finally satisfied to see him in pain.

The sword thief wasn't one to engage in extreme violence unless he was provoked. Enishi did a lot of that lately, especially when it came to playing around with you, acting like a saint afterwards. You were too peaceful to hurt him. Way too kind to him even in that hateful gaze after the stupid games he played. So he took it upon himself to teach him a lesson. Just because the lesson proved rewarding to Cho's ego, it did not mean he really wanted the guy to suffer for long. Just a little more would do him immense satisfaction.

Cho's victory was short lived. He might have been one of the Ten Swords but he lacked one thing Enishi held close - combat intellect. Something so inconsequential to a normal sword connoisseur but so trivial to a double blade wielder.

Enishi's right arm sneaked out from under him, grabbing a good hold of Cho's thigh as his leg kicked the back of his knee to hurl him back to the ground, letting go of his twisted arm in the process. The blond barely hit the ground before getting back up again, ready to send another kick Enishi's way. He intercepted it and sent one from the ground, angling his body sideways and kicking his leg high enough to hit the side of Cho's neck. He followed up with an elbow in his chest and an uppercut meant to cut off that annoying smirk on his face. He stumbled, colliding with another tree and almost lost his footing falling beside it.

Enishi gave him a second too long. A second that had Cho slide over the mud and kick his legs from under him. He fell backwards, flipping back up on his legs to grab onto Cho's neck once more. Though this time, Cho's hands flew to Enishi's neck too.

The sound of horses galloping went over their heads, both males busy with killing the other or doing more significant damage than the fireball or the carriage crash could. They both squeezed each other, pressing their dirty, bloodied fingers against whatever spots they caught, reluctant to let go and find a better one. They kept going at it until the shot of a gun echoed loud through their still ringing ears, stopping their brawl.

Moving on alert, their heads swiveled in sync behind them to see Wu and a few of the other gang members just looking at them and the disaster around with wide eyes. The older man approached, looking both of them dead in the eyes. In all the years he's worked with him, Enishi has never seen the man more angry than he did now.

"Pardon my language, but what the hell are you two doing right now?" He paused to look around, previous anger turning into worry with each injury he discovered. "And where's madame?"

At the mention of you they sobered up. Both of them let go very adamantly of each other and stepped away, putting some much needed space between them. They were both covered in mud from head to toe, with the occasional bleeding wounds sparkling through, clothes completely ripped apart now, worse than the rolling through the bushes left them.

Cho wiped away the blood on his lips. Enishi touched his wound again, tampering the blood flowing from his head with what was left of the sleeve of his suit. They gave each other one more look of seething rage deciding that this wasn't over. But it was a battle to fight another time.

"I don't know where she is. She was with us before we got hit," replied Enishi, looking down at the ground. Then he pushed a question of his own towards the old man. "How are you here?"

He didn't leave anything but the location with him and specifically told him not to follow in case the Triads showed up. Which they did. But he couldn't risk losing all his resources in one night. Though he did lose an important one. One he insisted stayed back but acted against his orders again.

"Madame came to find me before you left. She told me to come looking for you with back up in case you didn't get back by midnight."

She felt something was wrong, he realized, his chest filling up with dread. You were antsy and jumpy all day but he pushed it past to all the stress you've been under with the mission itself and what the result of it could mean for you. That and the bothersome confession he pushed in your arms without thinking a few nights ago.

"We need to find her," said Cho, holding his shoulder in pain. Now that the adrenaline was all gone, eliminated completely in their mini rage match, they felt the aftereffects of the crash tenfold, beyond the power of their punches.

"Master Enishi, the roads are all empty," said Wu. "It's been a good few hours since you left for the city. We won't find anything out here until morning."

The old man was right. With the pouring rain and the mud running liquid on the ground, all tracks were most likely covered by dirt puddles. They had no shot at finding anything now. Safest bet was going back and coming again tomorrow when the mud was dried up and it wasn't so damn cold. The wound on his temple agreed with him, thundering just once, hard enough that it sent his vision swimming and he stumbled over his steps. Cho's hands shot out to steady him before he took a splash in another puddle, this time of his own doing.

If he was able to stand on his own two legs, he would rip those twigs off his body and beat him with them for having the audacity to act all friendly after he tried to kill him. He did push a sarcastic remark only for his pained groans to cut through.

"Worried about me, blondie?"

"I'm worried about Miyu, not about you, Mr. Prince of the Frogs. How hard did you hit your head?"

Using the hand that wasn't holding upright the grunting mess deadset on ending his life mere moments ago, he got a hold of the side of his head to inspect his wound. Enishi just winced in response to his useless prodding, jerking it back from his hold. That sent his sight spinning like a swiveling chair would.

"We need to get back," urged the blonde, throwing Enishi's arm over his good shoulder. "We're no good to her like this, especially you."

That was the hard truth he had to swallow down his dry throat and make peace with for now. They had to get back. He couldn't do shit with injuries, much less find you. Even if the anger gripping him in cold waves at the thought of having to leave without you was suffocating. Not knowing if you were okay, not knowing what the fuck happened that you were nowhere to be found.

"Fine," he rasped out. "But we're back here the minute it lights up."

"Couldn't agree more," said Cho, helping him walk to the carriage.

Before they boarded Wu's transport, he cast a look back at the darkened clearing hoping to find something else. A clue or a hint that you were still there, lying somewhere he couldn't see or reach, hidden down some rabbit hole he couldn't spot.

Enishi wasn't one to believe in hope, praying to god for things, wishing on a shooting star or that sort of optimistic activities until you. He prayed that he didn't have to leave yet. He hoped that he would find you if he scoured the area better now, not in the morning when tracks might still be scattered under rainwater seas. As the storm rained down harder and the fog settled over the last burning embers of the carriage, he found nothing to hold onto. Nothing in the rubbles or the dense trees or even the other side of the road covered by trees upon trees.

Nothing at all.

No you.

You couldn't tell how long you've been out of it. There was no indicator of measuring the time down in this endless cave. Not one flicker of light shone through any crack in the stone wall. Not even a lost, thin ray of sun down the rock corridor. The only source of time passing were the lit torches to your left, burning up, flaring to wild flames, going out one by one until darkness was all that remained.

The strong, cold air current wafting through the iron bars, howling on the surrounding echo like a lone wolf, never got warmer. Not even a degree above the ice hanging in the air. The underground was supposed to be warmer than the world above the strips of grass and dirt, not colder than sheathed metal blades.

Pangs of hot pain surged endlessly through your body, alternating in your middle or the swollen ankle, waking you up at times only to switch position. As much as one could move chained to the ceiling before falling back into weary slumber.

Wake up. Shift. Sleep. A routine for a sleep that was neither restful or peaceful, escaping and calming like actual sleep should be. It was just enough rest to replenish your lost energy and pass the time in some other way that didn't involve staring at the iron bars ahead, watching how humidity condensed from the ceiling and dripped down the rusty poles until they gathered in puddles, drifting along the cracks in the ground with annoying plinks. You even started counting those at one point, unable to ignore the smell of dampness coming with the humid condensation.

Then you wondered, if a flood was to suddenly occur, what would it become of you? Would that snake come down to unchain and save you since he deemed you so trivial to his plans? He would rather save his own reptilian skin. What would become of you? Chained to the walls of a cavernous cell, swallowed by the water, lost in the drift heading down into the heart of a place that was somewhere but nowhere.

Upon all of that swirl of endless doom thinking to keep you awake and alert to any change around, you fell back into sleep, floating in the emptiness of your tired mind and the different scenarios it cooked up from nothing.

A loud clang shook you from the depths of a dreamless sleep. Keys rattled against the metal rods in front, clinking into each other with a disturbing noise that swam in your ears way too deep to ignore it and continue that excuse of a thing you called sleeping. Blinking your eyes open took a while. Coming to terms with the fact that you've slept with your head against the shackles for a long time took less. Your neck ached, your back coiled from a night's rest like a horse cursed to sleep upright in a barn for his whole life. At least they had hay to curl around.

The keys continued jangling in the lock, smashing into each other as if that infernal noise could make the door open alone. Finally, the metal frame was thrown open with a screech that might as well have been a train's horn. The owner of the keys stepped inside, heading for your spot in the middle of the cell. Your sensitive ears caught up with his footfalls stopping short of an arm's reach, chained arms reach. Cracking an eye open then the other, you were met with the dirty boots of a guard. He reached above you and fiddled with the chains until they were unlocked from the ceiling and thrown to the ground behind you, striking the stone floor with another clang that broke your hearing.

"Up," said the guard gruffly.

What if you didn't obey? Would he do something about it or would he just leave you the fuck alone?

As you debated your very limited stack of choices, you peered behind the guard, noticing two more stationed by, waiting. The three of them all wore commando gear - tight black shirts, vests ticked with small tanto knives inside and out, short range dao swords at the joined hilt on their hips, and dark green pants - staying incognito and on the ready for a fight at all times.

The one in front of you looked easy enough to take on - tall but scrawny in muscle mass, less armed and more sure of his authority in the way he puffed his chest. But the ones behind him looked brawny and skilled, armed to the brim with more muscles than they had weapons on hand. One of them tapped his boot impatiently as if he had better places to be. The other just seemed bored out of his mind, staring gaping holes through you. All odds combined, those two would definitely be harder to take down and they would probably skewer you before you took a step towards freedom anyway. Injured, dazed and unprepared, that was a big no go.

"Today, wench."

Rude prude.

You shot him a look that went ignored as he picked up your chains, wrapping the ends around his fists to pull you up to your feet faster than your legs could catch up. Stumbling over your steps out of the cell, your direction was almost changed for the wall upfront if it wasn't for one of the muscly guards reaching out to catch you before you could face plant in it, relocating you back on your feet a little more gently than the prick in charge could ever aspire to be.

"Easy there," he called to him before he glanced down at you. "She's important to the boss."

Important? Just how important am I to that reptile?

Bossy shoes just dismissed him and took off down the right from your cell with a huff. Guess it's time to find out what's down there.

The rest of the torches lined on the walls were now all lit up, all the way to the bottom of the long tunnel you turned for, leaping wildly with every lost gust of wind blowing through. Your extremely welcoming committee put hurry in his step, descending down a wide row of stairs with a short walkway in between every few steps. There were more cells littered all across your right but they were all empty. You didn't see one soul in any of them.

Sassy pants made sure to pull on the length of your chains a little harder at every last step before your foot landed on the flat surface, silently hoping you would stumble and break your neck faster. He seemed to have a lot of resentment towards you, holding his chin up high and mighty, but that was probably how he acted around all women.

As a precaution, you drew your shackles closer and pulled just as hard whenever he was about to step on the next row of stairs. Looking down ahead, you were about halfway down into the tunnel. It was a long way down and an even longer one back up and your growing nerves didn't like it one bit. The arrogant prick picked up his pace, running two steps at a time and you decided enough is enough. If he wanted a donkey he should've asked his boss for one.

You wrapped your fingers around the chains and pulled on your end, a little harder than you wanted. He nearly took a tumble backwards. To your disappointment, he didn't. Cracking his head from side to side, he blew out an annoyed breath. His temper seemed to run shorter than you gave him credit for and you were glad because that's exactly what you were trying to do - irritate and divide.

Nothing gives me more satisfaction than seeing men about to lose their marbles.

You let out an accidental snort that you instantly regretted. Slowly turning to you, he wrapped the remaining chain length putting safe distance between you around his arms, and he did pull harder, directing you straight into the stone wall this time. You crashed into it face forwards, getting the wind knocked out of you. The torch above your head rattled dangerously, sure that another thud would tip it over on top of your head to set you on fire.

In a delayed show of his authority and power, the guard pressed deep into your back, bladed elbow pushing you against the murky wall of the cave. You could taste the copper staining the tunnel top to bottom in dark orange spots, glowing amber in the light of the torch flame. Turning your head with a remark at the ready, you swallowed the words right back down your throat upon the sight of a sharp knife, drawn out of the nothingness behind you. Inching towards the corner of your eye, it sweetly caressed the side of your face downwards like the lips of a lover would, if those were deadly lips that could kill on a swift cut. The blade sat close enough to cut your cheek open if pressed against the skin, but far enough to keep writhing against the restraint behind you. No amount of struggling or pushing against him lessened his hold on you.

"I don't care how important you are to the boss. Try that shit again and I'll make sure to pull you down there backwards with this rusty chain wrapped around your throat until you beg me to stop," he spoke, marking his threat by snaking the tip of his knife against your cheek in small waves. Stopping at the edge of your lips with a thin prick of the blade, he spoke again, asking for your word of obedience. "Understood?"

You grunted, trying to shake him off and make him shove his words where the sun doesn't shine. He only pressed harder into your back, his hot breath fanning your ear. Tremors of disgust erupted all over your nape. You didn't need to see his face to know he was smirking like the righteous dick he thought he was being. So in true balanced nature you paid the warm welcome right back.

Before he saw it coming, you threw a head butt into his face hard. So hard you felt a crack in the back of your head. He did fall backwards on his ass this time, clutching the bridge of his nose in pain, blood seeping out through his fingers, falling splat on the floor in spots darker than the copper stains.

Think twice before trying to manhandle me, you moron. I hope you stop breathing properly.

The guards behind him snickered at the expense of their fallen colleague, enjoying the show more than you wanted them to. One of them moved to get a hold of your chain, while the other gripped your arm securely, almost as tight as the chains pulling on your wrists.

"Go get that checked out," said one of them chuckling heartily, before leading you down the last few flights of stairs.

The farther down you went, the colder it got. Keeping the icy chills at bay when they rattled the very bones in your body was a lost game. As you came to a long corridor leading to an arch entrance, you heard chatter and laughter. Female chatter and laughter. The closer you got to the archway, the louder and hardly unmistakable it got, cheerful and so full of life, unlike anything you've noticed so far in this place.

Rounding the corner below the arch, the guards walked you through into a well lit cave of some sort, much brighter than the dark corridors you traveled through. Rows of tall stone columns stood both at your left and right, all carved in from top to bottom, resembling the ones holding up the western monuments you used to learn about as a kid.

A much bigger fire blazed in firestone pits dug low behind them, so bright that it felt like the very sun was burning in the room. This cave was bigger than a theatre, stretching from the entrance all the way to the far end where you found the very source of the laughter.

There, a small lifted stone platform hosted a long table filled with food and people, some chatting away with merry in their voice, others just silently enjoying the food. All of them were women. Different nationalities, even different accents from what you could hear echoing back to you.

With the high columns touching the ceiling and the fire burning on the side painting them in a fair golden glow, it felt like you were looking at an army of goddesses having their holy dinner underground before bringing rueful battle above the earth. A painting brought to life and motion that took your breath away.

One of the guards took your hands into his rough hold and brought out a key. He gave you a look in fair warning not to try anything similar to what you did to his comrade since he might not be as lenient as him. A quick glance between his raw gaze and the sword sheathed at his side had you slump in defeat. Not that you could try anything that fast anyway. Trustful that you would behave, but wary it could be a trap, he inserted the key in the rusty lock and took off your shackles.

"Go and meet the others," he instructed. "We'll come collect you when it's time for you to go back to your cell."

Rubbing your aching wrists over the red indents left by the restraints, you turned to the masses and made your way over the long aisle as well as you could walk with a twisted ankle. The closer you got to the platform, some pairs of eyes took notice of your presence and the chatter drew to a mere shushing, until all eyes were trained on you like you walked the walk of shame. You noticed all of them were dressed in combat clothing. You wore a muddy, torn off occasion dress.

Way to make a first impression. I look like a damsel seeking refuge in a highly secured fortress. They might as well shoot me down now before I knock.

You walked a bit more then faltered in your step. All eyes were on yours except a pair that gave you their back. A familiar hunched over back, gobbling up food faster than your ears could cope with the sound. It was the hair that confused you. Dark mauve, almost black tangled wet locks of hair, longer and dirtier than you remembered her to keep it.

It can't be... you shook your head. There's no way it's her.

Sensing the quiet in the room, the girl you were ogling stopped eating, lifting her head to the girls in front of her.

"What? What happened?" she spoke, her voice coming out muffled through the bites still stuck in her mouth waiting to be munched away at. "Why did you all stop talking?"

Even her voice... That low, extremely pissed voice that could drop kick your attitude to outer space. It sounds exactly the same as hers.

Her hair, her voice, the very way she was leaned over the table. People don't share habits like those. Those traits could only belong to her. The possibility that it was her was as big as trying to latch a rope around a boar's neck. But all your senses believed it was her. It couldn't be anyone else.

What the fuck is this?

The girl opposite her, watching your every move since her eyes laid on you, nodded her head your way.

"We have new company," she said, low and sharp in Chinese.

The girl with mauve hair finally turned to you with an expression you couldn't decipher. One that you didn't need to because you knew that face all too well. You staggered backwards with a gasp of shock. At first glance, she quickly looked at you, dismissing your existence to turn back to the table. Then she choked, coughing up food and turned back to you once more. Upon seeing you, fully seeing you, her eyes blinked in surprise then in utter shock, doing several takes before the leftover food in her mouth ended up being spat on the floor.

In one breath, she was up and running towards you at full speed, closing the distance between you faster than you could comprehend what was happening. Her arms engulfed you in a bone-crushing hug, almost taking your lungs away in it. Since she was taller, your arms wound up around her middle. You breathed in her scent, going beyond the dirt and potentially dried blood stench, unable to catch a whiff of that special citrusy perfume she used to lather herself in. Regardless, you dug your head in the crook of her neck, pulling her deeper into your hold.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" she whispered, pulling away slightly to look at you every which way to make sure it was really you.

That was the same thing you did, smacking her cheeks together and looking deep into her golden brown eyes like she wasn't real and just a figment of your imagination. But it was her. It really was her.

Lyla. My Lyla.

Her hands moved from your shoulders to the top of your head, brushing through leftover leaves and twigs you failed to notice were strung in your hair like you were mother nature's plod.

"I could ask you the same thing," you said, still confused as to what was going on.

"Are you going to introduce us to your friend?" asked the girl facing Lyla's empty seat. She wore a smile now, as if she waited for Lyla's approval of your arrival before accepting it herself.

"Yeah, of course," she laughed nervously, ungluing herself away from you. She walked you to the table where you were in everyone's field of vision.

"This is Miyu. She's one of the best assassins in the business I know, and an even better friend," she squeezed you closer looking at you affectionately. That squeeze, as loving and well-intended it was, it made you wince in pain, reminding you of the broken ribs that have gone forgotten in your reunion.

"Oh my god," she gasped. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," you grunted. "Can you just unlace this death trap of a corset a little?"

Said and done. She was behind you in a heartbeat, undoing Enishi's exemplary work on your corset a little so you could breathe. She unlaced it halfway then dug her fingers through the sides, pulling the fabric carcass wider until you tapped her arm that it was good enough. You bent over and breathed some fresh air in good gulps. As fresh as musty, humid cave air can be.

"How are you here?"

"I teleported myself here, Lyla," you deadpanned, straightening back up. She frowned and you instantly felt bad for the remark.

"I don't know," you sighed. "I was on a mission, some shit with a flying fireball happened and I woke up here."

"They took you too," she said.

The icy glare in her eyes alone, directed right behind at the archway you came through moments ago, shook a chill down your spine.

"What do you mean they took me? Too? What's going on?"

At each confused question, the wariness painting the faces around morphed into something else. Something that made them avoid

"You may want to sit down."

Another girl, much younger than the others, pulled out a chair for you and Lyla helped you over to it. She got an empty plate, filling it up with food for you as she started explaining what was actually going on in as less information and detail as was humanly possible. If abductions and arson ever went hand in hand as small talk topics, but alas.

"We've all been taken away. Kidnapped mid-mission, taken from our homes in the dead of night or literally just being ambushed while travelling around the continent."

The words coming out of her mouth made your blood run cold. Your eyes landed on the girl before you whose light nod confirmed the grim affirmations.

"All of us are really skilled assassins in our fields of expertise," continued Lyla. "Knives, guns, swords. Name your pick and someone at this table can show you the ropes. They picked us for their exclusive underground fight club."

That explains the dried blood spots on the floor from the arch entrance all the way to the far end where the dirt ground met the stone platform. But it sure doesn't explain why they were taken away, against their will, for such an unexplainable reason. The clubs you fought at, though many, were all on a consent basis from what you remembered. After all, that's how you met Lyla.

