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Night-Painted Hearts - Part 4

A Rurouni Kenshin x Tokyo Babylon fanfiction by Ariane Kovacevic, AKA Fuu-chan.





Birds were singing on the far side of the world, their songs echoing at the other end of the sky.

The shapeless, absurd patches of green before my eyes slowly came into focus, and a word formed in my abused mind. All around me, the music of the cicadas was rising in the morning air, replacing that of the crickets. Belatedly, I realized that a new day had dawned. Hours had passed without my being aware of them; it was only now that my body had managed to free itself from the dangerous blankness which came over me whenever I attempted something which flirted with the limits of my talent.

My eyelids were growing heavy, now that I had become aware of myself again, and fighting against sleep was starting to feel more and more absurd. I blinked, and focused on my breathing. It was hard to do so, my body remembered dancing a bit too close to death, and it needed rest. Now that the danger was past, I was left empty, almost completely deprived of all energy and will. Even the ceremonial robes were feeling heavy and alien, an unwelcome burden I was too exhausted to do so much as shed.

I was alone on the porch, Shinomori Aoshi had respected my request to the letter: nobody had come to disturb me. With a weary smile, I thought that he had to be by young Makimachi Misao's side at this time, as well as most of the restaurant's personnel. I nodded as a slight shift in the aura of the place confirmed my thoughts: the young woman had awoken.

Good. Relief filled my heart, and I leaned a bit more against the wooden pole which had been my anchor during the second half of the night.

"I'll fetch them. Can you wait here, please?"

"Yes."

Voices...cold. From somewhere very far away, I felt my body shivering. I had started drifting away and cold had taken advantage of the weakness to seep into my bones, cold which came from utter exhaustion and robbed the body of strength. Fortunately, the voices had held me back in time. The thought faded as quickly as it had come, discarded by a brain too tired to even understand it. I shivered again. All that I knew was that ice was flowing through my body, replacing the blood in my veins, and that I couldn't even find the strength to hug myself.

So cold.

Steps echoed in the air, in harmony with my heartbeats, and then came to an abrupt stop. I thought I heard a sharp intake of breath, and dimly wondered whether I looked funny, kneeling beside my wooden pole and leaning on it with my whole weight like a drunkard.

"Tokio...." Yes, the voice was familiar. It was-- "Damn it, what are you doing here, woman?" Unable to help myself, I turned my head towards the source of that voice, slowly. I was feeling like a swimmer about to drown; each movement was hard and difficult, an almost impossible challenge. Eventually, my eyes discovered a man bent over me.

Tall, lean, the lines of his body as hard as those of his angular face, which looked like it had been sculpted by the wind.

Amber eyes, wolf's eyes, merciless and wild, cold and burning.

And some rare times, so gentle.

I looked at him numbly, uncomprehending. He couldn't be here, it didn't make sense. He reached out to me and carefully chased away locks of hair which had invaded my face.

Touch.

I felt that. There was a painful knot deep inside my chest. It was hurting whenever I breathed air inside my lungs, it was radiating through my whole body, and it was growing. No.

Of its own volition, my left hand reached up towards him in a slow, trembling movement. Halfway to his face, it stopped. I didn't have enough strength to complete the movement. "Hajime," I whispered faintly, disbelieving.

His hand closed over mine before it could fall back against my body. Warm, was the absurd thought which formed inside me. He was warm, while I was drowning into an ocean of ice. Nothing of this was making sense, nothing of this was happening. This is so ludicrous it's funny. Something which might have been laughter came up my throat.

"You're wounded," the illusion said, and he pulled my hand towards him to examine it. My whole body followed the movement, and I fell against him like a broken doll. "Tokio?!" Was there anger in the harsh whisper? "Damn you, what have you done?"

The knot deep inside my chest tore itself apart. "You're truly here." My voice was toneless. Arms came around me, and I suddenly realized that I was trembling. I rested my brow against the hard fabric of what looked like a police uniform. "I'm cold."

In answer, his arms held me a bit tighter, and he whispered in my ear, "I know."

Gentle. I closed my eyes to hold back the stupid tears that I could feel welling in them, refusing to shame the both of us. When my shoulders shook with silent sobs as the tension of the night brutally left me, I felt one of his hands brushing through my hair in a tender caress.

"Can you stand on your own?"

I thought about the question for a while, and eventually replied, "I'm too cold." Between clenched teeth, I added, "I'm so tired, Hajime. So tired...I'm sorry." A distant part of me knew that I wasn't being coherent, but it was all I could do to hold myself together. The emotional backlash of the night combined to the sight and feeling of the man I loved whom I hadn't seen in more than six months was threatening the little bit of control I still had over myself.

He snorted against me, and then whispered, "It's all right." His lips brushed against my left cheek in the ghost of a kiss, then all of a sudden he lifted me up in his arms as if I had been but a small child.

"Hajime!" the startled protestation, weak, came through my lips before I could stifle it.

"Once you've rested, I'll have all the details of what led to this stupid mess." To anyone else, his voice would have sounded devoid of any emotion whatsoever, but I could hear the subtle undertones in it.

Anger.

Worry.

Frustration.

Relief.

