It was rumored that General Kurokawa was channeling the Wolf. He seemed
to catch the scent of his prey, those mysterious fugitives, right off the air
around him. The decisions he’d been making seemed so impulsive, yet each time
they changed track the HeadHunters would find some tiny indication of the
ones they searched for. Even for a legend such as himself, the things he’d
been doing were astounding.
Not long after they’d abruptly turned to the west, it became clear that the
HeadHunters were closing in on their quarry. The signs of passage were growing
ever fresher, until now when the ones they chased were finally surrounded.
There are more, Keisuke mused inside his victorious mind. Yes,
there was the one he sought, who after swearing had let his expression go cold
and stony. There was the Night’s Herald, who looked for all the world as
though being surrounded by gun-wielding Angemal was a daily occurrence. There
was the Dauern, beautiful now that she’d healed, and the two kidnapped women.
There was the traitor, clutching a weapon of her own design. It appeared
they’d picked up a Pantagruel somewhere, and a Corduran. Damn! Keisuke
swore to himself. He didn’t trust Cordurans. There was too much mystery about
them.
One of the HeadHunters began barking orders at the assembled Champions.
“You!” he shouted at Mina. “Drop your weapon!” She obeyed without
a word. “Hands on your heads! Now!”
One by one, each of the Champions placed their hands behind their heads.
Everyone but…
“Takaeyama!” Harata hissed. The Corduran stood, staring at
nothing, as ignorant as ever of the world around him.
A voice came from the shadows of the trees, soft, calm, yet perhaps the
most fear-inspiring that any of them had ever heard.
“You have five seconds, Corduran. I suggest you obey.”
The HeadHunters moved into the clearing, guns trained on their captives.
“Get down! On your knees!”
Everyone but Takaeyama did as they were told.
“You have been warned,” said the voice of before.
Another man stepped into the clearing. He wore the black uniform of the
Angemal, somehow spotless and unwrinkled despite trekking through the forest. He
was small, barely as tall as Chieko, and somehow childlike. His features were
delicate, his skin pale. His raven hair, trimmed neatly, gleamed in the failing
light. His face bore some incongruous air of innocence- all but his depthless,
grey-black eyes. Those eyes told of the true nature of his character. In their
coldness, they spoke of the death, the torture, the callous suffering this man
had caused. They were narrowed now, focused on the Corduran before him.
As Keisuke stepped closer, a look of frustration crossed his features,
followed by a look of surprise, then rage. “Call off your magician, Harata.”
My magician? Harata was confused. What was this man talking about?
“Call him off, or he dies. Now.”
“Takaeyama…” Blue’s voice, still calm and even, was spoken in
place of Harata’s.
In the next instant, a look of fury still fixed on his face, the
Commander pulled a gun. There was no hesitation in his fluid motion- as soon as
he’d raised his arm he fired.
There was a flurry of motion as both Blue and Takaeyama went down in a
tangled heap. Chieko gasped as blood, hot and scarlet, splattered on her face.
Kat screamed as the GelbFaust started to cry. Ayame looked pleadingly at Harata,
as Kazuki softly repeated a litany of swear words. Mina was staring at the
Angemal, an unreadable look on her face.
In an instant, Takaeyama was standing. He no longer looked like anyone
they’d ever known. His eyes, so often muzzy and unfocused, contained a clarity
and rage that none thought possible of him. He stood straight, no longer
slouching. His arms no longer dangled at his sides. His gaze swept the clearing,
and suddenly his palms were full of undulating pale blue flames. As though
throwing a ball, he launched the flames at the Angemal surrounding them. As he
did this, he appeared to go berserk. Within seconds, he was firing volley after
volley of fantastic missiles at the men who had them surrounded. He continued to
do so even after all the HeadHunters had fallen, until he too finally sank to
the ground. He screamed as he lost consciousness, a sound so full of agony that
Chieko renewed her sobs and the others stared in shock.
“Most impressive,” the ice-cold voice of the Commander hissed as he
hoisted himself back off the ground. He brushed the dirt and grass off his
uniform with an air of boredom. “Tell me, Harata, how do you manage
with so little control over your followers?”
Harata did not answer.
Keisuke moved closer once more, and as he did so, the look of shock
flickered over his face once again.
“What are you doing to me?” The furious Angemal cast his cold glance
over the Clanless.
“I-“ Harata began, but his words were drowned in the laughter that
came barking from the black-clad man. The Clanless felt that a bucket of ice
water had been dumped over him, so chilling was the sound.
“It was you. I thought the Corduran…”
More laughter rang through the clearing, vibrating with hysteria.
“You are the Clanless! You are, aren’t you? Fight me like a
true warrior, you bastard! Why are you hiding behind tricks?”
The Commander’s pale face had gone impossibly white, and his fingers
twitched at his sides. At odd intervals, a muscle pulled in his face, though he
denied himself the release of showing pain.
No. Harata closed his eyes. Oh please, please no.
“Coward!” cried the Angemal. “Are you afraid to face me?” As he
stalked forward, Keisuke stumbled, but remained standing.
The Clanless was well aware of the fire that burned the Commander.
“It will pass,” said Harata resignedly. “It is not of my doing.”
“So, you don’t even have control over yourself, then?” scoffed the
Angemal. “Or is this some natural, god-given defense? Is this the paltry way
in which they protect their Chosen One?”
“It’s not a defense. It’s a sign.”
“A sign? A
sign of what? A sign that your doom has come to call, perhaps?”
“A sign that a Champion has joined us.” No. No… not this
twisted, foul creature. Please, no.
The Commander looked from side to side, slowly.
“And where is this new ‘Champion’?”
“He stands before me.” Harata hung his head.
The chilling laughter rang out once more.