Rewinding the clock back a good decade to a few days after your parents disappeared, most of your relatives that were still alive in Yokohama refused to take you in. They treated you like you weren't part of the family. Like your parents didn't work their backs for the whole family tree line at times, always lending your aunts money or helping your uncles out with their rude specimens of children whenever they could. Being the sole survivor of the Hikari mansion massacre wasn't seen as a good omen, as if a wretched curse was following you around and would bring about their deaths too if they took you in. The doors shut tighter and faster at the sight of you, sometimes before you even knocked, treated like a stranger by your own kin and blood. And family became the very last thing you could count on.

Walking for days, hopping merchant carts from city to city, you somehow ended up in Central Edo. Begging around for food or some kind of work on the outskirts was the initial plan. But as soon as you arrived, you caught wind of fight clubs in the area being open to anyone, no matter their age or background. A fresh start from zero.

You heard it was easy money to make and even easier to track people through since most of the bigshots in the city frequented it. You attended it that day, undercover in case you'd be kicked out, only to find that most of the fighters in the ring were girls around your age. The audience sitting in on the matches loved to talk of anything and everything - crimes, mafia hits, unfinished business with snobs in high society. Nothing stayed private there. Thinking you'd find some information on your parents and have a roof over your head while going at it, you entered it that same night.

That's where you found her, sharpening her knives in a lone corner of the shared living quarters in the sewers underneath the city. Black Canary they called her. Whenever she was in the ring to fight, you'd hear that scream of hers, high-pitched like a bird of prey on the ready to send your ears into audible wreckage, symbolic of her reigning victory. She was one of the best the club ever had, keeping the public throwing stacks of money in bet tickets until they ran out, leaving the fight club with empty pockets.

Beside that triumphant scream, she didn't speak a word. She never ate, slept or trained with everyone else. All she had was fighting and the sharp blades of her knives.

With time, you learned to catch up on her habits. The way she sharpened her knives in the same pattern, up from the hilts, twice for each blade. How she trained in the tunnels far out instead of joining with the rest in the ring. That she would always come out to the weapons table when it was empty, after everyone else has already eaten, to eat by herself.

At first, you just watched her from a dark corner. After a while of building up the courage, you'd purposefully eat slower than the rest and stay around longer until she showed up, to keep her company. The first times you did it, she would get angry, shoot you a look full of hatred and leave the table with her plate untouched as if you disrespected her space or something. But as you grew older and matured, time passed and you were the only girl left around as the rest went on their ways. Only then did she welcome your presence.

Her name was the first word she ever spoke to you. Not the stage name they called her by after a successful kill that earned betting money to corrupt city officials. Her real name. The one her mother baptized her with on the cold winter's night that she was born. The name she never wanted to give up.

She never even gave her real name to anyone before you, she told you. Little by little, she spent more time with you and she opened up. You came to learn she had one of the nicest voices you've ever heard and that contrary to her silence she talked, a whole lot. But only with you and a few close friends.

Since then, you've trained together, fought together, moved ships together when the time was right. You've been at each other's side like sisters, guarding each other's back no matter what. Maybe you weren't bound by blood, but you were bound by that bond of found sisterhood. She became the only family you had left in the world, a home that you could always run to when the world got too much. The kind you'd risk anything for upon a simple ask. Even your life.

After you've left Japan, you lost contact with her for good reason, trying to protect that very bond you had since you had a moving target on your back. As good as it was to see her now, you wished it was under better and safer circumstances because these ones confused you greatly. Hell, the last few days have been confusing as fuck for you but this was next level fuckery you couldn't wrap your head around even with higher intellect.

"I don't understand why they kidnapped you all like this and forced you in here," you said, looking down at the ground like the stone floor would split open and a valid answer for why they were all gathered here would pop out on a stalagmite spear.

This was the work of the Triads for sure. But why? They were the reason you ran away in the first place. They had ties to your parents too. What could they possibly want with an underground fight club?

"Last I checked, they asked people if they wanted to join before they followed them around and took them by force," you added, subtly relating your personal experience with the Triads that hasn't been as much fun as they advertised.

"I was taken during a surprise raid of theirs in the West zone, almost off the border," spoke a girl to your left, sat at the far end of the table. Her gentle, melodious voice had your eyes snap from the ground to her instantly.

Two long, brunette braids split up to sit on each side of her shoulders. Small silver ringlets decorated random waves of the braids in her hair, from the top to the very last strand, tied tightly with leather laces at the spiky ends.

"My name's Yana. They also call me Qiang, like the spear I wield," she said with a smile.

You could tell she was confident in her wielding, much like the scabs and calluses on her hands as she extended one for you to shake. Your own palm wrapped around hers in a shake that dominated yours. Even her hold was hard like the wood used to make the base of the qiang.

"They surely didn't ask me to join their wretched cause before they set fire to my village, burning it to the ground," she said. Her eyes fell on the fire burning in the pits below, like she was living that nightmare once more.

"I fought back to protect my own, trying to help my family flee before the flames swallowed our home. I thought they were out for treasures or the small fortunes gathered together in our small quarters. But the minute I went out to fight they turned on me. Before I could know my family was safe, they hauled me away and shoved me in here."

"I'm sorry," you uttered underneath your breath, unable to process what they were capable of.

"Ah," she shook her head with a somber smile. "There's no need for that. You'll hear worse stories than mine."

Before you could make sense of her words or even begin to absorb the lengths of her story, someone else took the lead in sharing theirs.

"I'm Marissa," said the girl next to Yana. Her voice was much deeper and manlier than you expected it to sound.

The first person you noticed when you walked in the cave was her. As did she, her eyes instantly connecting with yours across the length of the rock gallery when you entered with the guards. Her blue eyes, colder than the Sea of the Arctic could ever aspire to be, pierced you in intimidation upon that first glance. Her face looked hardened by battle, used to it if you'd assume it, paler and reddish in tone around her cheekbones. Beside the tall bridge of her nose, her cheeks sat high like they were cut from hard rock cobalt.

One look at her told you she was a warrior of the caliber legends talked about, that ate battle for breakfast, won it by lunch and threw a feast fit for a queen at dinner.

Among her foreign features, what struck you the most was her ginger hair, glowing a bright auburn with the moving flicker of the firestone. It was the kind of shade you'd find on a really expensive material like imperial silk, so unique and beautiful that you'd dress her up in the finest of those silks just to see how bright she could glow.

"As you can tell, I'm not from around here," she spoke roughly in broken Chinese. Coughing dryly, she switched to Japanese in which she seemed much more confident, thing that caught you by surprise.

"I'm from Siberia. They caught me at a fortress in the North, digging up some ancient alcohol the monks were raving about," she laughed and you had to laugh with her, the rest of the table following suit. The girls seemed to be familiar with her story, certainly hearing it every now and then. It got you curious too.

"They call me the Axe Woman. I don't even wield an axe. It's more of a halberd."

She chugged down a mug of what smelled like hardcore alcohol. The scent of it wafted your way. Sensing your eyes on it like a hawk, she offered it to you with a small grin. You shook your hands in refusal but she insisted, pushing it into your hands.

"Have a gulp. You look like you need it."

You took it and had a tentative sip before you chugged it all down in one long gulp. The raw spirit went down your throat, burning out the chills wracking you all night, warming you right up. Finishing it up to the very last drop, you eyed to the bottom of the wooden cup looking for some more. That was unlike anything you've ever had before, somewhere between expensive bar liquor and ages old spirit brewed in the heart of the countryside. So strong and flavory, going right to where you needed some quick liquid smoothness.

Wiping your lips of the leftover drops, you held it back to her only for her smile to crack away into a really threatening sneer.

"I didn't mean the whole thing. That was the last of it."

A sacred rule of yours regarding alcohol was to never drink the last alcohol at the table because it could always be the last for a long time coming. A rule you forgot about that now made your hold on the mug tremble.

A loud hiccup escaped your lips out of nervousness for what could follow that threat. You jumped over your rule and drank the last of the alcohol at the table and from the looks of it there would be violent consequences since Marissa didn't seem to play about her liquor. After all, she did get caught and thrown down here as she was looking for some.

Debating your chances against her broader, much taller form had your stomach growl in protest. Then a huge burp came out from the depths of your throat before you could stop it. The eyes around the table rounded wide, all directed at you like you've committed the utmost final sin. You cursed yourself for being so selfish.

They're going to skin me alive for a mug of alcohol.

If they write that on my stone I'll become the laughingstock of pooping pigeons.

Maybe that plea could be my last words.

If I get the right to any last words.

Just when you thought the world was about to end for good, the whole table erupted in hysterics at your expense. They were just playing with you. Your face must have given away your stupid thoughts because even Marissa threw her head back howling, hand hitting the table in utter amusement that you weren't following along the trick.

"Don't worry. I had enough for today," she smirked in teasing, her shoulders rolling with a few more giggles. "Your face was priceless."

Your shoulders fell with a sigh. "Very funny. I nearly said a prayer with the last drops of it stuck in my throat."

"I love alcohol, but not enough to kill a sister. You're one of us now."

That made a smile fall on your lips. You've been here for a shitload of a few minutes and they already took you in as one of their own. The feelings were mutual, nods already falling in agreement with Marissa's words.

Suffering unites people in the worst of times. But how much of it did these girls go through that a simple good word and a laugh with you had them swear your name off their killing lists? From the fading scars on their faces and hands, way too much of it crossed their paths. The ones laying under the surface, deep in their souls, must be hurting worse. You could see it in their eyes - the haunting moments they lived in here.

The table quieted down and everyone went back to enjoying their food. Once the coast was clear of volunteers, it was someone else's turn to tell their story. Nothing could have prepared you for this one.

"I'm Mai," spoke the girl next to you. She was the one that pulled your chair over with a small smile.

A tiny thing she was, not a year above sixteen years of age. A young girl. You were a teenage girl too when you started fighting, much more younger, but at least you fought willingly and on your own terms.

"I've been here the longest," she said, cutting through your train of thoughts. She looked down at her plate with a small twitch of her lips that could barely be a smile.

Your heart thrummed in your chest at her words.

The longest? A child has been here for the longest?

"How?" was the only thing you could mutter, unable to get over the shock of what she was telling you, like it was a fable, far from reality.

"My parents used to work for the Triads. They were two of the best assassins they had. After they had me, they wanted to pull out and live a normal life but the bosses just wouldn't let them go. They ran away to protect me but the troops caught up to us," she said, her soft brown eyes filling up with unshed tears.

"They took me as revenge. It's been almost ten years since then."

What kind of animals do this shit?

"They kept me here and trained me, had me fight sometimes, welcome the newcomers. I don't go to the upper world though. It's always been off limits to me. I keep hoping that one day they'll let us all go. I don't even remember how it feels like to see the sunlight," she said, mumbling the last part as she sniffled away an angry, stray tear before it could fall away from her face.

She's been held down in this cold cave, with barely enough food to eat or a real bed to sleep in, as a killing machine for them?

For ten years?

Those weren't people. Those were mad devils walking the earth with no scruples and a slithering tail in place of a spine. These demons captured a young girl and locked her up in a fighting cave, making her call it a home when she should be in an actual home, in the comfort and the warmth of her parents' loving embrace, exploring the beauties of the world.

Your parents were snatched away, leaving you to fend for yourself in the unknown dangerous world. But they didn't take you like this, without allowing you time with them. But to steal a child that's barely been in the world for so little, taking away her right to live a life... This... this was madness. A madness that fueled your rage for the Triads even more.

"Can I hug you?" you asked, before even registering the words spilling out. "I just... you remind me so much of me."

At first she hesitated. You could see it on her face - a wonder for the comfort that she barely got to feel. Arms stretching out with a smile, you hoped she could look past the roadkill look you sported and get in there.

She passed you a slow nod and you rushed to engulf her in a delicate, gentle hug, hoping you could let her feel some of the warmth she's missed all these years she's been locked in this hollow lifeless pit. She probably hasn't had one of these in a while since she melted into your hold within an instant, burying her head in the crook of your neck. You squeezed her as hard as your wounds would let you, ignoring the stabbing pain under your ribs. The pain you were feeling didn't even compare to what she must have gone through. So you held her close, carding a hand through her soft locks, feeling her bury closer in your arms.

Maybe the others weren't the soft type. The assassin job usually meant killing off your softness in order to get things done quick and less messy. But no matter how much you or Barairo tried to get rid of this gentle side of you, it never worked. You never let the rage consume you to the point of no return. Perhaps it was the luck of being raised for more than half of your life by loving parents, a thing not many can say. Maybe keeping this kindness was what paid respects to their memory. Whatever the reason, you hung tight onto it, never letting go. You'd be dead and gone before you let that happen.

Your heart ached for her. This shred of kindness, as small and insignificant as it was, was all you've been missing growing up on the streets of Edo. Alone, scared, with no future in sight. A young girl left to fend for herself with no place to call her home, nowhere to turn to.

Pulling back from each other, you brushed her ebony hair back softly, the very way your mother used to.

"You're brave, Mai. So brave. Braver than I ever was back then," you said, cupping the side of her face. "Hold that close to your heart."

Her cheek leaned into your hand like a tigress letting herself be tamed. You could feel the anger she kept inside, but from the looks of it she was better at controlling it than you did.

The rest of the girls at the table introduced themselves and told you about their abductions. Every one of these girls braved through the odds to survive and live as best as they could, every story more tragic and painful to listen to. At one point you noticed something that raked chills down your spine. All the reasons for which they were taken blurred into a disgusting pattern that shook you to your core - they were all taken for their skills in battle. For being good, undetectable assassins in their local areas. For their expertise. For their unparalleled strength. None of them were housewives or farmers. All of them were powerful warriors.

Why they took only girls was a mystery beyond you. These girls were all well known in their fields and could hold their own against an army if they wanted to. And you found out that's exactly what most of the women at this table did if they had chance - they put up a battle in front of this unforeseen danger. Some fought legions to protect their own and keep the danger at bay for as long as they could. Others were taken as they carried out the only job they knew, trying to survive the days the only way they could, even if that meant taking a filthy life off the face of the earth in exchange for one more day or one more week to win the roof over their heads and the small meals they could barely afford to stay alive.

They were brought here to fight for their lives at the will of that smug serpent lounging in the luxurious comfort of the upper world without a worry in the universe, as if nothing and no one could take the world from under his feet.

What they called the upper world was the very world promised to them. The world they came into as little girls, to grow and blossom into amazing women and fearsome warriors, to become forces of nature that wished to protect and aid, not at all divide and conquer. The very world they now looked to from beneath the layer of the earth above this cavern, as if they were already dead corpses waiting to be absorbed a level lower than the one hosting their pain and anger at the moment.

They had a lot of it - rage. The pure kind that could tear through anything and wreak havoc on the world. You could feel it flow from them as they shared their individual stories of becoming and their changed endings before they even got to live the lives they had planned. And they had a lot waiting for them. Daughters, sisters, wives, engaged to be married to their chosen ones. So much that was taken away. So much they might never get back.

But not even channeling all that anger nor their skills, could help them get out of this hell. Twenty souls, beside you, all trapped in this dungeon until the lord of the house spoke of their use or freedom. A freedom which, from their small lettings, often came at the price of death in battle.

"You said they make you fight."

Your voice cut through the sea of silence hanging over the table, carrying out like a wake up call of what they were about to go through again and again, in a never ending cycle, as if they did not know anything of it before you mentioned it. You could tell from the way they avoided your eyes that they tried to forget about that part, fighting against the reminder of their fate at least now as they shared a meal together.

"Who do they pick against who? What are the rules? Do you get anything when you win a fight?"

Your questions shot out one after another before your brain could catch up to them. Yana simply smiled at you. A smile so full of regret and yet filled with endless compassion, that you were starting to grow fond of. She must have smiled a lot more before she was thrown in this shithole.

"They pick one of us at random," she said, picking your questions up in order. "Against outsiders mostly. Mercenaries, other assassins, big shots in the other mafias. People they have a bone to steal from, targets they want killed or taken care of. They've never had us fight amongst ourselves and for that we're a little grateful."

"Rules are simple. You fight, kill or get killed."

Her smile fell at the last one and you felt your heart twitch painfully in your chest. She didn't have to go into that one to know that some of them did refuse to fight or died in the fight. That thought alone made your insides twist and churn, not in hunger but in horror with another realization.

There were more of them locked down here and some of them didn't survive it.

Yana must have read the miserable sensation coursing through you right on your face. She gave you no time to dwell on it before continuing with more answers, though you dreaded having asked those questions now. But she needed you to know what waited for you.

"Winning a fight doesn't do much. We did agree to ask for similar things, like a full meal or a week of no fights so we could rest and heal."

The table filled with food in front of you was someone's well-earned meal, shared well with every hungry stomach. The very food you were eating was fought for with blood, sweat and wounds that were probably not healed yet.

Unable to help it, you scoured the table trying to spot the one who gave herself to battle to earn this feast. All of them were decked in bruises and cuts, some more recent, others scabbed over. You searched each girl for new, fresh wounds from left to right. Then your eyes laid on Lyla who was slurping noodle bowls by the second beside you, who turned awfully quiet all of a sudden.

Then it hit you - Lyla eats like that only after a fight. You knew her appetite was as big as a sailor fleet after her fists were locked in someone's face. Raking your eyes over her, you didn't notice it before but her eyebrow was indeed split open, as was her lower lip. Fresh cuts were littered between purple bruises on her arms too, one darker than the other as they peeked from under her torn sleeves. Her hair fell from the messy ponytail, some pieces drenched in the stench of dried blood.

Feeling eyes on her, she stopped slurping her soup, turning to you with a noodle hanging from her mouth.

"What?" she mumbled, slurping the noodle in with a pop.

"It was you this time wasn't it?" you asked, looking down at your plate in guilt.

"I did what I had to do," she shrugged. Her eyes landed on your plate that sat untouched this whole time, letting out a long sigh at your stubbornness.

"Miyu, please eat. You're hurt and this is the best we'll be getting for a while. There's no need for guilt-sulking and all that humble bullcrap. Eat. Please."

Her pleas fell on deaf ears. Your hand moved on autopilot. Grabbing a cloth, you raised it to her split eyebrow dabbing the blood away. She slumped in her seat and let you take care of it, knowing you'll just pester her about it until she did it, which would probably be never. She had a bad habit of letting her injuries dry up and heal by themselves, deeming it natural and less burdensome than patching herself up properly.

"Miyu," she groaned like a child, a few seconds away from shoving food in your mouth herself.

"Okay, fine," you smacked the cloth down on the table. "I'll eat."

Looking down at your plate, you saw it was ticked up with roasted chicken thighs and mashed potatoes. Dying of starvation didn't seem so bad considering it was food from the enemy. But the meatballs Enishi shoved in you before the mission were long digested. Your stomach grumbled dangerously at the sight of the chicken, the roasted smell, the way it looked so appetizing, and you couldn't deny it any longer.

Launching yourself into it, you ate that chicken like you've never had it before, chewing it on all sides like a famished wolf that finally found edible prey to eat. The meat was so tender and well cooked, you couldn't help a moan at the taste. A few girls snickered at the way you were eating, slurping the meat off the bone by the second like it was jelly.

"Slow down there, rosy," giggled Lyla.

Once you were finished with the chicken, your fork headed for the potatoes. Yana pushed a bowl of stew your way too.

Too busy inhaling the food, you failed to hear the echoing click of heels rapidly making their way along the corridor. Everyone stopped eating in a similar manner to when you entered, diverting their eyes away from the food and to the figure standing behind you. You stopped eating too, feeling someone standing there, glaring daggers into your nape.

"You're in my seat," spoke another female voice, much more pitchy and annoying than any you've ever heard.

Turning around slightly, you were faced with the very bitch from the Shanghai Club you tried so hard to kill all night before you ended up in this place.

What a surprise.

Patting your lips with a tissue, you placed it swiftly on the table and got up from your seat facing her. Her face was still swollen, cuts and bruises decorating her all over from forehead down to her uncovered neckline.

"I thought I killed you," you smirked at her, crossing your arms over your chest.

"And I thought they burned you alive in that carriage along with your boyfriends," she sneered, like the evil vamp she was. "I guess we don't all get what we want."

You chuckled dryly at her, averting your eyes away from her irritating presence. That remark was enough to rail you up. Before she saw it coming, your smirk fell and your fist connected with her face, throwing her to the ground.

The night was still dark when they got back to the mansion.

Enishi made his way right to the office with the help of one of his men while Wu helped Cho out of the carriage. The older man gathered all men on duty in the room, instructing them to bring medical supplies and send for the doctor from the village, then started working on Enishi's head wound.

