[FFML] [fic][rk][cont] Rurouni Yahiko Chapter 16: Murder at the Mansion

[Chester Castañeda]

Thirty-five minutes after midnight, at the open courtyard right in front
of the balcony where Soujiro and Akahori stood, Captain Tomo Kujo and
the conscious members of his team joined forces with Tokyo's Captain
Mitsuru Ujiki and Kanagawa's Captain Kuniumi Yamada to subdue the slick
and elusive assassin.

"All right! Everyone listen up! As that bumbling rube, Nakayama, showed,
we should not engage Amakusa using swordplay or even bayonets! You have
rifles, so make good use of them! I don't care if we have to use up all
our ammunition on him! Use the guns and make sure he remains on the
wide-open space of the yard like a sitting duck! As captain of the Tokyo
District Police, I order all of you to concentrate your fire on that
crazy Christian rebel!"

The first few rounds blazed with cadence and precision; however, the
predictability of their trajectory allowed the wily Amakusa to emerge
out of the blackened haze of flying debris and cinder barely scuffed.
Even though he carried a heavy sack of some sort, the policemen still
couldn't hit him as he scurried about like a splinter in the corner of
their eyes; a barely perceptible target that remained in their field of
vision yet they couldn't even hope to catch.

Particularly, Tokyo's very own Officer Kosaburo Shinichi (who also
doubled as a regular student of the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu) felt his sweat
turn cold as he recognized Amakusa's "God Speed" ability. 'Is he using
Mister Kamiya's Shinsoku technique? I must be going crazy!'

The later exchanges crisscrossed with speckles of spittle, blood, sweat,
and tears alongside crackling spitfire. In the face of a silent,
untouchable phantom that appeared to do as he wished whenever he wished
it, the grunts of the Gunma and Kanagawa contingents as well as parts of
the remaining Kamiminochi brigade decided as a group to fire off their
guns as soon as they were loaded. As a consequence, the impressive-
looking exhibition of gunfire--the maw of hell itself erupting with
brimstone and smoke--became nothing more than an empty display full of
noise and wrath, indicating failure.

The more seasoned officers of the Tokyo district ceased their fire and
did their best to keep their rambunctious cohorts from finishing each
other off with their recklessness and inexperience. A few of the
greenhorns had already fallen thanks to friendly fire while Kanagawa's
Captain Yamada shouted to his subordinates amidst the reverberating
shots, "Cease your fire when Amakusa's near other officers! Fire only at
his baggage! And for Buddha's sake, AIM BEFORE YOU SHOOT!"

Somehow, through either the miracle of chance, a moment of clarity from
the flustered police, the intimidating effect of randomly placed shots
flying in all directions, the timely interruption of the Tokyo veterans,
or the instructions of Captain Yamada to shoot at Amakusa's luggage, a
bullet managed to pierce through the side of the cult leader's ribs,
which forced him to stop his acrobatic attempts at turning his enemies
against each other and hide behind the nearest bullet-ridden tree.

In the background, the pint-sized Captain Kujo of Gunma patted the
unassuming Captain Yamada at the back for a job well done. In turn, the
Kanagawa captain could only roll his eyes as he beckoned his men--
Lieutenant Satoru Sakaguchi among them--to move into a better position
to apprehend the wounded terrorist.

"Unless you all want to die, you won't dare fire at this sack in my
arms," Amakusa threatened from behind the gathering officers; he'd
evaded them again before they could converge on him, managing to land
ever closer to his intended prey.

In response, the policemen turned and aimed their rifles at Amakusa's
head. However, the redhead appeared mostly unperturbed by the turn of
events as he walked ever-so-calmly beneath Akahori's balcony.

"That madman probably has a sack of bombs in his hands! He's going to
suicide bomb Akahori-san! Be prepared to fire!" Captain Kujo informed
the troubled Captain Yamada while the Togakudan scurried to and fro the
mansion in order to get the policemen their much-needed ammunition and
medical attention.

Suzuki "Raedo" Nagaoka himself, the leader of the spy group, personally
oversaw the loading and setup of both the Gatling gun and the Armstrong
cannon while micromanaging his subordinates to keep all four police
teams as spread out and safe as possible. "The rapid-fire gun and cannon
are ready, Captain Ujiki. Just give us the signal, and we'll riddle
Amakusa full of holes."

Ujiki nodded and signaled Raedo to standby as Amakusa stood a mere
leapfrog away from Akahori's position. 'Are you bluffing, you insane
terrorist? Or are you going to become the martyr you were supposed to
be a good six years ago?' the ex-Saitama captain seemed to say with his
planned course of action.

The gunshots became more focused and accurate this time around as the
police began aiming at Amakusa's bag. At that moment, the dialogue
between Amakusa and Akahori continued amidst the flying bullets, with
the latter assuring that the motives behind the four Kanto district
regiments were consistently more about vengeance than about protecting
him from harm.

That nonsense all ended once Amakusa opened the bag, revealing the body
of Rin Akahori; Captain Ujiki and several of his compatriots recognized
her from their previous encounters with the Akahori clan.

"Holy shit, that son of a bitch really did it. Get that Gatling gun in
position and blow his fucking brains off. Use every last bullet we have.
He could be rigged with explosives for all I care; he'd crossed the line
this time. Get as far away from him as possible and fire. Let him burn
with the li'l princess; it's cheaper than a cremation."


========================================================================


Rurouni Yahiko
A Rurouni Kenshin Continuation Fan Fiction
By Chester Castañeda
chester.castaneda at gmail.com
http://www.fanfiction.net/~abdiel

This isn't a murder mystery. Nevertheless, the title of the chapter is
quite appropriate.


========================================================================

Chapter 16: Murder at the Mansion

========================================================================


Forty minutes past midnight, from above the balcony of Jusanro Tani's
former mansion, Soujiro Seta observed the proceedings before him.