“You seek to control me? Pain alone won’t force me to do your
will.”
“You are the Champion of the Angemal. You control yourself. I can only
ask you to consider what you do.”
Consider? The fiery pain had subsided, yet Keisuke burned within.
He could kill this man. The world would die at his hands… the mere thought
brought shivers of anticipation to his very core. He’d come to the pivotal
moment of his life. It was the closest to joy he’d ever felt.
“So,” the Commander’s voice, a blade of ice, cut through the air.
“You wish for me to join you?”
“Ideally.”
“If that is your will, you must submit to the Law of my Clan. If you
wish to lead me, you must best me first.”
Keisuke unsheathed the sword of a fallen HeadHunter and drove it into the
ground before Harata. The Clanless stood, a look of stony defiance on his face.
He took the weapon, prepared to do all he could to defeat the dark Champion
before him. As Keisuke drew his own weapons, a pair of long, slender blades
dubbed “Dawn” and “Dusk”, Harata drew a steadying breath. Losing was not
an option, yet he knew that he was about to engage in the most challenging
battle of his life.
Clanless and Champion saluted each other in silence. As he did this,
Harata erased from his mind all but the man before him, the ground beneath his
feet. Keisuke sprung suddenly, eager to test his foe, and Harata drove him back.
They spent a painful amount of time at the activity of gauging one another, in
turn attacking and defending.
As though the Prime Sun had exploded, the two erupted into true battle.
They moved about the clearing, deftly avoiding fallen comrades and more natural
obstacles. As they clashed, the whine of their blades filled the air. In brute
strength, Harata was clearly advantaged, yet Keisuke’s agility well made up
for his smaller size. With an upward thrust, the Commander was first to draw
blood, cutting across Harata’s cheek. The Clanless, unfazed, continued to
fight as though he hadn’t noticed.
It had grown dark, and yet the duel wore on. The two appeared not to
notice the lack of light, moving still lightning quick. Harata’s blade bit
into Keisuke’s arm, yet the Commander ignored the blood that welled up. Again
and again, they struck at each other, drove each other back. The force with
which the blows fell raised sparks from the steel blades of their swords. It
seemed the battle would go on forever, an endless dance of metal and sinew.
Finally, a clever feint of Harata’s brought the duel to a close.
Keisuke, who’d hoped to block the oncoming thrust with his right-hand blade,
leaving his stronger left-hand to attack, was taken by surprise when the blade
shifted direction. In seconds, he felt the cold steel pressed against his neck.
He sank to his knees. The twin swords, relics of his past, fell from his limp
hands. His surrender was utter and complete. Perhaps his prayer had been
answered. Perhaps he could finally die.
“Do it,” he goaded. “Kill me.”
“Stand up.”
“End it now. Finish what you started.”
“I am finished. You’ll follow me, and do as I tell you.
You’re bound by Honor. Now, get up.” Harata’s voice was the coldest it had
ever been.
Keisuke remained still, feeling the edge of the sword nipping at his
skin. Within, his emotions swelled and rumbled, all sea and storm. He was
consumed by despair, rage, and disappointment. How could he have let himself be
bested? Honor bound him now, bound him to the duty of rescuing a world he
despised. He hated the man before him, and would hate him forever.
“I swear, before my swords and yours, I will kill you. You will fall to
the House of Kurokawa. My blood will not cease boiling in my veins until this
task is complete.”
“Whatever,” Harata was losing patience. “Just get up already.”
Keisuke stood and retrieved Dawn and Dusk, sheathing them behind his back
as always. The Clanless moved back to the other Champions. Chieko was still
sniffling, buried in Ayame’s arms. The Dauern comforted the GelbFaust as
though she were a child, murmuring softly and stroking her hair. Despite the
strangeness of the sight, Harata did not have the time to ponder it. He noticed
Kat sitting silently alone. Her eyes open wide, the whites shone in the
darkness. She was staring at him, a look of horror on her barely visible face.
As he moved, her eyes followed him. He stalked over to where Mina was crouched
beside Blue, who Harata was relieved to see was sitting up.
The Night’s Herald was covered in blood. The bullet fired by the
furious Angemal had grazed his head as he prevented Takaeyama from being shot.
Mina was helping him to stanch the flow of blood from the wound, and he now sat,
holding the remains of a t-shirt to the top of his head.
“Thought you were a goner, there.” Harata did his best to sound
casual and not betray the absolute panic he’d felt at the thought of Blue’s
death. “You ok?”
“Stings a bit,” answered the Night’s Herald. His face was still
composed in its usual way, as though nothing out of sorts had happened at all.
“I ought to be ok, though… as soon as we can get the cut to stop bleeding.
Should be fine.”
“Don’t think we can say the same for Takaeyama,” Mina said darkly.
The Corduran was still sprawled on the ground.
“Shit. Is he, uh… ”
“I don’t know,” replied Mina, finishing Harata’s unvoiced
thought. “I haven’t had the heart to look. But, really… I don’t know what
he did before, but after days of not eating or sleeping… We’ll be lucky if
he ever wakes up again.”
“Damn it. I’d better go look. You guys can stay here.”
As Harata moved toward the fallen Corduran, he paused a moment to address
Kazuki, who was sitting silently, toying with a piece of grass.
“Go around and pick up any weapons you can find and bring them over
here, okay? And if any HeadHunters are still alive, round them up.”
“Sure…” Kazu gazed up through the dark. “I can’t believe all
those HeadHunters… I mean, I always thought they were unbeatable.”
“Nobody’s unbeatable.”
The Pantagruel shrugged and went off to do as he was told. He
passed by Keisuke, who was visible by the weak orange light of the cigarette he
was dejectedly smoking. What a mess, thought Harata.