If there was something Enishi hated with a passion in the whole world, it was people fussing over him. Even when he simply scraped his knee on a grocery run with Tomoe and she rushed him home, he would berate her that he was capable of taking care of himself well enough, not in the need of anyone else's help. In those times, she would angle him down with a look of warning and lecture him that being hurt wasn't a weakness but a strength, a sign reminding him that he was human too. That was the same look the old man gave him, though less lecturing and more annoyed as he kept telling him to sit still. Sitting still was not in his itinerary for the night.

It took a while. At one point, he thought that Wu was moving slow on purpose, testing his patience. Wound cleaned and bandaged, he called over some of his men, delegating tasks of immediate execution and precaution, taking it from the beginning of it all.

He had to be quiet about what happened at the club, giving away only necessary details where needed.

"I want information on everything that moves inside and outside of Shanghai. Imports, exports, hidden shipments. I want to know about all of it," he demanded, tone strict and without a sliver of mercy. "Every little detail about people or stuff that's not where it should be, you have it going through my ears as soon as possible."

They all nodded, taking off out the door one by one as soon as they were handed work and locations. He sent some men back to the club to scope out anything suspicious or of interest, warning them to keep a safe distance and not get found out. If that happened, they were completely on their own and he could do nothing more for them.

Whoever sent the carriage ablaze believed all three of you were taken care of, set on fire to mere ashes tossed in the wind. Letting them believe that some more would get him places much faster.

The rest of his men were gathered in the room, but he failed to see a few.

"Is everyone here?" he asked Wu.

"Yes," he said, sticking a bandage over Enishi's wound. "Except the ones you just sent out and my own."

His fingers stopped prodding at his wound pulling back to look at Enishi's face for any leftover cuts left untreated.

Enishi's eyes bounced around, doing a mental count of how many men he left on duty, the ones that were off tonight and the ones he's already deployed. Some of them were definitely missing from today's force.

"Who did you take with you in town two days ago?"

"Just my crew. The twins, Kano, Liu and Yao."

The twins he just sent out to gather intel from the club, knowing they were the most silent weapons he had. He turned around looking for the rest, finding only Kano and Yao, loudly bickering about something in the corner as always. Those two could never get along and he always sent them out on missions together on purpose, hoping they would sort out their shit.

He kept twisting around Wu, trying to spot everyone only to fail at it. Wu himself turned around and looked for his own.

"Liu's not here," he concluded. Then his eyes widened to the size of rice balls. "I haven't seen him since we went out in the city and relayed info to you and madame a few nights ago."

Liu's been one of the older recruits Enishi picked out at the start of the mafia ensemble. He was good at finding out important information fast and promptly, often the one at the helm of interrogations. Liu made people talk quicker than he expected them to.

Enishi didn't know a lot about the guy himself. Lately, he placed him under Wu's directive since he had more connections and could reach a wider spread of information inland outside of the mansion walls.

Falling in his seat, he tapped his fingers on the wooden arms of the chair in deep thinking, zoning out of the ruckus and mobilization around the office. Someone talked in the wrong ear about his plans. He's suspected it for a while as he investigated the missing shipments, but after tonight, he knew for sure that he had a mole walking freely within his walls. Someone he's fed generously, gave a roof over their head, a warm bed at night and a secure and well-paid job to do. Someone who was ungrateful and selfish enough to throw all that away and sing at someone else's table about things that should've never left these walls.

The timing of Liu's sudden disappearance was too obvious and in plain sight not to fall under the suspicion that he was involved in tonight's shitshow. Not just that, but having been with Wu to gather intel on your parents, adding his presence the night Wu told you that, he knew enough about you to hand you over to the Triads and set up a trap to get you killed without anyone suspecting anything.

"Bastard," he muttered under his breath. "Send your men after him. I have a feeling he has something to do with everything going to shit tonight."

"On it," he nodded, leaving him be.

Leaning on the back rest, he propped his head back and closed his eyes for a second. It felt like this night just wouldn't come to an end. It started so well that he himself was hopeful it would finally get you somewhere, that the false leads ended there at that wretched club. In turn, it all changed for the worst.

Enishi got up to walk around and stretch his legs a little, ending up in front of Cho. The village doctor was taking care of his shoulder, stitching up the open grazes slithering down to his side. He took a peek at it since it was uncovered, noticing that the whole of his right backside was covered in a long burn, bruised on the sides. The blond winced in pain wherever the doctor touched him, unable to keep still.

"You good?"

"Been worse."

Enishi's head turned to look at the window catching dawn on the slow rise. The doctor finally finished his job, helping Cho pull on his shirt to cover his back. He got up, walking beside Enishi,

"You're going back out there, aren't you?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "You should stay back. That thing on your back looks nasty."

"Your head being split open is nastier."

"Are you worried about me again?"

"I'm worried you'll miss out on clues since you can't see straight enough to send a punch properly."

"I don't think you want me to send a punch your way properly," said Enishi with a smirk, grabbing his kimono. "Meet me out front when you're ready to go."

Enishi left, taking a few more men with him, leaving the blonde confused with his mouth agape. He thought he had that quarrel in his hand only to be fooled. Enishi never went full on with his punches. He did made Cho believe he gave it his all though.

They were out riding back to the scene as soon as the sun rose up. They took horses this time, wary of carriages for the time being. The horses got there much faster and the rain stopped too, drawing to a slow drizzle.

Dismounting at the scene of the crash, the smoke still ebbed from the rest of the bigger remains. A low cloud of fog settled with the temperature change, but the endless puddles of rain were almost absorbed into the ground. That was a positive, but the slippery, muddy ground not so much.

"I'll take the right," said Cho, heading for the other side of the clearing.

Enishi nodded, moving to the site of the crash. "I'll take the left."

Splitting up was better than nothing. They searched and searched, flipping over even the doors or the wheels of the carriage that were still in solid state. Enishi found nothing. Not even a ripped piece of fabric from your dress or a loose thread hanging from a branch floating lonely in the wind. He looked for your necklace too in case you lost it here. But he found no track or lead on you, like you were never here in the first place.

They rejoiced on the main road as the rest of the men kept searching.

"Anything?" asked Cho, a glint of hope in his eyes that only shattered when it landed on his search partner.

Enishi shook his head discouraged. "You?"

"Nope."

"How did she even just disappear into thin air like that?"

"I don't know."

He replayed the events of the night up until the crash and from when he woke up. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't grasp what happened. He knew there was a part of tonight that was missing from his head. a part that might have been ripped away by the pain he was in. That hole between the crash and him waking up was pissing him off. He knew something happened but he couldn't recall it back.

He looked back at the bush he rolled through. Pinning down the place he was laying in and the spot he found Cho in, he looked for a way to measure the spot you would have been in after the carriage broke into pieces. Walking around the splotches of mud, he followed his gut and took off towards the woods. Something about the woods bothered him.

Thinking hard on it, he got a few steps away then it hit him like a flash of lightning touched his head - he did feel something happen. The person crashing into his chest, shaking him awake desperately and the rustles around him until everything went eerily quiet.

"It was her," he spoke breathlessly alerting the blonde.

"What are you talking about?"

"Before I woke up, I felt something. She tried to shake me awake. One moment she was grabbing onto me then the next she was gone."

His head started pounding and he had to hold onto it. That wasn't all. He saw you too, kicking and screaming through the haze as someone threw you over their shoulder. Then he blacked out again.

"I saw her."

"You saw her?! What do you mean?"

"Someone hauled her up and took her away," he groaned as he was spilling detail after detail he couldn't recall witnessing before.

"At least now we know she was here. We just need to figure out who took her."

Pacing around, Enishi took a look at the rubbles again. His eyes drew back to the road, mentally piecing together the events of the night leading up to the crash. That fireball came from the direction they left from - the club. A planned attack? Maybe. From which side present last night? The Triads? The Daos? The men behind that traitorous scum he killed? That was the mystery Enishi couldn't solve.

They were barely half an hour away when it happened. It definitely had to be someone from there. The Triads were barely armed but someone back there was loaded, both inside and outside to ensure their own safety - a mafia. If anyone had access to a catapult and incendiary ammunition on the side of town it was them.

Upon seeing the grim smirk on Enishi's face, Cho shuddered. Whenever he had that look on his face, it was either good or bad news, for him or for someone else. The blond didn't feel like playing the lottery right now so he just asked.

"What are you thinking?"

Enishi's gaze lifted up to him with a deeper grin.

"I think we need to pay the Daos a little visit."

Violence is never the answer. But it sure looked like it when this cross-legged, brunette, excuse of a human being opened her mouth.

You couldn't hold back when she spoke like it was her who ordered the attack on you and the boys and the heartless way she said it was enough to make your blood boil with rage. Once your punch flew her way, your hands wound up around her neck, planning to choke her until she spilled all her useless words and bitchy attitude out.

"What the fuck did you just say?" you gritted, pressing harder into her neck.

"Exactly what you heard," she spoke through gasping breaths. "You were all supposed to perish with that one fireball."

"How about you perish by my own two hands?"

Hooking a hand into her lacy top, you got up and dragged her along on the floor until you reached one of the stone pillars on the side. The girls watched with mouths open from the table as you lifted her up to it, smacking her head into it multiple times. That irritating grin on her face never fell away, even as you bashed her face in pretty well with just that one punch, splitting her lip open right next to the previous damage you made back at the club.

Upon hearing the ruckus, the guards came back down but never intervened, sitting at the entrance with smug looks on their faces, just enjoying their temporary entertainment.

So focused on strangling the living daylights out of her, she dug a powerful punch of her own right into your broken ribs. The pain spread worse than before, pulsing with every heartbeat in your chest. You winced and let go of her to hold onto your side, pinning her down with another murderous look.

Dirty little ass bitch. Just wait until I step on your face.

Determined to do just that, you kept your hand on your side, spinning a roundhouse kick her way. She stepped backwards, but the tip of your boots still scrapped her nose good enough to give her a nosebleed. You didn't give her time to fall back in attack, following up with a reverse side kick sending her right into another stone pillar.

"Damn, girl," howled Marissa. "You can fight in a dress and look badass in it too? Where did you get it?"

"I made it."

"Consider me putting in an order."

Your eyes widened. Your first customer just made an appearance. One you were excited as hell to dress up from the get go.

"Really?" you asked, facing her.

"If you're free of charge?"

"For you, anytime," you smirked.

In your customer scouting haze, you left your back open giving your denigrated sister an opportunity to run and jump on it. She wrapped her legs around your torso and her slinky hands around your throat trying to cut your air supply off, squeezing hard on all fronts.

Why is she like a bug you just can't kill?

Running backwards, you shoved her against a pillar, rolling for another fall and another, until she finally slid off your back grunting in pain. But she didn't slide off without grabbing onto the length of your hair to haul you on the ground instead. She wrapped a fist into it, pulling on it whichever side she wanted. Your hands wound up over hers trying to pry them away, aimlessly kicking at her until something shiny glinted in your peripheral and all your movement ceased.

She had a knife on hand. When she swiped the blade off the table, you had no idea, but before you could kick it away she flipped the handle upwards and thrust it hard into your thigh, making sure to plunge it deep through the material of your dress. Blood seeped out from the edges staining the ruby red a deeper, darker shade. You cried out in pain, letting a hand fall from her wrist tugging on your hair to sit around your new wound. Coupled with the jostle in your ribs, it hurt like a motherfucker.

The girls got up from the table in a haste, heading for you with shouts to stop her but the guards ran their way to keep them aside, pulling their swords out. They wouldn't get involved. They had no reason to as long as you both were breathing and not on the edge of death. This was unsolved business between you and her.

Her deft fingers, scarred from playing the violin, now inched deeper into your scalp with violent intent. Pulling your hair to her, she got closer and grinned widely in your face before making a tight fist and sending it to you with her empty hand while the other kept you in place. She kept going and going like she was following a written score on her instrument, replacing a musical sheet of paper with your face, drawing the notes with her knuckles instead of a pencil.

When she was satisfied with the bruises forming on your face and the black eye she gave you, matching the very damage you did to her face she stopped, leaning down to you. This time, her eyes were far from soulless, like they appeared back at the club. They were full of venom and spite.

"This is what you get for sticking your nose where you don't belong. You can't kill me in here. I'm the only one that can walk in and out of here unharmed while you all rot down here like rats." Turning her venomous sight on them, her tongue rolled with more insults at the address of the girls. "After all, that's why he collected you all. To eat up the trash and clean up the mess, getting scraps from above for food," she laughed. "Just like rats."

She had a lot of nerve to say these things when any of those girls could just wrap their hand around her wrists to snap them in two, making sure she would never play that wretched violin ever again. Why none of them did it yet was a question you were burning to ask. Once you finished this.

Spitting out the blood swimming in your mouth, you turned up a smirk of yours as your hand wrapped around the handle of the knife, silently bracing yourself for the pain to come.

"I may not be able to kill you," you grunted, twisting the knife upwards and out of your leg. Your blood dripped off the knife, inaugurating the stone floors with your presence.

"But I can make sure you keep your fucking mouth shut."

Faster than she could catch up on your move, you pulled out the knife from your thigh, flipping the handle and plunged it into her arm. You went deeper than she had the courage to stab you, making sure the hilt went through until it touched her skin like a wall decoration.

She shrieked, letting go of your hair to draw backwards until she reached the empty table, putting distance between you. She pulled the knife out and stood right back up, grabbing as many unused knives as she could find on top of the table. Pushing yourself up to stand with a bad ankle and a bleeding thigh, wheezing with the sharp air you drew in, you scoured the place for anything you could use to defend yourself. You ended up with the chair closest to you that looked worse for wear in your hands. You smashed it on the floor and broke it into pieces, grabbing a good hold on the longest parts.

She has knives and I have... wood.

Real inventive.

I can make a pyre and burn her on it. Maybe then she'll finally die. Big maybe to test out.

Your plan remained unfinished as she started throwing the knives at you one by one. The wooden planks flew out to catch them before they impaled deeply in your skin, wishing to keep the stabbing count at one and done. You let her throw all of them, avoiding the lower ones and paring the upper ones to the side, sending them right into the burning firestone at the side. She kept at it until she had no more blades to throw, seething as she looked at the forks stabbed in the meat as if she was tempted to throw those too, food included.

"Nice try, but you missed" you yelled, taking her attention away.

She smirked at you like a viper. "Check again."

What? I don't need to check again... Your eyes drifted around your arms, your heaving torso, front and back, then stopped at your legs. Indeed, there was another knife sledged in your leg. Right beside the gash she already gave you.

You've got to be shitting me.

The adrenaline of the moment might be what kept you from feeling that second knife embed into your thigh so close to the other one. It looked way deeper than the first. Your leg turned numb too, which wasn't a good sign.

On one more rage spurt, you threw the wooden logs in your hands at her, then collapsed on the floor. The first log missed but the next smacked her right across the face and you couldn't help a snort.

"Okay, this ends now," yelled a guard, finally moving to break the fight apart. He took to the brunette's aid, instructing the girls on what to do unless they wanted to bear consequences.

"One of you go pick up the new catch and help her to her cell. The rest go back to eating. If you're not done in the next ten minutes, there will be no more food for you this week, fights won or not."

That was a punishment that should've been yours, not theirs. You started the brawl in the first place.

With that warning, they left the way they came, taking the wench with them. Once they were out of sight, you let out a sigh that hurt like hell under your smashed ribs. Lyla ran over to you, followed by the rest each firing hundreds of questions at you. You waved them off unable to focus on any of them but the numbing feeling in your leg.

"Go eat guys. You need it more than me." You shot Lyla a look as you sauntered up on your legs unsteady, holding onto a pillar. "You too Lyla. I've got this."

"Where's your cell?" she asked, clearly not convinced by your words. You debated lying but she knew how far your white lies went. Not one of them went past her, no matter how hard you tried.

"About twenty-five rows of stairs upwards?"

"You've got it my ass. That's where mine is too."

She walked back to the table, packing some more food and fruits in a cloth for later, wrapping the edges tight into a small bundle. Coming right back, she hauled your arm over her shoulders.

"See you later, guys. Enjoy."

"Bye ladies," you smiled as best as you could, saluting them over Lyla's shoulder.

"Thank you Lyla! Take care," they all said in unison.

Barely, but somehow, you managed to climb all those flights of stairs. With Lyla's help and countless curses dropped here and there when the knife that was still in your leg moved in the slightest. Lyla advised against pulling it out, letting it feel numb rather than hurt.

The further you got from the bottom of the tunnel, the more looks you threw behind. You've had enough of heights to last you a lifetime. A fall from this far up would have your body shatter into pieces like a mug falling on the floor. Not something you were eager to try out.

"Stop looking down there or I'll drop you," said Lyla with a low grunt. She moved to grab you better, trying to take most of the weight off your wounded leg, almost losing the hold of the food package in the process.

"Sorry. This is one long tunnel. How deep in the ground are we?"

"I don't know and I don't wish to know."

Her tone told you she was pissed. Way more than the usual amount.

"Are you mad at me?"

She stopped walking, glancing at you briefly. "You're the smartest person I know." You were about to thank her for the surprising compliment when she continued. "But sometimes, you're the biggest idiot I've ever met."

Your mouth fell closed.

"I didn't mean to start a fight. And I mean, she asked for it."

"She does ask for it on the regular, but that doesn't mean you go and give it to her. Ignoring is a thing, you know."

"Oh, come on. You can't tell me that wasn't a highly requested punch session by the way you were all cheering me on."

She sighed. You had a point.

"Aim for her tongue next time."

Hopping along the long corridor, you finally reached your cell. The door was left open for you. Not for escaping but for containing. The chains were gone however, for now, but they might be back soon.

"Is your cell really up here?" you asked, suspicious if she was telling the truth.

"Right next to you," she pointed to your right.

Your brows drew together in confusion. "Why did I not hear you while I was here?"

"I was probably downstairs fighting. Those take a while."

Lyla helped you sit down against the wall, then moved to place the food pack somewhere that wasn't wet and dirty.

"Can you," you gestured to the knife poking out of your upper thigh.

"I think it decorates pretty well. Matches the dress...," she paused, tilting her head to the side, "or what's left of it."

You looked her dead in the eyes.

"Can you just fucking pull it out?"

"Yep."

She wrapped her hand around it and in one swift pull the knife was out. You caught a hold of the velvet around your arm, ripping the sleeve from the seams and wrapped it around as soon as the blood started seeping out. Lyla slumped against the metal bars next to you, watching you patch yourself up.

"That was fun," she said, a hint of a smile on her face. Despite her scolding, she did enjoy the fight back there. Your enjoyment of the quarrel was gone by now.

"If that's your definition of fun," you huffed, tying the material tighter around your thigh, "then you're not right in the head."

"That makes two of us sweetie." Your hands stopped, eyes ogling her for the meaning of her words. "Heard you've been rolling around in bed with the very crime lord of Shanghai."

When, where and from who does one find out such news?

Considerably shocked, you decided to deny all allegations upon further evidence.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"News travels fast in this shithole. People talked of sightings of him alongside a really conniving, skilled Japanese assassin, that's been assisting him on his recent missions."

Evidence proven.

"Did they really call me conniving and skilled?"

"I knew it," she gasped loudly. "They didn't say that. I just happened to hear of a poster your face was drawn on. The descriptions varied but I knew it had to be you."

"How?"

"Oh, I don't know," she clapped her hands together. "Wild hair, wears mostly Western clothing, wields two golden pistols engraved with roses. Want me to say more?"

If Lyla could tell it was you from mere hearsay, you've been in the visor of the Triads for longer than you thought you were hidden well. Unfathomable to think that news travelled down in this cavern that was practically nowhere, but not to yours or Enishi's ears.

"Now tell me. What's going on between you two?"

"I'm not rolling around. We just..." you paused, at a loss for words. You tried looking for at least one word that described the relationship between you and Enishi but came up blank in the mess of every other cursed thing you wanted to call it.

"You just..." Lyla pressed on, a knowing look already on her face. But she waited for you to spell it out.

Good to know she still hasn't lost that nosiness and love for humiliation.

"We just live together. I'm his weapons person. We fight together." Your gaze fell back on your leg, fingers moving to undo the knot of your bandage and wrap it once more, trying to evade the obvious. "That's about it."

"And they were housemates," she concluded.

You shook your head with a laugh. "Trust me, there's nothing nice about living with him under the same roof."

That was the wrong lie to utter.