Beside Soujiro, Tetsuo Akahori bared his fangs and chortled like a
hyena. Shishio's premiere swordsman pictured his present liege's
laughter as hyena-like because it contained less mirth and more
anticipation of a upcoming feast care of a nearby prey; the laughter was
incidental.

"From an untouchable warrior who was considered a god by your followers,
you became a repentant murderer who couldn't even bring himself to
finish off just one measly police officer. You know deep down in your
heart, you owe a debt of sin to each and every one of these people whose
loved ones you've killed!" Akahori orated, his spit flying everywhere as
he pointed out the limitations of his longtime foe.

The ever-blissful Soujiro reflected on Akahori's words with a quiver of
his smiling mouth and a raise of his eyebrow. The long-haired man
underneath them with a crucifix-shaped scar on his chest had so far been
a curious mixture of contradictions that made him both a fool and a
wise man; a holy man and a criminal; or perhaps even a rurouni and a
hitokiri.

Was Amakusa a genius walking the thin line between sanity and insanity?
Perhaps Soujiro gave him too much credit. All the twenty-something knew
was that none of this terrorist's actions actually stemmed from logic,
but then again, the former Ten Ken long ago realized that very few men
ever based their decisions on common sense and reason. 'So Amakusa-san
created the Battousai Group, eh? I think I know which one he is.'

>From what Soujiro could see, the divergent biases of the two enemies
blinded them both from realizing each other's weaknesses. With Akahori,
he underestimated Amakusa's simpleminded, black-and-white goals and
resolve to complete them. With Amakusa, he refused to heed Akahori's
factual analysis of his past mistakes by holding fast to a belief system
full of contradictions and leaps of faith.

"God? I tried to kill God, but he wouldn't die. So I did the next best
thing. I humiliated him. Brought him down to my level and exposed him
for what he truly is: A sad little man behind the curtain," Akahori said
the statement so quietly that Soujiro had to consider whether his
employer referred to Amakusa or his own self.

"If any of you have any common sense at all, then you won't dare fire at
me while I hold this sack in my arms," Amakusa declared from behind the
gathering officers; he'd evaded them again before they could converge on
him, managing to land ever closer to his intended victim.

Soujiro's crescent-shaped, smiling mouth shut itself closed as he
witnessed Akahori's government-issued army unravel from within, their
hearts eaten away by their own imagined doubts before they could even
pull the trigger. Even though a lot of them were motivated by vengeance,
a sense of justice, and the loss of their compatriots, it didn't
necessarily translate to having the skill and the power to make
themselves a factor in today's proceedings.

Then again, what they didn't have in talent, they hoped to make up for
in moxie, superior numbers, firepower, and boundless determination; that
last item particularly reminded Soujiro of a recent opponent he fought
three weeks ago. As such, smoke again filled the air as flashes of
sparks, bullets, and gunpowder explosions ripped apart the landscape;
piece by piece, pebble by pebble, chip by chip.

"Your fanaticism did not disappoint. You've become quite desperate now,
so you've decided to sacrifice yourself in order to give meaning to your
failed rebellion. How completely pathetic," Akahori evaluated as he
stared down at Amakusa with beaming spectacles and a contemptuous sneer.
"The real reason why you've founded the Battousai Group was because you
wished for your own disciples to become the successors of your
disastrous insurgence. You knew that you'll be worshipped as their
precious Son of God once you're dead, didn't you?"

Amakusa opened the bag. "Let my people go, Akahori. You are the Pharaoh
who refuses to see that no human can go against the will of my Lord, the
One True God. You're the only one I want dead; I will not be manipulated
again like six years ago. Make your guards stand down now so that we can
settle our differences like real men."

Just as Akahori laughed and shot down Amakusa's proposal with impunity,
Soujiro espied the contents of the bag--the body bag--with a fast but
weak heartbeat, a knotted stomach, moist skin, profuse sweating, and a
dying smile. The girl who said nothing but did so much stared back at
him with the same slate-gray, glassy stare she'd always aimed at him.
The real-life Snow White who fascinated him to no end because of her
peculiarities: _their_ peculiarities.

What was he supposed to feel here? Was he supposed to cry? To scream? To
gnash his teeth and wail at the heavens for the person that he'd lost?
He remembered the irony of Kenshin Himura requesting him to find his own
answer after he broke down and rediscovered his emotions, only to find a
woman who showed that it was actually his emotions that limited his
potential from the get go.

Soujiro didn't know what to feel after seeing Rin Akahori's unmoving
form cradled over Amakusa's arms like a mannequin of sorts, so he
approximated the response he saw countless of times before in the faces
of the people he'd mercilessly slaughtered for Makoto Shishio's and
Tetsuo Akahori's respective sakes. He did so in order to communicate to
Akahori the gravity of the situation, even though his forced facial
contortions felt unnatural on his face regardless.

He had long abandoned his illogical feelings and unreasonable emotions;
however, in another stroke of irony, all the logic and reason in the
world couldn't reveal to him what he wanted to do now. What was his
desire? To exist? To not exist? To feel? To not feel? So he stared.
Thought. Waited.

He remembered his pledge to Kyoko Sakaguchi. "Didn't we promise to each
other that if I'd continue to search for the person that would make me
smile, you, in turn, would continue to search for the person that you
could openly cry with?"

An eventual scream that silenced the gunfire and the barking orders of
the three conscious captains revealed to Soujiro his next course of
action.

"RIN!"


===


Earlier at noontime, Rin Akahori's coachman at last caught up with her.
As he expected, the pallid, half-blind girl did not stray far.

The supposed Battousai had Akahori's precious daughter cornered, but he
still felt peevish over the carriage crash that she indirectly caused.
To think, his imported, western-designed Concord--a four-horse specimen
of superior workmanship--could break apart just like that. Fortunately,
he was able to catch one of the horses and tied it to a nearby tree. His
plans for revenge would not be deterred by a mere girl.