And another one I was afraid to name lest it'd disappear.

I buried my head against his shoulder, breathing in his scent and drinking in the feeling of him like an opium addict begging for more.

"What are you doing?!" The exclamation tore apart the fog which had started to close over my mind again.

Shinomori Aoshi. I blinked as the realization of what must be happening dawned on me: the Oniwabanshu leader had come to check on me to discover a stranger taking me away.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm taking care of this exhausted Onmyouji since you don't have enough brains to do so." There was cold anger mixed with the mocking sarcasm. I felt a slow blush come to my cheeks, which helped the cold somewhat. "Lead me to a room so I can let her sleep and rest. Then we'll talk, Shinomori."

Shinomori.

So my husband knew the leader of Oniwabanshu, but.... Unable to think coherently any longer, I closed my eyes and let go of the world.




Closing my eyes, I focused on the feeling of water dripping down my body. It was cold, but that served to finish waking me up, like it always did. For a while I stood immobile in the Aoiya's bathroom, taking long, deep breaths.

Seeking and finding balance at the core of my being.

Strength.

With a short nod and a smile, I cut short to my slight trance and started to dress up. I was whole again, after a few hours of absolute oblivion. Once I was done fastening my hakama, I adjusted the jacket and sighed in contentment.

I was feeling alive again.

There was a slight pang when I slid the bathroom's door shut. I had only walked a few steps when I was met by one of the restaurant's serving girls. "This way, please, Sumeragi-sama." I bowed and followed the young woman towards a room at the first floor of the building. True to his word, Saitou Hajime had let me rest for as long as I needed, and now he wanted to hear explanations. I grinned for myself, half of a mind to tell him that the Sumeragi's business was none of his concern. That would have infuriated him to no end.

Petty vengeance. With an almost inaudible sigh, I admitted that it would indeed have been petty to do that, even if the Wolf deserved it at least in part for being the absent husband that he was.

The elusive ghost that he was.

Waking up alone in the morning hurt, even though I was more than used to it. The lopsided grin on my face turned into a thin, humorless smile as I chased the useless thoughts and their court of emotions away.

When I entered the room, my eyes discovered a sight which would have sent me into a laughing fit, had I not kept a tight rein over myself. Shinomori Aoshi and my husband were facing each other in silence like sullen, sulking statues while the old man who seemed to be the restaurant's manager was quietly sipping at a steaming cup of tea. As he caught sight of me, his eyes widened and his face lit into a smile.

"Ah, Sumeragi-san, welcome!" He grinned, winking at me as he added, "Perhaps your presence will bring peace over this battlefield here." I brought a hand to my lips to stifle a chuckle that I couldn't hold back any longer.

"Alas, I doubt that very much," I told the old man as I knelt in front of him. I whispered quiet thanks as a serving girl brought me a cup of tea and closed my eyes, breathing in its perfume. I took a small sip from it, then looked at both the old man and the Oniwabanshu leader, saying softly, "I hope all is well with Makimachi-san now."

The old man bowed, touching his brow to his knees, and then replied in a carefully controlled voice, "She is well, yes, thanks to you. She woke up shortly after dawn. As you warned us, she's very weak, but she'll be whole again very soon."

A warm smile came to my lips when I heard that, and I told him, "I'm glad it's so, and I'm glad I could help she who protected Kyoto from the mad designs of Shishio Makoto."

The telltale sound of a match being cracked abruptly disrupted the quiet atmosphere left by my and the old man's words. I turned on the left to see the Wolf lighting up a cigarette and bringing it to his mouth. "All right," he exhaled a small puff of smoke, saying with barely hidden sarcasm in his voice, "now that forms and politeness have been respected, can I have a detailed explanation of what transpired here?"

Inwardly snorting, I thought that Saitou Hajime would never learn diplomacy. Short and to the point, that was the Wolf's way. Sharp, and deadly accurate. On my right, Shinomori Aoshi didn't even deign reply, apparently unmoved by the threat there had been in my husband's voice. Choosing my words carefully for I didn't know whether he wanted our relationship to be known, I told the Wolf in a soft voice, "And why is this question being asked?"

An angry puff of smoke rose in the air, then he retorted, mocking, "I thought that *the* Sumeragi could recognize a police uniform. I'm investigating a criminal matter, and I'll have all the information and facts in your possession."

"It's a personal matter, none of your business, Saitou." The Oniwabanshu leader's patient, quiet voice was a stark contrast to my husband's.

Laughter, harsh, rose in the room. "Oh please, Shinomori." There was a cold fire shining in the Wolf of Mibu's amber eyes. "Let's stop this game of fools. We both know that the weasel girl is nothing more than the latest victim of an assassin who seems to enjoy dispatching low-ranking politicians while they're busy indulging themselves in the Shimabara quarter." After drawing once more on his cigarette, he went on quietly, "I'll give you that the attempt on the weasel girl was specifically designed to draw you out, but you give yourself too much credit if you truly believe that a dozen of men have been killed solely to attract your attention..." lazily, he crushed the remains of his cigarette in a small bowl designed for that very purpose, and added with an unpleasant grin, "and I don't think you're still that much of a fool."