There were nice things about living together with Enishi under the same roof. The fact that he offered you your own room, giving you privacy and a space away from mafia things unless you wanted to be a part of it. The fact that you had a kitchen all to yourself, available at all times, night and day, as well as access to other amenities. He also trained you and taught you how to wield a sword properly. He made you tea sometimes and had deep talks about life with you in the middle of the night when nightmares kept you awake.

So, in all truth, there were more nice things outweighing the bad ones when it came to sharing a roof with him.

A small smile rose on your lips, much like a flower opening her petals after the rain to welcome the warmth of sunrays. Upon seeing it Lyla just couldn't leave it alone.

"It feels like there's something you're not telling me," she pried in like a cat looking for treats, scratching your leg until you gave them to her.

You drew in a breath. "It's complicated."

"If men weren't complicated, the world would be such a nice place."

There was immense truth in that.

"What about you? Still playing the queen of hearts or did some nice chap tame you yet?"

"Oh, no, no. I'm too wild to be tamed by a pair of balls and a dick."

"Last time I checked, you loved a pair of balls and a dick at night."

"I still do. But there's nothing you can do about it when you're down in a dungeon," she spoke, looking away through the metal bars with a sadness in her eyes that a pang of it rang through your own heart.

"Although, there is a guard here that I managed to get under with my charms. He supplies us with clothes and extra food, even outside world news sometimes. That's how I found out about you and that guy."

"Putting those skills to good use, I see."

"Oh, I didn't get into his pants yet."

That is news. Lyla was never one to wait too long before calling it like it is and having a good lay. If anything, it was her who dictated how a catch would go and not the other way around. But then again, who would sleep with someone down in this humid, smelly cave?

"How long has it been?"

"Way too long. My lady parts are riveting every time I see him and what's worse," she leaned in to whisper as if she was afraid of a higher power or the very guard she had the hots for listening in to the conversation. "He's not even my type. It must be the worst thing about being stuck here."

That begged the question...

"How long have you been down here?"

"A while," she sighed, settling in next to you. "They took me on a mission about two years ago. I was out doing the rounds for this man working in the arms trade. I was just supposed to guard and check a shipment but it was a set up. I was too blind to notice since I walked into it alone and without cover."

"Why did you go alone?"

"Because he specified it was a one person job. And he told me he was going to pay me a quarter of what he got for them. From what he was saying, it was a big shipment from overseas. It sounded like good money since no one was hiring assassins at the time."

She's been down here for two years. It's been two years since you haven't heard from her. Two years that she spent here in this pit of vipers by herself without a way to get out.

If I knew she disappeared, if I knew what happened...

But there was no way of knowing. You left and cut all ties with everyone you knew, including her, not just for yours but her safety as well. And look where that landed you both - right in the hands of the Triads for god knows what plans they had with you beside their exclusive fight club.

Leaving did more worse than good. I could've been there for her. I should've been there for her.

"I'm sorry," you said, head diving into the ground. It seemed like sorry was the only thing you could say, regret seeping through your bones like it was right at home ever since you've woken up in this dungeon.

She shook her head with a small smile on her rosy lips. "It's okay. I'm more sorry they managed to get you in here since you're not exactly an easy person to catch. What happened?"

With a grunt, you leaned behind on the stone wall to sit up in a better position that didn't hurt your middle upon simply breathing. Thinking of a place to start, since you had a duty to catch her up on everything that's happened since you've last seen each other, you struggled to pick just one thing. There was a whole amalgam of things that happened leading up to last night. Recalling one or the other would send the average human being into brain damage.

"It's a long story."

"As you can see, we have all the time in the world."

Focusing on the night before, you started with the whole mission, its objective, that was a complete fail, and how it ended with a giant fireball being thrown at you in the middle of the road. You then continued with the whole reason why you left your life behind, your search for your parents, meeting Enishi on a not so random encounter, stumbling over Cho in the midst of it all. You told her all of it.

When you got to the reunion with the blond, she stopped you. She was well acquainted with his existence - well, his existence pre-forgiveness and the redeeming talking sessions you've had in the past week. The Cho she knew was the rugged version of the man you knew now. Not that far behind this matured, upgraded version of him, but closer to the one that left you hanging in a gun warehouse to fend for yourself against a whole mafia.

"Hold on," she stopped you, blinking rapidly. "Cho Sawagejo?! The fucker that left you for money and a shiny sword job?"

You nodded lightly.

"Please tell me you held him at gun point and made him apologize with tears in his eyes."

Letting out a nervous laugh, you looked away trying to avert your eyes from the grenade next to you that was a word away from being armed and thrown out.

"About that.."

She knew that look. It was the look you had when you were too kind to people and just forgave whatever fucker did you wrong, no matter how wrong or twisted the consequences of their actions backfired on you instead of their sorry ass.

"Miyu... No. No, no, no, no. Please tell me you didn't."

"I'm not sure what you're asking."

"You know damn well what I'm asking. You welcomed him back with open arms after that shit? What the hell?! If you weren't injured right now, I myself would give you a beating."

Instead of a smack you knew was headed your way, she flicked a green grape at you, hitting you right between the eyes. If that had been one of her knives it would've hurt more. Thankfully, it wasn't.

"He's different now," you tried to convince her, dusting the grape off to pop it in your mouth. "Still has that potty mouth of his, but he's been repenting on his wrongs and he kinda did right by them."

"What if that's what he wants you to believe?"

"He wouldn't," you shook your head. "If he did, he wouldn't have made countless amends with me, Lyla. If you met him now, you'd see that too."

"If I met him, I'd break his legs and carve out his balls with his own swords and hang them on the hilts like tassels," she said, completely determined on doing it if she felt like it. You imagined that happening and cracked a smile.

"And your prince? How did he react to all this?"

You blew a huffed breath, trying to release some of the pressure in your tense shoulders. Upon revisiting the past few days after Cho's arrival, you got a whole migraine. Way too much happened, but amongst everything, the insane display of 'I'm a man and I came to claim what's mine' between the two ambulant testosterone, war-waging beings was sticking out the most.

"God, it was like watching the fucking war for the jungle in front of your very own eyes," you pointed two fingers to your eyes to emphasize the point.

"They were at each other's throats every minute of the day. That only filled up the mansion with the kind of tension you genuinely don't need to be around. Kitchen, garden, even my room!" you huffed throwing your hands up in annoyance. "I wanted to dig a hole in the ground and crawl out of it only when they got bored of playing useless alpha male games with each other, keeping me as leverage in the middle."

"Mhm. One question."

You nodded at her to shoot it out.

"Which one did you fuck?"

"LYLA!" you screeched, leaning over to smack her arm. Her eyebrows only raised further, demanding an answer.

"None of them," you lied, but she caught up on it before you even registered the denial slipping past your lips.

"You did bone one of them! I can see it all over your face. Oh god," she gasped. "Was it gray haired dude? A wanted mafia lord?! Way to go, sister," she smacked your arm excitedly. "Now that I think about it, you did always have a thing for older guys."

"We're the same age," you pushed her hand away with a huff. "I am never talking about my life with you ever again."

"Was it good? Is it big?"

"Is what big?" you blinked up at her confused.

Putting up her palms parallel to each other, she grinned devilishly then started widening the gap between them, looking between the imaginary air pocket between her wiggling fingers and your flustered face as you figured out just what she was asking.

"Tell me when to stop," she pressed as she kept widening the gap to an insane length that looked almost inhumane to even perceive. How does that even fit inside -

"LYLA! OH GOD. He's big okay. He's alright," you hissed, running a hand down your face in embarrassment.

Knowing him, he was probably panicking right about now or gutting Cho for looking at him wrong, and I'm here talking about his-

Dear lord, I have sinned.

"How big? Come on humor me."

The current size she was left on was... close enough. But she didn't need to know that, so you slapped her hands away.

"Filling. That's all I'm going to say."

She leaned back with a satisfied smile. "That's good enough for me."

"What are you even going to do with that information?"

"That's for me to know only."

Suspicious... But it's Lyla. If there's nothing dirty coming out of her mouth every five minutes something must be really wrong. Then again, you missed this kind of girl talk and most of all, you missed her. Overtaken by another wave of sadness, you beckoned her over for another hug.

"Come here," you opened your arms. "I missed this so much."

She smiled and scooched closer, falling into your arms extremely careful not to rattle your new injuries. Your hands wrapped around her, just as careful not to press on any of hers.

"I missed you too, fiery rose," she sighed in your shoulder. "In a fucked up way, I'm really glad you're here and alive. And getting criminal dick-"

"Shut up," you laughed and smacked her shoulder.

"He must be really good in bed if you're keeping quiet about it."

"I kinda wish she stabbed me in the ear so I wouldn't have to hear any of this."

"You'd still have one I'd talk away endlessly about dick," she giggled.

She leaned into your ear and proceeded to annoyingly continue to catalogue all types and sizes she's been through, hoping you would cave in and tell her more if she got you flustered enough. But you zipped it up with a secretive smile. That was only for you to know.

By nightfall, a handful of Enishi's men armed themselves with blades from head to toe and took off marching over to the Daos territory on the outskirts of Shanghai.

Enishi stopped his small task force in the forest overlooking the path in front of the casino, regrouping in the shadows. While they hopped off their transport and checked all their weapons, he stalked forward, raven eyes surveying the scene. There were guards all around, from the front walkway to the sides, each carrying long swords. Revolvers hung in the belts of some, attached loosely next to sets of knives.

Seems like they expect company, he thought. The last time he was there, they had way less security around. Now the big guys were spurn up in front of the door, towering over it, while the rest had their own version of blackjack going on the side of the doors on top of barrels of rum. They slapped cards down as if they were playing inside the crystal-ticked casino walls with the rest of the high society they were supposed to guard.

Walking back to his men, he beckoned them closer for one last callout before going in to ruin the party. Cho had one last check over his blades then sheathed his katanas and made his way next to him.

"What's the plan?" asked the blond.

Enishi just glanced at him with a serious jaw tilt. The kind that meant controlled disaster was on its way. Though he was surprised to see the seriousness morph into a raving grin upon the words leaving Enishi's mouth.

"Was thinking of leaving plans aside tonight."

That was a first. He always carried plans at the ready in all forms, having a side save for every failed one, but all of a sudden they were all extinct from his calendar. He didn't even bother planning ahead this time, knowing all he had to do was get inside and have a heart to heart with the chief of the Daos.

"I like that," smirked Cho, looking forward to having some fun tonight. His katanas, though borrowed, liked seeing slashed skin rather than their metallic casing.

"There's no plan, but you don't kill anyone until I give the okay."

There might have been no plans in store, but they had to do this the right way or shit could go sideways tonight too. And he didn't want it to. Cho sulked, dropping the hilts of his swords back down till the metal tsubas clicked against their hold.

"That's not fun."

"I'm not looking for a war," said Enishi, hoisting his sword on his back. "Unless they give me a reason to start one."

A war was not in his cards. But if they liked to play with fire he was going to torch them good, have them think twice about where their loyalty stood at when it came to taking one of his on his territory. All he needed was a wrong move and the Dao lineage would cease existence for good tonight, right in this hedonist place crawling with liars and traitors. A tempting gamble to take.

With a swift nod, his pack of mercenaries took to the sides of the building. Moving stealthily, they took the guards by surprise, knocking them out before they could call out to the ones on the front. It didn't take long for the sides and the back to be secured, each squadron sending a glint of their blade in signal that the perimeter was clear. All sides besides the entrance.

Walking out of the shadows with Cho at his side, they marched all the way to the front doors. Two of the four muscular brutes guarding the tall, slick black doors, stepped out to block the path with a cross of their blades.

"You are forbidden access," sneered one of them, looking down at Enishi.

"I'm here to talk to your boss. We've got some unfinished business."

The guard leaned down, his sneering face falling in front of Enishi's with a scowl.

"Forbidden." He spat each syllable as if it would make him look of much higher authority.

Talking was a lost cause from the get-go. Enishi sent him a smirk before his fist connected with his face, shoving the giant to the ground. The thug sauntered back on his legs and got a hold of Enishi's neck hauling him against the door, punching his abdomen multiple times, the next fist diving harder than the previous.

Cho took on the other one with a clash of his katanas, slashing his chest open then his back, getting rid of him right away. The other two came at the blond, swiveling around to corner him. They sent their blades on par with his arms lifting the katanas upwards to catch them both. They both pressed down on his swords, his muscles straining under their combined strength. His right side throbbed with new hot pain, shaking the hold on his attack katana.

On the other side, Enishi grappled with the troll that was double his size. He grabbed a hold of the his face and thrust his head right into his, shocking him a enough to a punch of his own, cracking his nose open. He struck and struck, until his face turned to a bloody mess, but even then the brute continued sneering at him. He smiled baring his giant teeth before he smacked Enishi right back in the wall beside the door.

Cho couldn't hold the pressure any longer. At once, he thrusted his swords upwards shoving both giants off of him. Turning the hilt of his attack katana in his right, he shoved it in the torso of the one closest, using the recoil to send the blade through his comrade. The katana embedded in that bulky torso like it cut through a hunk of meat, blood leaking beside the edges to land on the ground with loud splotches.

Smirking in triumph, thinking that would end at least one of his opponents, he gasped in shock. The thug stood his ground catching a hold of the blade margin and tugged Cho forwards while he pulled on the blade backwards trying to get it out. The other threw his sword at him from behind falling right on his defense katana, getting him stuck between the two. His defence blade was completely useless without the balance of his attack partner in his other hand.

"Fuck this."

With a low sweep he kicked the legs from under the giant on his right and as he fell he drew his sword out and slashed open a big gash across his chest. Sparring the other one, he sent double cuts that sliced open the skin above his thighs, then defended using the pair of swords together. The thug got tired and with the first opening he saw he slashed both katanas in opposite ways across chest, bringing them back to slither parallel through his middle once more. Breathing heavily, he fixed up his bad shoulder with a roll, checking the two were eliminated for good.

Enishi had enough of his own dance partner. He drew out his hands going for a chokehold around the brute's long neck, squeezing harder than it was meant for a quick knock out. At this point he wanted him dead and gone, no matter the way he went about it.

The brute laced on his arms, trying to ply them off the trunk of his neck but before he could, Enishi moved behind him and delivered the final blow right to the back of his head then twisted his neck, falling to the floor with him.

Cho ambled his way to Enishi who was heaving breaths like he chased the wilderness in the forest for a hunt session.

"Rusty much?" joked Cho.

"I said no killing," deadpanned Enishi, looking over at the bloody mess behind him.

"That one looks pretty dead to me," said Cho, pointing at the grizzly Enishi dueled with.

Ignoring him, he marched up throwing the doors open. He walked the long corridor coming to the small staircase only to be faced with a full house. All tables were occupied and armed. If he had to take a guess, most of the clan was present in the casino tonight. Suddenly, the purging of the Daos didn't seem like such a bad idea at the moment.

"Swords out," he roared to the troops behind.

The blond clocked him with a raised eyebrow. "You think?"

"Just shut up and fight. Don't get killed."

All hell broke loose.

The men sent their women to the back hallways then broke out their weapons to take over. Enishi led his men right into the fire, unsheathing his wato to wade through the suited bodies trying to stop him. They all failed miserably as he advanced, sending slash after slash before they could even lift their guns and point them at him, cutting through them three at a time. What went past him fell in the care of his mercenaries, tearing through the masses with the intent of not letting anyone escape.

Cho followed Enishi, moving towards the heavily weaponized side. He spotted them loading up to shoot. Quick on his feet, he kicked the guns out of the hands closest to him, tearing his blade through the rest of the barrels pointed at him, slicing through the cheap metal casing. Whoever supplied their weapons did a shit job at it.

Enishi dove through the bladed side, disarming as many as they fell in front of him, slashing the rest to shreds. Silver bullets still flew his way, bouncing off the edge of his steel with a single flick of his wrist. He moved side to side, avoiding all shots, taking down his opponents faster than they saw him coming.

The gunfire rang deafeningly over the clang of swords, drowning the angry shouts and the grunting cries of pain from both sides. The pungent scent of opium rapidly altered with the burning stench of gunpowder and the spoor of blood already in the air. Despite Enishi's wishes for a somewhat peaceful fight, the casino turned into a raging battlefield quicker than he intended it to. As much as he tried to avoid it, war was upon them. He could still control the outcome of this battle. If it didn't escalate to a point of no return.

With both of them on the attack, they ended up cornered in front of the crystal bar. Cho landed back to back with Enishi, defending each other's blind spots.

"Having Miyu here would've been so helpful," grunted the blond as his swords were dug into him by two men, each paring down their jian over his defence cross.

"She's the reason we're here in the first place," gritted Enishi, shoving off his own assailants with his wato, sending them tumbling into the bar.

"We need to get through to the hallways. If he runs off before we get to him," he grunted, curling his blade to cut up another running thug, throwing his sword away before crashing a bottle over his head, "we will never find her."

Enishi's men managed to overpower the rest of the Daos. Leaving them to take care of the main salon, he made his way through the hallway with the blond at his back, fighting the ones pooling in the front and the others coming from the back.

He buried through the force coming from up ahead. Jumping with a kick to the right to shove one into the wall, he used the boost to throw his leg up and ram it down over the head of the next one. Landing back on the ground, he barely caught the sword coming his way, wato clinging dangerously low on its hilt. That blade wasn't just any blade. A quick glance at the amber peeking under the stripes of the hilt and he recognized it. It was an odachi made from olden Japanese steel, its blade almost a meter long, curving wide like the arch of a bow.

Three more thugs coming down had them in their amateur hold. All of their handles were amber and black as onyx, the blades as sharp as if they just rolled out of the factory. That was steel made on special order, two pairs in amber, two pairs in black. Steel he just so happened to hold in his own two hands a few months ago, right before his weapons warehouse got broken into. They weren't marked with a seal yet, but he gave the measurements and details to the craftsmen himself.

Interesting, he thought, lifting a quizzical eyebrow. I wonder where they got those.

The swords came barreling down on him at the same time. They wanted to overpower him in that compact corridor. They wielded the swords messily, treating them like the shorter range blades they used on a day to day basis. That gave him an advantage. He whizzed through them, using their slow speed to smack the swords out of their hands. Soon enough they were all disarmed, inching for their pocket knives. Enishi kicked some away, spinning in reverse with a flip that sent the small knives right in the walls. The rest flew at once, aimed at his chest. One swing of his sword had the edge catch their tips with a screech, directing them into the wall.

Cho cleared the back and came to Enishi's side. Those four were the last one standing between them and their leader, the rest of the hallway cleared both ways.

Sharing a quick look, they got hold of a strategy to finish this quickly. Enishi went high, Cho went low. They wasted enough time as it is. Any more of it would have the chief running away. Two punches ricocheting from one guy into the other to knock them out cold and four slashes later, they got through those four too.

They ran all the way to the back until the room with the golden seven came into view. Without hesitation, Enishi stepped back and ran, kicking down the door in full force ripping it off its hinges, stepping over it once it crashed with a thud on the other side. Thankfully, the man he was looking for was still there. Standing right at the top of the poker table presumably in the middle of a game, his nose was stuffed with tissues, the imprint of a familiar heel left across the bridge of his nose. The look on his face gave him away - he was completely oblivious to the chaos happening in his casino.

At the sight of the two, he stood up throwing his cards on the table. One move of his fingers and the rest of his men in the room drew out in a line surrounding the table to protect him.

"Came to die again?"

"Where is she?"

"Ah, looking for that bitch that broke my nose? Unfortunately, you won't find her here."

Something moved in his peripheral. A quick look had him find Liu right in the corner about to sneak out behind them while Enishi was busy with the Daos. Cho stepped up to him, trapping him between the cross of his blades. The rest of the men around the room pulled out theirs, though not even those belonged to them. What some of them gripped in their hands were the long hilt nagamaki swords, these too part of Enishi's custom missing weaponry.

"Nice blades you got there," he spoke, voice laced with amusement at the shit he was seeing. "Where'd you get them?"

"Downtown through a really great trades person," he smiled widely, proud with himself as if he was the one who made and bought them. "If you wanted to ask me about weapons you could have done so without breaking down my door."

"Those weapons belong to me. They were stolen from my warehouse."

At his words, the chief of the Daos paled over like the cloth laying on the side of the table, stained with drops of his blood.

"Let me take a wild guess," spoke Enishi, lowering his sword. "The work of the Snake, isn't it?"

He gulped confirming Enishi's suspicions.

"How much did you pay him for all those custom made weapons? Ten? Fifteen?"

His head inclined to the side. He paid more.

"Double then? Thirty?"

"Twenty."