All the same, the Battousai's persistent shock over Rin's betrayal was
understandable; he could've sworn he'd won over the girl's sympathies
during the brief time they were acquainted, her emotionless behavior
aside. She acted a lot more recklessly than her demon of a father, but
he caught hints of a methodical madness in her actions that definitely
reminded him of Tetsuo.

The coachman imposter was almost sure that Rin suspected nothing about
him. However, she behaved differently from all the other people he'd
deceived throughout the years. Even though she had no idea about his
hidden agenda, perhaps she never trusted him from the very start--as to
be expected from the porcelain doll of the House of Akahori.

"I won't hurt you," the pony-tailed, redheaded coachman with a tapered
chin, lanky build, and scar-riddled body pledged as he moved into Rin's
field of vision. The reflected light from the man's strange glass orb
made the Akahori daughter wince, but she stood her ground nonetheless.
"Come quietly. It'll be over soon," he reassured, remembering his fast-
approaching deadline.

"I've heard that line before; too many times, actually," Rin admitted
with a slight squint from her haunting, gun-metal eyes and a casual toss
of her milky hair. "Hearing that from any other kidnapper, that'd
certainly be a lie. From you, not so much; maybe I do believe you. But I
still won't come with you without a fight."

"Why?" queried the long-haired man as he sidestepped towards the shadows
and cut off one of Rin's options for escape, the sunlight helping him
block the other path. The strange girl suffered from a rare condition
that the man had heard of during his travels in China and Europe but
never witnessed for himself--the sheet-white complexion and wandering
eyes served as dead giveaways, but the aversion to sunlight confirmed
his suspicions.

Barely a decibel above a whisper, the young woman's wispy voice belied
the sharpness of the words it delivered. "Because I've gone through far
more worse than anything you can come up with. Have you ever been forced
to carry a dead, rotting version of yourself all your life even though
she's better left alone?"

The coachman stepped back at the strange answer, unsure of how to reply.

The girl's pupils shook in place yet again before she responded in a way
that she deemed more appropriate to the matter at hand. "More
importantly, I've figured out who you are. I was afraid you were one of
the other Battousai pretenders when you first attempted to lure me out
of Aomori, but it's good to know that it's actually you, Amakusa Shogo-
san, who bothered to kidnap me. As the leader of your group, your
dedication to your cause is quite commendable."

"How did you...?" Amakusa almost sputtered, unnerved for the second
time, but stopped himself cold as his target interrupted him.

"My father told me everything. He considers you one of his finest
victories and greatest defeats at the same time. You've left quite an
impression on him." The girl--more dollish than human--focused her
nigh-sightless eyes the best that she could at Amakusa and divulged,
"He suspected one of two things about you after you reemerged using the
Battousai's alias: One, you've become an unrepentant assassin; two,
you've become a repentant vagabond. Up until now, I couldn't tell which
one you are."

"You're just as surprising as your father; even he could barely keep up
with you and your shenanigans, I'm guessing," Amakusa surmised with an
outstretched hand and an easygoing smile. "Shall we go meet with him
soon?"

"Which Battousai are you? I heard you had different kinds," Rin
persisted, not moving an inch from where she stood. "Are you the
offensive expert? The counter striker? I'm guessing you're the one who
knows Himura Battousai's style the best."

"You don't need to know about that at this point, but I'm sure your
father has the very same questions nonetheless. In any case, rest
assured that he's about to find out which Battousai I am later on
tonight," Amakusa stated the words with the same even-tempered tone, but
his unflinching gaze told another story.

Unfazed by Amakusa's effort at maintaining his paper-thin disguise, Rin
remarked, "Tell me, Mister Battousai; how far are you willing to go to
kill my father?"

Again, Amakusa had to pause for a second in reflection. "That's a rather
blunt question to ask the person who's about to assassinate your only
surviving parent." He took hold of Rin's shoulder, his mind already
focused on getting to the dilapidated house that served as his
rendezvous point with his cohort, when she grasped his palm and put a
finger inside the hole in the middle of it. He let go of her just as
fast as she took hold of him, his hand trembling as though electrocuted.

"If you won't answer that question, then answer these. Why did you
slaughter those former bakufu politicians who'd come into power in the
Meiji Government? Even though they were responsible for the deaths of
many Christians, didn't that just make life for you and your followers
worse? It certainly didn't win you any votes of popularity from the new
government." She slipped her hands behind her and peered at her chauffer
closely.

"The Meiji hanbatsu isn't the bakufu, yet you intentionally incited
their wrath. To think, had you acted rationally, there would have been a
chance for the new government to accept the Christians and stop the
widespread persecution that the bakufu started. But now you're
attempting to murder yet another Ishin Shishi politician. These are not
the actions of a so-called savior; these are the actions of a mad
terrorist despot. Just admit that you've made a mistake, and there's no
turning back for--"

Amakusa didn't even realize that he'd slapped the pallid girl with a
swift backhand, his reflexes doing for him what his mind wouldn't even
dare contemplate. "I don't know what lies and oversimplifications your
father force-fed you, but the Rikken Kaishinto's own Okuma Shigenobu was
the one who insisted on continuing the persecutions of the Nagasaki
Christians! I don't care if it's the bakufu or hanbatsu that stands
before my people's freedom to practice their beliefs; they're all the
same to me. I will protect my people even at the point of destroying the
new government."

In any event, Rin resumed her "interrogation" of Amakusa only after a
brief reprieve to wipe her bleeding mouth. "Are you telling the truth or
are you lying to yourself? Your anger just now proves how emotional you
can get when it comes to these matters. Perhaps your past actions were
driven by a shortsighted yearning for revenge against former bakufu
officials. Besides, isn't Christianity supposed to be a peace-loving,
tolerant religion? Shouldn't you throw bread whenever stones are cast
upon you? These terrorist acts of yours don't make any bit of sense."

