gabriel-gabdiel

[gabriel-gabdiel]

Bro went full puppy mode with those sheep. They tamed him. Baa-Ram-Ewe.

[gabriel-gabdiel]

【Draft】 Rurouni Yahiko Chapter 62: Hatsumode

As per usual with me and my brain, I'm suddenly inspired to work on this in the middle of being swamped with work.

Meanwhile, when I have free time, I'd rather do anything else but this. Go figure.

Something didn’t quite add up, Yahiko Myojin mused while wearing Masahiro Takae’s straw hat, an eye of his peering through a single slit while he remembered the threat leveled at him by Takae’s vengeful son, Kaita Takae.

If the Sanada Ninja Clan had ties to the Brigands Guild via Masahiro Takae, why was Takae’s son working for the Minakatas and helping Kinta against them?

Was there no honor among thieves, er, mercenaries? Was Takae’s allegiance with the Brigands unrelated to his allegiance to his ninja clan? Were the Sanadas allies or enemies of the Brigands?

Then again, that vengeful ninja was the least of his worries and he was already running out of time. Should he even serve as interloper over business he’d otherwise have nothing to do with?

In any case, Kaita’s revenge was just one of the many things Yahiko had to worry about. He had a lot in his plate.

Myojin had gone through a lot in his wandering trip from Tokyo to Nagano to Naouetsu to Hakata to Fukuoka to his “little detour” in Yokohama instead of going straight to Kyoto.

(It wasn’t really a detour. He could get a ship or train straight to Kyoto at any time to meet with Kenshin’s master, Hiko Seijuro XIII, from there.)

In fairness, he got a lot of training done all the way to Fukuoka City before deciding to investigate the Mimawarigumi Battousai that had ties with the Sakaguchis of Shinshu.

He also learned a lot training at the Sakaguchi Dojo alongside the students of Musou Madden Ryu, even though Kamiya Kasshin Ryu kendo didn’t involve as much iaido or new-school battoujutsu as, say, even Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu did.

To be quite frank, him witnessing Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu battoujutsu in-person allowed him to counter most of their iaido forms, strikes, and variations.

New-school iaido offered nothing Yahiko hadn’t already seen from old-school iaijutsu (battoujutsu), especially the superhuman version of the school that Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu practitioners used.

The only technique comparable to the sheer speed of the Sou Ryu Sen (Double Dragon Flash) or even the Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki (Heavens Gliding Dragon Flash) was probably Kinta’s Full Moon Slash or Blue Moon Slash.

Yahiko wasn’t sure he’d count the riposte known as the Tsubame Gaeshi (Swallow Return) as a point of comparison. That wasn’t even a Musou Madden Ryu technique, much less an iaido one.

However, from a certain point of view, that ancient technique of the legendary swordsman Kojiro Sasaki was probably more comparable to the Hirameki than the Blue Moon Slash (since Hiten Mtisurugi Ryu was around at least since the Sengoku Era, after all).

He was getting sidetracked again. He didn’t wish to become an interloper in some rich samurai family’s business, but their ties to the Battousai Group and the prospect of dealing with the formidable Brigands Guild drew him in.

It couldn’t be a coincidence how even the Battousai of Speed knew about this other Battousai. Or why there was a sudden rise of people claiming to be Battousai since the Hiruma Brothers did so in Tokyo all those years ago.

Also, the Minakatas were directly involved with his new friends from Shinshu, the Sakaguchis, who were also friends with the Akahoris.

Besides, why did he undergo this warrior’s pilgrimage in the first place? Of course, to somehow live up to the examples of Sanosuke Sagara and Kenshin Himura.

By reflex, Yahiko gripped the cloth-bound sakabatou tight, wondering what Kenshin’s capabilities were when he was his age.

‘I have to catch up to Kenshin,’ he realized. ‘I’m already this old and I still have a lot growing up to do. Kenshin was already helping change Japan as the Battousai by the time I was his age!’

***

Rurouni Yahiko

A Rurouni Kenshin Continuation Fan Fiction Story by Chester Castañeda

You know who Soujiro Seta reminds me of? He reminds me of Xellos from the “Slayers” universe. He even serves the same function here in the story, aside from being the Rukawa to Yahiko’s Sakuragi.

Disclaimer: All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki, Shueisha, Shonen Jump, Viz, Sony Studios, Fuji TV, Studio Gallup, Studio Deen, and ADV. This disclaimer also covers all the other copyrighted material that are far too many to mention here. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

***

Chapter 62: Hatsumode

***

With the confidence that the Oniwaban or Niwaban had his back (technically—they at least had common goals), Yahiko Myojin set forth to do some investigating of his own.

The Seiryu Clan was one of the Shitennou Ichizoku (Clans of the Four Heavenly Kings) who kept a Black Book of Tokugawa and Ishin Shishi secret documents for their own nefarious purposes.

They could use the information contained from such files to black mail or manipulate the current administration or create a scandal that rocked the foundations of the government.

According to Aoshi Shinomori, the hit against the entire Minakata Family might be a move done by one of the four clans to take sole control of this library of national security secrets.

This encyclopedia of espionage, betrayals, and war crimes documented everything known and unknown in the history books, such as the mysterious circumstances behind the death of Ryoma Sakamoto or even Toshimichi Okubo’s assassination.

It could even reveal who hired the Yaminobu to take out Kenshin Himura as well as the masterminds behind the betrayal of the Sekihoutai that led to the death of Sanosuke’s beloved Captain Sozo Sagara.

It even recorded the existence of the Ishin Shishi shadow assassin Makoto Shishio and his own faction of misfits, the Juppon Gatana.

This was the dreaded paper trail that both the Ishin Shishi and the Tokugawa thought they’d burn to ashes once they emerged as the ultimate victors and rewrote history as the winners of the war.

These fat cat Meiji politicians and oligarchs had no carte blanche with every decision, action, and atrocity they committed in the name of Japan’s future now had receipts included.

Neither side was completely faultless. As with any war where everything was “fair”, they each did dishonorable things to survive and win by any means necessary.

What did all this have to do with the rumors of a rebel Battousai Group that was also formed to topple the Meiji Government?

Apparently, several members of the group were rumored to be part of the clans or were somehow involved with the clans.

This was the case of Shogo Amakusa and Kaede Morinaga attempting to assassinate Tetsuo Akahori, whose brother was Kinta Minakata’s disgraced father Azuma Minakata (nee Akahori).

Since this was the only clue Yahiko had so far (aside from having the Battousai of Speed as a dormant traveling companion in the form of her alter ego, Munenori Minoe), he decided to stick around a little longer in Yokohama.

Something was bound to come to a head if he kept pushing and prodding this case that was otherwise unrelated to him involving odious oligarchs cut from the same cloth as Jusanro Tani.

Besides which, regardless of Yahiko’s lack of a dog in this fight for national secrets and links to war crimes and crimes against humanity, the Black Book remained… concerning.

Some of its most vital information was so sensitive that they were also a matter of national security. It was downright treasonous for these spy clans to harbor such secrets, especially with a government seeking to establish itself on the global scene.

If this information were to fall in the wrong hands, like any of the current worldwide superpowers, it could spell doom and gloom for not only the Meiji Government but for the Empire of Japan.

The potential for political upheaval, another civil war, revolution, foreign interference, or even invasion by the more expansionist countries was too great for Myojin to ignore the Black Book regardless of its link to corrupt politicians.

He should be more concerned about this Four Clans business as much as (if not more than) the terrorist assassination group named after Kenshin.

It was a time bomb waiting to explode, with each of the clans (as far as he knew)—Seiryu, Byakko, Genbu, and Suzaku—serving as the four lit fuses to the explosive exposé.

Sooner or later, might need to defuse that bomb too. Otherwise, the upcoming 18th Year of the Meiji might become its last.

***

Among East Asian nations, Japan was among the first to begin using the Gregorian Calendar in 1873, followed by Korea in 1896 and China in 1912.

They used it instead of the more traditional Lunar Calendar as the standard for official and international matters.

The world had left behind Isolationist Japan, and now a new Globalist Japan was playing catchup to it. 

To be more specific, Japan officially adopted the Gregorian calendar on January 1, 1873 as part of broader modernization efforts during the Meiji Era.

Currently, in the middle of December 1884 in Yokohama, they were in the midst of celebrating another Gregorian New Year with the rest of the “civilized” world.

And indeed, they were a week or so away from January 1, 1885 of the Gregorian Calendar. In Japanese terms, they were on the cusp of the 18th Year of the Meiji Era.

The first sunrise of the year (Hatsu-Hinode) was fast approaching in the advent of 1884 or the 17th Year of the Meiji Era.

Thusly, the impatient Kinta Minakata willed his battered and bruised body to heal even though its damage was more self-inflicted due to him using Musou Madden Ryu’s deadliest techniques than any damage his bastard brother Lucas had done to him.

In Shinto, the traditional Japanese religion, people believed that the toshigami (New Year gods) appeared at the first sunrise to bless their followers with good health, good fortune, and prosperity.

He wished to witness the first sunrise of 1885 or the 18th Year of the Meiji Era to bring blessings and good tidings for the coming year.

To save his cursed family from self-destruction and upcoming karma from a half-brother who had every right to vengeance but Kinta could not let him because it could undo what he worked for as a Mimawarigumi member during the Bakumatsu.

After witnessing the first sunrise, many people visited shrines or temples for the first time of the year, a practice called hatsumode or hatsumōde.

He wished to visit the shrine in peace with the Sakaguchis to protect them from becoming collateral damage from the sins of his father and grandfather.

The last thing he wanted was for the loyal samurai family that had been under their hatamoto samurai masters for years to take accountability for crimes on behalf of the Minakatas.

The wish he wanted in his heart of hearts was the unlikeliest wish to come true.

That his surviving family members—his grandmother Mieko and his two uncles, Tatsuya and Kaneda—would turn a new leaf and take responsibility for all their dishonorable behavior in the past.

They’d besmirched the Minakata Family name far more with what they’d been doing in the dark than what his disgraced mother Aoi did in the light.

Kinta shook his head while he kept staring at the ceiling of his private hospital room quarters, a sleeping Abelie serving as his nursemaid and liaison to the actual nurses.

With him alone with his thoughts, unable to do anything else but wait and heal.

Unbelievable. Had it been 18 years already? 18 years since the End of the Shogunate. The End of the Civil War. The End of the Samurai Class.

Time flew by without him noticing. He was roughly Kyoko’s age by the time the Bakumatsu drew to a close.

She, like her friend Yahiko Myojin, were born right after the revolution.

A whole entire generation who never witnessed the bloodshed and death that transpired to build the peaceful era they currently enjoyed.

It was for them and the generations beyond them that moved Kinta to act even against his bastard brother he’d otherwise had no grudge against.

He also fought for the sake of the Shidai Nikuya (Four Butchers) who, despite being the bakufu’s enemies, he considered his most worthy opponents.

The Four Hitokiri of the Bakumatsu: Shinbei Tanaka. Izo Okada. Toshiaki Kirino. And Gensai Kawakami, whom Kinta actually crossed swords with.

***

To his surprise, Yahiko could’ve sworn he just saw Kenshin pass him by, which prompted him to wield his wrapped-up sakabatou inheritance as the familiar face.

An eye blink later, he realized he’d been pointing his weapon at a surprised (and slightly scuffed) Munenori Minoe.

The eye-patched person with the wig blinked at him in return. “Yahiko-chi…?”

Myojin relaxed his tense body and slung his blade over his shoulder again. ‘I really do have lots more to work on if I’m getting spooked by Minoe of all people.’

Inwardly, a voice inside Yahiko chided him for thinking that way. What was he even talking about? Without the wig and eyepatch, Minoe was the spirit and image of Kenshin Himura!

Kaede Morinaga. The Battousai of Speed. The assassin that almost took a minister’s life, the Oyakata’s. Or rather, Tetsuo Akahori’s life.

And this time, he was attempting to save another Battousai—the Mimawarigumi Battousai—and his rich family from harm against mercenaries from overseas.

Was he still supposed to pretend Minoe wasn’t Kaede after everything they’d been through? Should he continue that charade and neither of them believed in?

To this day, they had to keep pretending to be comrades, waiting for the other shoe to drop where they couldn’t deny their allegiances and draw swords against each other.

Minoe belonged with the Hidden Christian terrorists. Yahiko promised to defend the peace established by Kenshin Himura and the Meiji Government. Their objectives were at odds with one another.

Still, Yahiko couldn’t help but say, “Thank you,” to the disguised Kaede.

“For what, Yahiko-chi?” Minoe asked, tilting his head to the side.

“For helping me save the Minakatas even though you and him don’t seem to see eye-to-eye,” Yahiko blurted out without thinking, uncertain of what Munenori would react. Would he say the same thing as his alter ego Kaede would?

The adorable Minoe cutely linked his two pointer fingers together and said, “Mochiron, Yahiko-chi! It was nothing. We had to beat up those Chinese thugs too, they almost did you in. Both me and Gan-chi chipped in to help.”

“Oh. OH! Yeah, thanks for helping too, Gan,” said Yahiko while scratching the back of his neck, embarrassed at how his companion became an afterthought of his. “I couldn’t have dealt with those lion mascot bastards alone.”

“BWAHAHAHA! Don’t mention it, Yoshi-boy!” bellowed the Boisterous Gan, who somehow able to sneak up to them despite towering over them with his muscly frame, swarthy smell, and barrel chest.

Oh. And before he forgot, Yahiko punched Gan on the nose. Right on the schnoz.

“AUUGHH! What was that for?!” Gan demanded.

“Misao told me to punch you for her sake for being such a tattle-tale Peeping Tom.”

“WEASEL-CHAN was here? Huh!” said Gan, adding, “She’s flattering herself. I don’t peep on little kids! I was peeping on other, more voluptuous women in the bathhouse!”

“Spoken like a true Pervert King.” Why was Yahiko hanging out with a thug like him again? Didn’t he pursue him because he wanted to dine and dash like he was Sanosuke?

“Hey, that’s Soba King to you! Also, is she still obsessing about that tall, dark, and gruesome crush of hers? Something-sama or another…?” probed Gan with a scratch of his chinny chin-chin.

“You mean Shinomori Aoshi-“sama”? Yeah, they still hang out,” Yahiko put things rather bluntly with a chortle and an eye roll.

He vaguely had the inkling notion of needing to refer to those two Oniwabanshu members with more respect and veneration in light of their status and capabilities, but as always, it quickly went over his impertinent head.

Not the kunai that suddenly dug itself at the base of his skull though. That didn’t miss his head at all.

Indeed, their thoughtless remarks earned the ire of a certain irate patrolling onmitsu kunoichi, who shot kunai at the back of their heads.

“Eeehhh?” said Minoe, surprised at how his two companions suddenly had knives stuck at the back of their heads. “What just happened?”

Meanwhile, the shadow of a pigtailed girl in short shorts as ninja gear leaped away in a huff, taking a brief break during her patrol to teach Yahiko and his lumbering ox of a traveling companion a lesson.

She had one sentiment for their unthinking verbalizations. “The wheel is turning, but the hamster is dead.”

***

“…Anyway, you’re quite welcome, Yoshi-boy!” Gan said after recovering from the dagger to the skull, plucking the bloody weapon from the back of his thick skull.

Yahiko chuckled as he himself removed Misao’s kunai from his head. He better be careful with his words and of what he said about her or Aoshi if she was still doing reconnaissance around the area. Could’ve sworn she already left.

The two knew better than to call further attention to the weaselly girl on patrol.

“Can’t believe I’d ever miss you calling me ‘Yoshi-boy’ too, come to think of it. But it has been a while. Or it felt like it.”

The Grinning Gan’s smile shone as brightly as the midday sun. “Ya know it, Yoshi-boy!”

Before he even realized it, the Goofy Gan had become like his own personal Sanosuke Sagara. Wait, didn’t he just compare Minoe to Kenshin? And what about Kinta to Aoshi?

Then again, the very first thing in his mind when he first saw Chizuru Raikouji was that she was the spirit and image of his kendo master, Kaoru Kamiya.

He couldn’t help but associate the unfamiliar with the familiar. Maybe it was his way to cope after leaving the place he considered as home, the Kamiya Dojo in Tokyo.

“Where’d you even come up with a silly name like that?” asked Yahiko.

“I dunno. You always looked like a Yoshi to me, you know?” answered Gan. “Patches is Patches, and Yoshi is Yoshi.”

‘Patches is Patches, huh…?’ thought Yahiko while taking a perfunctory look at the eye-patched, wig-wearing weirdo that was Munenori Minoe. Also known as Kaede Morinaga.

Also known as the Battousai of Speed of the Battousai Group.

Talk about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer. They might have to clash swords again like back in Shinshu, but for now they were allies.

Time had passed in the blink of an eye, but Yahiko still remembered that unforgettable night.

Come to think of it, the month was almost over and hatsumode was nearing. Hatsumode always reminded Yahiko of Megumi Takani’s birthday because they celebrated it a month before hatsumode.

Hatsumode, the first shrine or temple visit of the New Year, was a significant tradition in Japan.

It involved visiting Shinto shrines or Buddhist temples to express gratitude for the past year and seek blessings for the coming one.

This practice typically occurred on the first, second, or third day of the year, though some prefer to visit later to avoid crowds.

Oh, that was right. Megumi’s birthday was every December or just a few weeks away before the New Year and the Kenshingumi’s annual tradition of visiting the temple for good luck.

Her birthday was also close to Yahiko’s own birthday late in January, come to think about it.

Around this time, the Kenshingumi—Kenshin, Kaoru, Yahiko, Sanosuke (before he went wandering in America), and Megumi—would visit the nearest shrine in Tokyo to bring in new tidings.

“Say, a new year’s about to arrive,” Yahiko brought up to his traveling companions. “Why don’t we do hatsumode together this coming new year? It’s just us ‘Three Stooges’, together. Whaddya say?”

***

On the first of January, Yahiko had a dream. Or maybe a nightmare? It wasn’t scary. Just weird.

He dreamed about Kenshin Kamiya (nee Himura) last night.

Or was he Kaede Morinaga instead? Kaede looked like a younger version of Kenshin, like Kenshin before he received his cross scar (but Kaede had a cross scar near her eye).

The two became one person, a giant, that grabbed Yahiko by the palm of his hand, crushing him. Either that or he shrunk to the size of Kenshin’s/Kaede’s hand.

Afterwards, the next thing he knew, his hand got grabbed by Gan as they ran away from the titanic Kaede or Kenshin lumbering after them with earth-shattering feet.

Maybe it was Kenshin because beside Gan was Minoe (who was otherwise just Kaede in a wig and eye patch disguise).

They ran towards a tori gate, on its other end a long outdoor stone staircase, which made Yahiko realize they’d been inside a temple or shrine this whole time.

They were then face-to-face with the other Battousai, a giant Kinta Minakata, who clashed swords with the Kenshin or Kaede giant, the Sanbaka stuck in the middle in a shower of sparks that looked like late evening fireworks.

From there, he woke up, wondering what his first dream of the new year was supposed to symbolize.

***

The Sanbaka had their temple visit in the 2nd of January. They went to the Iseyama Kotai Jingu Shrine.

Known as the Ise Jingu of the Kanto region, the Shinto shrine relocated to Yokohama in 1870. It was a central shrine in both the Shinto religion and Yokohama, with its picturesque surroundings popular for weddings.

The shrine was said to be a symbol of the city's unity after its relocation and the subsequent festival.

In contrast, the whole entourage of the Minakatas and Sakaguchis (along with family friend Chizuru Raikouji) went instead to the Gumyoji Temple.

Gumyoji was the oldest temple in Yokohama, founded in 721. It had been a significant site for Buddhist scholars and teachers. The temple featured an 11-headed Kannon statue, a National Treasure of Japan.

But of course, the hatamoto-class Minakatas would want to attend hatsumode at such an ancient and revered temple. It presented them with better optics and a temple visit worthy of their previous social standing (even though the samurai class was already abolished by then).

Yahiko decided to go to a different temple on a whim because he, an outsider, didn’t feel comfortable in such a large gathering of two families together. He already felt too much of an interloper as it was.

He also went to a separate shrine on behalf of Minoe because of his issues with Kinta Minakata.

Apparently, Kinta betrayed the Hidden Christians to the government six years ago, around the same time the Kenshingumi faced off against Shishio’s faction, acting as the government mole that destroyed the rebels from within.

A pool of nostalgia filled Yahiko from within him, remembering all the times he and the Kamiya Family visited a shrine along with Tsubame Sanjo and Tae Sekihara from the Akabeko during the first few days of the new year.

Maybe that was why he avoided doing the shrine visit with the Sakaguchis and Minakatas. On one hand, the traditional was an intimate thing done with your true family rather than a bunch of strangers and acquaintances.

On the other hand, even though he just as recently met the Sanbaka, he felt closer with them than he did with those two families. They also followed a different group dynamic.

Yahiko just felt weird “betraying” the Kamiya Family and friends by going to the temple with another set of families and friends. At least with the Sanbaka, it merely felt like he was going out with new friends while away from Tokyo and his real family.

It was illogical to feel that way when he gave the notion a second or third thought, but that was just how he felt.

The Sanbaka thusly did the whole shebang of ringing bells, offering coins as donations to increase their good luck, and praying for good health, success, and happiness for the coming year.

They did the thing where they threw coins at the coin altar, bowed deeply twice, clapped their hands at chest level twice, then bowed deeply once afterwards.

The three then proceeded to get their omikuji, the traditional paper lottery of luck sold at temples. You could get extremely good luck, moderate luck, or bad luck. Just give a donation and get a random folded piece of paper containing your luck for the year.

Both Yahiko and Minoe received moderately good luck om paper, which bode well for their immediate future for the year 1885 or the 18th Year of the Meiji Era in Japan (even though their relationship was a bit of a ticking time bomb as it was).

However, apparently, Gan received some bad luck from his omikuji. Terrible luck, actually.

“ACK! What am I going to do, Patches?! Yoshi-boy?!” said a profusely sweating Gan, who treated the piece of paper like an arrest warrant. “I don’t want to have bad luck for the rest of the year! Should I tie it to a tree?”

“I've heard that if you tie that to a tree, the bad luck will be purified and disappear,” said Yahiko.

“But I've also heard that tying it to the tree will make the fortune come true,” said Minoe, which only confused Gan further.

“Which one is it? What should I do?” said the Worried Gan.

“I bet you’re screwed either way,” remarked Yahiko with a shrug.

They tied the paper anyway and Myojin lent the hooligan some money for a good luck charm. He actually paid good luck charms for all of them.

They were about to leave to eat at some nearby restaurant when they chanced upon some unlikely visitors.

It was the pale, bespectacled Rin Akahori accompanied by her bodyguard, the forever smiling Soujiro Seta.

“Psycho-Kid,” murmured Yahiko under his breath. He was the last person he expected to be there.

***

“Ah. Yahiko-san,” said Soujiro. “It’s been a long time since we last crossed swords. How are you?”

“That’s my line!” said Yahiko by reflex. He didn’t really care about how Psycho-Kid was doing. He did have the wherewithal to give a bow of acknowledgement to the Oyakata’s little princess, Rin.

Rin bowed in return. Then, after adjusting her glasses, she asked Soujiro, “Who are these people, Seta-kun? Friends of yours?”

“Oh, have you forgotten? They were Akahori-san’s bodyguards, remember?” said Seta, eyeing all three. “You’ve met Myojin Yahiko-san, correct? He saved your father’s life.”

“Myojin-kun,” said Rin, smacking an open palm. “I remember now. Thank you again for saving Father’s life. I’m eternally grateful. I trust you’ve been handsomely rewarded.”

Yahiko scratched the back of his head, stating, “It’s not a big deal. I was just doing my job. I did what I was paid to do.”

Rin nodded. “I respect that. You did superbly, even though you weren’t in Father’s payroll like Seta-kun was. You’ve earned your keep.”

The Great Gan guffawed, puffing up his chest. “Well, what about me, little princess? I risked my life taken on that Kumamoto Amakusa scoundrel too! I should’ve gotten as big of a reward instead of being paid peanuts!”

Rin shrugged. “You didn’t save Father, so you were paid thusly,” which made the boisterous thug deflate.

Yahiko and Soujiro both patted the poor lug’s back over Rin’s matter-of-fact bluntness.

Seta then chided Rin, saying, “Stop calling Akahori-san your father. People will misunderstand.”

Rin pouted. “He doesn’t want to be called Uncle.”

Yahiko tilted his head to the side, asking “You two are not father and daughter?”

“Objectively, no.” Rin’s irises moved like they stuttered as she considered Yahiko’s question. “Functionally, yes.”  

Seta nodded with his friendly smile. “From what I understand, she’s actually his niece, but the two are pretty close.”

The twenty-something swordsman then spared a glance at Minoe and chuckled. “And here’s one of Akahori-san’s Togakudan spies for good measure. Minoe Munenori was his name, I believe.”

Yahiko then gulped, unsure of whether or not Soujiro had figured out Minoe’s true identity as the Battousai of Speed or if they were also keeping up charades like he was.

Wishing to change the subject, Yahiko brought up, “We wouldn’t want to keep you two from missing out of hatsumode or anything. It was nice meeting you again, Psycho-Kid… I mean, Seta Soujiro. And you too, Akahori Rin.”

Gan guffawed at “Psycho-Kid” while Soujiro paid the sobriquet no mind. Meanwhile, Rin mouthed the words.

‘Real smooth, Yahiko,’ the samurai kid thought to himself. ‘Go ahead. Eat that foot.’

“We already went to the Tomioka Hachimanngu Shrine yesterday,” countered Soujiro as smoothly as he countered Yahiko’s Jodan-no-Kamae slash when they first dueled. “We’re through with hatsumode.”

The Tomioka Shrine was believed to have been built by Minamoto no Yoritomo in 1191 and was a significant place of worship during the Kamakura period, thus making it a heritage site.

The Akahori bodyguard then said, “Saay, Minoe-san,” with an inquisitive head tilt. “Whatever happened to your short sword. The one that’s reverse-edged like Yahiko-san’s?

Minoe gripped and hid the sheathed blade in his obi, turning away from Soujiro’s peering eyes and his own eyes darted around. Hesitant, he answered, “I’ve hidden the blade into this sheathe that makes it look like a cane.”

Gan then interposed himself between Soujiro and Minoe, sensing something was amiss. “W-ell, Yoshi-boy and Patches are birds of a feather, y’see! They both don’t strike to kill. They just beat up people but haven’t killed anyone!”

Soujiro eyes became small slits as his slight, knowing smile widened, with him leaning forward, his gaze affixed on Minoe. “That’s pretty nifty! Stick fighting that can turn into blade fighting in an instant, huh? I’d love to spar with you sometime.”

“I-I’m good,” said Minoe. “I’m certainly no match against Oyakata-chi’s top bodyguard!”