He laughed in his face. "Twenty for a shipment worth fifty million in raw cash. And I thought he would've used his head and charged more to get some profit. I guess he's not that great at trades as you thought he was."

That last remark was all it took for him to explode. Exactly what Enishi wanted. Stroke the lion then throw him the bone instead of the meat and see how desperate he becomes that he'll lick the very bone like the meat was still on it.

"Kill them," he rasped out to his men.

Looking back at Cho, he nodded to him to keep on Liu while he dealt with the seven leftover men in his way. He took on the two nagamaki wielders first, noticing their hold on the handles were wrong from the very start. Kicking their wrists one by one, they let go of the blades, staggering backwards. The others came at him with the odachi swords. Thrusting his wato, he caught all of them on the edge. Holding them off, he threw his leg upwards rotating it to the side to hit the weaponless men to the side. Moving his sword in a circle above his head, he gathered all the odachi, shifting the wato to press down on them. One kick above the five hilts was all it took to knock them over, getting the blades out of their useless hands.

Throwing the blades to the floor with his own, he let them come at him giving them a fair chance at a fight. They circled him, taking turns. The first one came at him with a sharp fist. He let him run into his friend on the opposite side, knocking him out cold. Returning with more anger, Enishi let him try two more punches before he slid the legs from under him watching as he hit a chair, cracking his skull open.

Three more left.

Another one came at him with one of the discarded odachi. He tried balancing the long range blade, treating it like a mere sword. He had difficulty moving it for a slash because of the smaller handle, letting the blade fall downwards. Enishi waded the messy slashes, getting closer until he caught a hold of his wrist. A hit to his throat had him choke, another one to his chest took his air away, the last one to his stomach had him fall to his knees.

The other two took off running towards the door. Cho threw one of his katanas swiftly, hitting one of them right in the back. The rest of Enishi's crew wound up by the door stopping the other one in his tracks.

Picking up his sword from the floor, he walked up to the leader of the Daos, his fallen kin that have almost gone extinct.

"Why are you really here?" he asked, standing tall in the face of the Shanghai mafia like his own would raise from the dead and come to his aid. "My men will end all of you-"

"Your men are dead. As for why I'm here," he smirked wickedly his way, "I came to finish what my girl started last night."

"You would go so far for a whore like her? Shanghai is crawling with them."

Those words were all it took for him to close the distance to him, booting his blade away to the side to sink his own sword in that hunk of an arm, silver edge curving deep enough to draw spurts of blood out of him. Hitting the back of his knees, the brute crumbled to the floor together with his superiority complex. His left hand latched onto his shirt, making sure his ears were open to hear him loud and clear.

"I would tear every inch of flesh off your body if it brought me even one soul closer to finding her."

The hold on his blade was steady, way more stable than the anger coursing through his veins. But his wato sat sheathed way too long, sheltered away from its lust for chaos, deeply yearning to taste blood and cut flesh down to the bone the way it was made to.

He had the leader of a bigger mafia kneeling right at his feet. There was a time when the pride and power that came with this sight was all he ever wanted to witness, but right now it didn't matter at all to him. Tonight, he wasn't out for blood or power or to retrieve his stolen weapons or to seek revenge. Tonight, he was out for you.

"Where is she?"

The chief of the Daos just smirked in his face, disregarding the blade slashing down his arm, severing through ligaments more and more by the minute. Enishi's wrist moved slow, digging it deeper until he trembled the way his pulse pounded through him.

"You don't know why they took her do you?"

Enishi's body stopped moving altogether. Searching those evil empty black eyes proved useless, finding only amusement at his torment in them. He let his guard down, letting the brute continue with his taunting.

"They not only took her for who she is, but more for what she is."

"What is that supposed to mean? What is she to them? Why do they want her so badly?"

Each question had him roar deeper in his face. The kneeling brute simply laughed, drops of blood flying from his lips to paint the green of the poker table in crimson stains. The rising tide of rage inside of him was reaching dangerous heights, moments away from falling over the world to swallow it whole. He needed solid information, not words in the wind.

The sword coiled back against Enishi's hold, craving for much more than his owner could give it, denying its unquenchable thirst for shriveling him to pieces with one blow. His fingers twitched on the handle, wanting nothing more than to slash it across his chest and watch the life drain from him. But reason knocked into him sober. He needed this fucker alive.

"Answer me!"

"She's something that was supposed to die a long time ago. A whisper of an existence that could end us and what we stand for. You should thank me for getting rid of her instead of going to battle with my clan."

"Most of your clan is gone," he thundered, his voice drawing low, seething with disgust for his kind. "I'm nothing like you or the other rats crawling around my city thinking you own it."

"We're more alike than you think."

"If you thought for one moment that I stood with you and this world of criminals, you're wrong."

"Is that what you told her too? She still joined you despite knowing that she's always been against it since this world is what took her parents away? The very thing that destroyed her life and had her wander the streets as no one's child?"

His jaw crunched tight, teeth grinding over each other with rage that got harder to contain inside.

"Even if she doesn't know it yet, she will be what kills us. They took her to prevent that from ever happening. To make her bend to their will before she gets out of control again."

Nothing this man was saying made any sense. You were just a skilled assassin that sometimes went rampage when extremely pissed off. But even so, under all his empty words, Enishi felt there was more this man wasn't letting on. Despite all the questions he came here with, there was only one he could bring himself to ask.

"Where is she?"

"You're asking the wrong mafia," he grinned. Enishi's hold loosened in the slightest. His eyes brimmed with mischief, gleeful that he knew more than the man cutting through his arm, unable to finish the job he started.

"You think we were the only ones part of the charade at the club last night?"

There were more parts involved. Enishi knew that. But none of his men got back with new intel to help identify them.

"All I need is a name," he bargained. "Then you're free to rot in a cell under the commander in chief for the rest of your miserable life."

That seemed like a good enough bargain to take. A name for a life of isolation. Death was an option too. The easy way out. A luxury he wasn't keen on offering so soon. Too bad the man kneeling at his feet took his own fate in his hands.

"What good if my whole mafia is gone?"

Before he could ask or demand anything else, the man pulled a hidden knife and plunged it deep within his chest. Enishi's eyes went wide with surprise, watching as he slid off his blade, falling backwards, choking on his last words with painful gasps.

"I hope you never find her."

Just like that, the captain of the ship died with his own crew and the rest of the words Enishi needed to hear were lost forever. He came here with questions only to leave with so many more. Questions that drowned his head up until this moment.

An eerie silence settled in the room. The smoking tray of opium in the middle of the poker table drew to a small vapor. The lights above flickered empty. The hallways of the casino were no longer packed with lively chatter and the sound of plastic coins being thrown around roulettes for bets. It was all quiet like the dark night outside.

Enishi's mind stopped running too. Wiping his wato clean, he sheathed it back in its hold, turning to his men who were awaiting further orders. He kept his eyes trained on the floor, like he lost the final battle but won the war, successfully eliminating the Daos and their leader, but losing all tracks that could lead to you. His men looked just as lost and conflicted, grateful to have some action in a while, but at what cost if they didn't find what they came looking for. Nonetheless, he delivered them tasks like it was the daily custom.

"Search the casino for our stolen weaponry. Take Liu in for questioning. Make sure there's no trace of our tracks here."

"And the women?" asked one of them. He could read the question on his face. Won't they talk?

"Let them go. Pay them if they need it to stay quiet. It doesn't matter how much, just make sure they're tended to."

The force dispersed to each their own. Picking up a chair, he set it upright feeling the need to sit down and recall his bearings back to him. Cho handed Liu to the crew and approached him wearily, sheathing his katanas back in their hold inside his coat.

"You have a weird look on your face. What's going on?"

"Something doesn't add up," he shook his head. "Why do they know so much about her?"

"You did have a spy planted in. For several years apparently," he added.

"It still doesn't explain why they know more about her and we don't. The disappearance of her family, her life as an assassin and the one outside of it. They knew about all of it, no matter how much she covered her tracks up. They watched her from a distance, giving her the impression they were nowhere near and consider her a threat for some fucked up reason." He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Did anything he say ring a bell to you at all?"

"No," sighed Cho just as frustrated himself. "It sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me."

"It feels like there's a bigger puzzle we're not seeing. That this was just a piece of it that doesn't fit anywhere or we're not even looking at the right one or... I don't even know anymore."

Cho frowned at his words. He's not seen Enishi this conflicted and all over the place over anything. Not even in the past week when his loathing levels were at their highest.

"Let's hope that traitor has more to give us."

He hesitated at first, but his hand still landed on Enishi's shoulder in an encouraging pat that wasn't that well received. Enishi straightened and shot the blond a look of disgust.

"What are you doing?" he asked, eyeing the hand splayed on his shoulder with imaginary knives about to be shot into each finger separately. Maybe Cho was over the fight in the woods, as if they didn't attempt to kill each other. It would take much more than some help for Enishi to return the favor of blind trust.

"Nothing," mumbled the blond, hand flying away to scratch his neck instead.

Enishi's eyes narrowed in on him trying to gauge out his intentions. Last night, they were at each other's throats and now he was being cordial and kind of supportive. Maybe it was because they were looking for you that the lines between their mutual hatred and the care they had for you were blurring together in an odd bond of sorts. Nevertheless, it creeped him out.

His eyes fell on the poker table, mind instantly running over to the memory of you sat right beside his spot, playing the chief of the Daos with just one hand. An smile broke out on his face seeing the money in the corner, reminded of the stacks of money you had him splurge, only to lose them all in your escape before you got skewered to bits and pieces.

"What's got you smiling so wide?"

"We've been here before. Me and her. About a month ago or so," he smiled slyly, recalling that day. "We came to get intel and left a mess behind us, but before that, she played them at poker."

The blond sat down in a chair with a smile, sharing something of his own. "She always had a thing for betting. It's so hard to pull her away after she sits down to call in a game. All or nothing."

He laughed at that, shaking his head. "She had me give her stacks of money to buy inside since the game was already ongoing."

"How much did you give her?"

"Two million," he chuckled. "Two million and what looked like one more half on the table. She won it all fair and square with one hand. She didn't even get to gather the money before they were on us and we had to run off."

He did remember you stacking some spare bills in your corset before he tugged on your hand to run away. The very corset he helped you lace before crashing the party, only to then rip it off of you that same night.

"That was the same night we...," he paused, debating on whether he should even say anything.

"The same night you...," pushed the blond, eager to find out what happened.

Too bad he would have to stay curious. Enishi's eyes dove at him with a teasing wink, amused at his childish scoff.

As if I'll tell you of all people what happened that night, he smirked to himself. That's for us to know.

"Have a look around, see if you find anything of help to us," he said, patting his shoulder in a similar manner. He deserved it since he had his back tonight.

Before he turned back to searching, he picked up a light blue chip from the table. The highest value you could play in poker. Holding it to the small light in the room, he smiled softly at it, then pocketed it safely on the inside of his kimono.

Ready to turn and leave, it was only by chance that his eyes landed on the open hand the fallen leader never got to play. Next to a red ten of hearts, a jack, a king and an ace, sat the queen card - your winning hand that night. Not thinking too much about it, he gathered the hand, picking up those five cards, storing them safely next to the blue chip.

Even a pigsty has more amenities.

The cell was a nice place. If you looked past the small pot left in the corner for a makeshift medieval toilet, the stench of rotten things you hoped was just leftover food and the occasional rodent visitors that resembled anything but how they actually looked like above, on the streets of Shanghai. You had your fair share of those beasts hopping from place to place in hiding but these ones liked to hiss and stare you down as if you intruded their very own sanctuary or something.

It's been days.

How could one be able to tell that the day turned into night in that underground stone cage with no sliver of light visible?

When the gust of wind blowing through got considerably colder and the torches went out completely om both sides of the walls.

Some nights, you sat and waited for the torches to be lit up again. Truthful to your assumptions, a guard came down early, from the looks of his lightly armed body, tasked with lighting up the long row of torches from top to bottom. The last lucury of the upper world they gave you. Though you wondered if the firestone down in the pit, how the girls called that horrors cave, burned at all times like an undying flame of hope, or if that one too was extinguished when no one was there and there was no hope to look for at all.

After your brawl with the violinist, you were welcomed down in the pit like you won the war against evil. As it turns out, her name is Li Wen, a walking-talking specimen of envy personified. One that was extremely hated by all the inhabitants of the pit. Her temperament at the club was dodgy, but her personality is just as such. She is just like she plays her violin, insatiable and almost never satisfied, always on the look for more. Whether she gets it or takes it herself.

What she said the night before as she tried to use your body as a darts mat was true - she did have the power to whizz between the upper world and the pit at her own personal will, or when the Snake sent her to check on his esteemed guests. That sole advantage itself turned her into an enemy, since she mostly came around to draw her claws at the girls or execute his orders.

In her eyes she was just like him, a fighter for a greater cause, thing that gave her no semblance of respect towards them. But not even the smallest bone in her body had the power and resilience these women had in their soul.

She wasn't the one going to war with death almost nightly in order to earn her right to keep on living and a meal to survive off, wondering when the next one will come. She is part of the pit. But she will never be part of the family that's made a unique promise of protection to each other.

That is the biggest ick that she will never be able to swallow down her thick reptile throat. Not as long as she sides with the wrong people.

That same night, you sat with the girls and told them your own story. Bottom to top, past to present. Everything.

For the first time in your life, you felt like someone actually listened. For the first time, someone was able to even relate to your struggle, understanding the length and impact of the things you've gone through. For the first time, someone was able to see the scars that refused to heal, scabbing over on the surface but still hurting deep within a place that would never be able to forget the pain, the loss, the shattered hope. Because they were the same unhealed scars that all these girls shared in one way or another, having been through hell and beyond.

Connecting through a bond was one thing. A bond could be just that, a one-off unique connection. But this was so much more because connecting through pain was another thing altogether.

As you talked and shared parts of your souls with each other in stories, things you liked, things you hated; honesty and trust wound up tied together in that blazing pit. Those two things, so small but so significant, were the only things that helped them endure the fear and pain of this infinite inferno, and the only things still standing real and true to their nature within the wild hellfire scorching the world.

That was what Li Wen was missing. She was free to share her story and join the family at one point until she alienated herself from the collective acceptance. This sisterhood will be something she will always long for, something she will never have the guts to sacrifice herself for.

After your heart to heart with everyone, their daily training session started. They spread out to their own corners individually or searched for sparing partners. Still healing from your injuries, you decided to keep to the side just watching. As your eyes walked around, you noticed that a lot of them still used their weapon instincts, sending their fists like they wielded their arms.

Yana was probably the best at breaking free from the hold of her weapon. She used aerial moves and kicks with her spear which made it easier to adapt to a life without one. Though she still parried the ground for balance and often lost her fighting stance.

Lyla knew some martial arts. Where she would normally train her arms to extend, open her palms to aim her knives and strike, she now sent rigid hits with the heel of her palm using that built up strength in her forearms. Kick-wise, she struggled with the direction she wanted her foot to land in, which should hopefully be through the enemy's throat and not beside it.

Marissa struggled. You could tell she leaned on her halberd for support a lot because her current hits went lucky-go wide instead of target-focused. There was immense weight packed in her punch but no technique. Her sparring partner was one of the stone columns but even so, she had much strength but couldn't send it through. You knew she had the power to.

Stretching up and out of your humble seat on the side, you walked up to her. Sensing you approach, she turned around. Her height was questionable while she was sat down at the table but being this close to her had you stumble a step backwards.

"What's up, shorty?"

"Uhm," you paused, looking for a way to say it without getting smashed or something.

Come on, Miyu. It's just Marissa. Your big, friendly giant that could mince and marinate you if she had her halberd on hand. Though she might just do well enough smashing your head between her palms.

"Can I see your fist?"

"My fist?" she asked confused. You nodded. Unsure but trusting, she held out her fist to you. Even her hand was bigger than yours.

Taking a hold of it, you moved her fingers in a better position, locking them in with her thumb, directing her to the stone column she was bruising her knuckles in.

"Don't clench your fingers. Swing with the muscles in your shoulder, not the ones in your forearms and angle your body parallel to your opponent." You nodded to the pillar. "Try it now."

Her eyebrow lifted, lacking assurance at your directions, but she did get in the stance.

"Send it on your exhale," you added in a small voice.

Her icy eyes narrowed in on you prompting you to take another step backwards, hands held up in defence to let her do her thing. She debated it but in the end she tried it your way. Taking a long, deep breath in, she spun from the right and swung wide going right for the column on the exhale. Her fist drove into the stone with a loud crack, chipping off a quarter of the pillar to dust and rocks that fell right into the firestone behind it. The others stopped training, looking over to see what happened. Shocked, she looked her fist over on every which side only to find no bleeding creases or pink indents of damaged skin on any of her knuckles. Then her blue eyes fell on you, sparkling like dew drops on plant leaves in the early morning.

"How?"

"All you were missing was technique," you said, a small smile tugging at your lips. In return, she smiled just as big.

Moving to sit in front of her, hands held together behind your back, you motioned her to come at you.

Maybe Enishi's emotionally torturing, training techniques rubbed off on you. Or maybe you were batshit crazy since even the girls looked at you as if you've grown a head. But something just told you to do it and give her a good moving target to really test out her new set of skills.

"I can't do that," she shook her head, taking a step back refusing to attack you.

Her eyes fell on the dried blood stains littered all over your dress, stopping at the still fresh scratches on your face.

You beckoned her again. "Just trust me."

"What if I hurt you?"

"You won't."

You said that with so much confidence it surprised even you.

Marissa finally got into position and prepared for a moving punch. Her left foot pressed backwards while her right set up. With one step, she was right in front of your face, her huge fist headed for serious damage. You let her come as close as possible, just a few inches away from your face before you moved to the side, grabbing a hold of her forearm to push her forwards. She stumbled, turning to you with a guilty look on her face.

"You hesitated," you said, standing to the side.

"Because I don't want to -"

"Your enemy won't give you time to find a reason to hurt them," you argued. "You have to do it."

Softly caressing the knife won't make it not want to kill you. That was its sole purpose after all and what Enishi tried to teach you all along. Maybe you did learn something from his philosophy lessons, often coming as a package with the physical training.

"You need to strike first. No mercy. No remorse."

She sighed, tall shoulders dropping with the realization you were right. Ignoring your injured leg, you moved into a fighting stance, similar to the ones Enishi took with you.

"Now come at me for real this time."

Stop defending. Just attack.

And she did. She sent fist after fist, one more powerful than the other. Your body struggled to handle her speed but you willed it to in order to keep up and give her a real shot at it. Once you were happy with the form of her punches and she realized how well she sent them you both stopped. Holding up her fists side to side, she smiled widely at them. You simply bowed your head at her in respect.

Before you could spin back to your chair, the rest of them flocked your way asking for guidance.

"Can you help me too?" asked Mai, showing you her small fists.

Yana stomped over too, tapping your shoulder. "Can you help me with the kicks? I want to learn that reverse one you did to Li Wen's nose."

"Guys, guys, calm down! I'm no martial arts master," you waved your hands away. "I can't fight better than any of you. Not now anyway."

"But someone did teach you," said Lyla with a smirk.

Damn it.

You knew who she was referring to. There were two of them who tried busting off their asses to train you in hand to hand, close and far combat, including weaponry wielding. You failed weaponry... but you did overpower both of them in combat the last time you trained together. And that one was a no mercy match to the death you won fair and square.

These girls were experts in their individual weapons of choice. But they lacked combat technique. The kind of combat technique you ate at breakfast, lunch and dinner for the past two months and a half like it was the fucking military service trials.

If anyone could give them an extra chance at packing a deadly punch or a lethal kick and get hurt less, it was you.

"Fine," you blew a breath, whistling the stray locks of hair falling in front of your face. They cheered loudly, clapping you in the back excitedly.

"Get in a line."

A few days later, you were leading their training sessions from the sidelines, without getting involved until your ankle healed some more. Your ribs still hurt, but not enough to stop you from sparring with your hands here and there, correcting stances or acting as a moving target from time to time. Taking everything you learned from the sword master extraordinaire and placing it on different training, tailored to every girl and her fighting style, you managed to get them out of the rut.

Their forms got better than their wielding impulses, stronger than their sparing opponents, faster at laying a lethal blow if needed. Surprise after surprise came as you coached each one into changing little things that led them to big ones in such a short amount of time.

Marissa's punches became hunks of deadly power. Yana's aerials you molded following Enishi's. Lyla's flexibility went into quick attacks. All of them evolved.

On a well-deserved break, you sat around, passing mugs of water from the bucket that was brought down by the guards once a day.