My heart skipped a beat when I saw the expression on Shinomori Aoshi's face.

Closed.

Shutting the world out.

His aura was feeling wrong...was wrong.

He.... Abruptly, the Wolf's words registered in my brain, and their meaning struck home. In a hiss, I asked, "A single assassin? The same for these men and Makimachi-san?" My hands closed into tight fists, I shook my head in a slow motion. No. No, dear spirits, I don't want this to be, it can't be!

"Yes, which is why I'm interested in all that the Sumeragi can tell me about what happened." Hajime's eyes were set on me as he said this, intent and merciless. Knowing. Aware of what memories his words were evoking within me.

Aware of the pain that went with them.

"Onmyouji." I took a deep breath, and then faced the Wolf, who alone knew what it cost me to simply envision the possibility he had hinted at. I faced the man that I loved, and went on, "It was an Onmyouji's spell which ailed Makimachi-san." A defiant smile came to my face. "But not *his*. I'd know him, I'd recognize his touch in the shaping of a spell, and it wasn't his."

"Whose, then?"

I blinked, taken aback by the violence in the question, and gave him a helpless shrug. "I don't know. It was a strange spell: horribly strong, beautiful and lethal, perfectly shaped, and yet..." I sighed, adding, "it left a place for failure. It wasn't designed to kill immediately but instead it left a significant amount of time during which one could have sought out the caster to force him to free the victim from the spell."

The Wolf snorted at that, interrupting me. "To seek out the caster, or to find someone like you who could counter it."

I shook my head, explaining, "No. That spell was perfect, none of the Onmyouji families known to the Sumeragi clan could have countered it or cast it, and even if the assassin suspected that we perhaps might be able to break his creation, it's well known that I refuse to deal with anyone or anything tied to either sides involved in the struggles of the end of the Bakumatsu and the Meiji Restoration." Waving in a fatalistic gesture, I added, "I intervened in this matter because Makimachi-san once protected Kyoto from fire. Had this debt not existed...." I allowed the rest of my phrase to remain unsaid and shrugged again. "In any case, it was a strange spell to use. If he had truly been set on killing Makimachi-san, he could have done so. That attempt doesn't match what I know of the way of my clan's shadow."

The Sakurazukamori wouldn't have allowed his prey to escape.

Keisuke wouldn't have left a single chance to Makimachi Misao. I repeated the thought in my mind, as if it had been an incantation.

There was another cracking sound as Saitou Hajime lit himself a second cigarette, and silence settled over the room while he drew on it. There was still that frightening absence of life in Shinomori Aoshi's eyes. He had walled himself away, but still I could feel the unbalance in his aura. A personal matter, was how he had qualified the attempt on the young woman's life. That had had the ring of truth, which meant that he knew more about this than he was telling...not that he had said much of anything until now.

"There are too many pieces which don't match in this jigsaw puzzle," the Wolf exhaled the smoke slowly, shaking his head, "and I can't see where you fit in, Shinomori."

"Have you considered the fact that this assassin might be pursuing different objectives, fulfilling multiple contracts at the same time, and using some of his targets to reach others?" The old man's quiet voice startled me. He had remained silent all the time, and I had almost forgotten about him.

Hajime laughed at those words. "I see the Okina is true to the legends told about him." Eyes narrowing in thought, he added quietly, "The idea crossed my mind, but I don't have enough elements to decide one way or another, which is why I'd appreciate it if Shinomori would be so kind as to enlighten me in this matter."

The Wolf's words lingered in the room, but didn't meet any reply. Eventually, the Oniwabanshu leader stood up and then stepped out of the room in silence. Pausing with one hand resting against the sliding panel, he said without turning back, "I don't have anything for you. I don't know evil's mind, I only know her smile."

The door closed over Shinomori Aoshi's words, and I stared at it, numb.

Her?




Makimachi Misao's aura was still weak, but it shone a bit brighter with each second that passed. The young woman's face was somewhat pale, as if she had just recovered from a fever. She was strong, I could feel the pulse of her life steadily flowing through her body. She had a good heart; it wouldn't take her long to recover. A week at most, a few days if she heeded my advice and accepted to remain tucked in bed, resting.

"Thank you, I owe you my life." The young woman was smiling at me, but the quiet flame dancing in her eyes told me that she was very serious. She knew that she had come very close to death.

I shook my head, smiling back. "You owe me nothing, Makimachi-san. I've just repaid a debt, nothing more." When I saw the look of incomprehension flashing in her eyes, I added, "You saved Kyoto when my clan couldn't act. We hold power over the spiritual but we cannot stop a thousand fires from being lit all over the city. You're the one who was able to accomplish that miracle." Noticing the blush coming to the girl's cheeks, I waved my own words away as unimportant, and asked her in a quiet voice, "Can you tell me anything about the one who tried to take your life?"

There was a short moment of silence while Makimachi Misao's gaze turned inwards. Eventually, she said in a surprisingly steady voice, "It was a woman, I heard her voice, soft and beautiful. There was an impression of cold as well. Terrible cold..." she shivered in remembrance, then went on, "and I'm sure I wasn't the one she wanted. She told me that I was an uninvited guest, and also that I could be useful to her." The veil which had come over the young woman's eyes reluctantly disappeared as she forced a smile to her lips and concluded, "That's all I can remember. I'm sorry I can't help you more, Sumeragi-san."

