Fresh
Truth
Soujirou smiled.
He always smiled.
It was he did. To hide his pain, to squash his emotions, to scare and confuse his enemies. He had never thought that some day, some day, someone would see through his smile.
Usually, usually, people never had any time to consider his motives, his actions, his movements. A quick movement, a slash, blood, and they were dead.
One, two, three... the bodies had continued to stack up, to crowd around him. People he had killed, without remorse, or pity. There hadn't been mercy, and Soujirou did not understand how mercy could be equated with strength.
Then he had shaken his head, remembering Shishio's words. Pity, sympathy, kindness... these were weaknesses. Soujirou could not forget.
Soujirou excelled at being fast, at being silent and deadly. He killed, that will his skill. He served Shishio, that was his purpose. It was simple. That was how he saw it. That was how it was.
There was never any doubt, any reflection, on the supposed wrongness of murder and destruction. There were orders, that he obeyed, dutifully. There was nothing else. Death was always near, and he could resist. Then, he had no desire to.
He had never questioned the orders Shishio had given. All those years ago, Shishio had given him strength, the ability to fight and be strong. This was life, this was strength, to kill, to kill, to kill.
The Battousai was coming.
Soujirou found himself excited. He restrained himself however, from expressing this to Yumi or Shishio. He thought perhaps that Shishio knew. Shishio would know.
They knew the Battousai's secrets. He had not killed since the furor of Revolution. Soujirou could not comprehend the weakness. His skills must surely have weakened. The katana was for killing and death, and with it, the katana would bring more violence.
Soujirou remembered, sitting, waiting and watching, perched high up in a tree. He was spying on the Battousai. Peering through a spyglass.
His senses were heightened to the Battousai, every time he heard that name: Kenshin Himura, Soujirou shivered. Back then, he had still be in great awe of the Battousai. This man was legendary across Japan.
Envied his greatness, as well as despising the weaknesses of the man that Shishio loathed. During the Revolution Kenshin Himura had killed thousands. Mibu Wolves, samurai of the Shogun, and surely, surely, someone innocent.
The Battousai had to be tainted, in such a manner. There was no possible manner that the Battousai could have remained free of death. His hands, his clothes
Kenshin Himura was the Battousai. He laughed, he cooked, he did the laundry and he did not kill. The blade was there, waiting, yet he did not kill.
Death had been the Battousai's business, and duty and dream the Battousai must have done well. His name was revered and feared across the whole of Japan.
It was what Shishio desired, for his name to be prominent, to be feared as the greatest samurai in Japan. Conquest was what Shishio believed would enable his purpose.
At first Soujirou had not know about this. The true thoughts of Shishio. First, first Soujirou had thought that Shishio wanted to change Japan. It had become weak, quickly after the Revolution. Shishio had hated the weakness. How it had been terrified of his strength, and burned his body. Shishio was strong still, powerful and dangerous. Japan was slowly, surely growing weaker and Shishio was ready to strike.
Few now remembered Shishio, believing him long dead. A burnt, damaged corpse long eaten away by insects and worms. Those who did, begged the Battousai. Sure of their own weakness. They could not reckon with the power of Shishio.
And Soujirou was ready, as Shishio's right hand man to see Shishio take his position of strength in Japan. Soujirou could see no sense in the weak ruling where the strong should. A blade was better.
Shishio bathed, and Yumi attended to him, a smug smile lighting her sensual features. Yumi was Shishio's woman. Soujirou had long acknowledged that, respected yet still wondering internally what her precise value was.
The air was heavy with steam, the faint tang of metal and blood, as well as Yumi's rich alluring scent. Soujirou remained calm, through he was eagerly looking forward to the Battousai.
He was near.
Shishio knew as well, and the man was unexpectedly amused.
Soujirou knew the plan. He would follow it to the letter, whatever the consequences. This was his duty, his loyalty to Shishio. He would not follow his own impulses.
Closer, closer.
He wasn't alone. Soujirou was entirely surprised. There had been spies watching, and from what Soujirou had gathered from Tokyo, the Battousai had the habit of attracting people.
Though, the Mibu Wolf was entirely surprising. It was almost disquieting, that these two sworn enemies of long years, were standing side by side, aligned against Shishio. It challenged the fight that has occurred at the dojo, and Soujirou promised himself, that Saito would have to be investiagted again. Soujirou wished the man would have allied himself with Shishio, there was no doubting his skill.
Soujirou, however, was assured of Shishio's strength. Shishio had never been defeated, that Soujirou had seen.
There couldn't be doubts.
Arrogance would lead to his downfall. It was going accordingly to plan. However, and a quick glance at Shishio, revealed that another aspect of their plan was not going according to plan.
The man boasted about death count, and yet was not even able to ensure that the Battousai unleashes one of his techniques on himself. Soujirou still smiled. It would go well. He believed it.
The Wolf was seemed quite casual, yet Soujirou that one movement that left himself undefended and there would be a blade at his throat. Soujirou knew he was quicker but, and had no worries.
The girl, judging from her outfit, was a ninja, was not a threat.
Shishio's orders would go on as planned.
He was strong. There was doubt of that, and yet his blade was reversed, Soujirou's eyes narrowed slightly at that. What was the purpose of a blade that did not kill?
That was the purpose of a katana, to slay, to be strong, to kill. That was the purpose!
The Battousai went into a familiar stance, Soujirou mirroring his motions. The Battousai would not kill.
Their blade met. Broken in half, Himura's blade fell and embedded itself in the ground with a dull thunk. Victory spread through his body.
Crack.
His blade destroyed. The fight was over.
Soujirou smiled, watching Himura heave, eyes intent on his ruined katana.
He had to report to Shishio now.
AN: Thank you everyone for your reveiws.