"How do they announce a fight? Or who's turn it is?" you asked no one in particular. Already used to your question rounds, Yana picked it up like she was the pit's unofficial guide.

"You see the golden gong in the back?" she pointed behind you.

Your head whipped around to find a golden plate hooked up on two stands, reflecting the flickers of the fire around the pit. You've been here for days but have not taken notice of the percussion instrument at all, as if it just spawned there from nowhere. Not a lot of things to notice in a cave underground.

"Has that always been here or am I tripping? Are we sure those grapes weren't edibles?"

Laughter echoed around you in ripples of snorts and giggles. Another thing you grew to love in these past few days was making these girls laugh. An actual belly-flopping, cheeks hurting, eyes leaking laugh. Some of them haven't howled a true, joyous laugh in ages from how rusty their laughs sounded, but they welcomed your jokes nonetheless.

"It has," laughed Yana. "When they have someone ready for a fight, they come down and hit the gong. Another person has a bowl filled with our names written on thin paper strips and they just call it out."

"Is there an audience too?"

"We're allowed to sit in sometimes. The guards always sit in and place bets on the winning head."

That's disgusting. Placing bets as if they've ever been put in their shoes.

"Li Wen usually stands to the side-"

"If she's in the mood for being spat at, that is," added Marissa. "Someone always gets punched in the face and she is always right in the sputter of their blood."

You grimaced at that until you realised she deserved the bloody shower every once in a while.

"What about the lord of the house?"

"The Snake doesn't come down here."

Wait.

He abducted all of these girls for his own personal fight club only to not participate at all? Not even to sit in the audience to see his problems eradicated?

That doesn't make any sense.

"He didn't come for any of them? Any at all?"

"Nope," said Yuki, your other Japanese compatriot. She's been down there for the past seven years and could not recall at least one time he showed up. "Not one of them."

That same night, the call for a fight came through. The gong was hit, ringing deep in your ear drums, stopping you mid-training session.

This one had your name on it.

"Crimson Rose," called out the guard, looking for you in the crowd.

Of course they don't use real names in here.

You walked out from between the girls, dirty velvet rolling out behind your heeled steps. Chin help up high, arms crossed and jaw tightened to an angle that could cut, you gave him your most confident front. Deep inside, that courageous front was replaced for eating the walls trying to find an escape route out of this hellhole.

The guard walked down to you, stopping short of a few steps. He had a patch over his nose. It was the guard you head banged into a few days ago.

His eyes raked your body top to bottom, enjoyment disgustingly visible on his face at every curve he stopped at, only pausing his shameless perusal to look at your face. He must've read the fake façade you put up in your eyes, lips turning up with a devilish smirk.

"You're overdue for a welcome fight, rosy."

It's been a week since the night you disappeared. A week he wanted to throw to oblivion like that would just so happen to bring you right back. If only it was that easy to get you back.

Over the past few days, he's grown restless, much more than he used to be. Every word uttered the wrong way, any gaze focused on him for too long, the very sound of footsteps rolling down the hallways. All of these had him bust a nerve that never stopped ticking since he woke up that night in the middle of the woods and you were nowhere to be found.

Wherever he sat down, his eyes closed automatically. Tired didn't even begin to describe how he felt. But no matter how exhausted he was, he couldn't give into it at all. He would go into his room for a quick shower then return back to the office. Any accidental glances falling on his neatly made bed made him take a tempting step towards it only to turn for the door just as fast, like the very thought of sleeping in some semblance of comfort disgusted him. His body begged for overdue rest but he refused it time and time again. It wasn't the time to rest. Not until he found you or at the very least heard of your whereabouts, but so far he had nothing. No leads, no tracks to follow up on. Absolutely fucking nothing.

He's been up even at night searching for any word of you, the rest of the missing artillery, accidental sightings of your parents. It was all a never-ending circle of things to search for that never ceased from piling up on his desk or in his head, and he came to understand there was a second thing he hated the most in the world, beside people fretting over him. His office. This room held him mostly at his worst and he was sick of it. So sick he just jumped out of his seat with a long sigh, setting out on a walk.

Anywhere but here will do, he thought, pushing the doors behind him closed in hopes everything else that's been storming up his nerves for the past week would remain inside those doors if he shut them tight enough.

The sun brimmed bright down the hallway. A small breeze found her way inside through the open curtain, whistling it open like the veil on the prow of a boat. Light warmth drenched the air of midday, notes of the first blooms of camellias hanging sweet on the breeze.

December turned to January in the past week but the weather was so bright and pleasingly warm it was hard to tell the cold season was even present at all. As if winter skipped it's turn and let spring take it away just for this once. The ice still hugged the roads stubbornly in the crisp of morning and the scent of snow hung deeper in the night air, but no snow fell from the sky. Not even on a sudden hailing or with the gust of a storm.

That first fall of snow refused to come. He was sort of thankful for its delay. Not that it would hinder his plans or anything. His reason for it... was stupid really. He didn't want to catch the first snowfall without you.

He wasn't an idiot. He knew the meaning behind catching the first fall of snow with someone, especially if you had feelings for them. But above that foolish meaning, he knew how much you would have loved to see it.

That lone, brief thought of you basking in the white glow of a snowflake flurry brought his steps right in front of your room. Busy putting all his manpower in motion to find you, he was mostly cooped up in that office he dreaded so much. That and he couldn't find it in him to go inside your room and not see you there, either stitching up something or being cooped up in your bed with Koru with a soft smile on your face. Thinking of the feline, he realised that even she disappeared without a trace, somewhere in the depths of the mansion, probably looking for you.

His hand reached out for the door handle on a whim only to stop midair.

She's not in there, his mind echoed.

Squeezing his eyes shut, his hand fell flat on the wooden door, and he let out a shaky breath. Even if you weren't in there, so many things of yours were. Pushing open the double doors, he took a wary step in your room to convince himself of the emptiness in the space.

One look around and the eerie silence got drowned in a deep chuckle.

Everything was a mess. Just the way you liked it. Pieces of cut up and unrolled material were still strewn over the work station you made for yourself in the corner, some falling over the chair like you were still working on stuff. Clothes were thrown every which way on hangers falling from the sides of your wardrobe and laying in front of it on the floor. He couldn't even tell where the laundry began and where it ended.

A chilly gust of wind blew in prompting him to turn for the window. It was cracked open. It didn't pass through his mind to check it before. You probably left it open to change the stuffy air in the room until you were out on mission. Moving to close it, he noticed the wooden pane was ajar, just a crack wide enough to lay your bedding out for some fresh air.

That's when it hit him harder - this was so domestic. Laying your bedding out. Cooking in the kitchen. Even simply just walking the hallways in a worn out shirt of yours. Like you've always lived here and this was the daily custom for as long as ever.

He grabbed your bedding, dusting it off the leaves and twigs that blew in from outside before he pulled the dirty covers off, throwing them in the corner for laundry, changing them for new ones. Then he folded them neatly, patting them down, moving to place them on your bed when he paused. On top of the white sheet lay a book he hasn't seen in a long time. Placing your bedding down in a corner, he leaned over and reached for it.

Wuthering Heights? his eyes widened at the title. Wasn't this in the library?

He turned it over on the side, surprised to see loads of paper edges hanging messily, stacked inside between the pages. Your writing peaked out on the sides of a few. He debated on whether he should open it and read some of them or not. It seemed almost too personal to even be holding it as if his hands would taint it and deem it unreadable for you.

Unbeknownst to anyone, he was an avid reader. He read all of the books in his library four, if not even five times. At times to just pass the time, to do research, to learn more about people and what drove them, maybe even to catch some surprising truths about himself. But out of his whole collection, this book was the hardest read he's ever come across. And he's read heavy shit like political thrillers and war tactic books. But this one, as poetic and straightforward of a novel it was, it remained a mystery to him and no matter how many times he's read it, tried to dissect it and understand it, he never could. This book was one of the biggest enigmas he couldn't solve.

In the end, curiosity got the best of him. He sat down on the edge of your bed and opened the book, flipping through it until he landed on the page where the last paper note hung loosely, nearly slipping out. Even the writing on it looked rushed, possibly written in a haste. It was near the middle and it looked like the last annotated note in the book.

She never got to finish it.

That thought alone angered him. Then he started reading the page and his mood instantly turned from sour to amusing.

The last quote underlined was Heathcliff's, mid-rage match with Catherine. The corner of his mouth upturned at the familiarity of the scene, happening between the two of you for the entirety of the previous week. Constant back and forth, making each other try to fall for one another but failing miserably to communicate like normal human beings. Taking a step forward with you only to fall three more behind.

His eyes fell on the quote above the note that was stuck in the middle of the spread.

"I have not broken your heart- you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine."

The quote was highlighted angrily, black pencil running all around the quote like it swallowed it whole, a total contrast to the other pages his fingers skimmed across. His eyes fell on the note below it and his breath caught in his throat, pulse thudding in his ears like a drum.

I broke your heart? You broke it first. You played with me the way you wanted. You chased me down like I was an animal to be hunted. You're no better than them. The government, the Triads, Battosai. Name the devils we've been battling for so long and they're all just like you. But you're worse. Because as much as I want to hate you and wish you hell worse than the one you've been living in, for everything you did and said to me, for lying to me... I can't bring myself to do that. My heart doesn't let me. It beats for you and only you and I can't drown that annoying rhythm out of my head every time I see you. It just gets louder when you look at me with so many emotions I can't understand. When you hold my hand so gently before every mission. When you take care of me even after I push you away. When you're being you. Good or evil, selfish or caring, angering me to the world's end or catching my world when it comes crashing down. She's addicted to you wholly. To every part of you. I can't even wish for that beating to cease, even if at times I wanted it to with my whole being, because I know it would hurt you. And I can't bear seeing you in any kind of pain. That is how you broke my heart. But do you know what the funny thing is? That you're what I've been running from my entire life. You're everything I loathe the most in the world. And yet, despite all this, you're all I want at the same time. This... is how I broke mine.

A shaky breath he's been holding in since he read the very first word finally left him. All he could feel was pain. Pain unlike any other he's ever experienced, flooding his heart like a poison arrow that just about missed the most vital point but embedded deep enough to spread its venom like burning embers kindled to burn inside of his chest.

That note was something he was never meant to find. Addressed to him, through and through, but not to be discovered like this, in a book he couldn't understand. Because now, as his eyes darted over the words again and again at breakneck speed, he felt guilty. Guiltier than the weight of all the people he's ever sent to the afterlife with the edge of his blade could ever make him feel. This was a different type of guilt - the kind that made him feel like he was suffocating upon breathing just fine.

Having absorbed the words like a second skin, the note fell from his hand, falling right on the pages he found it stuck between. At once, he shut the book closed.

He's never looked at it in this way but having read what you've left for secret keepsake, what should've never ended up in his hands, he was nothing less than scared. That gut-wrenching fear that leapt at him whenever Tomoe decided to haunt him and laugh in his face at his idiocy, now unleashed at just the mere thought of you, way stronger and crippling than he's ever felt it course through him.

Feeling like he was intruding way too much, he placed the book back on your bed like simply touching it seared the skin of his palms. He checked the bedding once more and turned for the door. Then he paused.

Turning back to the scope of your room he glanced at it again. Contrary to the joke his mind played on him before he entered, you were here.

In every corner of the room where a part of you lingered like you just touched it. Not just in the room but even outside of it, as far as the rest of the mansion spread. In every tile of the kitchen where your feet padded tirelessly to cook up some new recipe you heard Wu talk about. In the hallways, floorboards creaking under your feet as you gazed at that favorite painting of yours that started becoming his favorite too. In his office, where you fell asleep more comfortably and cozily than in the warmth and comfort of your own bed. Outside in the garden, where you trained restlessly or down in the armory where you spent time studying weapons and learning more about them. Even in his room where he tricked you into using his shower, his mirror, his towels, his clothes, his bed.

You were everywhere.

And he realized there was one more spot you edged your way in, way before you even stepped foot on the premises of this house. A place that was so full of life despite him thinking it was as dead as the crunched leaves on the ground.

A place that beat wild, calm, out of control, ragged, steady, rumbled, bled.

A place that was so full of you he could never get you out unless he gave himself over to the hands of death like it would take him if he had a different reason this time around. But even then, when he stopped breathing and his blood ran cold, you would still be in there, keeping the walls of it together.

All his life, he's built his inner defences map by map, wreathing sharp blades around his heart like the ones on the walls in the office, in the shape of a crown that could somehow guard the last piece of humanity he had left after Tomoe died. He fought with his all to protect it, turned against anyone who tried to get too close, marred everyone he didn't want to lose before he got too attached. He did all this only for all those defences to uncover one by one and fall down at your feet the minute you stepped into his life.

You came in like a storm unlike the ones already on his shore, rumbling wild with promise of disaster, reaching out through cracks he didn't even realise were left wide open. He was so wrong about you being a tempest that would stop at nothing to destroy him. You did the complete opposite of it, saving that piece of him rather than killing it when he gave you every reason to because there, in your kind and gentle hands that have seen so much evil but did so much more good in return, that locked up humanity of his was set free. In the palm of your hands, he felt alive again.

Because his heart was yours. Every little part of it.

And he hated that it wasn't his own heart that broke that night instead of yours.

Thank you for reading :)

#addicting taste #enishi yukishiro #rurouni kenshin #enishi yukishiro x reader #enishi yukishiro x you #enishi yukishiro fanfiction

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sesshatetsuko · 2 years ago

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Rurouni Kenshin fanfiction

~ For as long as Kenshin remembers, life had never been easy for him. So when carefully-buried memories are brutally awakened, the former assassin finds himself in the grip of his inner demons... ~ A post-Jinchuu story, depicting Kenshin's struggle with his past and future, and how he and Kaoru finally became a family... (canon characters, pls mind the M-rating)

Tonight, although she had already put on her chalk-colored yukata and unfolded her futon to sleep on, Kaoru Kamiya was walking through the corridors of her home with a small candle in her hand.

Let's just have a look at him before going to bed...

She had noticed that the wanderer had been distancing himself from the others more and more lately. If tiredness could explain this withdrawal, since his physical condition was getting better by the day, his friends had come to the conclusion that he was also recollecting memories of some of the events that had occurred after his training with his master in Kyoto. Therefore, Hiko was no longer the only one keeping an eye on him : Kaoru, too, would sometimes make a round in the evening. Because of the gruesome procession of nightmares that could repeatedly harass the swordsman into his sleep, the young kendoka feared these moments more than the rest of the day. She had seen Kenshin struggling with them long before all this happened...

His lantern is out... he must be asleep.

As she was peeking through the paper wall of his chamber, Kaoru noticed a shadowy figure standing upright. With a second thought, she carefully opened the door...

"Kenshin...? "

The swordsman, still fully dressed despite the late hour, was sitting in the middle of the pitch dark room. Right hand tightly clasped on his sword. The shoji overlooking the garden was open to the snowy surface, where the temperature had dropped to freezing.

Why doesn't he turn around?

Kaoru knew he must have been aware of her presence by now, sharp and perceptive as he was… Yet Himura did not move an inch when she stepped into the chamber. His body, stoic and livid, barely lightened by the moonlight reflecting on the white-covered plains, seemed utterly numb...

He's been there for hours...

When she grew closer, she saw that his eyes, spread wide open, were ghastly riveted on the cold and colorless expanse stretching before them ...And the drops of blood, trickling from his old cruciform scar, as a stark contrast to his painfully chilled face.

"Kenshin... are you okay? "

" I... "

He tried, but when he parted his lips, all that managed to escape was the shadow of a moan. What remained of his voice just crashed into his lungs. This time, Kenshin Himura could not even bring himself to force a smile, in order to reassure the person he wished to preserve more than anyone else from the atrocities of his past...

... When the sheer violence of his souvenirs had hit his frame all at once, he had nearly choked.

Everything from the whole Bakumatsu to his brother in law's terrible revenge had brutally come to life. As his nightmarish puzzle finally fell into place, the labyrinth of space and time in which he had been cruelly entangled for weeks had suddenly unveiled its true outcome… And it was far worse than anything he could have imagined. Kenshin felt like he was reliving an entire existence of misery and savagery... in the mere blink of an eye. This was too much, far too much for one brain to process. Tonight he had felt his sword twitching again as it was pitilessly slicing through the immaculate body of his wife, witnessed the light disappear forever from the irises of the one person he loved more than life itself, gazed in terror at the corpse of his second lover disfigured by his own hideous scar and his unforgivable failure to protect those he held dear once more, pursued by the blood-soaked faces of all the lost souls he had murdered during the revolution, replaying out in his mind one after another in a horrendous parody...

Don't worry, I'll be fine...

He wanted to tell her.

I'll be fine...

Yet no word came out of his throat. Because he wasn't.

He was surrounded by the maddening smell of death. Drenched in blood, guilt and pain... Horrified by all the despicable mistakes that had brought him to this point.

Himura could hardly breathe.

He knew he would be better later on, when his body would have enough time to absorb all the suffering, when tons of water would have flowed under the bridges – he knew that. His memory already told him that he would eventually get over this ordeal someday too, long after Jinchuu, but... Now, right now, his organism was beyond the state of shock. His brain stunned, his stomach atrociously knotted, his breath entrapped in his lungs.

Kaoru took an alarmed step towards him. His breathing was abnormally fast and he was covered in a thin layer of sweat despite the icy air.

...Is he ill ? But he's eating almost normally now, and it's been a long time since I saw him throw up a meal...

When the young kendoka pulled a sewn tissue from her sleeve, wishing to offer Kenshin something to dry the old unhealed wound on his cheek first, she noticed that with his hollow eyes, riddled by sorrowful wrinkles, and the blood running down his face, like so many unshed tears... The wanderer just seemed infinitely sad.

Oh my… he had the same expression when he first met Enishi in Tokyo !

Kaoru suddenly realized what might be happening inside his spirit at this very moment... And if his memories really did come back to him all together in one stroke, then the aftermath had to be extremely difficult for one single man to endure. Himura looked sick to the core.

"It's okay, if you can't speak..."

For the time being, the young woman dared not to touch him, afraid of how he might react -he'd proven he could be highly unstable in the past, especially if he was in a state of mind where wouldn't recognize her. Instead, she decided to sit silently next to the swordsman until he found the strength to turn and acknowledge her presence.

I am here with you, Kenshin...

They lay next to each other, motionless, for an indeterminate time... Kaoru watching him from a chosen distance, Kenshin lost in his macabre vortex. Right now it was impossible for him to connect with the world around, but… somewhere through his tormented soul, in faraway places, he could sense Her amongst other somber visions... and little by little, she would bring some light into the hellish storm of his souvenirs. When the air finally found a way to his throat, a strangled whisper broke the silence.

"I -I didn't mean to... "

"Huh...? "

Kaoru shifted, surprised to hear him.

"I didn't mean to kill all these people... This one just wanted to... " he couldn't even stop to breathe "... create a new era where no one would experience what I did... "

His voice trailed off.

"Kenshin..." How could she answer this? "I know. We all know. "

"I didn't mean... to kill... her"

The swordsman had wrapped his hands around his head, his fingers now clutching the crimson locks. He looked like he was about to collapse.

"Look at me, Kenshin... "

Kaoru covered his palms with hers.

"...It's over. You're not a murderer anymore. "

This wasn't true. A part of him knew it, deep inside in this little dark box his brain had locked away a year ago. But Kenshin needed the lie at this moment.

"It's over... "she continued, lowering her voice as soothingly as she could, almost whispering in the dark room. "…You're living here now…"

Rising an hesitant hand, Kaoru cautiously approached the cross-shaped scar to apply the cloth she had retrieved earlier. She wanted to treat the sorrowful wound that had bled so much since Tomoe Yukishiro's death by herself. At first the swordsman didn't even flinch at her move, but when he sensed the delicate touch on his cheek, he finally turned his face to her. Violet eyes crushed by unspeakable pain were staring skeptically into hers. Himura realized that Kaoru was actually there.

"This... this one is... "

Abruptly, the wanderer stretched his arm and the young woman nearly lost her balance. He held her tightly to his chest as he let his forehead fall into the hollow of her shoulder, removing his face from anyone' sight. She could feel his erratic breath on her neck, his hand that had closed firmly on her shoulder blade. Kaoru froze.

"Go...gomenasai... "

For Jine-e, for Enishi, for all those who had kidnapped and wounded her just to hurt him.

"Gomenasai... "

For the number of times her dojo had been destroyed and then rebuilt, when her friends had been threatened by his fault.