I sketched a bow and stood up, telling her with a warm smile, "Don't worry, you've helped me a lot as it is." Before leaving her to her rest, I advised her one last time, "Don't forget what I told you. Don't resist sleep if you feel it coming. It'll take some days for your strength to fully return."

While I silently slid the bedroom's door shut, I thought about what young Misao had told me. It was likely that Hajime had been correct in his assumption that the Onmyouji had in truth been after Shinomori Aoshi's life. That the assassin was in fact a woman had come as half a surprise: there had been an undefinable quality in the perfection of her spell, as well as in the feeling of her presence when she had come to check on the result of her action. What had led Makimachi Misao to walk the streets of Shimabara in the middle of the night was unclear; the girl appeared to be reluctant to tell even her kin about that. I could only surmise that she had gotten wind of the assassin's targeting the Oniwabanshu leader.

Sighing, I shrugged my reflections away. This whole matter wasn't my concern any longer. My help had been requested, and I had granted it. The rest was up to Shinomori Aoshi and the police, whose job it was to solve crimes and protect--

Hell.

Fool, you stupid, blind fool! In long strides, I hurried along the corridor leading to the stairs, cursing my stupidity.

"My, what a stormy face, Sumeragi-san." I jumped, startled, and saw the old man called the Okina coming up the stairs.

Bowing shortly, I told him, "I'm sorry, I was lost in thoughts. I just checked on Makimachi-san, and all is well with her." Just as I was about to walk away, I froze and asked him on impulse, "Ojii-san, would you know where the policeman has gone to, if he hasn't already left your house?"

The old man's smile left his lips and he replied, in earnest, "You missed him by a few minutes, Sumeragi-san. He's gone." He paused for a few seconds, then said, his eyes set on me, "Tonight, the moon will still be full, and the assassin will strike somewhere in the Shimabara quarter. That's her signature."

A signature?

Was there a pattern in the murders, then? A recognizable sign, left on purpose?

Left to be found.

To be found by those who knew how to look.

The Oniwabanshu members.

The Wolf.

"I saw the light in Saitou Hajime's eyes when he left the Aoiya." Belatedly, I realized that the old man was still talking. He had looked away from me, his eyes set on some imaginary point in the restaurant's inner garden. In a distant voice, he said, "The Wolf of Mibu will be out hunting tonight." With a weary sigh, he added, "It's too soon, but then I am an old man who doesn't like taking unnecessary risks. Perhaps, if there is someone who is versed in matters of Onmyoujutsu and who cares about what happens to him, perhaps this person should warn him, and stop him before he makes a mistake."

The Wolf of Mibu will be out hunting tonight. I shook my head helplessly, my mind reeling as the thought echoed inside it, amplifying with each second. I reached out and leaned the palm of my left hand against a wall to steady myself.

Damn him.

Damn my fool of a husband to hell!

Forcing air out of my lungs, I willed the fog choking my brain to lift. Then I realized that the old man whose nickname was that of a mask of No had faced me again, and was staring at me steadily. Nodding at him, I said as I started down the stairs, "My thanks, Ojii-san." Closing my eyes, I chased away the image of the gentleness and compassion that had been written all over the old man's face.

I have no time for this. No time for emotions, no time to waste with them impairing my mind. Once again the Wolf was out after a prey who was beyond him, a prey he didn't, couldn't understand.

A prey who might very well turn into a hunter, a hunter who couldn't be distracted by games of cat and mouse with a Sumeragi woman like Keisuke had been.

After asking for directions, I ran in the corridor on my right, uncaring of the noise which was rising in my wake. Before I could go after Saitou Hajime, I needed a minimum of information.

And I knew where to get it.

I stopped before a door, right at the far end of the corridor, and pulled it open without tapping lightly on it to announce my intrusion.

I didn't give a damn about propriety in this moment.

Shinomori Aoshi didn't even move when I entered the room, he kept facing some point in the wall in front of him, meditating. I slammed the door shut behind me, and asked in a deceptively quiet voice, "Where can I find the assassin?"

Silence was my only answer. I waited for a few seconds, then stepped right in front of the Oniwabanshu leader . Kneeling face to him, I said in a pleasant voice, "I asked you a question, Shinomori-san, and I'll have an answer to it."

Slowly, reluctantly, the man's night-blue eyes focused on me, and he said with infuriating calm, "It's not your concern, Sumeragi-san. This is a personal matter."

Reaching out to smooth a fold on my hakama, I told him conversationally, "A personal matter?" Ice seeped into my voice as I went on, cold fury which was rising from the core of my being, "More than twelve men you know nothing about are dead, and you call this mess a personal matter? Your life is worth much more than that of ordinary mortals, it would seem, Shinomori-san." A fugitive light flickered in his eyes, unreadable, and I decided to hammer the point home. Allowing contempt to be plainly heard in my voice, I told him, "Think what you will, after all it doesn't matter to me in the slightest. Tonight there's going to be another full moon, and a man will die. Another will join him if you don't tell me what I need to know. You yourself haven't reacted, you've never played into the assassin's game even though you're very much aware of what's going on, since a part of the trap at least is aimed at you. You haven't acted because you know you're powerless against that assassin, and because that realization has sparked fear inside your heart--"

"You don't understand anything!" A cold smile came to my lips as I heard the vehemence in the Oniwabanshu leader's voice. My arrow had hit its target full center, and we both knew it.