Oblivious to his rage, Amakusa raised his hand to strike once more, but
then regained his senses soon after; nothing could be more unforgivable
than striking a defenseless and reclusive girl whose father showed her
untruths and a one-sided view of the world all her life. Magdalia, his
sister, would've had a fit to see him bullying this young woman. Then
again, he shouldn't be kidnapping Rin _at all_, but he figured that
doing so would cause the lesser of two evils to happen.

The false Battousai again offered his hand with the strange hole in the
middle to Rin. "I'm sorry I hit you, Ojousama. However, I don't have to
justify myself to you or anyone else. You don't know any better. Stand
down and let me pass judgment on your father's sins. It'll be over
soon."

"You haven't answered my first question," Rin informed after she was
helped up by Amakusa.

The tall man merely smirked and snorted. "Which one was that? It seemed
like you've asked me a million questions already."

Instead of replying, the young girl turned towards the supposed
Battousai and drew a small tanto blade from beneath the folds of her
kimono.

Amakusa rolled his eyes. "Spare me, Ojousama. Put away that toy knife.
You..."

"How far are you willing to go to kill my father? Because nothing short
of bringing forth apocalypse would stop him." Rin had no intention of
fighting off the doppelganger Battousai. Instead, she decided to aim the
blade at her throat to stab it. In shock and panic, Amakusa had no
choice but to act fast to halt the Akahori maiden's sudden attempt at
her own life.

A bright flash of light flared into existence; a minute later, the girl
collapsed forward, her silver eyes glassy and sightless as her knife
slipped her grasp.

The sudden blaze reminded Rin of the sickening, unfeeling, unreachable,
untouchable, unperceivable, arrogant, higher-than-thou sun that would
sooner burn her eyes and skin to a leathery crisp than allow her to look
at its supposed majesty. At that moment, it was as though she were at
the mercy of the same callous, hideous, and self-important orange star
because she felt like she had just been scorched alive by the heat of
the surface of the sun itself.

This time around, Amakusa caught the girl before she could fall to the
ground for a second time. He felt her excited heartbeat slow down to a
steady crawl. Her breathing also became shallower.

"How... the mighty has fallen," Rin still managed to whisper despite
the sudden turn of events.

"What are you talking about, you silly little girl? I--" Amakusa shot
back in spite of himself.

"Y-You used... a special t-technique of yours on me when all you needed
to do was... take me by force. Just like... in Shimabara where y-you
killed... a thousand men, you've... lost control of the situation and...
overcompensated for it. My father was right... all along. You... can't
win against him if you're... like this."

"We'll see. I work under one supreme truth. Proverbs three, verses five
to six states: 'Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on
your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him and he will
make your paths straight.' While I still have my faith, nothing can
stand in my quest to liberate my people from the cancer of today's
society. We will not be treated as cultists or second-class citizens at
the mercy of an intolerant, uncaring, and xenophobic nation. We
Christians have the right to live as human beings in God's green earth,
and I will fight for those rights by any means necessary."

"A-Anyone who c-cannot s-speak using his... o-own words can't possibly
b-be trusted... to think f-for himself. W-What... kind of a z-zealot
terrorist... are you?" she queried before losing consciousness
altogether, her eyelids closing as her body went limp.

"The kind who has seen the truth," Amakusa responded only after his
victim had already stopped speaking; it was the one question of hers
that he bothered to answer directly.

'Unbelievable. Even Akahori's own daughter is a handful to deal with,'
the rose-haired Battousai surmised as he sheathed his sword, dusted off
the bits of glass on his shoulder, and carried the unconscious Rin in a
more proper manner. He needed the girl for his plans to succeed, but
because of her stubbornness, his schemes had been compromised
regardless.

'I will not fall for any of your traps or tricks ever again, Akahori.
The Meiji Government's reckoning is now at hand.'


===


An ear-gauging howl wracked with unknowable grief shrieked the name of
the motionless girl Amakusa held in his arms. "AMAKUSA! I'LL KILL YOU!
I'LL FINISH THE JOB THAT I STARTED SIX YEARS AGO! I SWEAR UPON THE GRAVE
OF MY DAUGHTER THAT I'LL MURDER YOU AND SODOMIZE YOUR CORPSE FOR GOOD
MEASURE! DAMN YOU AND YOUR INVISIBLE FRIEND OF A GOD! DAMN YOU AND YOUR
CULT OF ZEALOTS AND HYPOCRITES! DAMN YOU AS YOU EJACULATE SPEECHES ABOUT
LOVE AND MERCY WHILE WAGING WAR ON ANYONE WHO DARES NOT LOVE OR SHOW
MERCY IN ACCORDANCE TO YOUR PETTY TERMS!"

Unfazed by the unhinged and distraught father before him, Amakusa
orated, "Calm down. I understand your grief. According to Ecclesiastes
three, verses one to eight: 'To every thing there is a season, and a
time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to
die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted--'"

Akahori roared, tore apart his hair, and clawed at the railings of the
veranda as his eyes bulged from their sockets and tiny veins popped up
around his burgundy face. "FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU AND YOUR MORONIC, SHEEP-
LIKE INANITY AS YOU PRATTLE BIBLE VERSES TO JUSTIFY YOUR PREJUDICES EVEN
THOUGH YOU CANNOT EVEN BEGIN TO COMPREHEND THEM ON YOUR OWN WITHOUT
SOMEBODY ELSE TELLING YOU WHAT THEY'RE SUPPOSED TO MEAN! I HATE HOW YOU
CAN'T, FOR THE LIFE OF YOU, THINK FOR YOURSELF FOR EVEN ONE SECOND! IF
YOU AREN'T WILLING TO FACE DEATH LIKE A REAL MAN, THEN KEEP YOUR
IGNORAMUS COPING MECHANISM OF HIDING BEHIND THE LIE OF ETERNAL EXISTENCE
TO YOURSELF EVEN AFTER I'VE LONG CEASED TO EXIST!" Soujiro had to catch
the frothing politician by the coattails of his suit to keep him from
falling.