Yahiko’s eyes bugged out as he gulped. Soujiro technically already did cross blades with Minoe, only it was Kaede Morinaga he fought instead. He then remembered what Soujiro said earlier.

“Wait a minute. What are you doing here at the Iseyama Shrine if you two already did hatsumode yesterday at Tomioka Shrine?”

Soujiro shrugged and raised his arms up in surrender. “You got us. We’re actually here to keep tabs on the Minakatas on Akahori-san’s behalf.”

“What? You’re in the wrong shrine, Psycho-Kid!” exclaimed Gan, unable to help himself. “They’re at the fancy Gumyoji Temple!”

“Also, what does the Oyakata have to do with the Minakatas?” Yahiko asked Soujiro. “Who is Akahori Tetsuo to the Minakata Family?”

“My father always says that each man must live in the pursuit of their own happiness and follow his own rational self-interest.”

For a second, Yahiko thought he saw Aoshi Shinomori and Misao Makimachi together in the same shrine as the Sanbaka, only for him to realize an eye blink later that he was actually looking at the figures of Kinta Minakata and Kyoko Sakaguchi instead.

Wait. What were they doing there? Weren’t they supposed to be at the much older Gumyoji Temple.

From behind them followed a concerned (and blonde) May Brooks or Satsuki Sakaguchi, which made her stand out like a sore thumb.

She looked like she belonged in the pockets of Yokohama tourists here and there also partaking in Japanese traditions instead of a fellow local.

***

To Be Continued...

 I kind of wondered what sort of role Soujiro would fulfill following his encounter with and defeat against Kenshin at Mount Hiei.

Then I remembered the enigmatic trickster known as Xellos from “Slayers” who was such a fun character to watch and write about. They’re both mysterious young men who always smiled like they knew something you didn’t.

Also, the joke about omikuji was taken from Azumanga Daioh.

Selamat pagi, Abdiel

[gabriel-gabdiel]

【Draft】 Fantasy of Evolution Chapter 8: Just Another Manic Monday

Now that Florante had awoken and proven himself the likeliest Candidate of Ascension for Archangel Gabriel’s avatar, the rest of his classmates and enemies that he dragged into this mess will want to vie for the same title.

He wishes to save them and turn them back human by winning the Election, but his empowered bullies have other ideas.

Meanwhile, in the middle of nothingness…

The light from the halos of the two Candidates ceased to be.

Regina Mariano, one of the potential avatars of Archangel Gabriel, could not feel resistance from the monster she was trying to kill—their classmate-turned-deranged-school-shooter Florante Galang.

Dammit, she couldn’t think. She could only feel.

First of all, Regina thought she went blind as she grasped at nothingness, feeling nothing back.

The world was gone. But so was Florante. She did her part. Now she needed to put everything back together. She needed to go back to a world where she existed. Or the world existed. Where everything existed.

Where she could see, smell, touch, hear, and so forth. Where she could sing to her heart’s content.

However, she didn’t know how to put things back together again.

When Florante killed them, the next thing they knew was normalcy. Everything went back to normal and they were back in bed, safe from the nightmare. At least, that was her experience.

But she couldn’t reset herself back to human form this time, just as that bastard Florante warned her. He told her the truth and she didn’t listen, thinking he was lying.

She then went from being the epitome of rage and righteousness to fear and panic.

She didn’t want to exist in limbo like this! Death would be sweet release from this prison!

Then, after what felt like 20 years, she heard him speak.

“Thank you for finally calming down,” she heard Flor say, turning her panic to relief then confusion.

“Let me help you go back to normal,” Galang said and for once, Mariano stopped resisting. She realized she had no choice.

In the darkness, she could see only him, unfurling his wings, his head’s halo shining like the sun itself.

“I’m sorry about this.” Florante said with as much sincerity as he could muster.

Unbidden, Regina saw Galang’s thoughts flash into her mind to show the sentiment behind his apology.

He wanted to show Regina that he realized it was his fault she became a monster. He also realized all of the bullies he killed he also turned into monsters like him. Or “Candidates”, he also called them.

For once, Flor needed to take responsibility. All his life, his parents called him a spoiled brat who took everything for granted. That needed to change.

Time rewound and Regina’s inhuman hexagonal form became flesh once more, transforming in tandem with her bullied classmate Florante Galang.

Now that she could do more than just feel again, she didn’t know what to feel about Florante.

***

Fantasy of Evolution

An Urban Fantasy Story by Abdiel

Reality didn't care who deserved to win or lose. However, even if winning happened by pure luck, you still needed to throw the dice to get to the result you want. Just prepare for the outcome.

Disclaimer: This work may reference copyrighted material, the use of which has not always been specifically authorized by the copyright owner. It is believed that this constitutes a fair use of any such copyrighted material as provided for in Section 107 of the US Copyright Law. All copyrighted material referred to in this work belongs to their respective owners. All rights reserved.

***

Chapter 8: Just Another Manic Monday

***

From darkness came light. Everything destroyed became whole again unless they were already in that state before the three Candidates arrived at that area.

Florante Galang, Isaiah Pascual, and Regina Mariano.

“Susmaryosep,” muttered Galang under his breath like a magical incantation.

What few people interacted with him said his “catchphrase” made him sound like a grandmother, so he avoided (consciously) saying it in front of people in embarrassment.

He couldn’t help saying it from time to time though: Force of habit.

Of the three, only Florante knew how to pick up the pieces and put them back together again like a giant jigsaw puzzle.

And that truth shall set them free.

Earlier, after Galang woke the Pascual and Mariano up from becoming the brainless Minions of the temptress known as Georgina Spelvin—the incumbent avatar of the infamous demon Asmodeus—they turned on him.

The two classmates he was supposed to save double-crossed him and attempted to kill him, with Regina having more success because she had more control of her powers.

Meanwhile, from behind them, they could feel Isaiah desperately try to do what Regina was doing to make sure Florante was finished off.

This made Florante realize that though Regina alone was enough to put him on his knees, his classmates didn’t think that was enough to take him down for good. They believed they needed to team up to truly end him.

The fact made Florante somewhat feel proud, in spite of himself.

He didn’t mean to feel pride over something shameful, but it felt good to feel empowered after years of being the butt of everyone’s jokes.

Florante became aware of his surroundings.as soon as he felt the eye daggers shot at him by the classmates he just saved. His former best friend and his tomboy crush.

“SHUT UP ABOUT THE CRUSH THING!?” shouted Flor’s former best friend, Pascual. “And we were not best friends, we were acquaintances! You misunderstood what happened!”

“….”

“Aw, now look at what you did to poor Flor,” said the tomboy crush of Pascual, Regina Mariano, to him. “Poor thing looks depressed now.”

Florante looked up at Regina as his mouth curved into a small grin. Although she acted like one of the boys in their class, she was also popular among the girls.

Galang couldn’t talk to her because she was as intimidating as his bullies, but she was the coolest gal around.

She was the sporty classmate that everyone highly admired. Some even joked she was “Crush ng Bayan (The Nation’s Sweetheart)” of the class because she looked drop-dead gorgeous too.

Regina chuckled out loud. “Aba! Now you’re laying it on too thick, Flor. Flattery will get you nowhere. I’m still gonna kill ya.”

Pascual stared back and forth at Florante and Regina with an aghast look on his face. He looked confused and jealous(?) at what was happening. Huh. He really did love Regina a lot, didn’t he?

For instance, Isaiah was the only boy in the class who knew that Regina’s parents named her after Regine Velsaquez, a famous Filipino singer and actress.

Back in 1983, when Regina was born, her parents from Bulacan were watching a young Regine (Full Name: Regina Encarnacion Ansong Velasquez) compete in singing competitions in the area, before she became famous nationwide.

This was also the reason why she attended that talent competition. Or had powers related to sound. Or composed and performed “The Song That Could End The World”.

“Whoa there, Info Dump! Slow down!” said the chuckling Regina while Isaiah turned away from them as numerous beads of sweat flowed out from his face like a cold drink left out in the sun.

Pascual gulped when Regina asked, “Is that true, Pascual? I didn’t tell you anything about that.”

Isaiah answered, “I… I heard. From someone. Can’t remember.”

The two turned towards Florante in askance, who still hadn’t realized he was telepathically transmitting his thoughts to them. Or only realized it just then. When the two told him about it. In song.

“Pasensya na… kung ako ay… di nag… sasalita,” sang Regina with amazing vocals worthy of her more famous namesake, “Asia’s Songbird”. Her lyrics meant, “Sorry if I’m not talking.”

“Hindi ko kayang… sabihin… ang aking… nadarama,” Pascual followed Mariano’s lead, with less-than-amazing vocals but at least he wasn’t outright tone-deaf (“HEY!”). His lyrics meant, “I can’t say what I’m feeling.”

Both lines are part of the song, “Torpedo” by the band Eraserheads that was formed back in 1989 but reached peak popularity recently.

“Um,” Flor said aloud, tugging at his collar. “The truth is, I think Pascual figured it out on his own while he was asking around about you.”

“…Is that true, Pascual?” asked Regina with her arms crossed over her bosom.

“…Maybe,” said Pascual, who looked everywhere else but Regina’s chest. The stray thought made Florante stare by reflex, whose transmitted thoughts Isaiah used to take a peek himself.

“HOY!” she screamed at the two with her outdoor voice. “Mga MANYAK! (PERVERTS!)”

The two looked away guiltily and ran away together from the loud Regina when the people around them started paying attention to them to see what all the commotion was about.

‘Can’t you turn your telepathy off?’ Isaiah asked really hard with his mind.

“Huh?” Florante asked his ex-best friend who just stared at him for some reason.

“So you can turn it off!” Pascual said aloud.

“Turn what off?” asked Flor.

“Your telepathy!” answered Isaiah.

“Oh. Sorry about that. I wasn’t paying attention earlier and accidentally talked to you two without saying anything.”

“You can do that on accident?!”

“I didn’t mean to do it, yes. I’ll pay closer attention next time.”

“Well, stop doing that or you won’t have friends.”

“….”

Surreal. They really went from trying to save Regina Mariano from being kidnapped and controlled by a She-Demon from Hell to running away from her like she was the She-Demon and they were the ones who did something wrong.

As they parted ways and took separate public vehicles back to their respective homes in Pasig, Florante realized something in his lone commute.

“Life ain’t all about me. Look at my classmates.”

***

Telepathy. Mind reading. It was a git and a curse.

As one of the demons he and Jenny faced off against—Mammon—claimed, both angels and demons could sense each other’s presence like they have an internal radar inside of them.

This sixth sense of detection also allowed them to privately talk to one another, like a celestial version of “Yahoo! Instant Messenger” or Internet chatrooms. By telepathy.

They each had the option to block access of their minds to some while allowing access to others. There were also those who could force their way into someone’s thoughts with or without consent.

This ability made war between angels and demons complicated. Or even one-sided.

The weaker or younger ones could have their minds read like a book by the older, more experienced ones, leading to their instant defeat despite of the great power or potential they possessed.

Some angels/demons even directly had powers involving telepathy itself, so even the most strong-minded individuals could fall prey to their specific set of skills.

Florante recently discovered how to read minds and talk privately to others without speaking back in Makati then at Ortigas.

His ability to read minds helped him convince a “Minion” to stop fighting him because they had no quarrel against each other, thus they avoided mutual self-destruction.

It also helped him save his classmates, Mariano and Pascual, from becoming another demons’ brainwashed Minions.

Afterwards, the trio resolved their differences and got closure. The two discovered why they were killed by Florante. Florante confirmed that his killing spree wasn’t a dream.

He could now use his powers to set things right.

Granted, things went south also because of him discovering he had powers but that was life. Que sera sera (Whatever will be, will be).

Or rather: Carpe diem (Seize the day).

He had no idea why he was chosen (By who? Archangel Gabriel himself?) to become the human avatar of a Biblical figure. However, it was not an opportunity he’d about to waste.

Even if this was the lottery and he got this blessing by random chance, he’d do everything he could to not waste this chance to become someone.

Jennifer tried to save him by making him forget his angelhood, but he kept remembering again anyway for a reason. He was probably meant to become Gabriel’s avatar.

If not, then let the other Candidates of Ascension take the position away from him.

He’d been asking for a miracle all this time so that he could become the better version of himself.

To look this gift horse in the mouth when he did nothing to deserve getting it was I bad taste. He should just accept the gift even if he didn’t like it or felt like a burden.

Telepathy was one of the burdens of becoming an angel, but now that he could use it, he could change his approach to the people in his class so that they’d stop bullying him.

Maybe in this reality, Florante could keep the people he had killed from the previous reality from dying in his hands by using his new ability to empathize and read minds.

Sure, the prospect of several of his empowered bullies becoming the winner of the election to crown which Candidate of Ascension should ascend to becoming Archangel Gabriel fills Florante with existential dread.

Like the Philippines being ruled by Nepo Babies or the Political Elite hogging the nations riches for themselves.

However, the power to decide was his now. He’d dismantle all attempts at his crown or becoming Gabriel by his bullies through taking on the responsibility for himself.

He was rambling now, but so far, he’d avoided many social landmines by being able to read social cues and hints from those around him for once.

Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t be pushed by his bullies into a position of weakness and desperation. They wouldn’t force his hand and compel to eliminate the competition like in the previous reality.

No, no, no. He now had a power they didn’t have. His chances of becoming the official Archangel Gabriel’s current human avatar were actually huge.

Even Archangel Raphael (Jenny Tolentino) confirmed Florante’s potential.

He was never confident of his attractiveness, charm, or ability to communicate because he was a shy introvert with no friends who wished to stay alone more often than not due to how too many people overstimulated him.

If he could stay in his shell, his comfort zone, forever he would.

However, he shouldn’t do that. He needed to see this Candidates of Ascension event the whole way through to see if he had what it took to become Gabriel’s champion.

Defeating his bullies that he turned into Candidates through their exposure to his rage and powers was also his responsibility.

He had to individually make amends with them to keep Gabriel’s powers from falling ino their hands. Why? It looked like fate had decreed the title belonged to him.

Otherwise, the other Candidates would’ve taken it away from him by now.

Maybe it was rationalization at this point, but Florante was willing to sacrifice his spot on the human avatar tournament in order to save the Candidates themselves.

They shouldn’t die like the Spaghetti Monster Florante came across before. The casualties should be kept minimal during the Candidacy of Ascension.

He discovered from his battle against Regina that he was willing to talk her down and save her from a permanent transformation, but he wasn’t as willing to give up his powers even by death.

His bullies didn’t need telepathy to figure that out. Florante was unwilling to let go of his one (and possibly only) chance at empowerment after being so helpless for so long.

Be never realized how narcissistic he was until just now, when he used his recently discovered empath and telepath abilities on others like him.

What should’ve been common sense to him, he only knew at that moment, and it filled him with deep shame.

His classmates, even his bullies, all have their own struggles to deal with. They were too busy to even think about what he was going through, yet he put his garbage unto their doorsteps without them asking.

All because of some petty beef with them because he couldn’t let go of his grudges.

He presumed they were out to get them when they were only teasing him. He couldn’t take a joke. No “bully” of his could ever do a joke on him.

Every annoyance he felt from others should have a commensurate response. He couldn’t forgive them even for the pettiest of things.

And now they were all Candidates for Ascension because of him. He let his weakness get the better of him and now they all had to share in his pain.

Regina was right. He might as well had shot them. He really was no better than those school shooters in America.

He needed to take responsibility once and for all. Set things right or else they’d all suffer like Regina did. Like Isaiah did. Like Jenny did.

Maybe it was selfish of him to think this way, but unless there was another more worthy candidate to step up the plate, Florante believed only he could handle the might of Archangel Gabriel.

***

During the weekend, while Florante lay on his bed thinking to himself…

He had another asthma episode full of shortened breaths and deep wheezing that sounded like a snoring cat.

He had just taken his asthma medication through what was known as a nebulizer—a lunchbox-sized machine that turned liquid medicine into a mist that could be inhaled.

His family let him rest while they did all the chores (he was spoiled as the youngest of the family) to keep his asthma from progressing.

“Do I deserve to be bullied?” he softly repeated his question to Jennifer Tolentino as soon as he felt her presence seep inside his room and its closed door. He smiled, finding it sweet that his classmate checked up on him.

‘Nobody deserves to be bullied,’ said Jenny in her (or Raphael’s) Ophanim form that engulfed the area with the liquid transparency of a jellyfish. Her gelatinous body teemed of bacterial life like the primordial ooze itself.

‘But you also don't get to play victim when you hurt people back,’ she added, with her strictly communicating through telepathy because she currently lacked a mouth.

‘Even as revenge?’ he asked.

‘Even as revenge.’ she answered. ‘You can't control how other people react to you, only how you react to them.’

‘You’re so wise, Jennifer Tolentino.’ He then asked her, ‘Are you good? Will you be able to transform back to normal? I can help you with that. I figured out how to use that aspect of my powers.’

‘Don’t worry about me,’ she reassured. ‘You should rest. Recuperate. Gather some energy. You have the big day ahead this Monday after the weekend is over.’

Florante frowned then thought, ‘Why am I like this? Why am I such a loser crybaby? I wish I could stop being like this.’

The entirety of Florante Galang’s character could be summed up as this: He hated humiliation and being misunderstood.

That was his truest essence. His every motivation was informed by him averting embarrassment, feeling cringy, and people laughing or pitying him.

Anything that elicited major embarrassment, whether from others or by his own insecurity remained rent-free in his mind and the only way he’d resolve it was by eliminating the “stimulant” that elicited such a response.

If it was his insecurities, he’d rationalize them away, drowning them by his overthinking. If it was other people, he’d avoid them, Run away. Stop the conflict from happening and retreating in his shell.

Up until he got the power to “do something” about other people, in which case the elimination of the stimulant became literal.

How humiliating. This grown teenager had the emotional maturity of a five-year-old child.

What was worst was when Florante had blips of self-awareness of his motivations, which only made him cringe harder before he forgot what he had realized soon after like soap bubbles at the park.

Another way to resolve his embarrassment was validation. He hungered for it, tried to deny it, but his actions still end up seeking it, unbeknownst to him. Because he was a slave of his emotions for good measure.

Florante Galang hated embarrassment and loved validation. This was who he was.

This could describe many other human beings for sure, but him specifically was all about two things if one were to face off with himself alone inside a vacuum.

‘Overthinking again, Hun?’ asked Jennifer, which made him apologize to her.

‘Did you read all that I thought?’ he asked her. ‘There's so much I don't know about myself and the world, I want to know more about this new world. Maybe it will help me discover the real world too. I'm not sure, but I'm willing to bet my life on it.’

‘Thinking about the future, are we?’ she asked.

He answered, ‘My seeking validation is my way of exploring the world bit by bit. I live in a very small world. I need to express and connect myself to other worlds to expand it. To allow me to grow.’

Should he pursue the truth? The truth could hurt. No. ‘The truth only hurts when you're living a lie.’

‘You’ve made your decision?’ she asked. ‘I tried to keep you away from this war between angels and demons. To protect you from yourself and the truth behind you killing your classmates when you awakened as Archangel Gabriel. However, it seems like you’ve made up your mind.’

He noticed his asthma was gone and he felt invigorated now. ‘Are you healing my body with your Raphael’s powers, Jenny?’

‘Yes,’ thought Miss Tolentino. ‘If this is your decision, I’ll support you100 percent. Save your classmates and become Gabriel. Turn them back into what they were before. Once that candidacy is over, they won’t have to run any longer.”

‘Then that’s what I’m going to do,’ thought Florante as he sat up, realizing his asthma was gone. It had subsided to nothing thanks to Jenny’s healing powers.

"Even if I realize what I've done is wrong and my bullies could be right, I still want to know what I need to do to make things right. To make me feel good about myself. I want to be validated that I'm not making a mistake and I'm going for my desires the right way, without trampling on the desires of others."

In all honesty, that was his realization. Expectations rarely matched up with reality, though.

Florante expected Jenny to talk to him longer, give him more advice on what to do, and answer more of his questions. However, just as abruptly as she came to his room, she decided to leave.

‘I guess this is goodbye,’ Jenny said.

‘You just got here. Is your hello the goodbye?’ joked Florante awkwardly.

‘It sounds contradictory but yes. See you later, Gabriel,’ she said.

‘See you later, Raphael,’ he replied.

Expectations rarely matched up with reality. However, reality was better than expectations because it was real.

Even if you end up disappointed by what was real because your expectations were sky high, what actually came about remained better than your continued delusion by default.

Knowing the truth allowed you to connect the dots and figure out why things happened different from what you expected, allowing you to course correct.

Saving his classmates from themselves by winning the Candidacy as Gabriel’s avatar was Florante’s course correction.

There were multiple futures. Multiple possibilities branching outward to infinity. Your decision now could affect which future you’d end up in.

***

Florante didn’t know what to expect when he came back to school on Monday.

‘I want to do the right thing to be validated by everyone. Have the world be on my side for a change rather than feeling like I’m going against the world,’ was his honest take on things.

He felt like a different man, but he feared even with all his self-realization, he’d default to his old tendencies and habits, if he was being completely honest with himself.

He didn’t have the confidence to say, ‘No, that’s not going to happen this time,’ even to himself.

He needed to check for real what his reaction would be to see how well he could control himself or if he was reacting correctly. He had a lot on his plate.

‘I’m alone but I don’t want to be alone. I want to connect to people. Even if this is how I have to do it,’ was another thing he realized.

Naturally, he ended up going to school like a wreck. Like he didn’t undergo something life-changing at all. Dammit. Why was he like this?

“Hey, Fetal Alcohol Baby,” Florante heard someone jeer.

He turned and sighed, “I haven’t been called that for a while.”

Regina grinned. “I just remembered the name.”

Flor smiled in spite of himself. “Just call me Florante. Or Galang.”

“How about Gabriel?” she asked seriously.

“No, not yet,” he answered just as seriously, being perfectly honest.

“Galang it is,” she said.

“Okay, Mariano,” he said.

“Call me Regina.”

“Then call me Florante.”

“No, Fetal Alcohol Baby.”

“Fine, call me Galang.”

“And Florante, the Fetal Alcohol Baby?”

“My mom did not drink alcohol while she was pregnant with me,” he said in his defense, and his bully laughed.

Only this time, he couldn’t help but chuckle himself. Maybe he could take a joke better than he thought.

Florante and Regina parted ways and went to their respective seats at the classroom, in time for him to hear her telepathically say, ‘Hey, Galang. Thanks for saving my life. I owe you one.’

‘No, I don’t. I did what I needed to do because I killed you.’

‘In another reality. You electrocuted me and turned me to ash. I remember blacking out before the ash part then seeing my body disintegrate from the outside. It was freaky.’

‘I’m really sorry about doing that over you teasing me. I overreacted.’

‘It’s all good. You brought all of us back to life. I called you a school shooter before, but no school shooter ever did that for their victims.’

‘It’s the least I could do,’ he said.

She then brought up, ‘You do know they all remember you killing them, right? They’re only pretending they don’t because they’re afraid you’d wake up.’

That was an interesting tidbit of information. ‘Then they can hear us talk?’

‘I guess. I only recently learned we can talk telepathically. Or that we’re angels and/or demons.’

‘Angels or fallen angels,’ Florante corrected. ‘Jenny Tolentino told me.’

‘NO WAY! She’s an angel too?’

‘A full-fledged angel. She’s the incumbent avatar of Archangel Raphael, the Angel of Healing. She told me everything about Ophanims, Candidates of Ascension, and Corruption. She saved my life several times too.’

‘Oh, you two have a thing or something?’

‘A what?’

‘A thing. A romantic link, I would say.’

‘Uh, no. She doesn’t see me that way. She saved me because she was convinced I’m the next Gabriel avatar We’re more like siblings.’

‘Oh, but you have a crush on her, right?’

‘I don’t think so. Maybe? I’m not sure. It might look that way. She’s the only one I could talk about when it comes to angels.’

He heard her telepathic laughter. ‘You’re such an open book, Florante Galang.’

Before he could answer, she told him, ‘Should you declare war on your bullies right here and now or should I do it for you?’

‘Wait. What do you mean?’ he asked Regina.

Mariano answered by thinking out loud, ‘HEY MORONS! GABRIEL WOKE UP! YOU CAN STOP PRETENDING YOU’RE NOT HEARING ANY OF THIS!’ in her singsong voice.

Then like blips on a radar, Florante felt every one of the bullies he killed in his class and outside of it turn towards him. And he realized that Regina was telling the truth.

Florante’s eyes meet with Isaiah Pascual’s. His former best friend was glaring daggers at him for talking so casually with Regina Mariano.

‘See? They know,’ she thought.

Florante resisted the urge to flee the school then and there, expecting a confrontation from all of them to happen soon.

But he had to take responsibility for them. He dragged them into his world of reincarnated angels and forced them to become Candidates. He put them at risk of becoming demons from hell too.

The only solution was for him to become a full-fledged avatar of Archangel Gabriel and use his powers to turn them back to normal. All of them.

***

So nothing happened that Monday, much to Florante’s chagrin. Reality destroyed his expectations again.

He prepared himself all day yesterday on Sunday for what was to come, with him doing his homework and bracing himself for the reactions of his classmates, only for Monday to come and become just another day as usual.

Regina Mariano was talking more to him, which was nice (he guessed). She still teased him a lot, but he was controlling his reactions better to her teasing.

She’d then leave and go to the other cliques, gangs, and friend circles outside of Flor’s own because she was cool that way. He couldn’t follow because he couldn’t quite relate to those other people himself.

Ugh. He must’ve “overthought” things again. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He should’ve been more present and self-aware rather than absentminded with his head in the clouds.

He went back to his old pattern of hanging out with the Dead Kids. His acquaintances at the lunch-table.

He was soon joined by the bespectacled Jennifer Tolentino, his only classmate joining their little club at the school canteen.

“So Regina declared war for you, Flor,” said Jenny.

“Yeah, you heard that, huh?” said Florante.

“I’m a little jealous of you two,” teased a smiling Jenny, and this time Florante was able to read the sarcasm.

“Oh. Okay then,” he said. “Don’t be, she was just bullying me,” he said.

“And it wasn’t enough to make you mad and vaporize her, huh?” she said.

“I guess I’m a changed man.” He shrugged.

“What about Isaiah Pascual?” she asked.

“What about Pascual?” he asked, waiting for Jenny to pick her food out while he held his lunchbox of homecooked flavorful chicken adobo meal by his mother and ordered a soft drink.

“How’d he react to you flirting with his crush?” she asked.

“He seems angry. I think he’s misunderstanding something though. I’m not into Regina that way.”

“Aw, you two would make a cute couple.”

“I don’t think she thinks about me that way either. She’s more like you, a friend.”

“…I see. That sounds about right,” Jennifer said. “I might even be your chaperone.”

“You are much older than all of us at first year high school,” Florante absentmindedly brought up. “You were here when Fatima was first established, if my research proves correct.”

“Don’t be so mean to an older woman,” said Jenny with a cold tone.