Shrugging off his words, I countered, "That may be, but I know one thing: tonight Saitou Hajime will be on the hunt for your assassin, and if you don't tell me where she's likely to strike, he'll be running to his own death. I won't let that happen, and you're going to help me, Shinomori Aoshi-san, because you owe me..." in a low, angry whisper, I went on, "you owe me for throwing my life in the balance to fool your assassin when she came to check whether Makimachi-san was indeed dead." Taking a deep breath, I concluded in a deadly quiet voice, "So you'll tell me where in Shimabara the assassin will strike tonight."

My words faded into silence, and Shinomori Aoshi and I faced each other, unmoving, for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, he bowed his head and sighed. "She follows a five-pointed star pattern. Tonight she will strike on the north-eastern edge of the Shimabara quarter."

I gave him a short nod of thanks, and then stood up.

As I left the room, I bowed my head again, aware that I had hurt a man who didn't need more burdens on his shoulders than those he was already bearing. While my anger slowly receded, the vision of Shinomori Aoshi came to the fore of my mind, and I clenched my teeth.

Weariness.

Fear.

Determination.

Shame.

Shaking my head, I chased the memory of the emotions which had been floating around him away, and hurried out of the Aoiya. Outside, the sun was setting.




Games of cat and mouse are a fascinating thing. The feline will play and toy with its prey for as long as possible, bringing it on the brink of death and then waiting for it to regain a bit of strength instead of dealing it the killing blow.

Instead of freeing it.

Because the hunt is everything, it's blood rushing through your veins, it's adrenaline setting your body on fire.

It's life.

It's delight.

It's death.

It's pleasure.

The young woman smiles as she dances to the beautiful sounds of a shamisen. The music resounds inside of her, in harmony with the beatings of her heart, while she watches the man who's kneeling on the other side of the room through her half-lidded eyes. A flutter of her long eyelashes as she moves her right arm in a perfect arc, revealing her face in a slow and lazy movement, and a smile appears on the man's face.

Laughter, silent, resounds through the young woman's being. Laughter, because the unsuspecting prey reacts exactly as it's supposed to. Laughter, because she has pushed the cat's game to true perfection. Sometimes, it happens that the mouse surprises its hunter and wins free, because somehow it manages to escape the pattern the cat has set for it.

No prey can escape her.

Because the pattern of the hunt isn't hers, it's her preys'. They slowly weave the web around their lives, unaware, and she watches as it slowly starts to shine. They cannot escape, because they are the ones who imprison themselves.

Some are stronger than others, some resist the temptation longer than others, but in the end they all yield. They're only human, and one cannot deny one's inner nature, no matter how one tries.

While her prey keeps entangling himself in a web of his own making, the young woman allows her mind to dwell for a short moment on Shinomori Aoshi. The leader of Oniwabanshu has changed since the day when she met him under the Sakura. He has grown.

And he has learnt how to dance.

Bowing her head in a willowy movement to hide the feral smile on her lips, she chides herself for not paying enough attention to her prey of the night. Delightful though he is, Shinomori Aoshi will still fall into his own trap, in the web he started weaving around himself on that day, one lifetime ago when his heart was the color of night.

She ends the dance and kneels in front of her prey in a single movement of such fluid beauty that the man stares at her with his mouth agape for a few seconds.

Today, we'll know if you have truly mastered the hunt. Keisuke-ojisan's words. She can still feel his smile as he said them. And as he found out in the instant of his death, she has.

She's raised the art to heights not even he had dreamed of.

Reaching out to her prey, she caresses the shining web around his life with ethereal fingers.

She's the link between life an death.

She's the painter of Fate.




Saitou Hajime sighed as he negligently threw away what was left of his cigarette. Leaning back against the back wall of an inn, he looked up at the rising full moon. He didn't like the Shimabara quarter, he didn't like having to stalk an assassin inside this maze of small streets and narrow, dark alleyways. The opposing side had too much of an unfair advantage, and he didn't usually start a game in such unfavorable conditions.

But I'm rapidly running out of options.

Better to take the initiative than to eventually be forced to step into the game when and where he'd be expected to. Lighting himself yet another cigarette, the Wolf silently cursed Shinomori Aoshi to hell. The Oniwabanshu leader had key elements in his possession, there was no doubt about that, but for some unfathomable reason he refused to reveal his trump cards.

Shinomori was afraid, that at least Saitou Hajime had clearly picked up during his conversation of sorts with the taciturn man. Afraid wasn't even the right word, not truly. There had been something akin to terror darkening the Oniwabanshu leader's eyes. Fear, raw and primal, an emotion which didn't belong with the incredibly talented ninja.