Deafened by the ensuing silence, Akahori shook his fists at his
dumbfounded personal police force and spelled out his orders to them in
plain language. "OPEN FIRE! KILL HIM! LET HIM HAVE IT! WHOEVER SHOOTS
HIM DEAD FIRST WILL GET THE ALL THE REWARD MONEY! I DON'T GIVE A DAMN IF
YOU HAVE TO SHOOT AT ME OR THROUGH ME TO GET TO HIM! BECAUSE IF YOU
DON'T HAVE THE BALLS TO DO IT, THEN I WILL!" he cried, his fingernails
digging into the wood until several splinters pierced into the soft
flesh underneath the cuticle. Mist rose from his grunting breath while
he shook and tensed his muscles. "Please... kill him."

The wrinkled, gasping, and trembling forty-seven-year-old man looked
every bit his age as he clung for dear life on his bodyguard's kimono.
"Akahori-san," Soujiro mouthed with a blank expression on his face as it
paled to nearly Rin's marble complexion.

"Kill me and she dies," Amakusa announced a fraction of a second before
the majority of the guns' triggers were pulled. He subsequently blurred
into motion to evade the first few shots from the nearest of the police
officers before chaos and noise echoed across the enclosure while the
members of the different contingents struggled against the turmoil of
conflicting orders.

"Cease fire! Tokyo, Gunma, Kanagawa, and Kamiminochi Contingents! Damn
it, put your guns down. The girl is still alive," Captain Kujo wheezed
and rasped to his men, the other squadrons, and to the skeptical Captain
Ujiki who still had his gun trailed at the dizzying form of Shogo
Amakusa.

"Let me go, Kujo. I'm not about to believe the bluff of some cuckoo cult
terrorist," Ujiki insisted as he gestured Raedo to prepare firing the
Gatling gun and the rest of the Togakudan to start distributing extra
ammo to the remaining officers.

"But Ujiki...!" Captain Kujo protested before both Gunma and Tokyo
captains heard Captain Yamada exclaim, "S-She's moving. Don't shoot.
Rin-ojousama is alive!"

Both Soujiro and Akahori exhaled and relaxed from their guarded stances,
with Tetsuo even collapsing into a fetal heap on rubbery legs while
crying and laughing at the same time, his larynx ragged and his nostrils
flaring with a stinging sensation one usually had after a choking fit.

Amidst the growing buzz of conversation from the fifty-something-strong
defense force plus spy troops, the local Kamiminochi contingent's out-of-
commission members began to rouse from their unconsciousness,
particularly Captain Haruo Nakayama.

"Hey, you! Togakudan!" the Shinshushin captain called out to a snub-
nosed, jowl-faced spy wearing the same uniform as Minoe. "Get me a
Murata rifle and a saber. Better yet, give me a katana and a bottle of
sake. I want to rejoin the fight!"

Amakusa twirled and shoved the slowly recovering but still paralyzed Rin
in full view of all the law enforcement officers before turning his
attention back towards the broken-down Akahori while keeping an eye on
the policemen nearest to him. "That's right. If you want to see your
daughter alive and well, then tell your men to stand down before
surrendering yourself to me. I've seen enough bloodshed in Shimabara to
last me a lifetime; perhaps even longer than that."

Akahori scrambled to his feet after hearing Amakusa's conditions, his
eyes and nose welling up with unbecoming streams of tears and mucus.
"D-Did you hear that, Seta-kun? W-We can save Rin! Isn't that wonderful?
Amakusa-kun wants my life in exchange for hers! Let's do it! Amakusa
Shogo-kun, you have a deal! I will exchange my life for my daughter's
safety! Put your weapons down, Kanto police! Togakudan, stop assisting
these police officers! Let my daughter go!" The premier member of the
Daijokan swayed back and forth with a wide grin on his dirty, haggard
face while whispering the names "Sakura" and "Rin" from time to time.

Shogo couldn't believe his ears. The Christian rebel couldn't help but
chuckle at how pathetic his most difficult and dangerous adversary had
become in the face of having his very own daughter kidnapped. The rumors
were true.

'Now you know how I felt when you went against your word and our peace
treaty by using the forces of the National Metropolitan Police and the
Imperial Army against us right under our noses. Magdalia, our dream of a
religious revolution in Japan is about to happen. Please pray for me
with mother, father, and the children you so love in heaven.'

"Did all of you hear that? I only intend to kill one man tonight. Get
out of my way. Don't try my patience, or you will certainly be meeting
the lost loved ones you hold so dear immediately," Shogo pledged as he
gripped Rin tight with his expectant hands and gulped down the growing
tenseness in his throat. He was close. He was almost there.

Soujiro did his best to identify any hints of "sarcasm"--a phenomenon
that Rin explained to him at length just a few years back--from
Akahori's absurd words. Although he concluded that the bearded father's
reasoning behind his relief to be outrageous in the context of his
normal behavior, the bastard child of the Seta clan couldn't shake off
the genuineness of the sentiment care of the audio-visual cues of
Tetsuo's ever-growing nervous breakdown. "Please calm down, Akahori-
san. There has to be a way to rescue Rin-san without risking your...!"