Florante stopped and asked, “You’re not mad, are you?”

“No. Why would I be mad?” she asked in return.

The world then went upside down and everyone went inside out except for Jenny and Florante—Raphael and Gabriel.

It wasn’t just another Manic Monday after all.

***

The rest of the area changed colors, becoming the inverse of what they were. As though they were all staring at a film negative image of the whole place, but with them remaining in their normal colors.

Instead of one candidate, multiple candidates appeared. Florante Galang knew each and every one of them too.

There were (of course) the ones he met already—Regina Mariano who teased him and his former best friend Isaiah Pascual who did not care for how familiar he acted around Regina.

Or rather, Regina who he electrocuted into ash and Isaiah whose head he exploded.

Then there was Sheila Bernal, who was from another first-year class (so not a classmate but was friends with Isaiah’s group). If Regina was the tomboy,

Sheila embodied the girly, pampered, and spoiled rich girl whose allowance was the minimum wage of some workers.

She questioned the size of Florante’s manhood during swimming class and thusly, when he went amok, he sucked the air right out of her lungs, suffocating her to death.

As for Florante’s classmate Matthew Lim, he pointed out his social anxiety and various other flaws in front of his bullies to spare himself any bullying as well. He died by falling debris.

Lim had the gift of gab that would give Flor’s main bully, Geronimo “Gerry” Jacinto, a run for his money. The helmet-haired, scrawny doofus with a naturally sneering face talked the talk and walked the walk of a typical bully.

Finally, Steven Catimbang strode across the negative room. Ah, yes. Steven. Oh, Florante remembered him. The good-looking rat bastard.

While they were going upstairs, Steven gave Florante a face-full of his own butt as a prank. Therefore, when Flor got his revenge on Steve, he scorched his lower half and let him bleed out to death, Mortal Kombat fatality style.

That humiliating prank almost made Steven’s gruesome murder worth it. Almost. He became the (pun unintended) butt of every joke the week that happened.

Three boys, two girls. They could form a Power Rangers team for all Florante cared.

Regina crossed her arms and sighed. “Do whatever you want, guys. I don’t feel like fighting Florante.”

Matthew shrugged. “You’re siding with him now? Fine. We’ll take you out too.”

Sheila told Regina, “Pick a side, Siren.”

“I’m picking me. I’m on my side, Nightshade,” Regina answered Sheila back.

“Oh, you have codenames and everything, huh?” said Florante. “That’s cute.”

To Regina, he said, “Don’t go against your friends, Regina. But don’t worry either. I’ll turn them around too. All I need to do is become elected as Gabriel to end this charade.”

As if on cue, Steven started laughing. “Candidates? Election? What nonsense are you babbling about, Florante Galang? You killed us. We somehow survived. This is our revenge.”

Florante wanted to rebut, “What I did was my revenge against you all,” but realized how petty their crimes were compared to his punishment. He didn’t even feel like justifying how trapped, friendless, and desperate he felt until he snapped and did what he did.

To his surprise, his guardian angel Jennifer Tolentino spoke on his behalf. “Flor is more self-aware now. He knows what he did was wrong and he’s willing to correct it and bring you all back to normal. He’s taking responsibility.”

“Responsibility? Over this?” As Steven spoke, what looked like tree roots or mirror cracks made of yellow light danced around his halo. His aura.  He had seemingly the same powers as Florante had, much to the nerd’s chagrin.

“These are our gifts from God. Our means to correct the injustice done to us. Florante will not take our only means of defense against the terror he wrought upon us,” continued Steven.

“That’s right!” Matthew chimed in. “He remembers everything, right? Isaiah? He knows what he did. We don’t need to walk on eggshells around him. He’s like a magical version of a school shooter.”

Now that made Flor wince. The frank and tactless Lim hit the nail right on the head.

School shootings came about whenever the desperate and powerless grabbed hold of something that gave them power, even with its disastrous results.

Could Florante really deny that he was no better than a school shooter? A kid with no sense of responsibility handed a gun he used to unleash his stress on everyone that wronged him plus collateral damage?

Isaiah then piped up, “Y-Yeah. He remembers. He said sorry and everything when he remembered.”

Ugh. Dagger to heart. Their friendship really was over, wasn’t it? Isaiah had a new group of friends—ones willing to help him kill Florante together.

Regina chuckled. “It’s not that easy to take him down, Steven,” she warned her seeming leader of their gang. “There’s a reason why Jenny’s got his back. He might be the real deal. He might be Archangel Gabriel.”

“If he is, then he can smite me right now for all I care,” Catimbang scoffed. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but you forgive too easily. He’d do what he did before to you in a heartbeat. He’s the monster, not us. We’re just defending ourselves.”

“And what’s your codename?” Florante asked Steven. “Jerk-Off?”

Steven smirked. “Close. It’s Blast-Off.”

“And it’s Dark Mantle, Florante,” said Matthew, because he couldn’t help himself.

“Nobody asked,” said Flor with a roll of his eyes. “But since you brought it up, I also have a codename. I’m the Archangel Gabriel. Nice to meet you all.”

***

In spite of himself, Florante felt justified in his revenge against Steven Catimbang. Sure, it helped that he was revived soon after, so the “no harm, no foul” rules were in effect.

And maybe he should’ve humiliated him instead of killed him. Nevertheless, if Galang were completely honest with himself, he felt a measure of satisfaction doing what he did.

Almost the same satisfaction he got when he had his revenge against Gerry Jacinto, actually.

Such was the fate of any bully in his eyes. Karma would get them sooner or later.

He did sometimes wonder, “Why are they like that? Why are they bullying me?” Sure, a measure of blame went to him and his socially awkward self.

However, he was also aware that the feeling of wanting to humiliate someone, that was the essence of bullying.

The primary motive behind the actions of Steven Catimbang and Gerry Jacinto when they bullied the likes of himself, Florante Galang, and countless others.

Not all bullies were compensating for something and using their victims as a scapegoat over being bullied at home, A.K.A. the cycle of bullying. Not all bullies are victims victimizing other victims.

Some bullies tapped into something everyone all shared--the need for validation. The need to pick on an acceptable target that can't retaliate because they're inferior, they're outcasts, or they've been marked as evil.

OR, even better, they are evil, so the bully bullying them has now become the righteous hero vanquishing the punching bag whose purpose is to be punched.

If their victims could retaliate or stand up against them, they'd stop and find someone else to bully.

Even better, if one of their victims were to retaliate hard enough against them to the point they feel like they're being bullied, they might become self-aware and turn a new leaf. From that point on, they'll start being considerate of other people or have second thoughts about bullying anyone.

Not all bullies get this self-realization though. Sometimes they get pushback, so they pick on some other guy, never realizing what they did wrong.

Karma existed to teach them the lesson they won't learn, if you'd call "karma" the consequences of their bad actions they keep on doing because they keep getting away with it... until they stop getting away with it.

***

To Be Continued…

There’s only one single truth and it shatters a million lies every time, thus revealing your truest desire beyond your expectations or the expectations of others.

Once you peel away the layers of assumptions, misunderstandings, false advertising, and rationalizations, you get to really decide if something you want is really what you need or not.

Knowing the truth allows you to avoid conflict and those with malicious intent while staying with those who want what’s best for you and you with them.

Farewell, Abdiel

[gabriel-gabdiel]

Meanwhile, in an Alternate Dimension...

"Whoa, slow down, Eli! Kwon died in the Sekai Taikai? It's because of his rivalry with Robbie Keen?

Bro, you're having a nightmare. Kwon and Robbie are best friends now, they settled their beef long ago. Look here, they're joking around with Halloween Decorations!"

[gabriel-gabdiel]

How could bro forget?

[gabriel-gabdiel]

【Draft】 Rurouni Yahiko Chapter 61: Skeletons in the Closet

Yahiko has survived a close shave with the Brigands Guild, only for him to meet up with the Oniwabanshu (Misao and Aoshi Shinomori) in the middle of the forest where he was camping to train hi body.

As expected of the spies to somehow find him in Yokohama while keeping himself hidden. Such was the way of the ninja.

As the trio uncovers the skeletons in the Meiji Government's closet, so too will the different members of the Seiryu Clan go through a deep dive into their psyche.

Back in the middle of the woods near the Sakaguchi Dojo…

"KECHO GIRI (MONSTER BIRD KICK)!" shouted Misao Makimachi as she did a flying kick right behind the samurai kid as her way of saying "Hello!"

"Huh…? HADOME…! (SWORD HALT…!)" Yahiko Myojin moved by reflex, crossing his wrists unconsciously to block the kick while his hand gripped the handle of the sakabatou at the ready.

"…M-Misao!?" blurted out Yahiko. The ninja girl was the last person he expected seeing.

The kunoichi (female ninja spy) tumbled back after the samurai kid pushed back on her foot, with her landing deftly on the ground on her feet. Like a cat.

The bad news was that Yahiko got followed without him realizing it, which really showed how untrained he remained because Kenshin would’ve sensed them somehow (like he did Masahiro Takae).

The good news was that he was followed by allies and friends instead of enemies deep into the woods, which made him a lucky guy and showcased that there were people who had his back.

"Hehehe. Long time no see, Yahiko!" declared Misao Makimachi in all her ninjutsu regalia.

Decked in her full shinobi gear, her normally long braid that usually swung to knee length now curled behind the nape of her neck as a short pigtail.

Yahiko tried hiding his smile but he couldn't.

He had finally met up with more familiar faces. He at last came across someone he had met for more than a week.

For months—for what felt like 20 years—he had been traveling in his lonesome or with the company of the Sanbaka (Three Stooges)—Munenori Minoe and Gan—amidst other strangers.

"MISAO! What are you doing here?" blurted out Myojin, laughing at seeing a, uh, more familiar face than usual.

Faces, actually: There was more than one face. Aoshi Shinomori was traveling with Misao.

The most familiar faces Yahiko saw all throughout his Musha Shugyo (Warrior's Pilgrimage) were Shura the Pirate Queen (whom he barely met the first time) and his former crush Marimo Ebisu from the Ebisu Circus.

The latter reunion ended up bittersweet. Yahiko didn't even want to think about it.

"Right, we missed you back at Tokyo!" said Misao. "Listen, Yahiko. We're facing off against a common enemy here."

"A common enemy?” the Tokyo Samurai Descendant repeated. “Don't tell me the Battousai Group is involved with the Oniwabanshu too!”

"A different common enemy," said a grim Misao, which made Yahiko want to tickle her sides to test how serious she really was. "HEY! Cut that out! Don't tickle my sides! I’m serious, Yahiko!"

Meanwhile, a tall man sporting a trench coat loomed over the duo, like a humongous elephant in the metaphorical room that Yahiko and Misao occupied.

Myojin pretended to not see him, not knowing how to talk to him.

The looming shinobi was the opposite of the familiar strangers who accompanied him. He was instead an unfamiliar comrade. Someone who knew Yahiko as “The kid that hung around Battousai,” instead of “A street rat who pickpocketed for the yakuza”.

"Who’s is our common enemy then?" asked the teenaged samurai while waiting for the kunoichi (female ninja) to calm down from her laughter. "Is it Amakusa Shiro the Second? The Wokou Pirates? Or…?"

"…The Brigands Guild," a deep, masculine voice answered from behind them with a deep baritone that demanded attention.

The Onmitsu Oniwabanshu Okashira (Shogunate Secret Agent Leader) finally spoke.

 ***

Rurouni Yahiko

A Rurouni Kenshin Continuation Fan Fiction Story by Chester Castañeda

While Yahiko recaps with the Oniwabanshu what has happened so far in 60 chapters, we’ll also cover the side stories that happened before that fateful night at Yokohama’s Chinatown.

Disclaimer: All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki, Shueisha, Shonen Jump, Viz, Sony Studios, Fuji TV, Studio Gallup, Studio Deen, and ADV. This disclaimer also covers all the other copyrighted material that are far too many to mention here. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

***

Chapter 61: Skeletons in the Closet

***

Back to the present…

The samurai kid’s lower jaw practically dropped to the floor. Or at the very least seemingly unhinged from its socket, dangling by loose tendons and skin on his face.

Yahiko Myojin knew what was coming and yet he still ended up shocked to hear Aoshi Shinomori address him.

The same Shinomori who once fought Kenshin Himura-Kamiya to a standstill when all other previous enemies of his (that Yahiko knew of) couldn’t even touch him.

"…You're hunting down the Brigands Guild too? Why? What do those foreign invaders have to do with the Oniwabanshu?" Yahiko asked both Aoshi and Misao.

"We'll give you more details down the line, but on a need-to-know basis," said Misao with a wag of her finger. "Tell us what you know about the Brigands Guild first, then we'll share our info."

Myojin harrumphed. "And what if I barely know anything about them?"

“Oh.” Makimachi crossed her arms. Under her breath, she cursed, "Dammit. Why did we waste our time stalking you then?"

‘Hell if I know. Nobody told you to stalk me,’ Yahiko thought to himself. ‘She really thinks I can’t hear her say that?’

To Yahiko, she said, "Look, if you have no info available, you don't get any info from us! Equivalent exchange!"

"All right. Fine. I have info," conceded Yahiko. "Should I go first? I presume you know who the Brigands Guild is."

"How did you learn about them?" interjected Aoshi, and Yahiko immediately obliged. The Okashira’s patience was probably wearing thin.

"I didn’t look for them. I was chasing after another group of villains then found them," he said, eyeing the silent man. "They were hired to kill a rich family in Yokohama with ties to the old Shogunate and is currently one of many influential oligarchs funding the Meiji Government."

“Ha. ’Oligarchs’. That’s a big word for you,” teased Misao. Yahiko rolled his eyes, which made her giggle, apologizing, “Sorry! I’m not used to seeing you act so serious. You were such a butthead before!”

“And you haven’t changed at all,” he said with a wry smile. A strained smile. ‘We just had a summer reunion last year. What are you talking about by ‘back then’?! You already forgot about me?!’

“Both of you,” Yahiko added, acknowledging the presence of Aoshi, who didn’t even nod at him in turn. He just stared and stood still like the statue that he was.

‘What’s his problem?’ he thought in turn. The Big Boss of the Oniwaban was too important to address a peon like him directly, huh?

Misao then said something about Aoshi—Yahiko wasn’t listening at this point. He only responded when the scatterbrained girl asked, “You were saying?”

“Yeah. Oligarchs. Rich dudes. I’m here to rescue some rich dudes as part of my training,” he revealed.

“Right, that’s why we just missed you when we went straight to Himura’s—” said Misao.

“—Kamiya’s,” Yahiko corrected without thinking.

“—No, no. Himura is Himura. I know he’s Kamiya Kenshin now, but that’s confusing to me,” Misao waved the notion off. “We went to Himura’s to talk to you about the Black Book, the Brigands Guild, and the ninja you killed.”

“Wait, wait. Slow DOWN,” Yahiko interjected. “What Black Book? Also, I killed a ninja? If that happened, I think I’d remember it.”

“…Oh! Um, um… Didn’t you kill the guy?” Misao corrected herself. “Takae Masahiro, does that name ring a bell?”

“I DIDN’T KILL HIM!” shouted Yahiko uncalmly, which made Misao raise her hand in surrender. “…What?!”

She then grinned. “There he is. There’s the Li’l Yahiko I met from before! Welcome back.”

Flustered, the teenaged boy turned away and muttered, “I’m not ten anymore.”

By accident, his eyes met with Aoshi’s. To his surprise, the man stared at him with that serene look of his. Like from a buddha statue. It kind of creeped him out.

Yahiko turned his attention back to Misao in time to hear. “The Black Book is a library full of government secrets that could be used to dismantle the Meiji Government,” with deadpan seriousness worthy of Aoshi Shinomori himself.

It took a minute for Yahiko to reply. “Wait, what does this Black Book have to do with me? Why did you want to talk to me about it?”

Aoshi answered for Misao, talking at last. “Battousai was unavailable, so we went to you for assistance.”

This made Yahiko even more confused than before. “Beg your pardon?” He then felt Misao slap him hard from behind.

“…Don’t you feel special? You were praised by Aoshi-sama!” Misao said. “We’ll be each other’s informants from now on. Don’t worry, we won’t interfere with your training or anything.”

“That’s fine,” said Yahiko as it slowly dawned to him the implications behind their words.

They Oniwabanshu didn’t want to involve the Kamiyas—Kenshin, Kaoru, and Kenji—and the rest of the Kamiya Kasshin School with what was probably a national-level incident to protect them.

Kenshin Himura was the unsung hero of the Bakumatsu who already saved Japan. Twice. The Meiji Government owed him a happy ending, and he didn’t owe damn a thing from them.

He deserved to retire happily ever after, especially in light of his sacrifices and war disease. Also, as the inheritor of Kenshin’s sakabatou, Aoshi recognized Yahiko as Kenshin’s successor.

“Aw, you’re blushing! Oh my! Don’t be shy now, Yahiko-chan!” Misao teased some more. 

“Shut up,” Yahiko grumbled, looking at the ground and avoiding the stares of the Oniwabanshu pair. He then looked up and asked, “What else do you want to know?”

***

Meanwhile, before the showdown at Yokohama’s Chinatown…

Adopting the name of Satsuki Sakaguchi, the partly amnesiac blonde beauty of the Sakaguchi Dojo wielding the naginata ended up in Japan as a child during a particularly tumultuous time in Japanese history.

She was a lost child in a foreign land, barely able to speak English much less Japanese, with her parents or guardians or whoever long gone.

Lost. Or killed. She couldn't remember. All she knew from her earliest memories was fire, smoke, debris, yelling men, violence, and unmoving bodies.

Her memories of home in home were clear back then, and she had longed to return to Britain, the United States, or Russia (her adoptive family suspected she might’ve been Russian using a stolen English name) or wherever she came from.

Those same memories had faded along with the rest of her past, the only remnants of which was her remembering her name. Or at least what she suspected was her name: May Brooks.

Nevertheless, she had a new present and future ahead of her though. That with her rescuer, Genzo Sakaguchi, and the rest his family—now, her found family—the Sakaguchis.

Satoru, Nonoko, and Kyoko Sakaguchi. Along with their family friend, Chizuru Raikouji.

She couldn't help but long for her Motherland from time to time, but her Motherland ended up a faded memory now.

Her forgotten past was more about feelings and emotions rather than actual recollections fresh in her mind.

The Sakaguchis were everything she had and she'd do everything to protect them.

So too were the Minakatas, even though she wasn't as close to the whole family save for their beloved grandson and heir apparent, Kinta Minakata.

But still...!

She wondered where she originally belonged.

May Brooks became an English teacher teaching English to Japanese children as well as a Language teacher so she could better translate English thoughts to Japanese words and back again.

All because she kept clinging to the hope that she would discover the other part of her that kept her at arm's length with the rest of Japanese society.

She conversed with strangers like her, who shared alabaster skin, blue eyes, and blonde hair—that looked like the hair on maize (sweet corn) imported to Japan from America—like her.

As golden as cereal grains prior to harvest, her Japanese neighbors would say. They kept comparing her to a doll or mannequin who was enchanted to become a human girl.

Like Galatea from the Ancient Greek Myths.

Even though many of the Japanese were enamored with her beauty, it also made them feel distant to her, like she couldn't even interact with them despite her reassuring them of her friendliness and openness.

May felt flattered with how they treated her like a golden-haired goddess or, as the locals claimed, like Kannon or Avalokiteshvara, the bodhisattva and Goddess of Mercy in Japanese Buddhism.

However, it also made her feel distant from them in turn.

She should count her blessings though. Although she felt like a stranger in a foreign land she did not belong to, her found family made her feel home.

Thank goodness for her Japanese adoptive family, or else she'd feel lonely even in a crowd here in Japan.

They treated her like just another girl, as part of their family even though she had paler skin, brighter hair, and different-colored eyes from them.

It was normalcy she longed for. But was it? Why did she feel differently at times if she wanted it all along? It was a complicated feeling.

Then she met him. That man that made her question her own motives. Her own desires, wants, and needs.

The man that made her question her womanhood after all this time when she acted nothing like a woman as people saw women in Japan.

He made her feel things that left her uncomfortable. Dirty. Wrong. Like she was breaking a taboo.

She questioned if she was supposed to feel what she felt, or if she was betraying people for feeling that way.

His name was Takuto.

Who was he? The man that made May think, 'Maybe’.

Maybe May wanted to go out of Japan and seek who she was in Europe, England, Russia, or wherever she came from even though she owed her whole existence to her grandfather and his family.

Without them, she’d be in the streets dying or dead. Or in her homeland with other depressed orphans in some horrid orphanage because her parents were themselves dead.

She owed the Sakaguchis everything.

However, Takuto was able to do it. Go to foreign lands outside of Japan while she was stuck there in the Far East, working hard to become an honorary Japanese citizen.

She was being a naughty ingrate of a grandchild and it made her feel things.

She had thoughts she felt were forbidden but she didn’t know why. She didn’t also want to deeply explore exactly why they were forbidden, her mind going blank.

Life wasn’t like the folktales in books or plays. Not everything could be resolved and tied neatly with a bow.

She risked having her happy ending turned into a horror story if she kept thinking the way she thought.

She pushed such ideas aside for now. She had a class to attend to, but not as an English teacher.

For the time being, she was a iaido and kendo class instructor at the Sakaguchi Dojo.

***

Back to the present…

In the past, the former government spy was adept enough to confirm Yahiko’s suspicions that Kaoru Kamiya wasn’t killed by Enishi Yukishiro as revenge against Kenshin Himura killing Enishi’s sister Tomoe.

Yahiko second-guessed himself because even Megumi Takani, a trained doctor, said that the corpse of Kaoru they found was real and was her.

However, it was Aoshi who listened to Yahiko and agreed there was something afoot. That the chance that Kaoru was alive was, “Not zero.”

They dug up Kaoru’s corpse and the heartless Aoshi cut through her skin while all of Kaoru’s loved ones watched and prepared their hearts to sink.

Instead, Shinomori pulled out cables and wires. The body was a decoy. A marionette.

Yahiko couldn’t see afterwards as his tears flowed and he felt Tsubame embrace him and cry with him.

He also felt someone’s huge hand over his head, petting him like a cat. He couldn’t see who it was, but he recognized his voice. “You were right.”

That same voice now asked him, “Did you face off against the Ten Ken?” and Yahiko heard Misao also ask, “Who’s that, Aoshi-sama?” as the samurai kid’s mind went back to the present.

On his part, Yahiko nodded and said, “I faced off against Seta Soujiro and lost,” in all honestly, believing the Okashira could detect when he was lying.

Meanwhile, a sarcastic Misao said, “Oooh, how humble. Who knew you could admit your losses, Yahiko?”

Aoshi observed, “You’re telling the truth. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to name the Ten Ken.”

“There’s no point in lying to you about him.” By reflex, Yahiko held himself as the scars Soujiro left on his body flared in pain, like they were cut anew. “He’s overwhelming. As expected of Shishio’s prodigy.”

Instead of Misao teasing Yahiko again, saying “Prodigy” was quite another “big word” for him to know, she blurted out, “Wait. Soujiro…? NO WAY! You fought THAT Soujiro?! The psycho kid who won’t stop smiling and is faster than Himura???”

This woke Yahiko from his stupor. He jolted up and stared at Misao’s face after she also called Soujiro, “Psycho-Kid”. “So you met him too!”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “Me and Himura came across him at Shingetsu Village. He was one of Shishio’s strongest lieutenants. Kenshin faced off against him and lost.”

That was news to Yahiko. “Kenshin lost? That’s impossible. Were you sure? You mean he had a draw, right? Like with Aoshi. Or else he’d be dead.”

“What I want to know is how you didn’t die when you lost!” said Misao. “That psycho is no joke! He cut Himura’s sword in half and everything.”

Now wait just a darned minute. “Kenshin’s sword isn’t broken. It’s perfectly fine. See?” Yahiko took Kenshin’s sakabatou out of his cloth belt and drew it out for Misao to see. “It’s in one piece. Did he use another sword?” 

Misao took a quick glance at Yahiko’s sword. “No, that’s not the same sword that Soujiro cut in half. Himura lost that sword and went to Kyoto to get another sword. The sword you’re holding is his new sword. His second sakabatou.”

Huh. Yahiko stared at the blade he inherited from Kenshin and said to himself, “I thought this was the same blade he used against Sano. Kuroagasa. The Oniwabanshu. Aoshi. Raijuta. Saito.”

With awe in voice, Myojin realized, “Kenshin even broke apart Saito’s katana with his one-of-a-kind blade. No, it’s actually two-of-a-kind. There was another sword that Psycho-Kid sliced apart when they first met. Like the monster he is.”

“He is a monster,” Misao said with the same amount of awe as Yahiko.

The boy then realized something.  “Had Himura Kenshin not shattered Seta Soujiro’s sword too, he would’ve died against Shishio’s prodigy.”

Yahiko blinked back his surprise. “Well, see? Then Kenshin didn’t lose. It was a draw. I was the one who lost and almost got killed had Kenshin’s second sakabatou not save my life.”

“Oh, I guess that makes sense,” said Misao. “Did you get a draw against Himura when you faced off against him, Aoshi-sama?”

Aoshi stared at Misao for a second and confessed, “I lost to Battousai,” which made her face melt like sun-soaked wax effigy that both frightened and amused Yahiko at the same time.

 The Tokyo Samurai thusly scream-laughed at Misao in agonized hilarity.

“…Did you know why the Ten Ken was there?” asked Aoshi, which made Yahiko halt his guffaws.

After he caught his breath, Myojin informed, “Nope. From what I understand, he’s the friend of the local soba cook’s daughter. Oh, and the bodyguard of some big-shot politician.”

Misao asked, “Why’d you fight him then? You know you’re no match, right?”

Yahiko answered, “I know. But I wanted to measure how good I am.”

“But I thought you already knew you’re no match,” Misao said, “Like that time when you faced off a giant and his sword, convinced that Himura will come to save us.”

Yahiko didn’t hear her and reiterated, “I know, I know. I just wanted to know how far I’d go against the Ten Ken.”

“…One second?” she joked, and Yahiko grunted. She was getting on his nerves. “I know I’m not as good as Kenshin, so maybe less than that.”

“Huh. Really? Himura lasted a second against that monster you faced,” Misao confessed.

“Is… what?” That couldn’t be right. “Kenshin must’ve underestimated him. He could read the intent of his opponents and counter, so he should’ve easily…! No?”

Misao shook her head. “Himura couldn’t read Soujiro. Neither could I. Saito was there too, and he couldn’t either.”

***

Meanwhile, before the showdown at Yokohama’s Chinatown…

At the Sakaguchi Dojo, the army of liaisons of the Minakatas were barking orders at the students of the Musou Madden School, much to the chagrin of the headmaster of the school, Genzo Sakaguchi.

The grandfather growled at them in return for bothering the training drills of the dojo.