Then, there was Tokio. How the stupid woman had once more managed to stumble in the middle of such a mess was beyond the Wolf's understanding. Either she had a knack for falling headlong into really bad problems, or it was the Sumeragi's personal curse to be confronted to dirty situations like this one, generation after generation.

Briefly, Saitou Hajime's thoughts turned towards the shadow of his wife's clan. Sakurazuka Keisuke wasn't a part of this, at least. The Wolf knew that he could trust Tokio's judgement when she said the spell hadn't been of his making. Besides, the one tiny hint that Shinomori had dropped before fleeing the discussion clearly indicated that the assassin was in fact a woman.

This is all oddly fitting, he decided with a humorless smile on his lips as the delicate, crystalline laughter of women reached his ears, rising in the night and coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. After a last draw on his cigarette, he exhaled a long puff of smoke and flicked the remains away in a nonchalant wave of the hand. It was high time he set out to work. He didn't intend to catch the assassin, far from it, he just wanted to observe what he was up against, and to understand. It would have been more convenient to use one of his informants, but Saitou Hajime knew he could depend only on himself for this. Those working for him had reached their limits in disclosing the assassin's pattern, and all he'd have gained by sending one in his place would have been a dead man. Wasting personnel in that fashion would have been futile, so he was the one doing the direct information gathering, for once.

He was very much aware of the danger, he knew that Makimachi Misao had fallen into the same trap he was now willingly stepping into, but there were differences. Contrary to the weasel girl, he understood the truth of the situation, and what was more he wouldn't be expected whereas the young woman, due to her closeness with the Oniwabanshu leader, had been.

But nobody ever expected the Wolf, that was the way of things. Besides, who better than a hunter to know the mind of an assassin? Pushing himself away from the wall, Saitou Hajime stepped silently into the night, one with it.

One with the darkness.

He didn't have to walk for long. Less than ten minutes later, he reached his destination: the north-eastern edge of the Shimabara quarter, where the assassin would strike, if she followed her established pattern. There was no reason for her not to: that pattern was part of the bait she had set for Shinomori Aoshi.

Shinomori Aoshi, who stubbornly refused to fall for her trap.

With a mocking snort, the Wolf conceded that there might perhaps be some sense in the Oniwabanshu leader's attitude. The reflection of a ray of moonlight on the glass of a window caught Saitou Hajime's attention, and he focused on his surroundings. There wasn't anything special in the vicinity, except for the rich inn right in front of him which had been built in a careful imitation of Western style with doors that were pulled open and windows made of glass. It was making a stark contrast with the other buildings, one that the Wolf didn't particularly like; but it seemed to be the way things went in Japan these days: fascination for anything Western, without wondering whether it was beneficial or even useful.

Refocusing on the building, Saitou Hajime wondered whether the assassin would choose a victim among the people enjoying themselves in this costly establishment. The place was a well known machiai-seiji, and one could hear the faint sounds of a shamisen as well as the delicate women's laughter haunting then night now and then. The perfume of incense was filling the air, sure sign that there were guests being entertained in this moment.

Given her previous choice of victims, it seemed logical that the assassin would select a prey among this particular inn's customers. Resting his back against a wall and half-hiding himself in its shadows, the Wolf of Mibu settled himself for what he hoped wouldn't be too long a wait.

He wasn't disappointed. Soon, the inn's door opened to let out a young man, alone. Eyes narrowing, Saitou Hajime focused on him, the Wolf's fine instincts reacting to invisible signs only a hunter could feel.

A sudden stillness in the atmosphere.

A deep hush in the night.

Something vaguely frightening in the silence.

"So, I have another uninvited guest tonight."

Saitou Hajime's heart skipped a beat and he froze, his left hand resting lightly over the hilt of his katana. Keeping absolutely still, he strained his ears in a futile attempts at pinpointing the location of the voice's source.

Laughter abruptly rose into the night, coming from nowhere. Beautiful woman's laughter, gently mocking, which caressed him like the wind. "I truly didn't expect you. I had overlooked you, somehow. A bad mistake on my part, and credit to your abilities, Saitou Hajime-san. The Wolf from Mibu is indeed a formidable hunter. It was rude of me to have omitted the name of the ex-captain of the third troops of the Shinsengumi on my list. Rest assured that this mistake will be corrected."

A cold hand was closing over Saitou Hajime. Fear. He laughed into the face of the absurd emotion. He knew fear and death, he had known them for as far as he could remember. Old enemies, they were, as close as a lover, almost. He tried to feel for a ken-ki anywhere, focusing on the night around him, but there was nothing to be felt.

Only the wind.

A cold, traitorous breeze which had risen and was deforming all the sounds, amplifying some and muffling others without a pattern, making it completely impossible for the Wolf to feel where the attack would come from.

"Hajime! Ushiro!"

There was no time to think. Trusting the familiar voice on instinct, Saitou Hajime whirled around, his katana drawn in a blurred movement, too fast for the eyes to see, just in time to feel a furious wind slapping his face. An eerie, savage wind.

Born from the beating of a myriad of wings.