To the shock of everyone staring at the veranda from below, Akahori
stood up and punched the half-smiling yet concerned Soujiro with a
gloved hand. "ARE YOU ASKING ME TO RISK MY DAUGHTER'S LIFE BY COWARDLY
SAVING MINE AND DENYING THAT TERRORIST WHAT HE WANTS? DO YOU WANT HER TO
DIE? TO BECOME WORM FOOD LIKE HER MOTHER BEFORE HER? THEN FUCK YOU! I'D
KILL YOU FIRST BEFORE LETTING HER DIE! DON'T THINK THAT JUST BECAUSE YOU
KILLED OKUBO THAT I'M AFRAID OF YOU, YOU WORTHLESS, INSIGNIFICANT PIECE
OF TRASH!"

With that, the deranged Akahori repeatedly stomped on the prone form of
his guardian--the right-hand man of Makoto Shishio and the strongest
member of the Juppon Gatana--with his shoed feet. Despite acquiring a
stronger constitution and pain tolerance than he had when he was merely
six, the familiar memories of being beat down and abused came back to
haunt Soujiro, compelling him to grab hold of his head and curl up into
a ball.

The night held its breath. Nobody within that compound dared make a
sound as continuous thuds and grunts reverberated from Tetsuo's panic
attack.

Just then, a thought occurred to Amakusa; a crazy, illogical notion
that would probably make perfect sense to the shadow of the brilliant
man that was once Tetsuo Akahori. "I have a better idea, Akahori. Kill
yourself. Jump down from that balcony or have one of your men shoot
you. I don't care how. Just leave this world once and for all, you
insane monster."

The sound of stomping feet stopped. Akahori whirled his head towards the
awaiting Amakusa below. With wide, feral eyes, they stared at each other
and then nodded in cadence. Afterwards, Tetsuo clambered up the banister
and spread out his arms...


===


Yahiko, Gan, and Minoe arrived amidst a mob of scuttling policemen and
Togakudan as the clock struck past twelve. They were just in time to
witness Soujiro intercept one of the multiple phantoms of Amakusa's
afterimages and steal away the outwardly life-sized porcelain doll that
was Tetsuo Akahori's daughter.

What they failed to see was Soujiro jumping up on sandaled feet,
grabbing hold of the unbalanced and maddened Akahori by his collar, and
flinging him back into the room with one move as he sprinted down the
facade of the mansion using the walls as his floor in one-fourth of a
second. Then, even though Amakusa proved fast enough to notice that the
ex-Ten Sword had made his move, the zealot's "God Speed" was one-fourth
of a second too slow to go against Seta's "Reduced Earth" technique.

"What the hell just happened?" Yahiko unwittingly deduced the general
sentiment of everyone who had just witnessed the unbelievable feat that
Okubo's assassin showcased. The spiky-haired young lad saw a blur go
past the open gates of the mansion before blinking and seeing the same
blur exit the property twice. He rubbed his eyes. 'Psycho-Kid is so
fast, he could get out of an area twice? Jeez, is there nothing he
_can't_ do?"

After everyone regained their senses... including, thankfully, Akahori
himself... Captain Ujiki ordered, "Raedo, fire the Gatling gun at
Amakusa NOW!" while signaling his men and the other squadrons to keep
the flatfooted and empty-handed terrorist busy with their own single-
shot custom rifles.

Amakusa hissed as he got blasted about five times--once by one of the
rifles, four times by the Gatling gun--before dodging the rest of the
bullets and other high-velocity projectiles that shredded through the
landscape. He bent down backwards and slashed through the ground with
otherworldly force, which created an mind-boggling landslide that
blocked the Gatling gun's hail of fire and buried it under a humongous
mound of dirt and debris. As for Raedo and his assistants, they were
knocked back about ten feet away from the shockwave of the manmade
avalanche.

However, the Tokyo police had long anticipated this action, remembering
that Amakusa managed to assassinate quite a few ex-bakufu politicians
even with the use of the infamous forerunner to the twentieth-century's
machinegun. Therefore, right at the blindside of the distracted
Christian leader, several highly skilled members of the Togakudan opened
fire at the unsuspecting redhead using the screw-breech mechanisms of
the Armstrong cannon; it took a long while to setup and required labor-
intensive monitoring, but this particular weapon's firepower was well
worth the effort.

"Checkmate," Akahori whispered from his vantage point on the balcony
floor of his mansion as his army of police groups from four different
Kanto districts converged on the smoldering crater where Amakusa once
stood. As the inhabitants of the Aizu Castle found out during the Boshin
War, this variant of the rifled breach loader did its job of
obliterating its target frighteningly well.

"Eh. Looks like the problem solved itself," Gan quipped from behind
Yahiko while checking out the insane amount of property damage inflicted
by the Togakudan's Gatling gun and Armstrong cannon. "They went through
all this trouble to get one man? Jeez, so much for the so-called One-Man
Army of Nagasaki, huh?"

Pointedly ignoring the Gangster Gan's (sadly accurate) assessment of the
present situation, Yahiko scanned the stampeding crowd of cops and spies
for a familiar face; much to Officer Kosaburo's chagrin, the sixteen-
year-old Tokyoite found just what he was looking for. "Kosaburo! Come
here for a second and tell me what the hell is going on!" Yahiko
demanded as he pulled the twenty-five-year-old police officer aside.

"Yahiko-kun? Oh, come on! I'm in the middle of apprehending one of
Japan's most dangerous rebels! Can we talk about this later? Besides,
you really should start calling me Kosaburo-sempai or at least Kosaburo-
san because of our age difference!" One cantankerous glare from the
previous holder of the title "Strongest Ten Year Old in Japan" was all
it took for Officer Kosaburo to slump his shoulders and cave in to his
kendo master's demands.

"Okay, the gist of it is that Amakusa tried to use Akahori-san's
daughter, Rin-ojousama, as bait for Akahori-san to give himself up, but
that super bodyguard of his was able to steal away the girl and let us
police and our superior firepower handle the rest of the mission. It
was longer and more involved than that, but those are the important
details."