When the rudest and most entitled of the liaisons insisted they were under Tatsuya Minakata’s orders to pick out bodyguards like Tatsuya owned the dojo, Grand Master cut him off mid-explanation and said to take it up to Kinta Minakata instead.

Incredulous, the man interposed, “—Minakata Kinta? The nephew? Surely sir, you must be joking…!”

“No. I’m not. Go take it up to the young master and I’ll follow his lead.”

“Minakata Tatsuya-sama will hear of this!” he threatened to the unperturbed senior citizen.

“He is your boss, not ours,” said the fearless Genzo, repeating, “Take it up to the young master then we’ll answer to him,” which left the sputtering liaison leader nonplussed.

Eventually, the posse of interlopers left, leaving the students abuzz and complaining about them under their breath, only for the grandmaster to boom:

“Don’t make noise! Return to your practice,” and move to his cushioned seat while hobbling on his sword-cane he used as a (deadly) walking stick.

Genzo’s doting granddaughter, Kyoko Sakaguchi, helped her intimidating grandpa to his seat, hearing him say,

“Thank you, Nonoko. Kokyo… Kyoko. It’s all so tiring,” the old man grumbled, accidentally calling her by her mother’s name.  “Let me rest of a little while.”

“Of course, Grandfather. We’ll take good care of you.”

“Hmph. Then do as you’re told and be a good girl, Kyoko.”

The polite young maiden smiled at her grandfather’s scolding, knowing the affection behind the words, and nodded in acknowledgement of his complaints after he sat and rested.

In the periphery of her vision, she watched the whole dojo’s atmosphere calm down and their students line up to focus on their drills.

Her father Lieutenant Satoru Sakaguchi (formerly Satoru Kudo because he married into his wife’s family) assisted training as well.

Satoru performed his job of patrolling the streets of an unfamiliar new precinct while taking breaks to do his part in training himself and his set of students in kenjutsu (Japanese swordsmanship).

In the background, she observed the school’s new “recruit”—more of a traveling kendoist from Tokyo named Yahiko Myojin—quietly training his own share of students.

“Yahiko-kun” trained them on the basics of Kamiya Kasshin Ryu to show how Musou Madden Ryu could counter the traditional swords style.

Myojin figured out the moves of Musou Madden Ryu and how it neutralized his kendo school—such as using Musou’s wider engagement distance—because he once faced off against the Sakaguchis’ top student, Kyoko’s sister Satsuki. A close spar that he lost.

Thusly, the humbled Yahiko gave free lessons in exchange of doing rematches against Satsuki Sakaguchi (born May Brooks) to assist their training against the threat of the Brigands Guild.

Speaking of which, Satsuki trained a second set of students who’d just finished their training with Yahiko on defense and counters.

They learned the basics of Kamiya Kasshin Ryu kendo (way of the sword) to counter with their iaido (way of the quickdraw). Kamiya Kasshin style was generic enough to function like many other traditional Japanese sword schools.

In turn, Satsuki taught the same students all the possible Kamiya Kasshin style kendo counters to Musou Madden stylie iaido so they knew what to watch out for, inside and out.

This should help their students become prepared in case the foreign Brigands hired or gathered local jobless ronin or bandits to form an anti-government army against the  Minakatas Oligarchs in some sort of Political Blood War.

Kyoko herself took responsibility for the beginner class to teach the youngblood the basics of the Musou Madden, because she trained in the school long enough to learn the school’s ougi (succession technique): The Mangetsu O Tsuku Nari (lit. “Full Moon Shape”, but in usage it meant “Full Moon Slash”).

Speaking of which, Kyoko had actually met Yahiko Myojin much earlier before in Shinshu, when the whole village was under siege by a so-called Battousai Group led by Keisuke, a former abuser and unwanted suitor of hers.

Led by Keisuke, the gang of ronin and bandits took over the provincial town with their weapons, camping outside of it and taking food and items like they owned the place, prompting Kyoko to act.

The shy Kyoko had steeled her nerves to confront the Battousai Group’s forest camp with the sword skills she learned for self-defense from her grandfather.

Soon after, the wandering Yahiko arrived in the scene of the crime to see Kyoko covered in Keisuke’s blood, prompting a misunderstanding between him and her that she couldn’t resolve in time.

***

Back to the present…

“What’s Saito…?” began Yahiko, then he muttered, “I thought I was the only one. So even Kenshin couldn’t read Psycho-Kid’s motives or kenki. He could probably do the job of the whole Juppon Gatana by himself. Is he stronger than Shishio? Or maybe even Aoshi…?”

“HEY! Aoshi-sama could’ve figured that brat out! He’s a Master of Maai (Engagement Distance).”

“Kenshin defeated Aoshi twice. Kaoru taught me Maai too.”

“THE FIRST FIGHT WAS A DRAW! You said it was a draw earlier!”

“Did I? I forgot.”

The two children turned towards the mature Shinomori, who silenced them with a glower like a parent, sitting like the most horrific Buddha Statue ever created.

They were about to bow and apologize in tandem to the Bodhisattva--a person who had already reached nirvana but delayed moving to the higher plane of existence to save those suffering before him—when Aoshi the Merciful said:

“We were hunting the same documents as Seta Soujiro when we learned of your involvement. He was also after the Black Book.”

There was that phrase again. “Black Book”.

Meanwhile, Yahiko told Aoshi, “I went off to Shinshu because I heard rumors of an imposter Battousai leading his own group.” And Sanosuke’s family lived there, but they didn’t need to know that.

“Figures. You’re a Battousai Fanboy!” Misao grinningly remarked.

”Right back at you, Aoshi Fangirl,” Yahiko scowlingly retorted. “Stop being mad that Kenshin defeated Aoshi the first time they met.”

“STOP LYING! Aoshi-sama told me their first fight was inconclusive and he promised to finish Himura off the next time they met! It was a continuing duel!”

Misao then realized Yahiko had already turned his back on her.  “STOP IGNORING ME!”

Yahiko finally mustered the courage to tell the person who gave Kenshin some of his toughest battles a joke.

“Only you can take being around someone like her all day, Shinomori Aoshi. You must be a saint, sir.”

To Yahiko, Aoshi answered, “It looks like the Battousai has entrusted his blade to someone dependable.” Misao then cried out “Betrayal!?” after the Okashira nodded and smirked.

Yahiko Myojin brightened up like the rising sun at the praise.

It'd been nearly six years ago since the Kenshingumi (Kenshin Himura-Kamiya and friends, basically) went toe-to-toe against the Tokyo Oniwabanshu (the original gang led by Shinomori—R.I.P. to everyone who sacrificed themselves to save Aoshi from getting ripped apart by a Gatling Gun).

When they first met, they were enemies. Now they were comrades. Yahiko just pulled the same trick Kenshin did on him, Kaoru Kamiya, Sanosuke Sagara, and Megumi Tani.

He made strangers turn into his most powerful allies with his magnetic personality.

This made the already flabbergasted Misao almost-faint. The kind of faint where she could still keep talking.

She croaked weakly. “Why is Aoshi-sama talking to you more than me?!”

Yahiko answered, “You can talk for the both of you so he doesn’t bother.”

“GO BACK TO TOKYO! No one likes you!” she screamed back. “AAH! You made Aoshi-sama chuckle! No fair!”

Aoshi then revealed that the Black Book was a library full of national secrets that could plunge Japan back to the bloodshed of another revolution.

This could destroy the recently established Meiji Government with an insurrection from the likes of terrorists like Makoto Shishio or rebels like the Hidden Christians of cult leader Shiro Amakusa the Second.

“How were they able to hide all that information from the shogun?” Yahiko absently thought, not expecting an answer. So he was a bit thrown off when he got one.

“They hid it along with the rest of the gathered info of the shogun’s enemies. Any outsider who accidentally came across the info without context won’t give it a second glance,” Aoshi answered.

After a long pause to digest what was said, Yahiko remarked, “Huh. That’s pretty clever,” adding, “Only a handful of people know where it’s hidden and kept track of it, right?”

“Correct. The Shitennou Ichizoku (The Clans of the Four Heavenly Kings) kept everything secret in a language only they could read. Even among their fellow spies, the Oniwabnashu.”

Misao pouted. “…You two sure are getting along well, huh?”

Yahiko raised an eyebrow at that. “Huh? We are?” which made Misao just look more annoyed. ‘What’s her problem?’

She wasn’t jealous of Yaniko talking to Aoshi, was she? Silly girl. Only she could really talk to Aoshi. She was the only one who truly understood him because she was the Aoshi Whisperer.

"How did you know I ended up taking on the Brigands?" Myojin asked, referring to the recent duel he had with The Faceless, which he survived by the skin of his teeth.

"You were among the first to take them on," Aoshi answered. "Takae Masahiro of the Sanada Clan is part of the Brigands."

Oh. Shinomori meant someone else. Takae. The man who was after Kenshin but dueled with Yahiko and ended up saving his life by taking a bullet meant for him. He was part of the Sanada Ninja Clan.

“His son, Takae Kaita, is also part of the Sanada Ninja Clan,” Yahiko said. “Their clan serves as bodyguards for the oligarch family I talked about. The Minakatas.”

“So it’s confirmed. The Seiryu Clan has the protection of the Sanada Clan.”

Seiryu Clan? Yahiko overheard the Prodigal Son with the Brigands Guild about taking down the Seiryu Clan. ‘So the Minakatas are the Seiryu Clan…?’

***

Meanwhile, before the showdown at Yokohama’s Chinatown…

Kyoko Sakaguchi did the kata (choreography) of martial arts movements at a much higher pace than the beginners she trained could handle, forgetting herself in the rhythm.

Her mind continued to wander to the past, remembering her haggard harasser Keisuke screaming at seeing her, growling like a cornered wild animal and lunging when he got cut into meat cubes.

Kyoko unthinkingly let her Grandpa Genzo’s sword-cane fly as her body moved on its own because of her training, her tears mixing with the shower of her stalker’s blood.

The unpleasant memory made her nauseous. She didn’t realize she had blocked it from her mind till that instant, inside the dojo.

She also learned too late that her beginner students had long stopped mimicking her movements and watched her display, mesmerized beyond words.

Kyoko fully awoke from her waking nightmare when she felt her father Satoru gently put a hand over her shoulder.

He then quietly told her he’d take over her class and that she should rest aloing with her grandpa for the time being.

She obliged and attended to her grumpy grandpa’s needs. She’d done so many times before she could do it in her sleep. 

Her father wasn’t as adept at swordsmanship as Kinta Minakata, who trained directly under Genzo’s tutelage himself, but they also trained together as partners even though Kinta was younger than Satoru.

While Kinta trained in offensive iaido under the Waxing Moon Phase Stance (iaido stance that directly faced the opponent), Kyoko’s father studied defensive iaido using the Waning Stance (back turned to the opponent) that made him work like a hair-trigger landmine.

Using this as the foundation of Kyoko’s style, she was sent to Yokohama to complete her training under her very stern and scary grandfather, Genzo Sakaguchi.

Kyoko originally could not stand Genzo until she got to know him better. She attended him in exchange for swordsmanship lessons.

She also trained with an older gorgeous foreigner orphan girl she treated like a cousin that her grandfather adopted after the war—Satsuki Sakugchi, originally an amnesiac child named May Brooks.

Kyoko’s policeman father normally worked at the Nagano Precinct instead of Yokohama, but he was put in the new precinct under special orders of Kinta’s hatamoto-class samurai family, the Minakatas.

Her father Satoru, her mother, Nonoko, and Kyoko herself were uprooted from their home in Shinshushin Village at Nagano Prefecture by orders of the Minakatas too.

They now live under the childhood home of Kyoko’s mother, her grandfather’s Sakaguchi Dojo.

They now follow the rules of Genzo Sakaguchi—originally a blacksmith by trade and current patriarch of the household—to the letter. His word was law.

Kyoko’s smile turned to a pout as her eyes met Yahiko Myojin’s eyes, prompting him to give her a curt nod of acknowledgement that she returned in kind.

She remembered the humble village of Shinshu getting sieged again, which was the first time she met the younger teenager kendoist.

Kyoko ended up witnessing the Battousai Group massacred before her very eyes instead by the time she got there.

Much later, Yahiko Myojin saw her in such a distressed state, and she could tell he jumped to conclusions when he also saw Soujiro Seta—another family friend of the Sakaguchis—accompany her amidst a massacred gang of thugs,

“Seta-kun” was the bodyguard of the local eccentric Nagano politician Tetsuo Akahori, who was Kinta Minakata’s uncle from his father’s side, the Akahori Family.

“Yahiko-kun”—not “Myojin-kun” because Kyoko only caught his first name when she met him—picked a fight he knew he’d lose against Soujiro even though he should’ve known better, demanding answers.

He also called him “Psycho-Kid” because of his polite smile that never wavered, treating his teeth like the bared fangs of a wild animal.

So Yahiko kept poking the bear while the bear kept warning him to back off with his permanent smile and escalating violence.

The kid kept coming, and Soujiro acknowledged the tenaciousness of “Yahiko-san.” The kendoist’s blunt sword that cut on the inside curve like a farmer’s sickle also enticed Seta to keep attacking for some curious reason.

Myojin himself was too self-righteous for his own good, knowing Soujiro had the license to kill in an extra-judicial capacity while he served under a politician’s care.

Rather than become discouraged by the valley of skill between them and his killing privileges, Myojin took it as a challenge to keep going.

Or maybe even wipe the smile off of Soujiro’s face, like it was personally mocking him. 

To her horror, this also encouraged Seta to oblige Myojin, making him swing and miss while he picked him apart from a distance like a cat playing with its food.

This forced Kyoko to do something she didn’t want to do—cross blades with the only young man her age she could talk to before he accidentally killed an innocent interloper in cold blood.

She also instinctively knew that she was no match against the bodyguard who reminded her of Mister Kinta in skill. Like they were equals.

However, she could perhaps save Yahiko from himself while betting on the Kinta-level swordsman’s mercy, knowing the Sakaguchis’ connections with the Minakatas and the Akahoris. 

Then the two felt Yahiko’s fighting spirit. Soujiro wasn’t using his full abilities yet this Tokyo swordsman lay everything on the line for him, which made him want to go all out.

She could tell because she wanted to fight Yahko too.

A tiny part of her wanted to test her skill against the kid herself, although she was mostly concerned about the two hurting themselves over a duel that meant nothing to them but meant everything to her.

***

Lost in thought, Kyoko’s idle mind dug deep into the forgotten realms of her memories.

The savage part of Kyoko Sakaguchi’s upbringing reared its ugly head.

She ignored this part of her, repulsed that it existed inside of her. Nevertheless, she heard tales from her Grandpa and Late Grandma that samurai like them were given the killing privilege to cut down any peasant below them who dishonored them.

Before the Edo Era died and made way to the current Meiji regime, samurai weren’t jailed for murdering lower class peasants at their discretion.

They used to get away with cutting off the heads of people below their level that insulted them, wasted their time, annoyed them, or otherwise dishonored them or their name.

The timid Kyoko certainly thought about that lost privilege of samurai families when Keisuke assaulted her and injured her father who protected her, making her inwardly blame herself for not enacting her blood-right.

She had never seen her gentle father ever get that angry at anyone in her life, even when she did something naughty as a child and her parents had to scold her.

Usually, her mother acted angrier at her than he did. His temperament matched hers, actually.

They shared mentality of peasants, farmers, and simple folk instead of prideful warriors. After all, Satoru wasn’t born a samurai himself; he married unto their samurai family.

In light of this, Kyoko felt that she needed to take responsibility for what happened somehow, her guilt wracking her over unintended consequences.

If only she weren’t so timid, she would’ve rebuffed Keisuke’s advances from the start.

That would’ve stopped him from escalating the situation, injuring his father, and forming a lasting grudge against her and their village that ran him off.

If only she trained harder and grew stronger in Musou Madden Ryu, she would’ve saved Keisuke from himself by beheading him “Kiri-sute gomen” style immediately.

The samurai’s right to strike would’ve saved her and her family a world of pain. It was a privilege she sorely missed, as messed up as it sounded in modern contexts.

His gang of jobless ronin would’ve scattered away like the wriggling body of a headless snake.

Instead, she quivered like a shrinking violet as her past abuser returned to the village that rejected him with his gang of “Battousai” bandits, declaring they were under his rule.

If only she were stronger, Yahiko wouldn’t have risked death facing off against Soujiro Seta on her behalf.

Therefore, although she didn’t approve of their duel over nothing, she understood why they wanted to do it.

As expected, Yahiko and his Kamiya Kasshin Style of kendo failed at every turn even if he did everything right, unable to catch the much faster Soujiro and his Shukuchi.

What was unexpected was Yahiko surviving a final exchange that should’ve killed him, beheaded him, or ended his swordsmanship career permanently.

Instead of having a limb lopped off as he turned around, Yahiko instead countered Soujiro’s deep-cut slash from behind by doing well-timed hammering swings from his blunt sword.

All three felt the supersonic clang from Yahiko’s sakabatou and his thrice-hitting strike, the three hits done so fast they sounded like one.

It was a strike that reverberated from the long, green stalks of the bamboo forest to their spines, rattling them to their very core.

A reverberation strong enough to shatter bone. Or layers of steel folded into curved Japanese swords.

The samurai kid was more than just bluster, which made Kyoko feel like a fraud. Compared to him, a low-class Tokyo Samurai, she felt more like the pretender.

A part of the Sakaguchi warrior clan in name only.

She’d later even figure out that she wasn’t the one who finished off Keisuke. It was Soujiro who dealt the coup de grace on him, as a mercy kill from being mauled by the Nisemono Battousai (Fake Battousai).

An impostor who somehow looked just like Kenshin Himura and murdered other frauds who also used his name in vain to form a gang of domestic terrorists.

A fake who assassinated with the same swiftness as the real deal. The Battousai of Speed.

Kyoko didn’t know the specifics that surrounded the assassination attempt at Soujiro Seta’s boss Tetsuo Akahori, but she heard that the Battousai he fought was pound-for-pound as troublesome as the retired Battousai.

As though she—this new Battousai was rumored to be a woman—was Himura before he received his famous cross scar. A cold-blooded killer with ice water in her veins.

She was hungrier, more emotionless, and more bloodthirsty than he was. 

The Fake Battousai also did to Kyoko’s abuser what Kyoko herself should’ve done in the first place: Castrate him and put him in his place.

That was her “Kiru-sute Gomen” to him for the dishonor he brought.

***

Back in the Sakaguchi Dojo, before the showdown at Yokohama’s Chinatown…

Lieutenant Satoru had a lot in his mind as he fell to his default iaido Waning Stance.

Something about that so-called Fuuma Ninja that the Brigands Guild brought with them bothered him.

‘Did he really belong to the Fuuma Ninja Clan or was that just a bluff?’

The case file on these international mercenaries without a country to call their own did suggest that they had several ex-samurai and ex-shinobi in their ranks, leading to a mishmash of Eastern and Western methods of warfare.

That wasn’t what was unusual about Kai Hidaka, though.

Why was he so familiar to him? He didn’t know anyone like him. Not from memory. Yet he felt something nostalgic about him.

Why the hell would he feel nostalgic about a stranger?

What did that treasonous ninja who sold ninpou secrets and techniques to the highest bidder remind him of exactly?

The officer heard a lot of groaning from the students assigned to him. These hot-blooded young men and women would rather practice counters and attacks than defensive kata.

There was nothing cool about the Waning Stance and waiting out the assault of an opponent to find gaps and openings in their guard. It felt tedious to most of them, really.

He had the same attitude, until the defensive posture saved his life. It just recently did, when he had to face off against the Shogo Amakusa, also known as the Second Coming of Shiro Tokisada Amakusa.

Retracting in the safety of his defensive shell and frustrating opponents enough to run into his counter was its own reward, he’d dare say.

He felt somewhat validated for this thinking when he tempered his training partner, the genius and son of hatamoto samurai Kinta Minakata, from being overaggressive.

He’d even gained the approval of his Father-in-Law for keeping the young Mimawarigumi member’s unstoppable assault at bay.

Genzo, whose default expression when he was around was, “unimpressed disgust”, actually smirked at him and nodded for once!

He clapped his hands and told his students, “If you’re the ones who get impatient first before your opponent, you’ve already lost.”

He slid his bokken (wooden practice sword) back to his obi (cloth belt) and fell into the iaijutsu stance where his back is turned to his opponent while mostly seeing only by side eye.

“Have patience. Pick your spots. Memorize your opponent’s rhythm. Cut your opponent down to size and only throw a big counter against an appropriately powerful attack when push comes to shove.”

The trick to the Waning Stance was broken rhythm. Follow the rhythm of your opponent’s attacks without him being able to follow yours back.

When defending, move along the pace of your opponent like a boat staying on top of the waves of the ocean to keep stable and protect it from the force of the waves.

When countering, slice through the waves just after they reach their crest and start collapsing down on their face, like when one surfs on a wave or when boats pitchpole or roll with the waves.

This meant making the opponent miss or blocking his strike and countering at that sweet spot before they could do a recovery to safely defend or counter your counter. Timing was key.

Naturally, these actions were all easier said than done.

Curiously, the students who knew how to ride a boat or were part of fishermen families understood the concept best. Or dancers used to following the rhythm and beat of music.

Two dueling opponents were like dancers doing a partner dance, but instead of reading each other’s moves to perform together, they were doing everything they could to sabotage one another.

Even someone as untalented at swordsmanship as him could do this. As long as it was a skill that anyone could learn with enough practice, he’d be able to do it.

He was a patient man who knew when to strike at the right time.

That was how he was able to woo and win over the heart of the infamously stubborn tomboy daughter of Genzo—his beautiful wife, the talented soba cook and restaurant entrepreneur Nonoko Sakaguchi.

Hmm. Wait. Did Satoru know this Kai Hidaka person from way back then? Did Nonoko know him too? Why was his name so damn familiar to him…?

***

Back to the present, inside the forest near the Sakaguchi Dojo…

By the time the Oniwabanshu said their goodbyes and left him, Yahiko Myojin realized he was about to go to sleep in his lonesome.

The long and short of their current mission was to take down the foreign invaders that learned about the secrets of ninjutsu and Japanese espionage from treasonous traitors like Puppet Master Gein.

Gein was actually a member of the Brigands Guild and sold his ninpou arts to the highest bidder as an international mercenary.

The elderly shinobi had no allegiance to either government, the Meiji or the Tokugawa Regimes, or to Japan the nation as a loyal citizen. He'd sell his clan's secrets to the highest bidder, maybe even his soul.

The Oniwabanshu was there to hunt down the traitor who sold national secrets to foreigners and destroy all that information, along with the Brigands Guild who stole such info.

That was how Aoshi Shinomori was going to spend the rest of his life as a retired government spy using what was left of his “shadowy strength”. To destroy all traces of Gein’s betrayal.

In any case, Yahiko had a lot to digest regarding the information overload he just exchanged with Aoshi and Misao. He didn’t get much out from them that he didn’t already know, but they did empty his brain out.

What few puzzle pieces they did give him recontextualized everything he knew though.

They shared a common enemy but not a common objective.

Although many of the known members of  the Brigands Guild were jailed, Yahiko had unwittingly encountered several other members in his travels, such as one of the Brigands actually leading the Wokou Pirates he encountered with Shura and her privateers.

Or Takae the Invisible Ninja himself being a retired warrior who worked for the Guild as well. His loyalty wasn’t to the Tokugawa, Ishin Shishi, or Japan as well.

The police might’ve jailed some of the Brigands thanks to Kinta Minakata’s strength, but not all of them.

The Faceless might have backup members up his sleeve, which explained why that Lucas fellow, the Prodigal Son, was so confident in confronting his older half-brother, Kinta.

Hmmm. Kinta Minakata, huh? The so-called Mimawari Battousai and the Kagemusha (Body Double) of Shogo “Shiro” Amakusa himself. Yahiko only met the man once or twice but he immediately identified his demeanor.

Kinta Minakata reminded him of Aoshi Shinomori a little bit. Or maybe even a lot.

A ninja and a samurai were two disparate roles that were like night and day, but both Aoshi the ninja and Kinta the samurai still shared the same moral fiber and single-minded focus regardless.

Yes, despite ninjas and shinobi being infamously merciless, pragmatic, and shameless with their dirty tactics, Aoshi was probably the most honorable ninja Yahiko had ever met.

Yahiko wasn't able to bring the fact up to Aoshi (it never came up), but he definitely would’ve told Misao about Aoshi’s twin from another (richer) mother who might be equally skillful with the blade.

Myojin couldn’t tell for sure. He hadn’t crossed blades with either but he did witness both in action against different foes (Kinta against his bastard brother, Aoshi against Kenshin).  

Kinta and Aoshi were both sullen and mysterious warriors with dark pasts and connections with ninjas. Their determination in battle would’ve made them difficult enemies against anyone, including the Legendary Battousai.

They were also both connected to the Shogunate’s Oniwaban: The protectors of the castles and the keeper of government secrets. The same secrets that the Four Clans pilfered for their own self-interests.

So Yahiko wondered to himself, ‘How do I compare to Aoshi Shinomori?’

When forced to take the life of The Faceless after he caught him unawares with his knowledge of foreign martial arts, Yahiko dropped the ball.

Aoshi Shinomori was around the same age as Yahiko when he became the Oniwabna “Okashira”.

So was Kenshin when he became shadow assassin “Battousai” of the Ishin Shishi patriots.

Could Yahiko cross the same threshold that Kenshin, Saito, and Aoshi crossed to become monsters who could end the lives of others when push came to shove? Or was he just like the coward Isurugi Raijuta. who was all bark, no bite?

No, that couldn't be it. The Kenshin that Yahiko met and admired was the one who saved him from a life of yakuza servitude.

However, did Yahiko have to shed blood and take a life in order to give meaning to having a non-killing vow? Because with Makoto Shishio, Kenshin was willing to make an exception.

To save the lives of others, Myojin had to be prepared to kill like the devils he knew if he had no other choice.

***

Still in the present, inside a recently built private hospital in Yokohama…

Kinta Minakata opened his eyes in time to see the nurses tend to his wounds and replace his used bandages.

He remembered where he was. He was at a private hospital paid for by his family.

It was one of a growing number of Japanese hospitals used as training grounds for Western medical education during the second half of the 19th Century.

This came about as a Meiji Administration’s decision to control the practice of Traditional Chinese Medicine and focus instead on drug-based and science-based Western or European Medicine.

He looked around, seeing patients from all walks of life go from ward to ward. The outpatient ward was particularly bustling.

In the beginning, the only patients admitted to such hospitals were wealthy townspeople, aristocrats, government officials, and VIPs like himself.

However, as medical education in Japan became more organized, charity patients were also included and used for medical research and education.

He’d been bedridden since his encounter with his bastard brother from the same mother.

Kinta had no major injuries, broken bones, or deep lacerations like his bastard brother Luke suffered, but it took all of his limited stamina to take the younger man down.