"Gomenasai... "

For having left her for Kyoto and made her cry all the tears of her body, on a night of May filled with fireflies.

"Gomenasai... "

Despite the grief squeezing his ribs and shutting his voice, the wanderer kept on, endlessly trying to breathe out his apologies in a choke. Kaoru's heart broke for him.

" It was my decision to offer you to stay here…" Can he even hear me…? "You -You have nothing to be sorry for, Kenshin... "

This was belittling what had really happened, but what else could she say? As he still refused to raise his eyes to meet hers, she could only imagine the expression crossing the face that was actually desperately buried against her.

Lord, how he must suffer

"You don't have to explain yourself..." she whispered, tentatively placing a hand on his scalp. "Stop thinking about it, just let go for now, p-please..."

What words were to appease such a grief... ? As she didn't know what else to do, the young kendoka began to stroke his hair, gently sliding her palm over his head. Kenshin said nothing, but at the contact of their two skins, she heard him exhaling slowly. One by one, Kaoru began to carefully untangle the long ochre strands that had been damaged by months of convalescence and the little care he had granted them. While she was combing his locks, she could feel the muscles on his spinal slightly loosen, as if they'd been holding back this tension all along.

"Daijobu, Kenshin... "

The swordsman closed his eyelids. For a moment, all that could be heard was the sound of the wind rushing from time to time in the chamber and their two distinct breaths.

I'll have to close this shoji. I'm getting cold and Kenshin is freezing, but...

...Kaoru wouldn't dare to break this rare embrace. She didn't want to lose the fragile contact they had established for once. Kenshin always wanted to be the one comforting others, but was unable to seek help for himself. This awkward situation could be embarrassing and she did not want to hurt him further.

"Daijobu... everything will be okay... "

When there were no more knots in the red mane, she finally rested her hand on his shoulder, all the while continuing to murmur the same meaningless yet reassuring words. Somehow sensing her gesture stop, Himura increasingly wrapped his arms around her waist. Not ready to let her go yet. They remained in this position for a long moment, neither of them risking to move any further, until Kaoru felt his breathing becoming more regular, and the weight of his head less heavy on her thin shoulder. Then, his grasp relaxed somewhat and he smoothly withdrew his hand from her back, raising his face at the same time. The young kendoka instantly stared into violet eyes, worried. Although still strongly marked, they had recovered some of their clarity.

"...This one is fine. You can go to rest now. "

"Are you sure... ? "

"Yes..." A weakly, fainted, ghost of a smile. "Yes" he repeated "...It's ok, you can leave this one"

Kaoru felt her heart clench. She had seen him at his worst, both mentally and physically broken, and he would still force himself to smile for her. Sighing, she retrieved the soiled compress, his scar now completely dry.

"Try to find some sleep at least, Kenshin..."

As she was about to exit, she heard a murmur.

"Oyasumi-nasai, Kaoru-dono"

When she left his room, the young kendoka could not hold back the tears that were threatening to spill…

It was the first time in almost a year that she heard him call her by this honorific.

In the weeks that followed, the daily life here had gradually returned to its usual atmosphere. The kiais of the so-called kendoka komachi and her students were resounding again behind the wooden doors of the Kamiya dojo, much to the delight of their more discreet neighbors.

"Get ready! The tournaments against Maekawa Dojo will be held in September, and the qualifying rounds will start this summer! "

While shouting her instructions to the small troop of more or less motivated budding kendokas, Kaoru was happily thinking about the incredible evolution of her dearest host's condition.

He was a bit of a handful at first, but he's getting better and better...

Now that he had recovered most of his memories, she could finally see the features of the former Kenshin Himura - at least the wanderer they had come to know and like when they first met. If he still sometimes got the date wrong, it was only by less than a year now. He also still had some minor physical problems but had regained most of his cognitive and athletic functions.

...With this, I finally have more time for Kendo lessons!

Lately, the wanderer had even naturally resumed some of the activities he used to do on a daily basis before, such as cooking for them. Kaoru couldn't even begin to describe how good it felt to finally taste his meals again. Well, Kenshin would regularly forget where things were stored -he had to be reminded of this nearly every 30 minutes-, and he would sometimes switch ingredients for his memory was still a bit off (after all, who had never dreamed of accidentally discovering the famous flavor of sweet and sour plates?), but his dishes had the priceless taste of a return to normality... At this point, the wanderer could have cooked from mud -or worse, come closer to her own culinary style-, Kaoru would still have eaten it with the utmost happiness.

Just knowing Kenshin's back puts me in a good mood!

The gifted swordsman found happiness in the small acts of life. Focusing on a simple and repetitive activity had always had the power to ease his broken mind by centering it on concrete things. And he was finally getting his bearings after months of blind navigation and arduous rehabilitation... To perform ordinary stuff, that's all he'd ever asked for.

However, in a remote corner of his brain, a small blurry area would stubbornly remain hidden from his understanding...

Alone, in the midst of the tall bamboo trees of the forest where he could practice his fearsome kenjutsu away from the sight of others, the wanderer was deeply immersed in his thoughts.

He used to walk there when he was looking for peace and solitude. It was one of his old habits that he had gladly regained, along with the other routines he had developed while living in Tokyo - a luxury he had never known before, as he had never stayed in one place for more than a few weeks during his ten years of wandering. Secluded, surrounded only by the sounds and smells of wild nature, he could easily train or meditate here. However, these times of dedicated peace were also providing the seasoned swordsman with his fair share of reflections. If Kenshin finally had the sensation to be 'normal' again, at least more like his old self, something was yet bothering him...

He still felt like they were a year ago, as if that whole period had been swallowed into nothingness. He had a really hard time placing the events of the last few months, especially those that had preceded his blackout. Such inconsistency was starting to become an obsession in his sharp and focused mind...

...How did I end up in this situation in the first place?

To fall unconscious for such a long time, he must have suffered serious injuries... But which opponent could have been strong enough to cause them? Megumi had explained to him that comas could leave such gaps in one's memory, but that didn't quite convince the experienced swordsman... Why did he not have a single souvenir of it when everything else seemed to have gradually returned to his memory? Even though everyone around him was acting ordinary, something was off.

This one remembers going to the Saitama Factory for a mission that Saito asked me to join, and then nothing...

People told him that he had lost a lot of blood, but without dwelling on the issue… shouldn't such an incident have been significant to all of his friends ? They seemed embarrassed whenever he brought this topic up, the lack of precise answer having him quickly realize that they were most likely not telling him everything there was to know on the subject… And this had inevitably ended up installing a form of distance between them. Kenshin already had major trust issues with people when it came to personal matters, and he certainly didn't need this new thing to add to his current insecurities.

…But should this one really try to remember ?

The swordsman also recalled the last time his memories had suddenly returned to him, and this particular episode had been violent enough to shake his entire organism at that moment... That's why he didn't push them to confess if they didn't want to, convincing himself that the souvenir would come back to him anyway, just like the others did.

If this one has to, I'll go to the Mibu Wolf and ask him. He won't mince words with me.

Kenshin sat down in seiza on the cold grass, retrieving his sakabato from his belt to place it at his side. Once again, the touch of his weapon's hilt made him shiver uncomfortably, nearly raising the hairs on his arm. Here was another inconsistency... Why did he sometimes develop this inexplicable aversion to the contact of his sword? As if his body was rejecting it, or even protecting itself from it...?

This one's been carrying the sakabato with him since the end of the Bakumatsu... what's wrong with it?

He had yet lived, slept, and eaten with this blade against him for more than a decade… Was it related to his memory lapse, that fragment he was missing just before his coma? Every time he tried to think about it seriously, a severe headache would plague him, preventing the search from going any further. What was even stranger was that they would systematically hit the left side of his skull.

My body definitely seems to be aware of more than my spirit...

Kenshin couldn't help but shudder at the thought. Who knew what this shadowy area contained, when what his brain had unleashed before already revealed more horrors than a lifetime could hold?

...Is there something important that I'm still missing? What if it changed this one's situation completely ?

He couldn't bear the uncertainty any longer. If his body knew the answer, then he knew how to make his body answer.

I need to understand

Finally, that night, isolated amidst the rustling of the long bamboo, he gathered his courage and rested his unnaturally trembling hand on the hilt of his sword. The touch was so achingly familiar. It fit his palm perfectly. Kenshin executed a few motions, which flowed naturally, instantly becoming one with the old weapon as if it had never been out of his reach. The swordsman began to perform the deadly dance he had learned by heart, patiently, continuously, focusing on his sensations for hours that quickly flew away like minutes... Then, when fatigue began to pull at the very roots of his muscles, he finally paused to contemplate for another long time the weapon that had allowed him to become the one who was no longer an assassin. The wanderer who never kills. He turned it carefully, examining it from one side and then from the other... When, under the surprisingly ochre moon, a ray of light slipped along his blade, its steel edge briefly reflecting in his violine irises. Right away, the swordsman felt a deep pain in his chest, suddenly rising from a wound engraved in his body as if it had been waiting for that precise moment. As screams and distorted children's faces awakened before his horrified eyes, in the small corner of his brain that had remained stubbornly numb since his recovery, the terrible events of the last few weeks that had preceded his final decision, the one that had thrown his soul straight into The Beyond for the past year, surfaced at last in his tormented mind...

…This is... not... possible...

This was no nightmare.

The excruciating rain of chain blows that knew no beginning or end. The repeated injections into his flesh, poisoning his brain, so much that he could no longer eat or talk. The unspeakable desecration of his body. The ravaged kids who looked, cruelly, incredibly like the victim he had been in another era... Then the dismembered corpses that were piling up in a heap of shapeless dolls around him. The blind rage. The slaughter, the too easy slaughter. The mad murderer who was still living inside him and eating away at his soul like a tumor...

...He had been tortured, drugged, raped, then he had killed -no, butchered- an appalling number of human beings, before attempting to kill himself... and this was no nightmare.

For his mind, deprived of memories during the long coma, all of this had happened yesterday.

"Masaka..."

Depression hit him with the cruelty of an evidence.

It was as if his soul had been broken into a thousand pieces, only to be put back together again and again when he all that was left of him were just pitiful shreds. His dearly held vow was dead and buried, and with it, the death of his former wife had lost its meaning, just as his life of repentance had no reason to continue either...

And yet...

...If Kenshin Himura could survive the harm done to him, the damage he could do to others was unbearable.

...I'm still here...

This monstrous soul, trapped in a body that still refuses to die.

Why...?

His hand was shaking.

Why, am I still here...?

His blade, cutting his skin like mere paper.

...What have I become?

He focused on the pain, the only thing that still felt real to him at this instant. A recognizable, almost comforting incision, distorting the tissue of his forearm.

Do I still… feel… ?

He's watching the ochre liquid flow

All the people who are close to me end up dying in the end

…And dreams of death.

If I could do it all over again, far away from here...

I would kill myself too.

Over the next few days, while things still seemed to have gone back to regular for the inhabitants of the dojo -Kenshin had returned to most of his daily routine quite straightforwardly-, there was however a serious exception in the wanderer's behavior… He was no longer pretending.

That's it, I can see them clearly now. These eyes that do not smile...

Something had shifted recently and Kaoru didn't know what. The swordsman's presence was even frighteningly more withdrawn than before. He spoke little. Disappeared often. Spent longer moments staring at the emptiness. Despite his physical envelope performing the same customary tasks as always, the wanderer looked like a shadow of his former self. Kaoru was now aware that his attitude was but an act... If Kenshin would never express anything clearly to them, he was closer to an empty shell, similar to the one that had once failed in the Rakuninmura -according to her disciple.

He's moving away from us, just as he did… right before he...

Since the suicide attempt that almost cost him his life, his friends were no longer mistaken. Sanosuke stayed more often at the dojo. He tried, without much success, to take the redhead out for bets with his group of friend in the evening. Even Seijuro, the hermit, was still wandering around the outskirts of Tokyo... Only Megumi had to return to Aizu to take care of her patients now that Kenshin's body was cured, having left her recently opened practice too long without a doctor.

The young kendoka had tried several times to talk to the redhead, but he always pretended that he was fine, or that he would get better, or that it wasn't important. Which made Kaoru all the more suspicious.

I must not lose sight of him... He could leave us at any moment.

Kenshin watched indifferently as the hundred-year-old bamboo trees in the forest around him were softly bending and creaking under the winter breeze, yet never broke... and pushed the katana against his slender forearm.

The sensation of the blade on his skin somehow seemed... right.

Until then, fights had been the only moments in which he felt alive. As he was unconsciously pressing the blade on the same damaged spot, he then remembered that this night on the cliff, the blow that should have put an end to his agony had been deflected at the very last second. Unexpectedly shifted a quarter turn to its right, by a...

...a breath of Ki?

He stopped his gesture for a second. Who could have been powerful and perceptive enough to do such a thing?

Was it... Hiko ?

Himura closed his eyes sorrowfully.

He could not even face his master after what he had done. His ultimate act was a source of guilt, even deep shame in front of the man who had saved him as a child and given his precious time to raise him.

But...

His body was disgusting him.

Stained with the blood of his victims, soiled by the seed of his aggressors, treated as a slave from a very young age, then as a cold-blooded murderer and finally as a puppet of the new government that was sent to the most despicable battles to get rid of the undesirables of the system. These hideous labels stuck to his body like the cruciform mark on his cheek.

A slash on his skin.

And Himura could breathe a little more.

His mind was disgusting him.

Unable to escape from the slavers who used him, unable to defend the three women who rescued him, unable to follow the teachings of his master, unable to protect his first wife from his own violence or to make his new beloved happy, unable to keep his promise not to kill again... Unable even to end his own life.

Another cut, a little further along his forearm.

Not enough.

He felt so hopelessly bitter. He was so worthless that he wasn't even able to end with this stupid joke people called Life...

Worse, he had no right to die.

With her death Tomoe had forbidden him to die, with her life Kaoru was begging him to live.

One more, one more, one more.

He had to see his blood shed. He had to sense the pain because it was the only thing that made him feel even slightly better.

He needed to feel something, anything. Anything else than the misery in his soul.

…However, once enough blood had been spilled to make his head spin, only a great emptiness would invade the wanderer.

This is how Seijuro found him.

He was standing in the middle of the centenary bamboo trees, his head bowed, his katana in his hand... the sharp side of the blade pointing indifferently at himself. Hiko saw the blood trickling down his arm. Then he saw the cliff. The pale moon. The body on the ground, and this awful crimson pool spreading between the herbs, sucking the life out of him... The empty orbs of his disciple's eyes that night, the stifled grimace of pain on his face. The unbearable scene of his suicide instantly replayed itself before his vision.

"Stop..."

The thirteenth master of Hiten Mitsurugi clenched his fists tightly at his sides. The lacerations were far from harmful, it was self-mutilation at this point, but their presence spoke volumes about Kenshin's appalling state of mind.

Again...?

"Don't do this..." the master continued, his voice devoid of its usual authority.

He took a step toward his disciple, quickly cutting the distance that separated them, and without a second thought, placed his hand on the back that was turned to him to prevent any further move of the ill-fated blade. A large and strong hand carrying in itself all the determination, the strength... and the human warmth that he should perhaps have given him once.

"Don't do this... just don't." ... The last part of his sentence was barely a whisper.

...Still, Kenshin sensed his master's will with as clearly as a note echoing through the void of his soul. He felt the air leave his lungs. Two violet orbs, hollow and haunted, were drawn to the one who had taught him to survive when his life was no longer of value to anyone. Somewhere in the tumult of his tortured existence, for a few moments, a little boy was trying to paint the image of a father he had never known.

"Shishô... "

So many things were left unsaid between the two men.

It's too late...

Himura put a shaking hand over his face, hopelessly seeking to contain the emotions that were pushing to break free. As the disciple was staring intensely at his master, they were shamefully threatening to escape down his face. This was too late. This was all too late... At the corner of his eyelid, an undignified tear. Many more along with it, perhaps... He had no idea. Against the very man who had raised him, Himura was defenseless…

"I've... I've broken my oath... "

It was all he had left as a human being, after having been an obscene murderer. His oath, to which he had clung like an anchor to his boat. His arms began to tremble, bruising a crippled torso yet already burdened by the remorse he was so desperately trying to bury within.

"I know."

Usually hard and reserved, the master of Hiten Mitsurugi also felt something unfamiliar in the depths of his well-guarded soul, something he could not control... He was carefully watching under his black irises the man he had seen growing up ever since he was barely taller than a bokken. And witnessed, powerless, the absurd extent of his suffering.

What have they done to you there...?

As if he had heard the unspoken question, Himura shook his head, gritting his teeth. There was a souvenir he had hoped he would never recover… back there in the hangar that bore the obnoxious number 41, on its dusty wooden boards. It took no more than that for Seijuro to wordlessly understand what might have occurred during his captivity to push him to deny his convictions. Momentarily swallowing his own pride, the thirteenth master of the Hiten Mitsurugi gave in to a rare moment of weakness. He placed his hands firmly around his former student... and pushed redhead against his chest. If he didn't let it out, Kenshin would die rotten on the inside.

Never again.

…When he felt two strong arms finally grounding him, for the first time since the death of his former wife, Kenshin Himura saw his self-discipline shattering. Deep inside him, the abyss of sadness that had always been tightly contained in the agonizing void he'd become, started to stream freely down the oval of his scarred face, held back for far too long… He could not point out how or when, his wrenching screams just went on like a broken record.

"Please... "

Momentarily overwhelmed, he began to shake, moaning helplessly against Hiko's solid torso. In front of this man who knew him like no other, Shinta allowed himself to be for an instant the child who had once been stolen from him. To be anything other than the strong swordsman life had taught him to be.

"Please let me die... "

For once, he would indulge in a rare expression of the humanity that had been ripped from him before he even learned to walk, breaking the dreadful chains continuously muzzling the horrors of his existence, all the while suffocating in the sturdy embrace of his only master. The crimson blood that was drying on his arm did not matter. The two men stayed like that, in complete silence, until no more tears could flow. When he was finally able breathe again, the wanderer's body was still convulsing violently.

Sometimes the pain is insufferable, even for a man like him...

Seijuro waited patiently, as long as it took for the last tremors to fade, before he finally answered his disciple.

"...No." He let the loud silence that followed emphasize his word. "Never."

"No," he continued again, "you are not allowed to die. It's been a long time since your life no longer belongs to you, Kenshin. "

It belongs to all those who love you, whose fate are now tied to yours. Even if you give up on yourself, you have no right to let them go.

Hiko knew that his disciple, who was aware of the price of life more than anyone else, already understood the meaning of his words.

"If not for yourself, you have to live for the others"

No more words were needed.

"Now, let's go."

Seijuro started to lower his arms... But the redhead's hand was still lingering on him, faintly gripping his shirt.

"What...? "

"... I-I can't... "

Himura raised his face to his master's. His features were drawn, his gaze lost and shadowed.

"Not...yet"

He's exhausted...

"Don't enjoy it too much. " Hiko stated, caught off guard. His sentence came out softer than he meant - or is it the other way around?- "Next time I'll beat your skull for that."

Looking at him, to his eyes the swordsman here seemed almost as frail as the child he had once met in Edo era. Am I getting soft...? Seijuro grunted yet remained at his disciple's side. At the very least, I must be getting old...

"...Don't you think you should clean those wounds instead? " the master asked, examining the injured skin on his arm out of habit.

That'll leave another scar.

Not that himself wasn't covered in such already. Besides, most of them had been earned during his training many decades ago - who could ever hurt a practitioner of Hiten Mitsurugi if not another practitioner of this school?

"Or else, I know a young girl who won't be happy to see this tomorrow. "

"Tomorrow... "

The word sounded strange in his mouth.

"Yes, tomorrow. There is a tomorrow, baka deshi. Whatever you feel, whatever you decide to do next, you must go on."

"Tomorrow... "

Hiko could have asked him what exactly had happened that he day he had slaughtered the slavers like a butcher. What had happened this one night, in his brain... on the hill behind the damned woods of MinatoNoMieru-Oka. Since he had left him for the hell of the Bakumatsu, even... But no matter what he could say or do, he didn't have the power to take that pain away. And he wasn't exactly good at comforting speeches... All Seijuro could do was to be there, where no one else but himself could find him. And prevent the worst from happening again.

"The day will dawn tomorrow, Kenshin. And you will rise with it. "

Himura sighed and ran a feverish hand over his discreetly swollen face.