Kosaburo looked up and stared into the night sky with sparkling eyes and
a fist balled up in hot-blooded pride and satisfaction. "Many of my
sempai who joined this crew had friends and relatives who died back in
Nagasaki. I'm happy to see that they've finally gotten their closure
this time around, and I'm even happier to know that I somehow had a part
in bringing down that insurgent."

Yahiko blinked before sighing; just what kind of sigh he let out, he
wasn't quite sure. "Congratulations on a job well done, Kosaburo-sempai.
You should go ahead and join your fellow officers. With policemen like
you, who needs samurai in this day and age?"

The sea-urchin-haired young man smiled as he bid his student adieu for
the time being; at the very least, this new case involving fake
Battousai doppelgangers didn't end up with a mountain of policeman
casualties or the involvement of a Juppon-Gatana-level threat that even
an army of officers couldn't handle.

'Looks like Gan was right; Amakusa ended up being all bark and no bite.
If the police are enough to handle him, then his Battousai Group isn't
something I should even be concerned about.'

"Over there! Amakusa is over there!" the heavyset, pinkish-white, and
small-eyed sergeant of the Gunma District Police informed his diminutive
superior and the rest of the company the current whereabouts of their
religious assassin quarry after following a long trail of blood.

The short of breath, ghostly white, and cringing Shogo cowered a couple
of yards away from the impact crater where the cannon tore through him,
one of his legs frayed and bleeding after he attempted to get away from
the weapon's explosive shell. Were he not fleet-footed enough, his left
leg would've had a bigger chunk of its flesh missing and his right leg
would've had its shin smashed to little bits; or worse, he could've lost
both legs because of the ensuing explosion right underneath him.

"Captain, he's hurt. He's bleeding from his leg," a Johnny-come-lately
in his late twenties that looked more like he was in his late fifties
pointed out the obvious to the Tokyo Captain. "He can't run away now!"

Captain Ujiki nodded to both his lieutenant--a scowling, six-foot-three
slab of beefcake with a disproportionately large, pimple-covered head--
and his sergeant--an androgynous-looking man sporting a self-satisfied
smirk--to lead the Tokyo District Police charge and then proclaimed to
the leaders of the three remaining troops:

"Everybody, surround Amakusa! Kujo, you and your men flank him to his
left; he can't move there because his left leg is injured. Yamada, have
your Kanagawa troops corral him to his right. Don't let him get away.
Nakayama and company, attack him from the rear. Show him no mercy, or at
least show him as much mercy as the people he killed all those years
ago! NOW MOVE OUT!"

"That cross worshipper's head is MINE! I'll put it on a pike or hollow
it out and use it as a wind chime! It'll serve as a great example of
the only kind of Christian that I consider good and useful!" Nakayama
beamed as he brandished and unsheathed the katana that the Togakudan
somehow armed him with. "The ghosts of Ryuzoji and Hiramatsu will be so
envious of me! I'll be the one who conquers the villain that they
couldn't even touch!"

Kosaburo continued firing and reloading his Murata rifle as he covered
his more battle-experienced officers. In the middle of bedlam, the
relatively young man saw Sergeant Sakaguchi of the Kanagawa contingent--
Yahiko's newfound police acquaintance in this town--make eye contact
with him. The Kamiya Kasshin Ryu student nodded in understanding; for
his younger kendo master's sake, Amakusa should be finished off then and
there.

More shots pelted the ground where Amakusa ran, his attempts at escape
making him feverish and lightheaded. Geysers of rubble, pebbles, and
bullets riddled the landscape like a hundred Shukuchi-using Soujiros
attacking all at the same time. Even though he hated to admit it,
because of all the punishment he experienced back in Shimabara, he
wasn't as fast as he used to be; however, he held back enough to allow
the former Ten Ken leeway. He now knew the limits of Soujiro Seta's
legendary quickness.

"I've gone through... worse things. Saint Ignatius of Loyola himself had
survived a cannon shot worse than this. This is nothing. With the grace
and power of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I will not fall.
I will not fail. I am not weak of faith. God's will shall prevail; I put
my trust to a far superior force."

He heard the distant, squelching echoes of a hammer knocking nails into
flesh, bone, and wood in his mind. His five puncture wounds--six-year-
old ones not caused by bullets--and numerous scar tissue--six-year-old
ones not caused by swords--flared anew. The crucifix-shaped mark on his
chest, in particular, throbbed and burned with a fire far more consuming
than the fresh blaze he felt on his left shin.

"The Lord is a jealous and avenging God; the Lord takes vengeance and is
filled with wrath. The Lord takes vengeance on his foes and maintains
his wrath against his enemies."

Blood and water flowed out of Amakusa's open wounds as he felt his head
radiate with a halo of immaculate warmth. The wounds from his hands,
feet, and side... his "forced" stigmata, so to speak... throbbed and
pulsated with indescribable vigor. Inside him, his tired muscles
deployed an enhanced fermentation rate that rejuvenated his exhausted
frame and reenergized his dulled nerves. Moreover, the neurotransmitters
in his brain signaled his body to dilate his air passages, liberate the
stored nutrients in his glucose, contract his blood vessels, and
increase his heart rate.

"The Lord is slow to anger and great in power; the Lord will not leave
the guilty unpunished. His way is in the whirlwind and the storm, and
clouds are the dust of his feet."

The sympathetic nervous system of the hyperaroused Amakusa worked
overtime in order to let him subconsciously choose then and there how he
would react at that desperate time of great need: Retreat and fight for
another day, recoil inside his shell and hide until the threats to his
life left, or go forth and let his righteous indignation ride across
gale winds as his ravaging warpath obliterated everything before him.
His muscle memory and actual recollections made his decision for him.

Amakusa shuddered as his vision narrowed into a single frame. He turned
around, his eyebrows shooting up as he recognized the familiar visage of
the squat and plump policeman who dared attack him earlier on,
proclaiming vengeance, decapitations, and future glory.