He was dehydrated and at death’s door by the end of their duel: A true war of attrition.

Damn. He didn’t know what to feel. He might’ve even foolishly held back against the Prodigal Son of the Minakatas in case what he said was true.

Luke was lying, wasn’t he? Kinta’s Uncle Tatsuya didn’t deny it at all. He had to face facts. Lucas Grant was the illegitimate son of his mother Aoi Minakata with some foreigner.

As per usual, the child connected to the Brigands, Abelia La Cerca, attended to his needs like his own personal nursemaid.

Her knowledge of both Eastern and Western medicine proved vital thus far in saving the lives of the Minakatas and even the Yokohama Police as well as several bystanders and would-be collateral damage.

Kinta did have concerns about her serving as a spy for her psychotic brother Cain Merrick and their elusive masked father, The Faceless.

However, thus far, her worth as a doctor, healer, and leaker of the Brigands Guild’s key secrets far outweighed the risk of her double-crossing them in the end.

Kinta sighed. Just as he was in the middle of learning more about the Seiryu Clan, the mercenaries who were after the Minakatas caught up and ruined his plans.

Did Kinta hate Lucas Grant as much as Lucas hated him and his family? He couldn’t say he did.

If anything, he understood exactly why Luke would harbor such seething hatred over their family that ultimately banished Aoi Minakata from the House of Minakata and left her to her own devices with her bastard son in tow.

If anything, maybe Kinta shared the sentiment himself.

However, like in the case of him entering the Mimawarigumi at a young age to face off against the rebel forces and hitokiri (manslayers) of the Ishin Shishi patriots, he had to harden his heart into cold steel once again.

He lost focus in his fight, and he almost paid the price for it. His brother almost succeeded in assassinating him, making it open season for the rest of the Minakatas.

This was war. His half-brother had declared war against his family and had an army of mercenaries with no allegiance to any country to do so. It was an act of treason.

Even though Kinta was part of the losing side of the war, he'd still uphold the tenet of the Ishin Shishi even as the Meiji Oligarchs seek to betray it.

It was the war cry of every Ishin Shishi samurai or ronin he crossed swords with.

Sonno Joi (Revere the Emperor, Expel the Barbarians) was a clarion call shared by both sides of the Bakumatsu conflict.

Neither the Ishin Shishi nor the Shogunate wanted foreign influence in Japanese politics.

They especially didn’t want Japan to become another British, American, Spaniard, Portuguese, French, German, or otherwise Western colony like many of their neighbors in Asia and beyond.

Absolutely not.  That nightmare scenario was never an option even back at the start of the Tokugawa Era.

The only conflict between them was which side was better suited at doing barbarian expulsion without bending the knee for them: The centuries-old bakufu or the patriots wishing to bring power back to the Emperor.

They won this new age fair and square, so the honorable thing to do was preserve it.

Alas, poor Lucas. Kinta hardly knew him.

The Mimawarigumi Battousai would’ve wanted to talk to his long-lost sibling and ask him what happened to their mother. How was she? Was she still alive? Dead? What was her final days like? Did she even think about the Minakatas or Kinta?

Why did she dishonor their country and betray his father, her husband, for another man? A foreigner? An invading barbarian?

Did she do it on purpose to hurt Kinta’s father or did she foolishly fall for the foreigner by accident? Was she a spoiled brat like his grandmother Mieko claimed?

However, since Luke’s declaration of war and their confrontation in front of a Minakata-owned building and company, Kinta considered Luke his enemy, and the enemy deserved no mercy.

Grant was also on the side of the barbarians, so he must be expelled from Japan immediately. By any means necessary. Sonno Joi.

Kinta didn’t take pride in a lot of things he’d done, but he’d be damned if he’d let his vengeance-obsessed bastard half-brother undo Japan’s peace and prosperity he helped build with others through an invading force of country-less barbarian mercenaries.

The Meiji Era was built on the foundations of blood, sweat, and tears of the likes of the Shidai Nikuya (Four Butchers), the Mimawarigumi, the Shinsengumi, the Sekihoutai, the Kiheitai, and even Battousai Himura himself.

For the sake of the Late Great Gensai Kawakami and the national security of Japan that he died for, Kinta would expel his own flesh and blood—a bastard who was tainted with barbarian blood, resulting in their mother’s banishment—and revere Emperor Meiji.

Gensai wouldn’t die for nothing. They restored the Emperor of Japan to power to signify a new beginning for the former isolationist country.

There was no way Kinta would let this secure future be stolen by someone after personal revenge, even if it was justified revenge by the Minakata’s Prodigal Son.

Like any invasive species from another habitat that overtook the local ecosystem and killed the native population due to lack of predators, these barbarians and the traitors who enabled them needed to be culled.

These non-native organisms should be expelled and/or eliminated immediately before they had a chance to invade, exhaust resources, and spread their seed across a land unprepared to accommodate them.

As soon as Kinta recuperated to full health—hopefully before the last week end the current year—he swore he’d make sure his brother was executed and all traces of Luke’s mercenary allies were burned to ash and coal.

Not for the sake of his borderline criminal family that was only interested in accumulating generational wealth with scams and abuse of privilege. Nor for the sake of many other similarly greedy and entitled oligarchs currently running Japan.

No, this was more for the sake of the country he loved, the new emperor he had sworn to revere, and the sovereignty of the Japanese people he’d pledged to protect.

Kinta believed this remained the duty of an honor-bound hatamoto-class samurai like himself, even in this current era when that social class had ceased to exist.

***

To Be Continued...

It has been years, but we’re finally entering the Shitennou Ichizoku (四天王一族) Saga. The first “chapter” of the Clans of the Four Heavenly Kings “saga” covers the entire Seiryu Clan Arc.

Down the line, the Sanbaka (Three Stooges) will also be facing off against the Byakko Clan, Suzaku Clan, and Genbu Clan composed of various Edo Era spy families, each with their own agendas.

I haven’t progressed the Rurouni Yahiko story this much since college, which is quite exciting.

Selamat Pagi,Abdiel

[gabriel-gabdiel]

【Draft】 Fantasy of Evolution Chapter 7: Electric Youth

Florante Galang has to deal with angels and demons left and right, particularly his fellow classmates.

Will he be able to save them from turning into demons and instead bring them to the light? Especially when he learns about the nature of the Candidates of Ascension or Corruption.

People, places, and things only exist to you because you perceive them. Whatever you see, hear, taste, smell, and feel make up the world around you.

If you were to talk to someone and listen to them, they become part of your consciousness. They become real.

However, the things you couldn’t perceive before weren’t necessarily nonexistent. They might seem unreal to you because you were unaware of them.

Like the tree that fell in the forest, with no one to hear its drop.

In turn, they could exist separate from your awareness, perceived by others. As long as they could be seen by someone, even by themselves through sentience, they exist.

With that said, what about dreams? What about those afterimages of your subconsciousness shaped by your experiences in the real world, reflected back to you in a unconscious or even half-conscious state?

Were these people, places, and things that were purely invented by your imagination real? Even if they were perceived by no one else except you and your mind’s eye?

Could it be possible for the things invented by your mind and limitless imagination to become real? Or were they just vague shadows of half-remembered past memories emerging from your subconscious depths?

Like a reflection of the moon on a pond or the lights of stars from billions of light years away that had probably died an eternity ago.

Like an echo mistaken for a voice. A lie mistaken for the truth.

***

Fantasy of Evolution

An Urban Fantasy Story by Abdiel

Wait, so Florante's classmates all got superpowers like him? They're all Candidates to become Elected as Archangel Gabriel (or some other angel/demon)?

Disclaimer: This work may reference copyrighted material, the use of which has not always been specifically authorized by the copyright owner. It is believed that this constitutes a fair use of any such copyrighted material as provided for in Section 107 of the US Copyright Law. All copyrighted material referred to in this work belongs to their respective owners. All rights reserved.

***

Chapter 7: Electric Youth

***

Florante Galang made a wry face as he crinkled his nose. ’Susmaryosep. Here we go again.’

Yes, he remembered how he came with Isaiah Pascual to this Ortigas singing or talent contest to save their classmate Regina Mariano from awakening her powers care of another demon, like the one from Makati.

To stop the both of them from becoming monsters.

But why should he save them though? They were so mean to him. Isaiah betrayed him. Regina humiliated him. They were just some of his bullies in school.

Not his worst bullies, but he wasn’t exactly friends with them. Then again, he wasn’t friends with anyone. He was a friendless loser.

He’d rather save that blackened stranger back at Makati than these people. The people that he allegedly killed, if his dreams were truly his memories.

Why should he save his former best friend or friend whom he gave the “Ick” and just stopped being friends with him?

Even though he felt his heart rejoice when Pascual started talking to him again, just like the good ol’ days.

Regardless, he should do the right thing, right? He should take the higher road and punish his bullies by being better than them and saving them.

He’d save them from turning into fallen angels or demons or something even after the abuse he took from them.

Prove to himself that his dream journal version of events was false. He didn’t actually take revenge on his bullies with his newfound powers.

He didn’t actually become Magneto when he should’ve become Superman.

One thing was for sure. It was about time the wimpy kid took a second look at that dream journal of his.

***

A building somewhere in the middle of Ortigas, at J.V. Avenue and about a stone’s throw away from Ultramall…

Florante didn’t have the chance to notice anything else when he realized a van headed their way, flying. Vehicles left and right were being hurled amidst confused screams and many people running away from utter bedlam.

The vehicle, a wrecked jeep or Pajero SUV, spun and slid, on the verge of colliding with them all—Flor Galang and two Isaiah Pascuals.

Wait, two Pascuals? Was he seeing things?

It was silence for one long second before the screaming began again. In the sudden anarchy, Florante could hear more than one person shouting out names.

But more clearly than all the yelling, he could hear someone shout his name.

“Florante, look out!” a voice from behind them said.

Their world went topsy-turvy, and Florante wasn’t sure if the Minion form of the demonic and geometric pyramid Regina Mariano had transformed to was responsible for what had happened.

The next thing he knew, he saw darkness blanket his vision just before he heard the shattering crunch of a car folding around a truck bed.

He then realized he’d been wrapped in a cocoon of vines from head to toe. The green tendrils receded from his person before he attempted breaking free of them on his own.

He then got up from the ground in time to see his classmate Jennifer “Jenny” Tolentino entangling his other classmate Isaiah Pascual with those same vines, a trickle of blood flowing from her forehead, her signature glasses missing.

For those who were just “tuning in”, Jenny was capable of accelerating the growth of vegetation and mold, among other strange powers like healing and the like.

For she was an angel on earth in human guise, just like Florante. Just like Isaiah and Regina. Just like that foreign blonde judge in the talent competition they were attending earlier. 

“Jenny…!” blurted out a confused Florante, not knowing what to say.

“Flor? Are you all right?”

��I’m fine,” Flor noticed his voice sounded strange. He tried sitting up, and realized she held him against the side of her body with surprising strength, which made him blush.

“Be careful,” she warned as he struggled. “I think you hit your head pretty hard.” Florante then became aware of a throbbing ache centered above his left ear, like a second heartbeat.

“Ow,” he said, surprised.

Jenny giggled then sighed. “You broke your promise, Flor,” whispered the smirking girl, the words filling Galang with shame and dread.

Florante gulped, his apology stuck in his throat.

He could’ve lived a normal life without worrying about battling mindless demonic monsters, but he couldn’t leave things well enough alone.

‘That’s not true! It’s Pascual who couldn’t leave things well enough alone! I’m innocent!’ he protested in his head.

'We’ll talk about this later,’ Jenny answered telepathically, which still startled Florante despite knowing better.

From right beside himself and Jenny Tolentino, Florante saw double. Two Isaiah Pascuals, to be exact.

So he wasn’t seeing things.

“Wha…?” Galang trailed off. The second Pascual, he realized, was the one who asked him to watch out. So who was the first one…?

The fake Isaiah cackled then shifted form back to the gorgeous blue-eyed Hollywood blonde from before in an instant. She was Miss Georgia Spelvin, if Florante recalled correctly.

His speed. His movements. His voice. However, this was the first time they’d probably met.

“J-Jenny…?” murmured a concerned Isaiah, who stared back and forth at Florante and Jennifer. “Wait. Since when were you two friends? Also, she has powers too…?”

Flor grasped for words. He didn’t know what to answer. He didn’t know where to start. Should he mention that they were the avatars of angels? Or that they could transform into mindless monsters?

The geometric form of Regina had started singing again, and things beyond Galang’s ken started happening all around them at once.

Glass and debris flew along with random body parts, which made Florante look away, thankful he hadn’t shifted to his multi-eyed Ophanim form that literally saw everything before him.

Such sights would’ve driven him mad. Then again, weren’t they no better than the disaster Jenny and him averted back in Makati?

On one hand, he also made his promise back in Makati to forget about these angels and demons. On the other hand, his former best friend and his not-girlfriend ended up being just like him!

How could he forget or deny something that ended up so unforgettable? So undeniable?

He had no time to think. Cars and vans flew everywhere as though it were “Back to the Future Part II”. Along with people and debris, which was more along the lines of a disaster movie. Or the film, “The Exorcist”.

The world looked like it was ending once again as Regina sang her bleak dirge with no regard to human life. Without a single thought left in her mind.

Flor wasn’t sure if Regina was 'still there’. If there was anything left of the classmate who used to tease and mock him.

***

“Asmodeus,” was what Jenny called the Pascual imposter instead of his name. An imposter who somehow also mimicked the real deal’s abilities, judging by what happened earlier.

“Raphael. Long time, no see. I’ve heard you’re in town from Mammon,” said Georgia Spelvin, who also name-dropped her demonic comrade. “I see you’re still playing around with the newborn Ophanims.”

Even though Georgia was forced to go back to her human avatar form, sharp horns jutted out of her forehead.

The demon Asmodeus was known as the king of demons in the legends of Solomon and the construction of Solomon’s Temple.

His story featured variously in Talmudic stories where he served as the king of the shedim. The Quran cited to a “puppet” in the Story of Solomon, which according to the mufassirūn (authorized exegetes of the Quran) referred to the demon-king Asmodeus (Sakhr).

Back then, all the King of Demons and the Personification of Lust cared about was killing the husbands of a woman named Sarah because he desired her.

Asmodeus killed a total of seven of them, one after the other, every time during their wedding nights with Sarah, making her seem like a Black Widow or a Preying Mantis that ate her husbands after mating.

'I will have her and no one else will,’ was the sentiment behind the lust demon’s actions. However, that was ancient history.

The current holder of the name and legacy of Asmodeus—the gorgeous Georgia Spelvin—was a devilish shapeshifter who could mimic anyone’s face. Or even their talents and abilities.

Raphael’s memories of Asmodeus’ history were vague and Georgia was of a different race entirely, but Asmodeus’ current avatar had a strong resemblance to Sarah.

Like a Caucasian version of the Ancient Jewish Sarah. Maybe. Or it could Raphael’s imagination.

“Stop rifling through my memories and fight, Raphael,” said Georgia with a toss of her blonde locks.

“What are you doing to my classmates?” Jenny, Archangel Raphael’s current human host, demanded. “Leave them be, demon.”

The demonic Spelvin smirked with a spellbinding sneer.

“I’m doing to them something you should’ve done a long time ago, Darling. I’m rousing them from their slumber so that they could evolve and fight for their survival. Survival of the fittest.”

Jenny harrumphed. “Or you just want to corrupt these youths and turn them you’re your Minions, correct?”

“Perhaps.” Georgia’s beatific smile widened reached to the edges of her cheeks, which split her face apart before she literally spewed another Jennifer Tolentino.

Or rather, a Jennifer Tolentino with horns and a tail instead of a halo of angelic might.

“How sure are you that this child is the one who’ll become a full-fledged angel?” drawled Spelvin. “What makes you so sure he won’t end up corrupted into a demon like the rest?”

Georgia, who now looked like Jennifer, took sudden command of the vines, which prompted the real Jenny to summon a separate set of vegetation, the kudzu grass—an invasive species in the United States but native to East Asia—to combat the commandeered vines.

“Let’s see them fulfill their true potential, these Electric Youth.”

***

So many things happened all at once that Florante could barely have any time to react or do something. Anything, really.

The geometric speaker that was Regina’s Ophanim form, a biblically accurate angel beyond imagination or description, kept singing a haunting song that made the surrounding area and the unfortunate souls surrounding it seem to crack and decay.

A song celebrating the end of death and pain, for another Old One had awakened.

Beside him, compelled to save their classmate from herself, Pascual also started to change as well, his frame turning into particles and waves as though he were phasing in and out from the physical world.

Florante wasn’t sure, but he could’ve sworn he overheard Isaiah say, 'If you’re not going to help me then I’ll save Regina myself!’

Or he didn’t overhear that. Not over all this noise and chaos. He telepathically heard his former best friend’s sentiment. Perhaps even felt it without him thinking of a single word.

An abstract version of the Romeo and Juliet play happened right in front of Galang, its two main protagonists played by his classmates that had transformed into eldritch horrors of unknowable origin.

What looked like a trapezoidal glass building as viewed by a fisheye lens emitting vibrations that also warped the space around it played the role of Juliet.

A school boy wearing the Fatima High uniform who phased in and out of existence, as though his very essence separated into waves and particles of light played the role of Romeo.

The two cosmic playthings toyed by fate itself crashed unto each other like Godzilla’s atomic breath would against Tokyo’s many skyscrapers.

Or how paint would splatter on the canvas of a Jackson Pollock painting.

Or how sailors enchanted by the sirens’ call crashed their ships right into the jagged rocks of the shore and the cliffs, luring them all right to their doom.

It was as indescribably violent as it was violently indescribable.

Also, should Florante follow suit and change himself? A named demon was after his classmates who wanted to turn them into demons themselves.

Should he be stopping them from transforming then?

Everyone else was changing into one thing or another, and even their surroundings felt like it approached the event horizon before collapsing unto itself into dense dust and darkness, where even light couldn’t escape.

Why did Jenny want him to stop awakening as an angel again? He couldn’t completely remember. Every time he awoke, it seemed like it was from a dream.

Why was it a bad thing to turn into his Ophanim form? He could barely stand a chance against the Living Spaghetti and the Walking Octopus Tendril when not in Ophanim form.

Something gut-wrenching stopped him from transforming like the rest of them. As though that was the trap.

Just like Mammon before her, the demoness Asmodeus was pitting two Ophanim against each other, even though she probably felt like Florante did that Isaiah had a crush on Regina.

Did she want them to kill each other? Or just corrupt them both so they’d turn into a demon like her?

What would happen if they turned demonic? Was this surreal hellscape of death and devastation supposed to become real if that happened?

***

Of course, Asmodeus would try to use Raphael’s vines against her. The angel avatar expected as much from the face-stealing identity thief of a demoness. They were so predictable.

However, the kudzu drowned the vines from the other Jenny into a sea of leaves and foliage, with showcasing its ability to outcompete native plants due to its aggressive growth habits.

Spelvin harrumphed as the kudzu absorbed her black aura of demonic energy, which made the horns on her head shrink in size. “Clever girl. You planned this, didn’t you?”

Jenny didn’t bother responding. She instead gave a mighty tug at the kudzu that bound Georgia like a green cocoon. The more she attempted to corrupt the vines, the more of her energy it absorbed, making it grow.

It was Jenny’s little Chinese finger trap against mimics and power-stealing entities.

Georgia thought that just because she could copy Jenny’s powers, she could use her plants against her. But Tolentino was one step ahead.

Scowling, Georgia shifted forms yet again, her skin melting from a female form to a male one. This time she became Florante Galang.

“For an angel, you’re quite devious,” spat Spelvin with venom in her voice.

“For a demon, you’re quite gullible,” replied Tolentino in turn, adjusting her glasses.

Jenny took one look at the concerned, innocent expression on the second Florante’s face and she ended up disoriented again as she stared into his gold-colored eyes.

“Is this devious enough for you, Darling?” crooned Georgia with Florante’s voice before licking his lips. “You seem to have taken a liking to the young man.”

Jenny rolled her eyes before untangling the kudzu and whipping the sea of vines towards the imposter Flor. “It’s not what you think. We’re not like that.”

The two then saw the real Florante make a wry face, which concerned Jenny.

Georgia chuckled under her breath, and there was an edge to that sound. “An ancient angel like you and you’re acting coy like the schoolgirl you pretend to be.”

“Oh please. Don’t try me,” said Jenny, only for her to notice Flor telepathically eavesdrop on them both as she hurled her kudzu towards the other Flor.

Georgia then did what Florante was unwilling to do—turn into his Ophanim form of a giant eye surrounded by flaming rings that also had eyes. All-seeing. All-knowing.

These multitude of eyes disintegrated each and every kudzu that came into their path like a forest fire powered by gale winds and the dry season.

“…This person is delusional and has no redeeming qualities. He’s a loser. He isn’t a real Candidate for either becoming an angel or a demon.”

“…What?” said Jenny, taken aback by Florante’s words. Or rather, Georgia’s assessment of Florante.

Georgia Spelvin unleashed the full, devastating power of Galang’s multitude of fiery eyes on Jennifer, with them staring seeming laser holes right through her body and soul.

Flashes of Flor researching Jenny’s origins came to be, along with the late realization that he’d been stalking her all the while with the delusion that they were soulmates.

The other Florante shivered with goosebumps on the nape of his neck as a sense of dread filled him, keeping him from acting. Distracted by multiple things happening at once.

“You’ve made a mistake, Raphael. Florante Galang is trash. A weakling. A coward. Completely corruptible. Irredeemable. Not even worth turning into a Minion like the rest of the Candidates.”

***

Amidst being overstimulated by multiple events happening around him left and right, Florante remembered why he was there.

He was supposed to help Pascual save Mariano from herself. To stop them from becoming monsters.

Regardless, the Ophanim form of Isaiah Pascual—his body engulfed in pure light, as though he were a walking humanoid ray of light that contrasted the being of darkness that Florante fought before—zipped into action.

Going at the speed of light. Beating out the much slower speed of sound that affected whole streets, gas stations, vehicles, humans, and buildings. A shining light that defied the Song to End the World.

The shining Pascual split off into multiple pinpoints of light, moving at top speed and swarming the building-sized Ophanim self of Regina, blasting her pyramid body like a missile assault from World War II.

Isaiah, a being of light, went up against Regina, a being of sound.

Her sound waves couldn’t catch the light waves and particles of Pascual as he traveled across the nation and back, the sole projectile to her oversized mothership yet it looked like she was being bombarded by hundreds or even thousands of shots.

Or, at the very least, that was how Florante interpreted the impressive light and sound show before him. He might as well be looking at an abstract painting or white static on a television set.

He couldn’t even read Pascual’s thoughts anymore as his former best friend became a creature of instinct, reflex, and desire. Instead of sentient thoughts, Isaiah became a walking pile of pure emotion packaged inside a humanoid case of plasma.

Over and over, he attempted to blast through the geometric Ophanim form of Regina, but he held back for fear of killing his beloved for real.

Big mistake. Changing sound frequencies, Mariano belted a new hymn. A sickening one that made Isaiah’s body of light quiver and blink in and out of existence, like a faulty light bulb.

Regina somehow came up with a song that, instead of shaking the world, created a vortex before so dense it absorbed all the humanoid light missiles Isaiah shot at her.

Like rays of light unable to escape the event horizon of a black hole. Like water forming a whirlpool around the bathtub’s drain.

However, Isaiah escaped the black hole, circling around the perimeter of the floating tipped building block of glass and metal that was Mariano, away from the reach of her maelstrom of discontent.

Was this the only way to save Regina though? Fight her to the death as a Godzilla-sized monster and a walking energy being?

Didn’t that work for him and the crawling darkness he fought in Makati? 'That’s right. I fought another monster back then too, and discovered he was just a kid like me…’

Which meant the flying spaghetti monster he first faced off with was human as well. Humans turned into monsters. Or angels. Or demons.

Florante “overheard” Asmodeus call them all Candidates though. Candidates for what? Senate President? The Presidency of the Philippines?

Also, if they were candidates, was this how they were supposed to get votes? A duel to the death, only the strongest could survive? Also, who was voting for whom?!

'You’re all Candidates of Ascension. Or Corruption,’ revealed Georgia, who had just turned into Florante’s Ophanim form of an eye surrounding by rings of eyes and fire, their gaze atomizing every plant-based weapon Jenny tried wielding against it.

'Among the Candidates, only a handful will survive to become full-fledged named avatars. Maybe even less. Maybe even just one,’ said Asmodeus telepathically, finally tuning into Florante’s headspace like a radio would to a radio station.

Probably the exact thing that Jennifer didn’t want to happen.

“He’s a sensitive, stubborn, and naive boy with a short temper. Prone to lash out in anger. More like tantrums, really.”

Florante’s other self—his Ophanim form derived from a shapeshifting Georgia Spelvin—told him in his voice this time, making it sound more like a confession.

“Even with his powers, he’s no match against his own bullies. Even if he laid it all on the line and used his Ophanim form, which is nothing special among the Candidates!” cackled Georgia.

***

Georgia then focused turned her attention towards Jenny.

'Why do you trust this boy? He stalked your address and could’ve kidnapped you or worse for all you know.’

'Do I look like I’m scared of him? He only tried finding out more about me because, as he suspected, I’m much older than I look. His dreams weren’t dreams. And we really are both angels.’

'Oh please. He stalked you because he’s in love with you. He’s enamored by you, like a little lost puppy following around the human doting on him! ’

'Enough, Asmodeus. Stop reaching.’

Jenny tuned out Georgia’s attempts at mind invasion—it was not a superpower of hers, it was an inherent ability of all angels and demons to probe each other’s minds, with some minds more probe-able than others—to consider the jumble of inexplicable chaotic images churning in her mind.

Like the she-devil that she was, Asmodeus probes the mind and uses half-truths and lies to manipulate people to her bidding. Unlike Mammon, she was more hands-on with her manipulation.

This was Asmodeus’s modus operandi. To bring utter chaos and to pick apart the pieces in the meantime, bombarding her enemies with white noise and overstimulation. Attack on all fronts like a blitzkrieg.

Her plant weapons kept getting burned or even atomized by the optic blasts from the all-seeing eyes of Florante’s Ophanim form that Georgia had copied and made her own.

She kept healing the wounds inflicted on her by those mystic eyes, but otherwise she couldn’t come close to damaging Georgia’s cloned Ophanim form.

“…He’s also friendless. He’s shy and doesn’t know how to socialize. People think he’s weird at best and obnoxious at worst,” continued Georgia aloud in Flor’s voice.

However, Jennifer already knew all that. She knew from the start.

Despite it all, she had faith in Flor. Because she had already encountered him in the past and saw what he… was capable of. Or who he truly was.

As though she read ahead of the book. Or fast-forwarded to the end of the Betamax or VHS tape.

However, as Florante finally moved to face the music and his transformed classmates, his special move—his so-called “Light Array"—barely dented Regina’s Ophanim self.