Sat in the shadow of an inn's main door, I waited, praying that my understanding of the Wolf's mind was correct: he would idly stroll around the Shimabara quarter, and come to his true destination as the time grew near so as not to raise suspicion. With a grimace, I thought that there was no danger for me to appear suspect: there was a flask of sake set next to me, and a faint scent of alcohol was seeping into the air around me.

The tableau that I had painted wasn't a flattering one. Any person who'd see me would immediately label me as a half-drunk bodyguard waiting for his master, a harmless fool who wasn't worth a tenth of his wages.

Time passed, minutes crawling slower than an eternity, until at last I got a glimpse of a shadow gliding in silence against a wall. Anyone other than me would have missed the elusive sight, but I had focused my whole being on him, on the feeling of him. Just as I had expected, he settled more or less comfortably and waited for his prey to reveal itself.

A wolf, indeed.

Less than five minutes later, one of the guests of the inn that I had chosen as a hiding place came out and proceeded to walk back home, more or less steady on his feet. He didn't even see me.

Shiver.

Inaudible bell chime, rising in the night.

My whole body tensed as an alien presence touched my wards...and didn't feel them. Before my eyes, a spell came into being, beautiful pattern of light.

Invocation.

For the time of a heartbeat, Time froze, and a deep hush came over the place. On the other side of the street, the hunter had frozen as well, perhaps aware of the presence of danger.

But unable to feel it coming.

Unable to defend himself.

Hunter turned into prey.

"Hajime! Ushiro!" My voice rang loud and clear in the air, breaking the other Onmyouji's hold on the darkness. When the man I loved turned to face the threat, then night in front of him erupted into a storm of beating wings as a myriad of shikigami came into being in answer to the other Onmyouji's call.

Almost, I moved to break the other's spell.

Almost.

No. Beware. The inner voice stopped me just as I was about to reveal myself. Instead, I reached for one of the ofudas stored in the pocket of my left sleeve, and focused on simple words, on a simple shield that any Onmyouji could have raised. Less than five steps away from me, the Wolf's sword was flying, his blade flashes of light as it caught the rays of the full moon. He was fast, his speed almost inhuman, but all that the magnificent weapon could strike was air.

Closing my eyes for a fraction of a second, I focused my mind and visualized the street. Then, I flung myself forward.

Ichi. I stuck my first ofuda against the wall on Hajime's right.

Ni. I stuck the second down on the pavement behind him.

San. I held the final ofuda right in front of me between forefinger and middle finger, offering myself as a target.

Then I released the words and chanted the shield into being. All of a sudden, the furious wind abated, and silence fell over the street, absolute. On the outside of the kekkai, I could see the shikigami battering at the ethereal defense, in vain. The spell the other Onmyouji had used really wasn't impressive, but then she couldn't have known about me.

She couldn't be allowed to know about me. That was what the inner voice had told me. Whether it had been instinct or a memory of my father's teachings, I didn't know, and it wasn't important. All that mattered was that I hadn't betrayed my presence. It was enough to let the assassin know that a nameless Onmyouji was countering her. To fully reveal myself, to reveal that the Sumeragi had moved to take a side where it was known she refused to would have been a very bad mistake.

"I see that the Wolf didn't exactly come unprepared and brought with him a pet magician. I'm impressed." Just as the echo of the beautiful, perfectly pitched voice faded into the night, there was a violent shift in the spiritual balance of the place.

And a firestorm savagely struck at my kekkai.

I saw and felt my ofudas lighting up like candles and being reduced to ashes in the blink of an eye. The fleeting thought formed in my mind to be immediately discarded, just as I discarded my broken shield as if it didn't matter.

Using the precious seconds that the assassin had expected me to waste in a futile attempt to salvage my doomed kekkai, I reached into my left sleeve's pocket for a single ofuda and slammed it on the ground at my feet.

A howling wind rose at my call, dispersing the flames and in the same time I stood, facing the night once more. Then, I reached out.

Yes.

With a feral smile on my lips, I followed in spirit the thin, tenuous lead that the spell of the assassin had left.

The line which linked it to her.

Quickly though it was fading, it was too late; there was no way she could hide herself from me in time.

Now.

I closed my hand into a fist, and felt the coldness of her wards as I tore through their delicate fabric. So cold that they felt like they burnt. And a smell filled my nostrils.

A subtle perfume that I knew.

Then, they appeared out of nowhere, blinding me.

Touching me.

They were flying all around me, enveloping me in a beautiful mantle of white delicately tainted with the faintest of pink shades. They filled my mind, and I cried out in silence. I cried out, with no voice to be heard.

Sakura!

The cloud of petal slowly freed my vision and revealed what I knew was waiting beyond it: the looming shape of an impossibly ancient Sakura tree.

Its root reaching deep into the heart of the land.

Its canopy of leaves and branches touching the sky.

NO! I wanted to turn away. I wanted to flee, to run until my heart burst. I wanted to release my hold on the spiritual.

But I couldn't.

Frozen in horror, I stared at the giant Sakura tree. I felt its all-encompassing presence crushing my being, invading my soul, and wished that I could scream.

"Tokio!" The cry barely reached me, muffled, choked by the storm of emotions which were enshrouding my mind. I heard it, but I didn't understand it. I didn't even recognize my own name.