The raucous assortment of noises, sounds, and resonances went mute then
and there. The entirety of his focus was on the sword-wielding maniac...
_sinner_... whose warmongering didn't even seem remotely connected to
any of his previous claims of justice and morality.

"Fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul;
but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in
hell," Amakusa whispered to the gurgling Nakayama after he jumped up and
fed him thirty inches of sheathed steel. Judging from the gasps and
nervous shuffling of the cops around him, he surmised that he regained
the use of his hearing.

Otherwise, the night remained as quiet and subdued as before. A few
seconds later, Nakayama burbled his last, which obliged Shogo to pull
his bloodied weapon and pray for the lost and confused soul of the fat,
deluded heathen.

In contrast to before, the members of the four Kanto police squadrons
acted a lot more "politely" around Shogo Amakusa. For one thing, they
didn't even bother shooting the general space that he occupied. They
also let him finish his prayer for their deceased comrade. "...God of
the living and the dead, may those who faithfully believed in you on
earth praise you forever in the joy of heaven. We ask this through
Christ our Lord..."

As soon as Amakusa uttered his prayer's obligatory "Amen," the
unstoppable and violent fury of his unbendable faith commenced once
more.


===


A few nights before the sixth of November, at the communal dining room
of the Shinshushin Mansion where the Kamiminochi District officers
stayed in isolation from the rest of the police troops...

"The White Peril ish upon ush, and it wash only becush Japan isholated
itshelf from d' rest of the world that we shurvived mosh of der barbaric
influensh! They demonize mosht any country that challenged der might. If
anything, these Kirishitan sheep are nothing more than a represhentashun
of the evilsh of western civilizayshun. These imperialshit pigsh and
crosh worshippursh have caushed all shorts of trubble around the globe
in their kwesht for 'Manifesht Deshteeny' or whatever short of bullshit
these arrogant shuns of beetchesh believe."

The red-faced, zeppelin-shaped Haruo Nakayama slurred several of his
words, but for the most part, he left his intended message intact.
Whether or not his message was produced by his drunken stupor or his
nationalistic pride depended upon the judgment of the listener.

Okami Yamazaki, the Kamiminochi Captain's lieutenant, rolled his
perfectly spherical irises as they glistened in the lamplight with the
sheen of liquid gold. His flawlessly symmetrical face gave his rambling
superior a flat, critical look in such a way that the shadows mingled in
yin-yang balance with the amber luminescence.

"Captain Nakayama, you're wasted beyond belief. Again. Also, what you're
saying has nothing to do with the terrorist we're trying to apprehend.
Use your common sense more." Yamazaki afterwards berated himself for
trying to reason with a xenophobic drunkard.

In response, Nakayama turned his back on Yamazaki, faced the swaying and
giggling Sergeant Isao Askikiga, and let rip a fluttering, odiferous,
and chair-blasting fart that made the prim-and-proper Yamazaki gag so
hard his coiffed pompadour hairstyle became more disheveled than normal.

The rest of the gathered Kamiminochi police officers burst in uproarious
applause and guffaws at the Captain's boorish display of power,
especially after Nakayama exacerbated the act further by doing a wetter
and more protracted follow-up to his earlier anal trumpeting.

"Anyway, the Kirishitan religion ish nothing but another meansh to an
end for these imperyalishes, as evidenshed by the colawnyul
shubjugation of many countreesh ushing the guysh of convershun, which
includesh shome of our neighborsh here in Asia."

Nakayama took another swig of his cup of rice wine. "Relijun of peesh,
my ash! We should've shtrung Franshish Ekshavier up a tree ash shoon ash
he got here, sheeing the trubble that hish propagandisht relijun hash
caushed ush! And the shad part about all thish ish that our very own
Japaneesh brethren have been brainwashed by theesh white man'sh liesh,
so now we're forshed to ekshecute our own for the shake of cleanshing
ourshelvesh from foreigner filth!"

Askikiga nodded sagely as he clinked his cup over his captain's in a
show of approval. "Hear, hear! I heartily support the downfall of these
white imperialists and their unequal treaties because of their Western
double standards. Without a doubt, these hypocrites don't honor in
practice the lofty ideals they force onto others, which can also be seen
in their fractured religions."

He drunk his sake and slammed the cup on the table while exhaling in
alcoholic satisfaction. "I, for one, don't want to see Japan turn into
the pet shih tzu of these white imperialists. They dare called all
Asians the Yellow Peril when they're the ones who should be labeled as
the White Peril."

"Very good, Sharge! Unlike _other_ people around here, you actually get
it. It doeshn't take a blind man to notish that it'sh the weshterner'sh
modush operandi to conquer a nashun they view ash weaker than
themshelvesh and then give them shitty contractsh later on." Nakayama
slung his arm over Askikiga and patted his sergeant while the rest of
the troop nodded and buzzed in agreement.

"It'sh the way they've conducted bushinesh for probably shentureesh-on-
end, and they're not shtopping anytime shoon. I'll betcha anything that
the only reashon they'll ever care about Japan ish when they view ush
ash a credible threat to their influensh. Ashide from that, they
couldn't give two shitsh about ush."

"You know what? I don't disagree with what you and Sarge are saying.
However, allow me to play red oni to your blue oni and say that we
aren't exactly faultless." _That_ silenced the friendly chatter of the
rest of the Kamiminochi troop. Yamazaki then raised his hands in
surrender to the disapproving stillness surrounding him.


===


Next: The unending crusade.

There you go, dear readers! Credit is due to the Bible for all the
biblical quotes Amakusa says. I know a few people that loved doing
that, so I figured, "Why not?" and made Amakusa do that too.

Disclaimer: All characters used in this fanfic (save some others)
are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki and Sony. Don't sue
me please, I'm very poor.

Nasaan ang panginoon mo ngayon?
Abdiel