Or perhaps it was already her Minion self, with her succumbing to the temptation and corruption of the infamous Asmodeus him(her)self.

What was the difference between an Ophanim and a Minion? Probably the same difference between an angel and a demon (or fallen angel).

A Minion was an Ophanim giving into their instincts, going wild, and leaving all their sense of self behind, unable to return to their human (avatar) selves. No better than a beast or monster.

Meanwhile, no matter how far Jenny ran and hid among the rubble, the fake Florante’s Ophanim kept blasting her with withering stares of crushing concussive force. If she didn’t have healing powers, she would’ve died a thousand deaths by then.

Also, every plant she planted to go up against the Ophanim got destroyed by the same crushing force. 

What was she supposed to do now?

"Is this your champion, Raphael? This weirdo? This stalker? This nerd? This LOSER?” mocked Georgia. “And what a champion. Why, without his powers, he probably couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag!”

From there, new plants emerged somehow from the crumbling concrete and asphalt, sprouting like bamboo up to three and a half meters tall.

Or rather, like course grass that only grew in tropical or subtropical regions, but thanks to the influence of Raphael, they could grow even on the snowy alps or the middle of Siberia.

It made the whole area look like Mother Nature had reclaimed it after years of abandonment, with grass growing everywhere.

As usual, Georgia made the Ophanim form of Florante stare at the plants to oblivion with the crushing force of his multi-eyed stare, the concussive force of her borrowed eyes crushing the plants like in a blender.

This was a mistake. She just shot into talahib grass, also known as wild sugarcane grass. Through Jenny’s powers, the grass grew large enough to produce floating white fluffy seeds. Thousands of them.

Jenny could’ve produced dandelions or cottonwood. The effect would’ve been the same.

Despite not having a respiratory tract, the eyes of the fake Florante’s Ophanim self were irritated by the seeds, probably a psychosomatic effect of the real Florante’s asthma.

With a sneeze, Georgia was forced to transform back to her “original” buxom blonde Caucasian self.

***

“Light Array! Light Array! LIGHT ARRAY!” Galang kept shooting pinpoints of concentrated energy from all ten of his fingertips (and thumb-tips).

However, his puny attacks paled in comparison to the impressive humanoid energy missiles that Isaiah shot out from his lightspeed self, and even. those failed against the density she summoned around her.

Regina’s newest song served like a pseudo black hole or planet with huge gravitational force, which no light could penetrate through.

God. Damnit. Florante might as well not have done anything at all. He made as much difference as before, when he was frozen from action.

He wanted to prove Georgia wrong and Jenny right. That he could take on his classmates and save them like he did that man of darkness back in Makati.

He did save that guy, right?

How did he defeat the last monster he faced again…? Wait. That monster. The monster with a face.

The monster was an Ophanim. Or Minion. It was a man. With a name. And a life. Just like him. He knew he refused to kill him and found a way to end their fight spurred by no one.

Could it be, whether Ophanim or Minion, all those who were unfortunate enough to become the avatars of angels tend to lose their goddamn minds whenever they transformed into that biblical form?

They were no better than animals? Barely sentient? A slave to their instincts? Was this the reason why he was yet to see Raphael in her Ophanim form?

Meanwhile, Pascual ran a literal ring around the Regina “building”, which with the warped space around her making her look like a spherical planet, made them appear like the Planet Saturn.

The ring Isaiah made then started becoming smaller and smaller, like a razor slowly surrounding the denseness, intending to cut through it and Regina’s Minion form.

Galang had to save them. Mariano was forcing Pascual to kill her. Somehow, by instinct, Florante knew that this was not the way to save her. That either way, Asmodeus would win. She’d corrupt one or both of them.

Just as Florante made the decision to risk it all and transform, Georgia chided him, this time with her sultry voice instead of his whiny voice.

“You don’t stand a chance. Why should you? You killed them both when they didn’t stand a chance, you coward,” she said. Almost hissed like a snake. “They were among the ones you murdered!”

Unlike Mammon back at Makati, Georgia was more hands-on with her attempts at corrupting young Ophanim, wasn’t she?

She continued poking, prodding, and needling Flor even as the bespectacled Jenny mercilessly stabbed her gut with a bamboo shoot, her skin turning red. Her horns growing out of her forehead as she transformed into her demonic form.

“Like a coward, you’re only brave when you have the advantage. You killed them when they didn’t have powers. Now, you’re facing a more level playing field.”

“Flor, don’t listen to her!” said, almost begged, Jenny, driving the bamboo shoot and making it grow. Bamboo was already extraordinary at growing in its natural state, so it practically exploded at Asmodeus.

Flor’s blood ran cold. Georgia read him like a book. Again. It felt like the world went still, actually. Froze like someone had just hit the pause button.

'Like a victim of bullying, you became a bully yourself as revenge against those who oppressed you. You became them. But not exactly, right?’ the spirit and presence of Asmodeus persisted even as her Georgia Spelvin body went through a gruesome demise.

Cringing, it was then that Florante realized that Pascual and Mariano had stopped their monstrous battle against each other.

The Minions, or perhaps Ophanims now that they had somehow regained their senses, went still and paid close attention to the telepathic conversation they were also hearing.

'No, your pent-up feelings of bitterness made you worse than them. Made you into a murderer. An eye for an eye? No, they spat on you and you took their lives for the temerity of insulting you. Of humiliating you.’

Belatedly, Florante realized that Jennifer was protecting him from this when she practically sacrificed herself and told him to live a normal life, just as he told the Ophanim he saved to do the same thing.

He now had to face the consequences of his actions. So what his dream journal hinted was true. It was all true.

He was the bad guy. He was no Superman. He was Magneto. No, Magneto had justified villainy. He fought for things greater than himself by any means necessary.

Florante? He fought for things smaller than himself. The pettiest things. Not to undermine the seriousness of bullying in schools or anything, but it didn’t justify someone to commit murder.

He was an overreacting spoiled brat throwing a dangerous temper tantrum after he was gifted powers for some reason, resulting in the deaths of his classmates.

All because of his inability to socialize. All because they rejected him.

The laughing stock of their school got his revenge, but the price of his dignity was an arm and a leg, which only confirmed their suspicions of him.

His myopic rage had resulted in this. He hoped it was a “No Harm, No Foul” deal since it all ended up a dream, but apparently a dream after all.

He’d already lost the respect of his peers, only for his fantasies to murder them turn into reality, thus making him retroactively deserve all the abuse he’d gotten and then some.

***

The two Ophanims that had been rampaging all of Ortigas and were in the cusp of destroying the S.S. Ultramall had shifted their attention towards something else. Or someone else.

Meanwhile, the cringing, embarrassed, and altogether guilty Florante could only look sheepishly at what had become of Isaiah and Regina. Two of his multiple murder victims.

 He had the audacity earlier to consider not saving the two, but he had to so that he could be better than his two bullies.

Granted, he thought such thoughts at the time when he still felt his memories of murdering his classmates was a wish-fulfillment fantasy he had to vent his frustrations for being eternally bullied at school.

Maybe it would’ve been better if he just killed himself instead? So he would’ve protected the lives of his bullies and ended all the bullying at the same time.

Somehow, that suicidal thought only made the Ophanims—no, the Minions—react violently at Flor. As though lashing out from getting whipped.

Mariano shrieked at Flor, which produced what looked like an earthquake but was actually resonance that made everything crumble to dust and pebbles. Or bits of bone and giblets.

He summoned his halo of energy as his dense shield against the sonic assault, only for him to get a supersonic boom from the glowing Isaiah’s around-the-world punch.

This sent him crashing through multiple walls, his willpower the only thing keeping his spine and rest of his bones from breaking through the sheer force of Isaiah’s attack.

The message was loud and clear. Now that he knew the truth of their origins, he shouldn’t dare play victim now.

A murderer shouldn’t pull a 'Woe is me,’ to his victims to turn around their victimhood on them, especially when he somehow managed to justify their bullying of him in hindsight.

Regina’s Minion form then sung a new song. A very specific song. A song to end Florante Galang.

From there, Galang couldn’t breathe. His eyes went watery. In between blinks, he began wheezing. His asthma had also acted up.

Could she do that? Could she sing a song that activated his asthma? If Flor could laugh, he would’ve. But that would also worsen his asthma.

Thusly, the energy from his halo flickered along with his flagging spirit. Gasping for air he could not breathe.

If he weren’t an angel avatar, he would be dead by now.

Ineffectually, he shot Lightning at them. Bombarding them over and over with millions to billions of volts of electricity while he also used the strikes to charge and heal himself. Help him catch his breath.

The man who was the fastest thing alive outran the lightning before they could land a strike, the bright arcs that looked like cracks on a dark wall illuminated by sunlight could not catch him.

Meanwhile, the subsequent thunder from the lightning strikes got amplified into sonic booms with blockbuster-level blasts thanks to Regina changing frequencies with her song again, turning Galang’s power against him.

They truly were the Electric Youth at that time.

Mariano then continued singing her Song to End the World, with the intention of taking Florante with it.

No fair. They double-teamed him. He was also avoiding turning into an Ophanim himself for fear of getting corrupted and becoming a Minion of Asmodeus.

Flor then ended up crashing into the forest of bamboo that Asmodeus became, the bamboo stalks helping break his fall and cushion his battered body.

The bespectacled Jennifer saved his life once again. Ugh. Could he do nothing right on his own?

Grabbing hold of his bruised arm, Florante gingerly got up from his bed of bent and snapped bamboo shoots, breathing hard. Wheezing hard. Every breath feeling like he sucked in broken glass.

Jenny Tolentino then telepathically told him, 'Don’t you dare break your promise, Flor! I called you Gabriel from the start because I believe in you.’

***

The winded Galang looked up and saw Jenny. His guardian angel. She knew he had a crush on him, but even though she didn’t return his feelings, she didn’t reject him either. His only friend.

A second Jenny Tolentino, Georgia, stabbed the first in the back with a bamboo shoot, much to Flor’s horror.

He couldn’t look away in anticipation of the bamboo shoot exploding into another green forest

However, his guardian angel didn’t into a red splotch amidst the sea of green. Asmodeus forced Jennifer to make her halo shine brighter and unfurl her wings to prevent her human form’s demise.

However, Asmodeus anticipated this too. She summoned the mindless Minions—the corrupted Isaiah and Regina—and made them focus their powers on Jenny.

On their precious classmate after they’d been robbed of their free will.

To ensure she couldn’t get out of this in one piece even though she was a named angel who apparently won her Election or Candidacy of Ascension as Archangel Raphael, the Minions attacked her at the same time as Georgia Spelvin did.

Like Death Insurance. The opposite of Life Insurance—they insured that he died instead of lived.

As the flood of bamboo shoots speared Raphael to the ground, pinning her sea-colored wings like an ensnared bird in a flurry of blue and green feathers, Regina sang her black hole song at the hapless cherub.

Around Jenny and the spherical denseness that threatened to grind her bones to dust, Isaiah spun over and over again, creating a bright ring around what now looked like a miniature Planet Saturn.

“No, don’t you dare! STOP! NOOOOO…!” screamed Florante with asthmatic wheezes, his eyes streaming with tears, but it was all for nothing. “I can’t lose her again! I can’t lose Jenny AGAIN!”

Ironic, seeing that another Jennifer floated beside him, none the worse for wear. A false one that Asmodeus shapeshifted into, but still.

Florante clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white, arcs of electricity flowing through his glowing body as the energy from his halo spread across it.

Before him, a diamond creature that looked more like a spaceship than a living being, singing songs that changed reality in every way possible.

By changing pitch, volume, resonance, melodies, and harmonies, she could cast a spell through sound waves and vibrations every which way.

She had a song that could induce nausea, vomiting, excretion, and cardiac arrest.

Even a song that could shake the Earth to its very core and kill all life on its surface by shifting plate tectonics or inducing volcanic eruptions on even dormant mountains.

Everywhere else, like flashes of fireworks, was the lightspeed man known as Isaiah, his afterimages surrounding him everywhere as he traveled approximately 300,000,000 miles per second.

Or rather, 299,792,458 miles per second in the vacuum of space. It’d take him 8 minutes to travel from there to the sun. 16 minutes to travel to the sun and back.  Faster than greased lightning.

A man of lightspeed and a woman of pure sound. Two viable candidates for the election on who would ascend the throne and become the next Archangel Gabriel.

With a lip lick and a gulp, Florante said words of power that belied his coarse voice. “Kidlat at Kulog (Thunderbolt).”

Unlike Kidlat (Lightning), the Thunderbolt combined lightspeed electric energy of lightning and the supersonic whiplash of thunder in one move. Light and sound together.

Isaiah avoided the concentrated laser beam that cut through the sound waves of the monolithic speaker behind him that was Regina Mariano, only for him to slow down from the ensuing dense sonic boom that followed.

For his 299,792,458 miles per second happened in a vacuum. He ended up much slower going through states of matter, whether it was air, the atmosphere, or solid objects. Or a sonic boom.

This allowed Flor to shoot five of his signature Light Array bullets with one fling of his hand, one bullet for each fingertip.

The first four shots, Pascual outran. The fifth shot hit him on the chest, instantly shattering the layer of light that covered his body, exposing his human form once more.

He thusly stumbled into the wrecked ground with successive, sickening thuds.

Meanwhile, the same sonic boom that blasted a huge hole right into the previously impenetrable shield of the Minion Regina with the force of huge gale winds tearing right into her monstrous geometric form’s proverbial guts.

Instead of singing, Mariano cried in terror as her unstable Minion form started collapsing unto itself.

That was the power of the Thunderbolt. Weaponized thunder that magnified the destructive force of a laser-focused bolt of lightning.

And before Asmodeus in Jenny’s form came forth and stabbed Florante with another bamboo shoot that could instantly grow into a bamboo forest, she stopped cold and stared at the barrel of five guns.

Or rather, five pinpoints of light shining from his other hand. His other Light Array. However, instead of normal energy bullets, he focused his powers to create five Thunderbolts in his fingers.

The energy from his halo flowed even more as the winds around them approached gale speeds, with Florante serving as the eye of the brewing storm.

A typhoon full of lightning bolts that all struck his halo and aura like it were a lightning rod, infusing him with the Might of God, or at least Zeus from the Greek Mythology or Raijin from Japanese Mythology.

Galang wasn’t sure if that was enough to kill an Ascended Avatar like Georgia Spelvin, but at least she stopped short of attacking further.  He certainly got her attention.

He knew he wasn’t any match against her, much less Mammon from before, but even so, he wouldn’t want her to get away with using his classmates as puppets. Even though they were his bullies from before.

From there, disembodied voice telepathically relayed from the heavens:

'You can’t beat a man who doesn’t care about pain, failure, rejection, loss, disrespect, and heartbreak. He’s here to win.’

"Jenny…?” thought Florante before he grinned. 'I knew you survived!’

The fake Jenny Tolentino then shapeshifted back to her avatar form, Georgia Spelvin, as she surveyed the damage Florante had done to her corrupted Minions.

With a shrug and a smirk, Georgia said, “Congratulations, Raphael. Your champion has won, Darling.”

To Flor, she confessed, “I didn’t think you had it in you, kid. So be it. You might just be the next Archangel Gabriel. I will be looking forward to your development. Til next time. Au revoir.”

The manipulative she-demon then blinked out of existence, leaving Florante to fend for himself.

As though roused from a nightmare, the asthmatic let his guard down and relaxed, taking deep wheezing breaths before spitting out phlegm and blood from his mouth.

It was then when Florante deactivated his typhoon-like powers and let the skies clear that he realized what had happened to poor Jennifer Tolentino.

Like a floating transparent gelatinous blob or jellyfish was Jenny’s Ophanim form. Their two mindless classmates really were close to killing her for real.

The Minions forced her to revert to her biblically accurate angel form: A single-celled organism, but the size of the sky.

’Metaphase,’ Flor wryly thought, identifying the phase in mitosis Jennifer’s cell was in, recalling the lesson they were discussing just earlier in the day but what felt like a year or two ago.

'Metaphase,' Flor wryly thought, identifying the phase in mitosis Jennifer's cell was in, recalling the lesson they were discussing just earlier in the day but what felt like a year or two ago.

If Jenny had her human form right then, she would've slapped Galang upside the head. That was not applied learning.

***

Isaiah Pascual awoke from the rut and crater on the ground he slept in, out like a light, after going toe-to-toe against Florante Galang.

Rivulets of sweat poured from his face afterwards as he got up and dusted himself off.

'...Oh shit,' Pascual thought. What he meant to think was, ‘Ohshitshitshitshitshitshitshit…!’ to infinity instead.

Isaiah realized that Florante remembered. What Flor thought was a dream he knew now was reality. Or it had actually happened before it became nothing but their collective imagination.

This was a problem. ‘What is that dangerous kid thinking now?!’ thought Pascual, feeling existential dread.

He was barely aware of himself as an Ophanim, Minion, or whatever (if he was unaware, he was being a Minion), so it look that last hit from the Light Array to jolt him awake, if a bit confused.

A few seconds later, he gathered his thoughts and realized what had happened. To his horror.

His classmate Flor had awakened again and was about to kill them all again. Again. And again. And again. Again, again, again.

In a blind panic, Pascual summoned his powers in an attempt to stop his glowing classmate, only for him to realize the one thing he could use to stop him wasn’t working.

Isaiah wriggled in futility at the approaching Florante, the man on fire with a blue tinge, his legs, arms, and body broken. His quickness did quickly heal his numerous wounds, but ironically it wasn’t healing them fast enough. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!

Pascual then became aware of another’s presence. Last he remembered, they were there to rescue this person approaching them. His unsaid first-time crush and their classmate, Regina Mariano.

"The NERVE of that guy!" said Regina, which made Pascual’s jaw drop. Or it would’ve dropped were it not broken shut into lockjaw position. Goddamn, that was why Isaiah loved that woman—her spunk even the face of an unstoppable monster!

Florante Galang—or the supposed reincarnation of the Archangel Gabriel (so Isaiah heard)—turned towards the commotion Regina made along with Isaiah, who could only watch paralyzed. Unmoving. He had a mouth but he could not scream.

"I had nothing to do with him and he did this to me?" Regina turned towards Isaiah and screamed at him, acknowledging his presence (which he appreciated).

He couldn’t answer back though, so she had to turn her attention back to the fiery horror awaiting them.

Pascual prayed to whatever God or Gods existed to help them survive the typhoon of rage approaching before them. Regina thankfully had powers like he did, so she could probably stop their insane classmate.

He could feel his bones heal very quickly compared to normal human healing but very slowly compared to his survival instinct of needing to run away.

Before them strode the reincarnation of the Archangel Gabriel. A Pacific storm that destroyed everything he touched.

Like a simile about dissimilar things.  Like pretentious writing attempting to be serious. Like a walking contradiction.

Therefore, he clenched his muscles and flexed them together so they could individually fix and set his broken bones together in closed fractures, acting like a wriggling container that kept his skeletal frame from falling apart.

Meanwhile, beside him, the tomboyish girl matched Isaiah’s energy and flexed her own muscles as she screamed louder and louder, her voice reaching whistle note range. Ultrasonic screams beyond the range of human hearing.

Her screams reverberated within a huge flowing firmament that doubled as the heavens above it, like an oceanic body of water but suspended in the air, flowing in waves. Like rain in the sky that would not fall.

“Come on, Florante or Gabriel or whatever your name is! I ain’t afraid of you! COME ON!”

The halo from Florante’s head he wore like a crown of light spread across his body like a regal cape. Like unfurled wings.

“Be not afraid,” Galang said to his banshee classmate. Famous last words.

“…I’M NOT!!” she shouted back with a shockwave blast of sound that destroyed everything around them but barely fazed Archangel Gabriel’s most likely human reincarnation.

The truth could pierce through him, but not any of her lies.

“Do not lie to me,” Florante said with glistening eyes. “We’re all angels here. We can read each other’s minds. Know each other’s feelings.”

“For a nerd, you sure love playing dumb!” said Regina with a trembling voice. “YOU killed US! You were the one who did the crime! You did this to us! And you’re the one who thinks you’re in pain? You’re a narcissist! A school shooter! A murderer! DIE! PLEASE DIE!”

None of her previous attacks could even touch Flor, but every syllable of that next sentence stabbed him like daggers that kept him from advancing, making the screeches shoot through his raging storm of aura until it went dead silent.

***

Florante Galang felt a swell of encouragement from his classmates as he took a knee. ‘Just a little more,’ he heard their thoughts.

So that was confirmation. Finally. he was getting sick of denying the event happened. That he dreamed it.

The incident when he killed his bullies wasn’t a dream, a nightmare, a delusion, or a fantasy that never happened, but reality that turned his First Year St. Francis of Assisi bullies into Candidates of Ascension as the next reincarnation of Gabriel.

He could feel them. Their fear. Their panic. Their indignance. Their hatred. He could feel each and every one of those emotions from them, emanating like toxic radiation.

The rest of the world might forget what happened, but his bullies all remembered. And now they had one more witness: Him, the perpetrator who did it in the first place.

"…Do I deserve to be bullied?" Flor asked, holding back tears.

“Whu…?” started Regina with unmistakable confusion, only for her to remember her bearings and shout, “FUCK YOU! Don’t act like a victim now, you murderous son of a bitch!”

Flor didn’t want to believe he was capable of murdering his classmates, but the evidence was undeniable.

In fairness, he didn’t even kill the whole class. Just several specific individuals. His bullies. An eye for an eye. Or perhaps a life for an eye.

He looked up, preparing for a finishing blow or an attempt at one as he stood up again, bleeding this time from Regina’s stab wounds she used in self-defense, only to see her hesitate too.

“You’re lying,” she said, trailing off. “I’m one of your bullies?! When did I bully you? Wasn’t I just collateral damage to your other bullies???”

Oh, she read his mind and her attack stopped. Florante didn’t even mean to telepathically talk to her. He finally spoke for real to communicate what he remembered.

“You called me a fetal alcohol syndrome baby in front of the class. That became one of my nicknames and made my bullies laugh at me,” Flor confessed with an image of what happened flashing before his eyes.

“…No, I didn’t. I don’t remember any of this. You must’ve imagined it.” Regina said after a pregnant pause.

Flor searched her feelings and found that she told the truth about her not remembering. “It happened, you just—"

“—No, I didn’t forget, IT NEVER HAPPENED!” she insisted with another mortar-shattering sonic shout attack, but it didn’t affect Florante at all.

She screeched harder, but the sound waves wouldn’t penetrate his bleeding body, which already started to heal. It bounced back to her and pushed her back instead.

They then both felt emotions of worry and panic rise from their nearby prone classmate Isaiah, who flew off the handle himself into a whirlwind of punches at Flor to defend Regina from him.

Florante shrugged off the simultaneous attacks and said, “I’m not lying. It really happened. That’s why you were one of the people I killed, Regina.”

This infuriated Miss Mariano enough to blow both Flor and Isaiah back with her own reverberating aura.

Her halo or corona of power exploded after hearing Galang’s words, as though he said the exact wrong words to her that triggered her true potential.

Regina Mariano became a personified concept or a walking emotion, and that emotion was righteous indignation.

“It’s real? THAT WAS YOUR REASON?! You gave me the DEATH PENALTY for SHOPLIFTING? Nothing you did was JUSTIFIED!”

Florante’s breaths became ragged at the display. He wheezed of guilt. His asthma acted up again. He was reaching his limits.

He read Isaiah Pascual’s mind as he saw him hesitate too. Isaiah wanted to assist Regina in stopping Florante too, but he didn’t want to get in his crush’s way.

“SHUT UP! She doesn’t know about that…!” shouted Isaiah to his former best friend, which made him apologize. “Sorry. My bad, Pascual.”

Galang turned his attention back to Regina in time for her to slap him, her aura the size of a building and in the shape of a geometric cube: In the shape of her Ophanim form.

The slap would’ve crushed anyone or anything else.

Florante could read no thoughts from her now. Just raw emotion. Justified emotion, as far as she was concerned, of being killed for nothing.

Isaiah stopped moving beside him, and for that one instant they felt like the best friends they were before.

By reflex, Flor’s halo resisted Regina’s halo, thus keeping him alive as the already ruined streets disappeared into nothing, and what was once a city block with a shopping mall, gas stations, cars, people, and more turned into the surface of the Moon.

It was a flat desert landscape as far as the eye could see, but it changed in seconds into a valley. Then the Grand Canyon. Then Hell, with volcanic eruptions everywhere.

Florante asked himself aloud, “What am I fighting for?” even though he barely hear himself talk.

Regina answered his rhetorical question with words so loud the whole universe could hear them. “THE HELL DO I KNOW?!”

The rest of her words were thoughts instead. 'If you’re sorry you killed us, stand still so we can kill you!’

Florante was truly sorry. Maybe he should do what she said. He felt her thoughts falter in the end though when she realized the gravity of what she said.

She then told herself, ‘If this guy can kill us, I can kill him. It’s no big deal. It’s self-defense,’ to reassure herself.

Florante considered doing what she told him to do. If he wasn’t even born, he wouldn’t have killed them over something so petty. It made sense.

This was his victims’ second chance at life. He had no right to defend himself, so he better not do so.

However, dully, he could feel the worry from Isaiah grow. Feel his helplessness looking at them destroy one other.

Florante should stop being so selfish and die.

Wait. If he died, there was no guarantee that Regina would turn back human. Could Jennifer help Regina become human once he was gone?

Jenny was forced to turn into her Ophanim form trying to save him earlier from that full-fledged She-Devil Asmodeus. She was left vulnerable.

Jenny had to heal herself first before she could heal Regina, and by then it might be too late for Regina to undo her corruption.

“PLEASE!” was the unheard shout of Pascual to the unseeable nothingness that only Florante noticed.

Galang had to save Mariano now instead of later. He had to be the one to do it too, because Isaiah lacked the power to do so.

The two half-formed angels-to-be hovered above the bottomless canyon they created together, holding each other back. Darkness above. Darkness below. Light in the middle.

They were their own source of light, so they went about things by feeling rather than by sight because their own brightness kept them from knowing what they were looking at.

It was tough for Florante to talk to Regina. The girls of his class avoided him like the plague. The only few people who interacted with him are boys.

He didn’t know how to talk to girls, especially if they were one of his bullies. But he persevered.

“You deserve to be bullied!” was Regina’s stab at the dark upon hearing him call her his bully.

So what was he facing? Pure determination. Regina Mariano was pure determination in human form. Stubborn as he’d always known her. Strong. Compelling. Righteous. Gorgeous. Tomboy.

A concept turned flesh. Miss Mariano always did the right thing. As long as she believed she did so, nothing could stop her.

So that meant Galang was in the wrong, or she believed so. She would only stop if she believed she was in the wrong instead.

So Florante pushed back the haze of emotion with cold, logical thought questioning her actions. “I’m not in the wrong.”