Then a tearing pain exploded in my back, like the terribly shape blade of a katana cutting through the flesh, to be halted only by the bone. The shock made me blank out for a fraction of a second, and saved me. On instinct I focused on the pain and cloaked myself in it, held on to it for dear life, for sanity.

Alien presence, right behind me.

The perception, impossibly clear, flashed through my brain. Abruptly freed from the terrible vision of the ancient Sakura, my spirit no longer bound, held in thrall by the very feeling of it, I reacted on reflex. Going along with what was tearing at my back and yielding to the violent pull, I let myself fall backwards and twisted at the same time, holding out an ofuda.

I watched my right arm make a perfect arc, in a slow motion, and then it struck its target. Gathering what will I had left, I voiced a desperate spell. For a fleeting moment, my eyes caught sight of a great shikigami which looked like one of the wild mountain cats, and then it disappeared into the night, sent away by my spell.

"Next time, bring a stronger Onmyouji, and we'll play again. I'll be waiting for you, Saitou Hajime-san. I won't make the mistake of overlooking you again." Joyful laughter accompanied the voice, echoing in the night while I kept falling down. It seemed I was far away from the ground, so far away that it'd take an eternity before I eventually hit it

An eternity which allowed me to fully understand what had happened. I had followed my opponent's spell back to its source, and in so doing I had won through all her outer wards. She hadn't expected to be faced with an adversary who could steal past her defenses, unfelt and unseen. At no moment had she realized what had truly happened, or I'd never have managed to go so deep. The result of my action had been that I had reached the very heart of her shields.

The Sakura.

Set at the core of her wards, it watched over her, its looming shape overwhelming, its impossible strength guarding her against all possible attack. The very feeling of it had sent my mind reeling, had frozen my heart and almost made me lose my sanity.

Fool, was the thought which filled my brain as my body at last hit the ground. Fool, for not having thought this possible. Fool, for having gone out to confront an unknown assassin who used Onmyoujutsu to kill and for having refused to envision that she might be--

The Sakurazukamori.

The thought was a snarl, full of revulsion, fury and fear.

"Damn you, Tokio, answer me!" The voice and the feeling of an arm lifting me up, worsening the pain, freed me from the labyrinth that my mind had trapped itself into. Slowly, I came back to my body, and clenched my teeth so as not to cry out as the pain registered in my fogged brain.

I could feel blood, warm and viscous running down my back, likely coming from wounds inflicted by the Sakurazukamori's great shikigami. I blinked, abruptly realizing that the other Onmyouji's presence had completely disappeared, as if she'd been absorbed by the night. Then my eyes came into focus, and I saw the Wolf's face bent over me. For some reason, the sight and the thought both felt hilariously funny. There was blood on his left cheek, in his neck and on one shoulder at least. "You're wounded," I told him in a weak whisper.

He snorted. "Scratches, your shield protected me from the worst. The slashes in your back look deep. I'll take you back to the Sumeragi mansion."

"No!" I hissed, clutching at his sleeve as he moved to lift me up into his arms. "Not the Sumeragi mansion, I can't risk her finding out who I am. The Aoiya," between clenched teeth, I added, "Shinomori Aoshi has some explaining to do. Help me up."

He did so in silence, holding me up when I lost my balance. Stars danced before my eyes, and I bit my lower lip so I wouldn't howl the pain devouring my back. Breathing was a torture, and I couldn't even envision walking. "What happened to you? All of a sudden your face drained of color, as if all life had fled your body, and then the mountain cat appeared out of nowhere. My blade couldn't harm it, you didn't even try to defend yourself, you didn't even hear my voice--"

I laughed, then. A pitiful, croaking sound which was more sobs than laughter, and I spat, "The Sakurazukamori." Leaning against him, I added in a whisper, "Your assassin is the Sakurazukamori." He froze against me, but didn't say anything. His arms wrapped around me and he held me close in a gentle and careful embrace. The warrior's mask broke, all of a sudden, and I cried in his arms.

Little by little, darkness invaded my vision, and I didn't fight it.

I didn't have any strength or will left to do so.

When Hajime lifted me up in his arms, I felt the pain in my back from very far away. Nothing was real, nothing mattered anymore.

"Sleep, fool of a woman. Sleep, I'll watch over you."

Trust. The thought, which had come from a shadow at the core of my being, echoed weakly within me. I did so, enveloped, cloaked in the presence of the Wolf of Mibu, and allowed darkness to claim me.

End of Part 4.


Notes

"The" Sumeragi: I use this sometimes for Tokio, since she's the Head of the Sumeragi clan. She's "the" Sumeragi. I don't use that way of calling her very often, and it should be clear when I do so.
Machiai-seiji: house of "rendez-vous", a place where a political party has his favorite geishas, where the politicians of this party can meet.
Note about the Sakurazukamori: for those of you who might not be familiar with Tokyo Babylon: the Sakurazukamori is always alone, always one. When one wins his or her title, all of his or her family dies by his or her hand. The heir of the Sakurazukamori kills his or her master as part of the ritual to become the new Sakurazukamori.
Ushiro: Behind (you).
Ichi: one.
Ni: two.
San: three.


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