"This one will deal with all of this... tomorrow "

The redhead dropped feebly on his knees, then cautiously sheathed his sword before resting it on his shoulder and leaning against one of the bamboo clumps. Not even caring if his own blood was still staining the precious weapon. If the wanderer's eyelids quickly shut after that, his organism drained by the whole scene, Hiko -who would stay in the same forest not far away that night - did not close them at all.

So, he finally remembers what happened in Yokohama. It's now that his will to live is truly put to the test...

"I'm not that thrilled to see you again given the context, but... Welcome. " …was all the former Mibu Wolf had to say as his former opponent entered his office in the first rays of dawn. He didn't look too good with the dark circles around his eyes and his drawn features. "…At least, you seem better than the last time I saw you."

"Keep your opinions to yourself, Saito"

"So why bother coming all the way here…? " The policeman took a drag from his cigarette, glancing at him suspiciously. Word of his recovery had reached his ears long ago, so he expected him to show up here at some point. Himura never gave up on an ongoing case.

"This one... " the swordsman in him was somewhat ashamed to ask this to an ex-opponent when his own memory was failing him. Old grudges were dying hard, but Kenshin desperately needed some information, and he was certain that this man would not beat around the bush "...has to know what really happened, after the slave traders were arrested in Yokohama?"

"The whole truth, huh?" he was eyeing the redhead with curiosity now "What exactly do you want from me...? "

"Don't play with me. I'm not in the mood, Saito"

Has Himura ever been in the mood when it comes to working together...?

"Then you'll have to be more specific"

"Are the children safe? "Kenshin cut almost immediately

Of course, that would be Battosai's first question...

"They are... As good as they can be, given their condition. The lucky ones who had families have been returned, as for the others they've been... entrusted to orphanages".

"I see... " somehow a weight was lifted from his shoulders. Himura had never known what had happened to the kids after he had freed them, and this question had been nagging at him ever since the memory of that sordid investigation, which had begun with his departure for the Saitama factory, had come back to him...

"As for the details of what happened to them next, I don't know. That's out of my hands. "

"Um..." Kenshin nodded "...And the slavers? "

"Them?!" Hajime could not resist a sarcastic chuckle. "Poor fools... I can't say you left me with much to handle, unless someone knows how to talk to corpses! "

Himura didn't so much as flinch, so the policeman continued more seriously.

"…Anyway, there wasn't a soul alive when we arrived at the scene."

Except for one redheaded psychopath.

"And... What about..." Kenshin hesitated, obviously uncomfortable with the horrible tenor of what had happened there. He was not in a normal state of consciousness at the time, and was as unaware as much he was afraid of some of what the others had witnessed. In Kaoru's eyes, he had seen the reflection of a monster -something Himura would never forget. "...What about this one? "

"You...? "

"I've killed those men. Whatever slavers they were"

Saito took a moment to observe his former adversary. Even though he had wanted to hear those words from the honeyed wanderer's mouth for a long time, it gave him no satisfaction at the moment. Not when Himura didn't fight back.

"Ha! …Here's a rather pretty way to put it!" he laughed again, his golden eyes glittering with malice These folks have been downright butchered "...I've buried the file. Filed it as a 'self-defense case'." He simply stated, handing him the corresponding file away to back up his words. Though it looked anything but self-defense… "...It still took some convincing from the agents on the ground, who were quite impressed with your 'little performance', but for the rest... You've already provided great service to the government in the past, so this part wasn't too complicated. "

The wanderer slammed both palms on the desk in anger.

"I don't want this! "

"It's too late to complain, Battosai" the former Shinsengumi immediately returned to Kenshin his threatening look "...It's already been done and over a year ago!"

"This one should have been punished, or at the very least judged for his crimes! "

Himura was fuming. Nothing ever seemed to go the right way in this new society for which he had once sacrificed his sanity. If he didn't take things to heart as much as Sanosuke did in this area, he couldn't bear to get a free pass because of his background as an assassin, especially in matters of this nature.

"Huh... Don't you think you've punished yourself enough already? " It had come out of his mouth spontaneously, while a disturbing smirk was crossing his face. This was not fair of him and he knew it.

"Shut up" the swordsman hissed, amber eyes narrowing, "I bet you were laughing your smart head off..." Himura was hardly jesting, his fingers reflexively clenched on the hilt of his weapon. His emotions had been turned upside down over the past few days, and the last thing he wanted to do was discuss all of this with a past adversary like the Wolf of Mibu.

Fortunately for both of them, the former Shinsengumi did not push the topic any further. The atmosphere was as strained as a cord.

A minute passed and Kenshin closed his eyelids briefly, concentrating more on the matter at hand than on his personal feelings, trying to suppress the anger he felt rising in him far too quickly for his liking.

"I guess..." the redhead took a deep breath before speaking again. He was being rude, when this man, as unpleasant as he was, had actually helped him at a time when he himself had failed so miserably "...I owe you an apology. And thanks. "

Saito raised his eyebrows This couldn't have gone better... he gloated. Working with Battosai was always interesting.

"I don't care about this. Just try not to repeat your crazy show again... I won't be able to cover your back forever."

"Forever...?" he stopped at the word. The wolf was smarter than many men, and it was best to always be aware of his insinuations. Kenshin had fought him often enough to realize this "...What do you mean by that? "

"Well, I guess it doesn't matter now..." Hajime took a long -too long- puff on his cigarette, enjoying the alarmed look on his interlocutor's face.

"What? "

"Pffff. Do you really want to know...? "

"Spit it out, Saito, don't make a fuss!"

Battosai, as stubborn as ever…

"Well, this whole 'no killing' crap has always been completely ridiculous to me..."

Oh, I'm gonna enjoy this so much...

"...I couldn't swallow your sweet talk at first, but when I found you after the Bakumatsu, you were so insistent on that pathetic 'Rurouni who doesn't kill' fable that I almost believed it... You know, when I was in charge of evaluating you before eliminating Shishio, at Okubo's request..." he crushed the cigarette against the window sill of the police station. This conversation was likely to last.

"...But after that, as I became more and more involved in your affairs, I was able to follow the people you had fought and arrested. And believe me, reverse sword or not, some of them simply did not survive their wounds. And that's without counting all of those who were left severely disabled, which to me is a fate hardly better than death...".

That's when I realized that Battosai was in denial.

Kenshin was stunned.

"You... You lie"

"And why would I do that?" Despite the burning gaze upon him, the former Shinsensgumi did not budge "Explain to me; what do I have to win in the process?"

The wanderer clenched his fists fiercely, panic stricken eyes now riveted on the pupils of his interlocutor.

"...You can check this information if you want. Their autopsy reports are standing with the mission accounts, probably in one of those stacks of folders back there..." he vaguely gestured with his arm to the shelf behind him, where packets of colorful files were piled up. For once there's a point to keeping all this junk...

"That's..." Himura knew his former adversary. Saito wasn't lying. "...S-Since when did you know... Why didn't you tell me anything...? "

"What would it have changed... ? "

Unable to process what he had just heard, Kenshin was still frozen on the spot, staring at the policeman as if he had just announced the end of the world to him.

...Everything...

His interlocutor was still puffing on his cigarette, watching him very closely behind a desk full of papers.

It would have changed... Everything

"...Do you have any more questions for me?"

"This one..." the wanderer murmured, breathlessly "...No " was all he could answer.

"And so, what do you plan to do next, now that you're fully healed? "

The policeman went on, as if all this was perfectly normal.

"I don't... fucking know! "Himura hissed, reaching the end of his tolerance since the recovery of his memory, and all the atrocious revelations that seemed to just follow one another without interruption these last weeks.

"Well, it was nice to be of service, Battosai... Am I to understand that I shall contact you again if I hear anything new on the matter? Or have you finally changed your working methods to something more... efficient?"

"Go to hell, Saito"

And without another word, Kenshin stormed out of the police building.

Well, Himura's even less civil than me today...

Error was adding to error. Horror was adding to horror.

It's not even only a terrible mistake this one's made in a fit of rage...

Since the end of the Bakumatsu, since his pious oath to stop killing, people had died as a result of their fight against him. Even when using simple blunt force, with the dangerousness of the Hiten Mitsurugi techniques, the violence of the reverse sword strikes was still capable of causing fatal injuries. Trauma to the spine or above the skull, internal bleeding on the torso, crushing of the liver, or worse... the list happened to be quite long.

What an idiot...

He didn't know how he had ended up in this Izakaya. He had just left and walked straight ahead, far too disturbed to return to the dojo right now.

How could I not realize this...?

He had yet killed so many people before.

I'm so stupid...

He didn't even pay attention to the glass he was swallowing.

Stupid, and dangerous

One Sake became two, which soon turned into four, and he lost count of the ones after that...

When his vision began to blur and his head to tangle against the wooden table, his brain vaguely registered that it was time to go home.

"Where are you going, Kenshin...? "

He had just passed behind her like a gust of wind, and Kaoru hadn't even seen him all morning.

"This one's... going shopping. "

"Oh, great! " the young kendoka offered him a bright smile that remained unanswered "...seaweed is missing and perhaps some tsukemono too! "

Kenshin simply nodded. He was about to walk through the front door when she called out to him again.

"Wait, shouldn't you take the basket with you? "

"...Oro?"

He looked even more over the moon than usual.

"Oh... right."

The wanderer promptly grabbed the said basket and disappeared down the street without even meeting her eyes. He couldn't care less about groceries. So much was on his shadowy mind.

Kaoru as for her resumed her previous task, concerned about her friend. The swordsman hardly seemed to pay any attention to them today... She made a mental note to prepare lunch for him this afternoon to relieve him of his duties, maybe that would at least help him to relax.

"...So, what do you think of my baka deshi?" Hiko had asked her shortly afterwards, barging in from behind the young kendoka, surprising her again in the garden without the slightest warning sign.

Gosh! How does he always manage not to be heard with this size of his...?

"Even though he's away a lot, considering the situation we're starting from, I'd say he's still improving... He's returned to most of the activities he was doing before, I mean. His memory seems to have mostly come back to him."

Kaoru didn't know what else to say to the intimidating master, who was staring at her from his height with two piercing black eyes. He had folded his arms, clearly judging her and making no attempt to conceal it.

"Hmpf... So it doesn't bother you if he's intoxicated half the day? " Hiko retorted, as if he was merely stating the obvious.

"What...? ?! Are you sure ?"

He looks pretty normal to me, just more withdrawn than usual... ?

" What a useless question..." Seijuro replied, gauging with his hand the jar of sake that was hanging daily from his belt. Perhaps even more vital to him than food. "I never joke about alcohol."

How come… why did Kenshin…?

Kaoru was frustrated at her own inexperience. It took the XIIIth master of Hiten Mitsurugi less than five minutes to find out what was wrong with his disciple while she didn't notice anything about this... She was still young, and living with someone as complex as Himura often required her to mature faster in order to simply understand him.

"...Well I saw that he was distant, but... that's not so unusual from him lately, and given the context..."

*sigh* "There's not a good one in the lot, here…"

She better watch him more closely, or as I know my disciple she won't be able to tell the difference...

A part of him dreaded to go back to Kyoto as long as Kenshin was able to hide from his family how bad off he was. But the redhead had fully recovered his memories now, and he couldn't babysit him for the rest of his days.

What he decides to do from now on is not up to me... and as for what's left, there's not much I can do for him.

"Anyway, it doesn't really matter, as long as he keeps doing what he used to do here before..." ...and doesn't start killing every moving thing around. I much prefer for him to have a drink or else, whatever calms his nerves… "Now that my role here is over, I'll be heading back to Kansai soon. I don't want to stay in Tokyo any longer than I already have."

Like the other companions of the wanderer, he had left a number of things unfinished back where he lived so that he could rush to his disciple's bedside when he awoke. And it had been months since then... Even Megumi had returned to Aizu to take care of her patients since Kenshin's health was stable and he had come to his senses.

" I will be hitting the road in the next few days, depending on the weather."

It might be cloudy tomorrow, considering the sky…

"We can't thank you enough for your presence and advice, Master Hiko..."

"Well, don't get your hopes up. I did not do it for you."

Of all the disciples to take, why did I have to choose this complicated boy?

"…Thank you anyway"

With that, Kaoru bowed to the master.

...Sooo something wrong's definitely happened with Kenshin. If Hiko says he's been drinking.

She couldn't pinpoint exactly how long it had been... The whole memory recovery situation had proven to be complicated, but things seemed to have finally turned around, until perhaps the last few days...?

Since he's gone to visit Saito this morning, he looks even worse...

Another abnormal thing was to note, she had noticed that now, Kenshin seemed to be running away from his master more than from the others, almost as if he was uncomfortable with him... And Hiko wouldn't speak up about it either, which was all the more annoying... Had he recovered those horrible, last memories? The dreadful hangar where he had been imprisoned in Yokohama, the tragedy that had unleashed back there, his final decision on the cliff? Was he ashamed of his act in front of the former master of the Hiten Mitsurugi? Or did it only have to do with his visit to the police office and whatever that damned wolf could have told him...?

...Anyway, Kaoru immediately took Sanosuke into confidence. They had to confront Kenshin, the sooner the better. Or else, they would run the risk of this whole disaster happening again.

Anything but this

Later that day, the two companions were waiting for him after having had dinner on their own, racking their brain about how they could get the guarded wanderer to confide in them. It had been several months since he had been awake and no one had yet discussed this particular subject with him. Of course, the latter would never bring it up on his own.

We missed something in Yokohama, and it almost cost him his life... We can't just pretend that everything is okay even if he says so!

"Kenshin, can we talk for a moment? "

They were sitting around the fireplace, sipping a tea that had been prepared more for appearances than for any real desire.

"...Why?"

The wanderer's gaze was vague. He didn't seem to be interested in the conversation to come.

"...Well, you don't seem to be doing so well lately?"

"This one is fine "

"Jou-chan's right." Sanosuke immediately came to her rescue with his usual delicacy "…We can see there's somethin' eatin' at ya…"

"Has anything changed...? "

Their questions were met with utter silence. And two sips from his cup.

"I can't take this comedy anymore..." the former Sekihotai was not the man for convoluted speeches "...No need to be a freakin' genius to see that yare avoidin' us like the plague !"

"…This one is not. I'm just tired. *sigh* Anything else? "

Obviously not in the mood for small talk, Kenshin looked like he was already about to leave, that's why the young kendoka tried another way.

For better or worse, the boil must be lanced.

"Say, we've never discussed this together before, but I think it's important... " Kaoru was forcing the words out of her mouth. Seriously, no one wanted to talk about these events again. "...Would you mind telling us what happened that night?"

Himura closed his eyes.

"What do you mean by ...that night? "

So, he's gonna make it as hard as possible, huh...? Sanosuke tightened his grip on his poor tea.

"What happened after you left the hostel in Yokohama... Just before Hiko-san found you..." she couldn't bring herself to say it all "...badly injured."

For a long time, the muffled song of the Shiwasu wind was her only response. The wanderer was absently gazing at the surface of the liquid stirring inside the cup between his hands. He knew this question would come up sooner or later.

"This one... Doesn't remember it." The answer came without a shadow of emotion.

"...Really? "

That's possible... Kaoru reasoned, struggling to interpret the swordsman's indirect reaction... The fragmentation of memories can occur in major traumas ; Megumi had warned us that this could be the case in his condition, but... Is he really sincere?

As so often, the swordsman was unreadable. He kept his impassive face carefully neutral, a painful legacy of his practices during the Bakumatsu. Sanosuke shoved his hands into his pockets nervously.

" I bet ya know exactly what happened..."

So he's not willin' to share tha' with us either... no matter how damn serious this is

*sigh* "What do you want from this one...? "

"...I ain't buyin' any of tha' bullshit!" the former Sekihotai's irritation was now palpable "An' I'm gettin' sick of ya hidin' things after all th-"

"-I understand that it's not exactly pleasant to talk about it," Kaoru interrupted the brawler immediately, hastily digging her nails into his arm "... but don't you think it could do you some good? "

Kenshin swallowed the rest of his tea in one gulp.

"You're wrong." he replied, putting the cup back down. "As I've said before, I'm tired. I'm going to bed. "

With that he ended the conversation and rose without a glance at them. The wanderer retreated in the direction of what had been called his room for the past year, the land around him slightly unstable. His vision narrowing at its corners.

I don't want to be a danger to anyone anymore.

Unbeknownst to everyone else, it wasn't tea in his cup.

"...I can't believe he's doin' all tha sh*t again "

Sanosuke who had already reached the end of his short patience was about to hold the swordsman back, well determined to squeeze the information out of him if necessary, when he himself was abruptly stopped by the kendoka he had forgotten was still clutching his sleeve.

"You mean, avoiding to share his feelings with us? " she whispered, aware that the subject of their discussion might still be within hearing range "You know there's no point in forcing things with him..."

"True, he wasn't listenin' to anyone yet when he was entrenched in the Rakuninmura, even when usin' force..." Sanosuke slipped out of her grip easily. "...But he's ignorin' us again ; does this man still don't give a f*ck 'bout his friends ?! "

"I think he's just overwhelmed… " Kaoru tempered, lowering her voice "…He's probably got issues that go back a lot farther than we can see."

"If we can't reach him wherever the hell he is, then can't we pull him to us? "

"And how do we do that? That's what we've already been trying all along, and besides, he's always had a tendency to withdraw just to protect others from himself. "

"Yeah yeah..."

The two companions remained thus a few minutes side by side, each lost in their own reflections. Meanwhile, the sun was rapidly sinking outside and the temperature of the main room didn't show any signs of improvement. The former Sekihotai, who was beginning to tire, decided to end the matter for the night:

"...Well ultimately, if friends aren't enough to get him out of his hole it's gonna be up to ya, Jou-chan! "

"You're probably right, but... I'm not sure what to do?"

"Ya'll figure tha' out by yourself when the time's right. There's some stuff only ya can do, if ya catch my drift…"

Kaoru tried very hard not to blush at what his words could imply.

"Don't gimme tha' face Jou-chan, I'm not askin' you to jump on the man! " Sanosuke was not far from laughing. These two needed a push so badly "…Just allow yourself to bring him a littl' comfort when ya wanna, instead of always waitin' for him to reach for ya… I'm not sure he'd like me to come too close! "

Now she had turned bright red, clutching her cup awkwardly. Yes, she wasn't seventeen anymore, but… unlike the swordsman, she had no experience whatsoever in this regard.

" I- I agree there aren't many ways to get him to open up to others, but... Honestly it scares me a little" I can never predict how he'll react…

"Yeah. That's also why I'm here… so don't worry" The brawler made his way towards the guest room, stretching his arms as he yawned. He wouldn't make it back to the Ruffian tonight.

"I'll keep that in mind, Sanosuke"

I may have to... start all over again with Kenshin...

She didn't know how much he truly cared for her, but she was sure by now that she was more than a friend to him, enough for the wanderer to once say that the dojo felt like home to him.

I'm the only one he said goodbye to when he left us for Kyoto. The only one whose death had the power to put him in such a state...

Lately, he'd even taken her into his arms, showing a rare display of vulnerability... Even though sometimes, the sheer intensity of his reactions was frightening for the young lady, things seemed to be heading in the right direction as far as their relationship was concerned. And from what Megumi had told her after his fight with Shishio, she understood that it was up to her alone to heal his invisible wounds. Last year, in front of his near-dead body, Kaoru also made a promise to herself : no matter how long it takes…

I will make a clear step towards him, one that he can't ignore… I'm not a teenager after all, I'm the owner of my dojo now!

The brave young kendoka went to bed in turn, her spirit swarming with new ideas. Tomorrow, she would try something she had never dared to dream of before : a more personal approach.

...Except all she found on this foggy morning was an empty room.

"Kenshin...? "

His things were neatly tucked next to his futon. Only the sakabato was missing.

Kaoru clenched her fists around the tray she was holding, a lunch she had prepared early for him, in anticipation of the day she had planned to spend with the swordsman...

"No, he didn't..."

Although there was not even a note left for them, the message was clear.

He had taken nothing with him, except for his old purple scarf and his cursed blade. The former Ishin Shishi, who was not a materialistic person, had hardly collected any possessions during his stay at the Kamiya dojo ; nothing more than a white hakama and a warmer haori for the snowy seasons.

How dare he...

...She squeezed it so hard that she almost damaged the wooden handles.

" How dare he do this to me twice !? "

On a gray day at the end of winter, a day that looked like all the others, the redhead had left no trace of his former presence.

He was a wanderer.

Kenshin Himura had resumed his travelling.

#rurouni kenshin #sesshatetsuko #samurai x #fanfiction #see you in life beyond #himura kenshin #anime / manga #fanfiction.net

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