Regina answered back. “Yes. You. Are. Weirdo scum.”

They then went back and forth.

“I’m sorry for what I did. Please stop this.”

“No. You can’t trick me. You’re a demon that needs to be destroyed. You’re evil and deluded. You’re only sorry you got caught…!”

“—No tricks. I give up.”

“HAHA! As if/ You’re only saying that because you don’t want to die.”

“Yes, I don’t want to die.”

“See?”

“Don’t I have the right to not want to die? I don’t want you to die too.”

“Wha, don’t do the crime you if you can’t do the time! Also, stop lying! You don’t want me to die, but you killed me? Isn’t that a contradiction? JUST DIE ALREADY!”

“I’m sorry for killing you. It won’t happen again.”

“It sure as hell won’t because I’m gonna kill you! So die, you selfish—”

“I would if I could, but maybe there’s another way. Why not have both of us survive?”

“Only one of us will. Don’t worry about me. You’ll be the one to go.”

“…If you kill me, you’ll become a monster like me.”

“No, not at all. Heroes kill villains all the time. I’m stronger than you and Pascual, so I won’t give in to temptation. I’ll use my powers for good and stop you from doing evil. I need to stop you to keep you from hurting others. Killing others…”

Another disturbing thought occurred to Florante while Regina remained distracted.

According to acclaimed American satirist Kurt Vonnegut Jr., "True terror is when you wake up one morning and discover that your high school class is running the country."

Florante felt that terror right now. Almost as palpable as the fear and loathing Regina reflected back at him.

***

To Be Continued…

In the 1996 Frasier episode "The Show Where Diane Comes Back", Frasier and Diane reconcile their differences and part on good terms. This chapter has the same tone as that episode.

The first incarnation of "Fantasy of Evolution" in my mind back in the early 2000s involved Gabriel De Angeles (currently Florante Galang) ending up seeing his best friend J.D. (reminiscent of Isaiah Pascual) dying because of the War of Angels and Demons.

Also, yes. The Ophanim/Minion form of Regina Mariano is reminiscent of Ramiel the Geometric Angel from Neon Genesis Evangelion.

Fascinating how stories and creations change as you yourself develop into a person and as an author, huh?

Farewell, Abdiel

[gabriel-gabdiel]

What has been seen cannot be unseen.

[gabriel-gabdiel]

Cobra Kai Never Dies Season 7. John Kreese is the Immortal. IYKYK.

[gabriel-gabdiel]

My Netflix queue right now.

I've completed Cobra Kai, so now it's time to rewatch Slam Dunk next. 🥋🏀

[gabriel-gabdiel]

Modern problems require modern solutions.

[gabriel-gabdiel]

【Draft】 Rurouni Yahiko Chapter 60: The Curtain Falls

We now discuss the aftermath of another assassination attempt by the infamous Brigands Guild.

The Seiryu Clan are now gathering to protect their masters, the hatamoto-class samurai family of the Minakatas, like it's the Tokugawa Era all over again.

As the final daimyo of Shimabara, Tadachika Matsudaira of the Matsudaira Clan pledged his allegiance to Emperor Meiji.

As a show of good will towards the tenets of "Sonno Joi" of the new administration, Matsudaira allowed the new Meiji Government to hunt the Hidden Christians down and eventually crush the new Shimabara Rebellion of Nidaime Amakusa Shiro Tokisada (Shiro Tokisada Amakusa the Second).

Soon afterwards, the Shimabara Domain was abolished in 1871 and it became part of Nagasaki.

To avenge the death of his master (the blind swordsman Hyoue Nishida) at the hands of Hyoue's nephew Shogo Amakusa (at the time known as Shiro Amakusa the Second), Kinta Minakata agreed to infiltrate the ranks of the Kakure Kirishitan (Hidden Christian) cult to destroy it from within on behalf of the Meiji Government.

With his skill with the sword, the former Mimawarigumi Battousai learned to become Amakusa's Kagemusha (literally "Shadow Warrior" but figuratively "Body Double") and master Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu as they continued their insurrection, treason, assassinations, and terrorism of Japan.  

Only for Minakata to double-cross the Christians and defeat their cult leader Shiro Amakusa (real name Shogo Muto) in mortal combat. He became their literal Judas Iscariot.

Nevertheless, successfully deploying Kinta's Nisshoku (Solar Eclipse) against a formidable supersonic technique like Shogo's Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki (Heavens Gliding Dragon Flash)wasn't possible to do with just the Aoitsuki O Tsuki Nari (Blue Moon Slash).

The Blue Moon Slash—actually a Double Full Moon Slash done at the fraction of a fraction of a second—might be able to match the Hirameki in speed, but not in power.

Especially since the Amakakeru's left-footed torque gave it enough centrifugal force to create a vacuum or vortex of empty air, thus doubling the impact of the second strike.

Instead of creating a second Full Moon Slash, Kinta used his great skill and timing to reverse the direction of his circular slash from an upwards slash to a downwards one, moving the flipped blade on the same trajectory as before but backwards.

Reversing his momentum gave his sword the torque it needed to match the strength or even surpass the speed of the Hirameki's second slash, thus enabling him to do the Solar Eclipse counter on Shogo's ultimate technique. 

Like a reverse-direction Blue Moon Slash that slashed at the same empty space he'd already slashed through previously before the air could fill it up again, resulting in a frictionless strike that perfectly transferred its total energy without any wind resistance.

That was the Tsubame Gaeshi (Swallow Return). This was the ultimate hidden skill taught to Kinta by Amakusa's Uncle Hyoue.

The same one that the black sheep of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu discovered when he hesitated to deliver the killing blow to his own master, Seijuro Hiko XII.

A reverse-momentum riposte after missing with initial the battoujutsu or iaijutsu slash that sliced faster than the Blue Moon Slash and struck as hard as the second Hirameki slash.

***

Rurouni Yahiko

A Rurouni Kenshin Continuation Fan Fiction Story by Chester Castañeda

Take a bow. The night is over. The Brigands Guild latest assassination attempt has been foiled by Yahiko Myojin, the Sanada Ninjas, and Kinta Minakata… for now.

Disclaimer: All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki, Shueisha, Shonen Jump, Viz, Sony Studios, Fuji TV, Studio Gallup, Studio Deen, and ADV. This disclaimer also covers all the other copyrighted material that are far too many to mention here. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

***

Chapter 60: The Curtain Falls

***

Back at the front yard of the Minakata moneychanger office…

It was finally over.

"Ugh, NOOOOO! DAMMIT!" cried out Lucas Grant into the darkness, a velvet cloth of his own blood draping over his consciousness like a curtain over a theater stage, the light from his eyes fading.

He had him. Well, he almost had him. But he had him. He was so close. But he tripped at the finish line and underestimated him.

Or maybe Luke gave Kinta too much respect because his estranged brother truly was a saint among sinners when compared to the rest of his… their scumbag family.

Faster than even a Blue Moon Slash, he got sliced open from hip to shoulder. What just happened? What hit him exactly as he strode on the verge of victory?

"What was that technique?" Luke demanded to know, his body shaking like a leaf, his blood pooling below him.

"The Tsubame Gaeshi," answered Kinta while brushing away his matted hair in between belabored breaths, his face as pale as a ghost's.

While the bloody Lucas steamed with rage, high-blood pressure, and disbelief, Kinta exuded cold sweats, alabaster skin, and a dropping blood pressure.

In spite of himself, Luke laughed, blood spurting all over him in a shower. "Well done, Samurai."

The Prodigal Son then heard the self-proclaimed Fuuma Ninja Kai Hidaka scream something about getting over there.

Luke's head snapped into attention and stared to his side, only to see Kai engaged in battle with a tall blonde woman wielding a naginata.

His vision blurring, Luke had a brief dream of himself practicing the art of kenjutsu with his elder brother Kinta and that same European(?) girl he just saw like they were old childhood friends.

As if his delirium had taken over.

Only for the fantasy to shatter with the reality of him living in squalor as one of the forgotten burakumin (untouchables) of Japan, after the Minakata Family forsook him and his mother.

Only to see a vision of the Minakata’s disowned daughter working in the Red Light District of Yoshiwara to make ends meet for them, which roused him from his dead faint.

As he understood it, they quietly sent her away to preserve the dignity of the Minakata name, whatever that meant.

Tetsuo Akahori revealed the truth about him and the traitorous Minakatas who disowned his mother for having an affair with a foreign dignitary during the heightening tensions and growing anti-foreigner sentiment of Japan at the dawn of the Bakumatsu.

The single mother and her son became collateral damage against the hostility between the kowtowed shogunate, the restless samurai, and the gaijin who forced to open Japan's borders by force, revealing how backwards and primitive the country had become thanks to its isolationism.

No, wait. This was far from over.

 ***

Many years ago, before Niitsu Kakunoshin became the disciple of Hiko Seijuro XII…

A young, non-blind Hyoue Nishida faced a dilemma.

The deeply religious man needed to kill his beloved (if strict and no-nonsense) Master Hiko to learn the succession technique of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu and become the newest inheritor of the swordsmanship school. However, doing so was at odds with his beliefs.

What was he supposed to do? He really needed to complete his training to protect the Hidden Christians from exposure and persecution from the Shogunate.

He'd heard of the horror stories of how the government tortured anyone they caught practicing this forbidden "foreign" religion, such as nearly drowning them by dunking them upside-down into a well or putting long carpentry nails into their fingertips until they recanted their faith.

Some Christians even had their fingernails plucked right out of their bed. Or they were outright crucified like their Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Fearing how Western nations used Christianity to colonize other countries, the Tokugawa Government had a zero-tolerance policy against any citizen converting to Christianity.

This was the reason why the Hidden Christians remained hidden in plain sight, with their churches located inside caves and their statues of Jesus or Mother Mary as well as the cross put under lock and key in secret compartments.

The pacifistic swordsman Nishida wished to have the power to protect these persecuted faithful without spilling any bloodshed. He wanted to practice the Sword of Life the same way he followed the gospel or the Word of Life.

He wished to use Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu as his Sword of Life to wield for the sake of others and to protect people. His people. The Hidden Christians of Shimabara.

He wanted to do so through the same sword that defeated entire armies and saved whole villages during the Sengoku Era.

Those wielding the Sword of Life were absolutely not allowed to kill or to lose. To lose would not only spell their doom but also the doom of the ones they were trying to protect.

If his only options were to kill his master to succeed him or get killed himself, then he'd find a third option to save them both, so that everyone could end up happy. So he wouldn’t break one of the Ten Commandments.

After praying over and over again to God for guidance, the Christian peacemaker found his answer.

'God is great. Praise be to God,' Nishida had taught at the time. 'I leave my fate in your hands, oh Lord Jesus. I trust in You. Thy will be done.'

***

Back at the front yard of the Minakata moneychanger office…

Kai Hidaka couldn't believe his eyes. The damage sponge and unstoppable juggernaut known as Lucas Grant had finally fallen against the hands of the so-called Kagemusha in a single exchange.

At the same time, he heard the righteous indignation from the voice of the blonde bombshell known as Satsuki Sakaguchi (also known as May Brooks) for good measure, with her charging forward with her trusty naginata (polearm blade) in tow.

"Keep your mitts away from Kyoko-chan and Mr. Sakaguchi!" screamed Satsuki at him.

Hidaka, her opponent, also currently looked like a dagger pincushion thanks to the efforts of Zan of the Sanada Demons.

Man, today just wasn't their day, was it? By "them", he meant the Brigands Guild.

Cursing under his breath, Kai charged, ignoring the agony of his body that served as a knife holder to Zan's daggers.

As for May's part, she saw red as soon as she got a look at the state of Kyoko Sakaguchi and her father Satoru. She didn't even have time to register that Kinta Minakata himself faced his own death match just a few yards away.

Like a purebred mare with blinders on, she focused solely on the ninja with the destroyed gas mask. A traitorous Japanese or East Asian man on the side of gaijin assassins.

He'd touch not one hair on either of them. Her Grandpa Sakaguchi's family. No, her family.

Something weird then happened. Kai found himself in the same predicament as before with Zan. Satsuki could reach and slash at him with Old or Young Moon Slashes at will with an insane reach.

Like she had an infinite supply of throwing knives that she used to suppress Hidaka from getting anywhere near Satoru and Kyoko Sakaguchi. Except it was a blade on a stick so she recycled her throwing knives by stabbing the same blade every time.

After struggling against a strange centipede version of the lion dance mascot with reinforced steel carapaces, razor-sharp limbs, and experienced Chinese kung-fu experts serving as its puppeteers earlier, she could finally let off some steam against one of the brigands.

She intended to defeat Kai like she did the gigantic human centipede mascot: By controlling the distance and taking him apart piece-by-piece, like her taking down those martial artist hooligans one-by-one. Thusly, that was what happened.

The already exhausted Fuuma Clan Ninja couldn't even touch the Caucasian martial artist, her naginata's slashing and stabbing range as far as that of a thrown projectile. Or, ironically, one of Hidaka's rope hooks and darts.

She unloaded on him like a Gatling gun onto an advancing army. Or even a Maxim gun. Every time Kai tried to get near her, it felt like he just dove face-first into a cactus patch. Or a shower of flesh-rending broken glass.

***

Many years ago, before Niitsu Kakunoshin became the disciple of Hiko Seijuro XII…

Hyoue Nishida found a way to master Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu and learn the Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki without murdering his beloved master over it, and it rooted from him hearing about tales of the inimitable Kojiro Sasaki battling against Musashi Miyamoto.

Hyoue had never seen Kojiro's signature technique before, but he heard stories about how the riposte moved so quick it allowed Sasaki to cut apart a sparrow or swallow (hence its name) in mid-flight. 

He had been secretly practicing the Swallow Return over and over ever behind his master's back since he first heard about its legend leading up to his confrontation with his master.

He tried to figure out its mechanics from merely hearing about how it worked. To reverse-engineer a move he'd only heard about from rumors, legends, and folktales.

Hyoue threw caution to the wind and let his fate in the hands of his Christian God, the Almighty Yahweh. If he died in his attempt to spare his master's life, then so be it.

That was the kind of man Hyoue Nishida was.

And so the day of him learning the succession technique arrived. He was able to do the Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki but intentionally missed with his first strike.

His master blocked then did the Kuzu Ryu Sen (Nine-Headed Dragon Flash) to force him to do the even stronger second follow-up strike. A surefire killing blow with any normal katana (as opposed to the sakabatou).

However, Hyoue refused to do the second strike that would've finished Seijuro Hiko XII off.

Instead, he did an imperfect version of the Swallow Return, resulting in him getting blown back by Master Hiko's Kuzu Ryu Sen.

A miracle then happened during the fateful duel between master and student.

Hyoue ended up slipping off the cliff he and his master fought on, dropping into the waterfall below after getting lacerated all over by his master's multi-hit move.

However, he avoided death from his refusal to do the succession technique properly because the Tsubame Gaeshi managed to shatter Seijuro's sword in turn, so his cuts ultimately ended up shallow and non-fatal.

Later on, after recovering from his wounds, he'd thank God for helping him learn not one but two new skills—the Hirameki and the Tsubame Gaeshi—while keeping his master from dying by his hands in order to learn them.

***

Back at the front yard of the Minakata moneychanger office…

Kai Hidaka had enough of Satsuki Sakaguchi's "Death by a Thousand Cuts" nonsense and pulled one of the daggers on (or in) his person to throw it at the wobbly and spent Kinta to complete their assassination mission.

Predictably, this made Satsuki charge and attack up close, deflecting the dagger before it could even reach Kinta's back. With her moving right into Kai's range so that he didn't need to close the distance between them.

"That's right. GET OVER HERE!" screamed the Fuuma shinobi.

At such a close range, her long-ranged polearm was rendered moot while Kai Hidaka could move freely with his sword daggers and entangle her with his rope darts.

"Satsuki-neechan, watch out!" cried out Kyoko as she covered her face by reflex yet peeked out of her open fingers to see what happened next.

'Ha. Women are so emotional and predictable,' thought Kai as he withstood May’s flesh-cutting slashes and dodged the stabbing attempt that would've run him through.

May Brooks smirked. For the last few weeks, she'd been sparring with Yahiko Myojin to learn how to dodge and defend herself from close-range, knowing that was her previous weak point.

'What the hell…!?' thought Hidaka as Brooks shortened her grip on her polearm and held it closer to the blade, like a regular sword.

This allowed her to parry his quicker, shorter swords with her blade or even use the freed up space on her pole to deflect his attacks from there, with her gripping it like a sword with an extra-long handle.

"MIKAZUKI O TSUKU NARI (CRESCENT MOON SLASH)!"

She could throw Crescent and Quarter Moon Slashes at that midrange as well. Whether it was from the Waxing or Waning Stance.

And, when Kai attempted to escape from her close-quarter rampage to regroup, she merely gripped her naginata normally by its base to slash at him from mid-range to long-range. He couldn't escape from her at all.

The bloody Kai dodged those slashes regardless and moved in even closer, intending to grapple with the tall woman, grab her from behind, and then slit her throat.

The adopted Sakaguchi daughter merely stepped back and responded with a, "HANGETSU O TSUKU NARI (HALF MOON SLASH)!" that, lucky for Kai, hit him by the blunt pole end instead of the sharp bladed end.

Kai dropped to his side like a bag of hammers. Fortunately, he avoided having the knives in his person stab him any worse than before.

***

After Hyoue Nishida spared himself and his master Hiko Seijuro XII from needing to kill each other to master Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu...

Nishida would later become one of the founding fathers of Musou Madden Ryu, the swordsmanship school Kinta would eventually master.

The Seiryu Clan helped him develop his own swordsmanship skills divorced from Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, which in turn allowed him to protect the Hidden Christians from harm and discovery against the Tokugawa Shogunate.

He became the bane of many an officer of the law, samurai, or local authorities in Shimabara, hiding under the masked identity of Kirisaki of the Hidden Christians. Their divine protector from persecution and death.

Notably, Kirisaki the Christian freed jailed and tortured Christians or helped them find refuge among other Hidden Christians while never taking the life of their enemies.

The ruling shogunate also tolerated Kirisaki’s presence because on top of rescuing rogue Christians, he also helped catch criminals for them.

As though exchanging the lives of the criminals for the Christians he saved.

Kirisaki became an asset to the government it defied, so they turned a blind eye on its treasonous activities of hiding and rescuing essentially fugitives of the law in exchange for his vigilantism.

Like Morihei Ueshiba with the development of Aikido, the Christian swordsman considered Musou Madden Ryu as a synthesis of his martial studies, philosophy, and religious beliefs.

It combined everything Nishida learned from Sengoku Era Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu and old-school battoujutsu with Hasegawa Eishin Ryu, an iaijutsu koryu from the 16th Century founded by Chikaranosuke Eishin Hasegawa.

By the way, the Sakaguchis previously studied under Hasegawa Eishin Ryu prior to the development of Musou Madden Ryu.

From under this school did Hyoue, the Sakaguchis, and several others derive their take on modern iaijutsu or iaido before and after the Bakumatsu commenced in earnest.

Some students followed Hyoue's pacifistic "Sword of Life" lessons. Nishida and Ueshiba shared the same goal of creating a martial art that practitioners could use to defend themselves while also protecting their attackers from harm.

Others insisted in continuing to go the path of the "Sword of Death" or old-school kenjutsu and iaijutsu because in reality, kenjutsu was the art of killing and katanas were weapons used for murder.

They merely used "Sword of Life" as a safe way to practice and temper their deadly skills. Like doing no-contact sparring and kata drills before engaging in "the real deal".

However, as Japan went to civil war and heads of state rolled in Shimabara, the old officers that tolerated Kirisaki and his protection of Hidden Christians died out.

The "Sonno Joi" movement also led to renewed hatred of everything foreign, including Christians who followed the religion of foreigners. They got hunted down like stray dogs in times of famine soon after.

Years after Hyoue rescued his young nephew and niece from being purged for being Hidden Christians, he'd later get blinded by a teenaged Shogo Amakusa because he wanted revenge against the new government.

Hyoue would later train how to use the "Sword of Life" while blind, using his other sharpened senses to deal with people safely in battle, with him only using violence as a last resort.

All this time, even during the middle of the Bakumatsu, Nishida never took a life. He wasn't a pure pacifist. He was willing to draw swords and do battle when push came to shove. However, like Kenshin as a rurouni, he followed a non-killing vow.

And his nephew Shogo bitterly blamed this vow for the deaths of their people.

In the end, the Swallow Return was also the last technique Nishida used before dying in the hands of his nephew, the self-proclaimed Second Coming of Shiro Amakusa, Shogo Muto.

That was the blind swordsman's last-ditch effort to keep his nephew Shogo from going the dark path of cult leader and domestic terrorist.

Hyoue remained defiant to the end, unwilling to compromise on his Christian beliefs and unwillingness to take a life even at the cost of his own.

***

Like a newborn fawn, Lucas stood and wobbled on shaky legs, his clicky knees knocking together like the Shinsengumi knocking on your door, thinking you were harboring an Ishin Shishi fugitive.

By sheer force of will, he trudged forward.

Despite everything, the wheezing Kinta also sacrificed himself to land that last attack when by the tail end of their protracted battle, no Full Moon Slash or Double Full Moon Slash could land on Lucas.

Doing a Full Moon Slash iaijutsu from the start subjected the swordsman’s body to muscle-tearing or even bone-crushing centrifugal forces, especially one involving a reverse-momentum riposte like the Swallow Return!

It was hard to imagine the damage he was doing to his body, but surely it was enough to push him over his own limits!

Kinta's gasping mouth went agape as his little bastard brother marched towards him. Like an unkillable zombie. Like the Ochimusha the Minakatas were allegedly descended from.

What did it take for Luke to go down? How was he still standing?!

What did he go through all those years after he and his mother were banished from the Minakata Family that pushed him beyond his human limits?

Kinta himself sheathed his sword and hobbled in anticipation of his bastard brother's final attack, his scratchy throat withholding a bloody cough.

The Prodigal Son of the Minakatas had every right to wipe out their sinful clan.

However, it remained Kinta's duty as the grandson, nephew, and son of the family to protect his uncles and grandmother.

"What happened to her? The banished woman. Minakata Aoi. Is she still alive?" Kinta asked.

"…Banished woman? You mean the woman who birthed the both of us? You couldn't even bring yourself to call her 'Mother'…?"

Lucas then leaped towards his unlucky brother as soon as his body gave in and he coughed, blood spraying from his mouth.

"I thought you were different, Brother! YOU'RE THE SAME AS THE REST OF THE MINAKATA SCUM!" Luke screamed at Kinta.

At the side of the entrance, both Yahiko Myojin and Sho Kojima—who accompanied Tatsuya Minakata back to the office to rescue Kinta —ran as fast as they could towards the Prodigal Son as soon as they spotted him attacking a coughing and defenseless Kinta.

Alas, they were too far away to make it.

Ditto with May Brooks, who'd just made short work of the injured Kai Hidaka.

She ran blindly at Lucas Grant, unaware of his connection with Kinta Minakata, but stopped short from running him through in spite of herself.

After years of living in Japan as the only other "gaijin", it was the first time she'd seen someone who was Caucasian like her, which sent a shock to her system for about a second.

A second was all the time Luke needed to finish off the huge wall that kept him from enacting revenge at the evil Minakata Family.

A flying kunai not unlike those wielded by Zan of the Sanada Demons flew in between Grant's eyes.

 "Who…!?" a frothing Lucas demanded as used his sword's handle to deflect the weapon, his one second of opportunity to assassinate Kinta now gone.

Did that damn persistent Zan revive and get in his way again? No, it was the dagger of the other ninja bodyguard who was also from the Sanada Ninja Clan. Their young master, Kaita.

Luke swiped at Kinta regardless, blindly hitting the invisible ninja instead as his crossed short blades broke under the weight of the heavy bastard sword.

The Prodigal Son then turned and blocked a sudden naginata slash with his blade, leaving him open to a number of other incoming attacks. Turning the full-rotation Full Moon Slash into a Half Moon Slash.

"Get the hell away from Kinta-sama…!" screamed Satsuki Sakaguchi, who remembered who she was now.

Or rather, who she became: A devoted student of Musou Madden Ryu and the adopted granddaughter of the Sakaguchis, who in turn loyally served under the Minakata Family since the olden times of the Shogunate.

It was Luke’s turn to wonder where he was and why he was fighting a blue-eyed blonde Caucasian warrior woman in full martial artist garb wielding a Japanese glaive, his brain unable to process what he saw. 

'Wait a minute. This girl…!' he thought. He couldn’t possibly be mistaken.

Unless he met another tall, white (creamy pink, more like) golden-haired woman in Japan, he had seen this girl before. The chances of meeting two foreign blonde girls who spoke fluent Japanese in Japan were next to nil!

Lucas then noticed the incoming attacks of his other hindrances.

The charging Yahiko's temple then got clipped by a hook punch from the struggling Luke, but as he fell to the ground, he pushed forward and did the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu Tsuka no Gedan—Hiza Hijiki knee strike that made the Prodigal Son buckle.

Finally, Sho unsheathed his sword and let its handle fly into Luke's gut, knocking the wind out of him and making him drop his sword in wincing pain, which embedded itself to the ground.

This was another form of the Lunar Eclipse: A half-drawn blade with the handle aimed at the opponent's gut before either could fully draw their blades.

Like a rampaging gorilla, Luke punched, kicked, elbowed, and threw the people nearest him, his eyes solely focused on his half-brother Kinta, who had already recovered from his coughing fit.

Yahiko shook his head in disbelief. What did it take to put this man down? He seemed as strong as Sanosuke, if not stronger…!

Soon, a dogpile occurred. Multiple coppers were called into the Yokohama Chinatown to seize the assassin. They became messy entanglemen of limbs, sai, wooden swords, and rope.

The police finally arrived along with Chizuru Raikouji and Abelia La Cerca.

The dead-tired Yahiko surveyed the carnage. Blood spilled everywhere. Several people were injured. Multiple bodyguards were killed inside and outside the moneychanger building.

Regardless, the Brigands Guild's invasion in Chinatown had ended, at long last.

'It's finally over,' thought the exhausted Kinta as Abelia tended to him and his wounds.

***

The Yokohama Police had quite the busy night, with them arresting criminals working with foreign invader assassins left and right, most of which were Chinese nationals from the local Chinatown criminal syndicate.

However, only Lucas Grant ended up getting arrested. Somehow, someway, while they were all distracted by Luke's last-ditch attempt at taking out his half-brother Kinta, Kai Hidaka disappeared.

The aching Yahiko suspected that The Faceless had something to do with it. He probably fetched his fellow Brigands Guild member in the middle of the chaos.

He almost had him too during their duel, but the strange masked brigand had more tricks up his sleeve like the experienced mercenary that he was. Like he changed personalities and styles depending on the mask he wore.

‘Now who does that remind me of?’ the teenaged samurai thought with a smirk.

However, their boss had now been caught by the authorities. Will they still continue with their mission of taking out the wealthy and influential Minakata Family?

Meanwhile, little Abelia attended to the gasping and wheezing Kinta after applying first-aid on Satoru Sakaguchi and his daughter Kyoko along with the other medics on the scene looking for other survivors.

Bandages and salves were also handed off to Yahiko Myojin and Satsuki Sakaguchi.

The two sparring mates grinned at one another and crossed their weapons together. Their lengthy training sessions at the Sakaguchi Dojo had paid dividends tonight.

"Good work, Joshua-kun!"

"You too, Satsuki!"

Chizuru herself pinched one of Yahiko's ears like an irate mother and chewed him out for not being careful and needlessly involving himself with other people's business to the point of risking his life.

Like she didn't know better by now.

Yahiko rolled his eyes and allowed the lady to scold him as he withheld a wistful smile that sneaked into the corners of his mouth. Again, though she’d hate to hear him say it, Chizuru reminded him so much of Kaoru Kamiya back at the Kamiya Dojo.

Yahiko had actually reunited with Gan and Minoe earlier, in the middle of him, Kojima, and Kinta's uncle returning to the moneychanger office.

The pair of Munenori Minoe and the Great Gan took down the Chinese mercenaries wearing the lion dance costume in typical violent fashion.

Indeed, Minoe ended up helping out with the mission despite viewing Kinta Minakata as the traitor to Shogo Amakusa’s rebellion, but he was unwilling to join Yahiko any further.

The Tokyo Samurai Descendant thanked the wandering terrorist with the eye patch and wig regardless.

Yahiko had no idea how Kinta Minakata betrayed Munenri, Amakusa, and the Hidden Christians, but he thought better than to pry right now.

The Battousai Group was the furthest thing from his mind at the moment. He’d have to deal with them eventually, of course.

After all, there were foreign invaders afoot. Someone hired them to finish off the so-called Seiryu Clan.

He also had a gut feeling that Amakusa’s faction and the current turn of events were all interconnected somehow.

It seemed too convenient for a Fake Battousai Group to harangue the Sakaguchis, only for the real one to finish them off.

Perhaps Keisuke used the name of one of the Sakaguchis’ enemies for himself. Or perhaps the Battousai Group was the enemy of the Minakatas, which in turn made them the enemies of the Sakaguchis by proxy.

***

Kinta took a long drag of his asthma cigarettes—not made of tobacco, but instead from the leaves of Datura stramonium (thorn apple) that were widely sold in the 1800s and into the early 1900s—given to him by Abelia La Cerca to relieve his respiratory emergency.

The cigarettes provided a means of delivering an inhaled treatment that would be later known by 20th Century medicine as an antimuscarinic alkaloid.

Other than almost suffocating to a dead faint due to exhaustion, he was none the worse for wear. He barely had any cuts deeper than a laceration on him. Most of the blood on his clothes were from Lucas.

Nevertheless, he was the one who almost died instead of his stamina monster of a brother. That (literal) bastard pushed him to his (present) limits.

His whole body trembled and ached from muscle strain. He felt like going into a deep sleep, afraid it’d turn into a coma he wouldn’t wake up from.

Kinta's adrenalin probably still kept him up and standing like his brother did before he was apprehended.

"Are you okay, Kinta-sama?" said Officer Satoru Sakaguchi, who himself got injured by one of the brigands of the Brigands Guild. "It’s time for you to head home and rest."

'He still calls me, Kinta-sama, eh?' Wistfully, Kinta looked up at the endless blackness of the sky and its infinite stars then marveled:

"It's been 17, almost 18 years since the Meiji Era started. There's no reason for you to be trapped into a master-servant relationship with our family."

After a brief pause, Lieutenant Satoru answered, "Don't be silly. Just because of the administration's edicts, we're going to throw away hundreds of years of gratitude? Don't be a stranger, Kinta-sama."

"It's a stupid old tradition," insisted Kinta. "Your family shouldn’t be shackled to mine. Samurai no longer exist. The hatamoto class died out along with the Shogunate."

"Come on, don't make me say it, Sir Kinta." Satoru grinned. "The bonds between our families run deeper than mere traditions and classes. We Sakaguchis are loyal to you because we choose to! We’re bound by fate at this point."

***

Yahiko poked around and eavesdropped on the Yokohama Police chatting with the "Sword of Life" swordsman and drunkard earlier. His name was Sho Kojima, wasn't it?

Sho seemed to have finally sobered up after using his mix of the Drunken Fist and Musou Madden Ryu swordsmanship at The Faceless.

Myojin overheard something about them apprehending three of five known Brigands Guild members.

One had been jailed already—someone who almost killed a squad of Yokohama Policemen had they not been saved in time by that other foreigner girl the size of a ten year old who knew all about western medicine and drugs.

They also put in chains a swarthy hairy giant of a muscular man who wielded a huge ax like it weighed as much as an ordinary sword. They arrested him back in one of the Minakata Family’s many mansions.

And now they actually caught the mastermind of the mercenaries with a direct link to the Minakatas, Lucas Grant. Right on time too, before he could murder one member of their family.

However, it was at the risk and cost of the lives of many of Yokohama’s Finest and their hired private bodyguards, one of whom Lucas impersonated in order to get close to the family.

Had the Minakata Family drama not have national security consequences when push came to shove, Yahiko would rather not interfere with it.

Also, the Akahoris were also somehow intertwined with Minakata busines. Nepotism ran deep in the Meiji Oligarchy, after all, as evidenced by the likes of Jusanro Tani.

Could it be that the Akahoris were also in league with the Minakatas? Could it be that the shared the same enemy, which was Amakusa’s faction?

If so, then why did it seem like Minoe had nothing to do with these Brigands Guild of mercenaries? He was willing to take them down, even for Kinta’s sake.

Yahiko scratched his chin. Maybe he needed to send a carrier pigeon to the Kyoto Oniwabanshu so that he could glean more info on this Seiryu Clan and Minakata Zaibatsu.

Myojin decided then and there to keep digging deeper. What was the reason behind Amakusa's use of Kenshin's name Battousai? Why did he and Minoe’s other self, Kaede, know how to use Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu?

How was Kinta related to the Battousai Group? Did it go beyond him once being called the Mimawarigumi Battousai? Was he another Battousai wannabe too, by that logic?

Just like how Minoe, without the wig and eyepatch, or his other self, Kaede, if she were another gender, was the spirit and image of Kenshin himself?

Oh wait. That last technique Kinta did. The Swallow Return. That was legendary iaijutsu or battoujutsu invented by the famous Kojiro Sasaki himself! Musashi Miyamoto’s chief rival!

Could such a legendary technique from a historical figure like Kojiro Sasaki match the power of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu’s Heavens Gliding Dragon Flash? Yahiko could only wonder in amazement.

Moreover, was Kinta comparable to Kenshin the same way Soujiro was? The Tokyo Samurai Descendant barely touched the Heaven Sword when they fought. Was Kinta as good, if not better, than Kenshin?

'No way,' Yahiko thought, waving the notion off.

Would there also come a time when he and Kinta Minakata would clash swords themselves?

He wasn't sure. By the looks of things, Kinta and Amakusa left each other in bad terms, judging by Minoe's claims that he was a traitor.

Maybe Minakta wasn't part of the Battousai Group anymore, but Myojin wasn't sure. How loyal were the Minakatas to the Meiji Government despite being one of their favored oligarchs?

As far as Yahiko knew, Kinta and his family were on the side of the oligarchy (of course).

In any case, the Mimawarigumi Battousai was indeed a formidable opponent to be able to dispatch the likes of The Faceless and his own estranged brother like that with techniques like the Swallow Return.

However, to Yahiko, being Kenshin-like wasn’t about techniques and strength. It was more than just being named "Battousai" as well.

It was about moving forward despite all the suffering and crippling depression he faced. It was about being honorable in the face of an imperfect new government filled with corruption.

It was about the strength of defending life after being burdened by the unwashable guilt of taking so many lives. 

It was about viewing the true nature of samurai as to improve, become stronger, and become knowledgeable than you were before. Being a samurai meant self-improvement in every sense of the word.

Rather than the other face of samurai being armed thugs serving the Shogunate who were born with privilege. And when that privilege was taken away from them, the samurai became no better than bandit and criminals.

Most importantly, what was the deal with this so-called Seiryu Clan he kept hearing about?

***

"Ah! I almost forgot ‘bout you! Hold still, Señor Samurai!" said the foreign-looking little girl with rust-brown hair who appeared out of nowhere and began bandaging Yahiko’s wounds.

Yahiko took one look at the kid and then called out to the nearby police, "Hey, there’s a lost child here. Might be a foreign kid from the Yokohama Foreign Settlement or something!”

This earned him a bonk on the head from the violent kid. She was a brat, truly.

"OW! Hey! What was that for?"

"What do you mean, 'What was that for?' You called me a lost child!" the girl pointed out, her cheeks inflating cutely like a squirrel's.

Then, to Yahiko’s utter befuddlement, the taciturn Kinta turned towards him and told him, "She's with us."

This in turn earned the already injured Kinta a bonk on his head, followed by an apology. "AH! I’m sorry, Señor Kinta! But that doesn’t clear things up with him at all!"

Rubbing the bump on his head as he watched the doting child scold the poker-faced Minakata, Myojin remembered where he first met the girl. Well, saw her.

It was at the Sakaguchi Dojo. She was with Kinta and that drunken swordsman dude who helped him take on The Faceless, Kojima.

According to the Yokohama Police, she was some kid that had connections with the Brigands Guild that was after the Minakatas. She helped saved them from one of the members, a poison-based assassin.

She was also a lot older than she looked apparently, like she was more of a little person than a child, but Yahiko wasn’t so sure about that claim. Big if true.

The adorable young/old person then turned towards Yahiko and asked, "What's your name again?"

"Huh? Me? Uh, it’s Yahiko. Myojin Yahiko."

"Charmed. My name is Abelia La Cerca. Como estas? I mean, how do you do?"

"Uh, I’m doing fine. Thanks."

'La Cerca?' thought Yahiko. The police told him that was one of The Faceless' many aliases. So she was related to one of the Brigands, huh? Could they trust her?  What if she was the Brigands’ mole?

"But you're just a li'l kid," he almost muttered to himself rather than to Abelia.

"Right back at you, kiddo. You're barely a teenager," said the childlike girl midget before him. Girl midget? Gidget?

"Well, you're barely pubescent!" he said. "…Right?"

"It doesn't matter anyway," she said as she attended to Yahiko's wounds with ointment and bandages.

"Heard from the police you have connections with the Minakata's present enemies, the Brigands Guild. Like you're related to some of them or something."

This made Abelia pause. "What of it, Señor Samurai? Are you accusing me of something? Even though you're more of a rando yourself, snooping into other peoples' business?"

"HEY! I'm a friend of the friend of the samurai family serving under the Minakatas, I'll have you know!" blurted out Yahiko in defense of himself. "Also, the name's Myojin Yahiko, not Senyor Samurai!"

He felt a pang of regret from leaving out the part where he decided to intervene into the Minakata Familiy's affairs because of their Kinta's to Shogo Amakusa's Battousai Group.

That info was on a need-to-know basis, but at the same time, he was ironically becoming a hypocritical interloper on someone else's business himself.

"…Heard from Señor Kojima that you're some vagabond who volunteered to become Señor Kinta's bodyguard. And you didn't do half bad against, uh, The Faceless," Abelia said, changing the subject.

Yahiko rubbed the back of his head, flattered.

"Jeez, I was lucky to get some shots in against The Faceless and his fencing style! He actually kind of reminds me of this kid at my dojo. Cat Eyes, I call him. He said he learned fencing to do better at kendo or something."

The samurai kid then caught himself babbling in time to see the Hispanic gidget sneak away from him. "HEY! Nice try, girlie! Flattery will get you nowhere!"

"You sure it didn’t work? It got you talking all giddy for a second," Yahiko heard Abelia mumble.

"Cut the crap, kiddo! Tell me how you're linked with the Brigands! Why are you helping out the Minakatas in the first place even though you're related to them?" he asked.

He then gulped, taken aback by Abelia's teary-eyed confession of, "Just because they're family, it doesn't mean I'm on their side."

"H-Hey, easy there. Don't cry! I didn't mean to make you cry…!" he started, his hands seemingly fluffing an invisible pillow, motioning her to stop.

Abelia stuck her tongue out at Yahiko while pulling an eyelid with an index finger. "As if, you dummy!" She didn't kick the boy's shin in retaliation, but he still flinched and backed away by reflex.

"Kinta-sama saved me from getting killed by mi hermano mayor," she said, trailing off. To herself, she murmured, "Saved me from my own twin brother who had lost his mind. My allegiance is with Kinta-sama, not with the Brigands."

"Oh. Is that right? Your twin brother tried to kill you?" said Yahiko, taking a mental note of the new info while trying his best not to sound too blasé.

'So she has issues with her family that's on the Brigand’s side, huh?' He rubbed his chin with a dubious pout. 'Big if true.'

Then again, Yahiko was one to speak. He also had family issues himself when he served as the yakuza's gopher and pickpocket.

"Just because he's family, it doesn't mean we're on the same side," she said. "Like Kinta-sama, I too have a complicated history with my family."

"Oh," he said. "So his deal with his long-lost brother is the same deal as your brother, huh?"

Abelia left out the part where she and her brother were born as conjoined twins, with her serving as his parasitic twin. He then lost his mind after they were separated through 18th-century surgery.

That was on a need-to-know basis.

"I'm not just flattering you, y'know? You fought to the end. You never surrendered. Even Señor Sho was impressed with the way you held your ground against The Faceless, who was able to take on Señor Kinta on even terms."

Yahiko couldn't help but beam at that last bit of praise. 'So even the great Mimawarigumi Battousai had trouble with that son of a gun!'

Abelia shook her head in wonderment. This boy. This samurai who looked like he'd be no match against her father was able to hold on and keep fighting. Never giving up. Even if it was for the sake of strangers.

Even if the Minakata Family Feud with the Brigands wasn't really any of his business, he still fought with all he had.

She let out a long exhale. "My father isn't an easy man to deal with. "

"Wait a goddamn minute. The Faceless is your father?!" exclaimed Yahiko. "And we're all supposed to believe you're on our side? I mean, their side? Your whole family are practically part of the Brigands Guild!"

She wasn't listening, though. "What pushes you to fight, Señor Yahiko?"

"Hmmm? What do you mean? I was hired as their bodyguard. I was just doing my job!"

"But they're just strangers to you who you've just met, I heard! You fought like a loved one's life was on the line!"

Yahiko scratched his cheek. "Honestly, even if I just met Chizuru and the Sakaguchis recently, they all remind me of my family back home in Tokyo. Also, I can't leave anyone who's in need alone."

"Really? You’d interfere even if it’s none of your business?"

The teen laughed in spite of himself. "Interfering with someone else’s business is more his thing, to be honest, but…"

"Who?" she asked. "Whose 'thing' was it?"

"Someone I look up to," he answered vaguely. 'Someone who also interfered in something that had nothing to do with him just to save me from the yakuza,' he inwardly thought.

Kenshin Himura. The interloper no one asked for who always came to the rescue.

That too was on a need-to-know basis.

"I couldn't leave them well enough alone either, I guess. While there's someone in need before me, I can't help but act," he said.

"Just like the original Battousai, right?" she said with a grin.

"What? How did you…?" began Yahiko.

"Like I said, Señor Sho told me everything," she replied with a giggle. "No wonder you were so brave. You've studied under the man Kinta-sama was named after by the Mimawarigumi. The Hitokiri Battousai!”

***

As the Yokohama Police secured the perimeter, tagged the bodies, interrogated the witnesses, arrested the perps, and gathered evidence, Yahiko finally left that moneychanger office in Chinatown.

He'd finally told them his eyewitness account of what happened, so he was free to go.

Go home, perhaps? Nope, he was far away from Tokyo now. Well, maybe a train ride away, at least.

However, he was already in too deep. As the inheritor of Kenshin's sakabatou and the kanji of "Evil" behind Sanosuke's back, he had a job to do.

There were people using the Hitokiri Battousai's name in vain, creating a so-called Battousai Group meant to sow discord in the Meiji Era.

He had to take these insurgents down.

Furthermore, a former Mimawarigumi member and his Hatamoto-Class Samurai Family were in peril against literal foreign invaders at that.

This man, Kinta, might be his biggest lead yet in taking down the Battousaigumi before they could reform and wreak havoc in peacetime Japan, undoing all the hard work the Kenshingumi did in defending the country against Makoto Shishio's Ten Swords.

Yahiko's eavesdropping also helped him hear whispers about a certain Seiryu Clan and their… Black Book. A book full of names and secrets that could unravel the very fabric of the Meiji Government.

A literal government conspiracy was afoot in the middle of Yahiko investigating a bunch of terrorists sullying the good name of Kenshin Kamiya (nee Himura).

'I'll cross that bridge when I get there,' he thought while rubbing his temples with his fingers. 'What's important is that I've found another potential member of the Battousai Group while keeping an eye on another.'

Yahiko took a deep breath, remembering his misadventures with the eye-patched Munenori Minoe. Or rather, the volatile Kaede Morinaga.

Nevertheless, the Battousai of Speed had finally met up with the traitor to their cause, the Mimawarigumi Battousai, also known as the Battousai of Skill.

The young man scratched his chin. To whom was Kinta Minakata loyal to? The Meiji Government? His family and the family business, the Minakata Zaibatsu?

Or this so-called Seiryu Clan that both the Minakatas and the Sakaguchis belonged to as spies playing both sides of the Tokugawa Government and the Ishin Shishi royalists back in the Bakumatsu?

What happened between him and Shogo Amakusa’s Hidden Christians in the past? Did he really act as a double agent to their rebellion to destroy their cult from the inside and preserve the peace?

Also, what of the mysterious Latina, Abelia La Cerca? Could they trust her word that she wasn’t just a spy for the invading mercenaries, the Brigands Guild? Her very family was involved with them!

The next thing Myojin knew, a faint presence made itself know before him, the darkness parting before him like curtains from a stage play. Before him, garbed like a stagehand, was Kaita.

The ninja protecting the Minakata Family ended up being the related to the ninja who hunted down Kenshin several months ago.

The old man who took a bullet for him to save him from Hitokiri Gasuke—the late Masahiro Takae.

And before him was Kaita Takae. Son of Masahiro Takae.

The ninja warrior turned towards Yahiko, who almost flinched and turned away, but willed himself to stare at him eye-to-eye.

"…." Yahiko gulped, unable to meet the shinobi's fierce gaze.

"What is your name, Yojimbo?" asked Kaita, his resolve and his unblinking eyes practically piercing through Myojin’s awkwardness and discomfort.

"Myojin Yahiko," said Yahiko Myojin. "Son of Tokyo Samurai."

"Fine. Myojin Yahiko. Son of Tokyo Samurai," Kaita Takae pointed his kunai at the teenaged swordsman. "I am Takae Kaita. Son of Shinobi. Prepare yourself when we cross paths again."

Momentarily at a loss for words, the samurai kid sputtered, "But wait…! I have no feud with you! I don’t wish you harm…!"

And indeed, Yahiko did not wish to fight the son of the man who saved his life in exchange of his own, taking the bullet meant for him instead.

"Harm?" Yahiko could hear the smirk underneath Kaita's mask. "Don't flatter yourself, Yojimbo."

"I had no idea Takae was your father," the young Myojin said to Takae’s son honestly. "He said he was the last ninja of your clan."

"He was," said Kaita. "There is no Takae Clan any longer. We’ve been absorbed into the Sanada Ninja Clan by marriage."

'So that’s what that meant,' thought Yahiko, who then sputtered, "I'm so sorry for your loss. He was an honorable fighter who…!"

Kaita interrupted Yahiko, saying, "I know he's an honorable fighter. Even after his retirement as head of our clan, he continued being a mercenary. He lived as a shinobi and died as a shinobi."

From there, the Son of Tokyo Samurai understood Kaita's implication.

Kaita didn't care about the circumstances behind the death of his father. As far as he knew, he died honorably. Then again, Yahiko was partly responsible for Masahiro's death regardless.

Had he been a touch faster or stronger, Yahiko would've… should've defeated Gasuke without him harming Takae or anyone else.

Their eyes met, then Kaita asked, "Was he able to fulfill his final wish of battling the infamous Battousai?"

Oh yeah. Masahiro Takae took on the mission of aiding Hitokiri Gasuke take his revenge against the weakening Battousai than anything else, spying on him for weeks.

Initially, Yahiko thought Takae was a coward like Gasuke, taking on Kenshin after he retired from using the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu rather than fight him at his strongest.

However, Masahiro actually forced Kenshin to use an actual sword with his skill. Even with Himura's declining health and skill, he wanted a taste of what was left of his abilities.

Perhaps Takae, like Battousai, wanted one last duel. A grand finale. A final fight to the death between two old warriors who were past their primes, showing that they still had one good match left in them.

His closed mouth shrinking into a thin line of consternation, Yahiko nodded at Kaita in earnest.

Kaita Takae laughed. "What luck. So you're also connected to the Battousai himself, huh? Thank you, Father. I get to duel against the Battousai’s student!"

"H-Hey, wait…!" said Yahiko, only for him to backpedal when Kaita asked, "Your sword when used like a normal sword cannot kill. That's Battousai's sword, is it not? My father wondered why he'd hold back like that. Was he so skilled he needed a handicap?"

"Hey! It's not like that! Kenshin…!" Myojin tried to explain, but Takae laughed him off.

"It’s no matter. I'll find out soon. I'll let our blades do the talking. This isn’t over, Yojimbo. Until I kill you, make sure no one else does."

"…."

From there, the son of Masahiro Takae who inherited all of his tricks disappeared in the blink of an eye, his silhouette fading from the light and merging back into the shadows.

***

What a day. What a helluva day.

Yahiko took on a foreign group of mercenaries to protect an influential former hatamoto family that was currently part of the Meiji Oligarchy.

Their ninja bodyguard ended up challenging him to a duel to the death one of these days to avenge the death of his retired ninja father whom Yahiko actually met and fought months ago.

Before this, he also had to save the life of another politician from the terrorist cult of the second coming of Shiro Amakusa, also known as Shogo Amakusa.  Shogo himself had an eye-patched underling who was sometimes a boy, sometimes a girl.

Furthermore, the grandson of the oligarchs is a former member of Shogo’s cult who betrayed them to the Meiji Government before they could do a proper rebellion.

All this happened in between him helping an old pirate friend, the Crimson Captain Shura, who’d become a privateer in order to avenge the death of a crewmember of hers who sank along with her ship, the Kobayashi Maru.

They rode a commercial ship and ambushed the Wokou responsible for sabotaging her before. Yahiko and friends even managed to get her, the Scourge of the Pacific, a new ship from the Wokou while they were at it.

He also almost forgot how, by sheer coincidence, he was able to meet up with his former crush, Mariko Ebisu. They had such a nostalgic time. Too bad their night turned sour in the end.

He considered leaving Yokohama and going straight to Kyoto to complete his Musha Shugyo (Warrior’s Pilgrimage), seeing that most of the members of the Brigands Guild had already been apprehended save for one.

He'd done his part in thwarting the assassination attempts of these mercenaries, even though to be honest, it seemed that the former Mimawarigumi Kinta Minakata could handle things well on his own.

Besides which, he'd already gotten his fill of training care of the Sakaguchi Dojo and the inimitable naginata-wielding blonde beauty Satsuki Sakaguchi, also known as May Brooks.

She actually beat Yahiko in their practice match, but it was a close enough match for the head of Musou Madden Ryu, Genzo Sakaguchi, to insist that they train together.

Satsuki helped Yahiko train in getting in close against long-range fighters who do a lot of thrusts, just like the foreign fencer of the Brigands, The Faceless.

'I can go to Kyoto and meet up with Master Hiko later,' thought Yahiko. 'Right now, I still have some unfinished business here with Yokohama and The Faceless. As long as he hasn't been arrested, the Brigands remain a threat to the Minakatas.'

He might as well. Helping out the Meiji Government, even though it was a hive of scum and villainy itself, was something Kenshin tended to do during his days as a vagabond.

If Yahiko truly was worthy enough to become the inheritor of the sakabatou, then taking on the yoke that Kenshin used to carry was the least he could do.

He'd been staying at the Sakaguchi Dojo for a while now to continue his tutelage under May Brooks, but as of late he'd been gradually transitioning back to roughing it outdoors with his bag of clothes that doubles as his tent.

And, as he prepared to sleep under the stars somewhere in a wooded area in Yokohama, his head full of thoughts of last night's events, he heard someone scream at him the following words:

"KECHO GIRI (MONSTER BIRD KICK)!"

"Huh…? HADOME…! (SWORD HALT…!)"

By instinct, Yahiko parried the oncoming high-flying kick with crossed wrists, with Kenshin's sakabatou in the ready in case he did the follow-up Hawatari counter.

Who just attacked him in the middle of the night in the forest?

"…M-Misao!?"

"Heheh. Long time no see, Yahiko!" declared Misao Makimachi in all her kunoichi (female ninja spy) glory, her normally long braid the size of a short pigtail that reached to the nape of her neck while decked in her full shinobi gear.

***

To Be Continued...

Yes. I combined elements of the Shimabara Arc and the Black Knights arc together for this fanfic's continuity. In light of that, you can consider this fanfic an "Elseworlds" type of story that happens directly after "Yahiko's Sakabatou".

It hinges on the alternative universe premise of "Had the Kenshingumi never met their filler villains (because Kenshin was too busy dealing with Enishi), what would've happened to them?"

It follows portions of the 1996 anime and the manga's Iinchu Arc but skips the filler episode seasons altogether. I do think that characters like Shogo Amakusa were wasted potential, especially since he was supposed to be more skilled than Kenshin and has his own signature move.

Shogo's Uncle Hyoue also fascinated me, particularly his motivation for learning Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu as a Hidden Christian.

Danke, Abdiel

[gabriel-gabdiel]

【Draft】 Rurouni Yahiko Chapter 59: The Swallow Return

Lucas pushes his half-brother Kinta to the brink while Yahiko realizes something about the Seiryu Clan's personal ninja Kaita.

Will they be able to handle the machinations of the Brigands Guild or not?

Many years ago, during dinner with Kinta's late grandfather, Toshiro Minakata...

Both Toshiro and Kinta Minakata ate in silence at a long Western-style high table in contrast to the smaller and lower traditional family table typical of the Japanese.

The strict and imposing Toshiro was a vanguard among hatamoto samurai.

Realizing that the samurai after the Sengoku Era and during the peaceful Tokugawa Shogunate Era were essentially soldiers without a war to wage, he had tried his hand at business and trade.

He worked to make the Minakata coffers and fortune grow even as many impoverished samurai ended up seeing the merchant class rise and become more powerful during this period of peace.

He made sure the Minakata Clan would survive in the coming eras in every way possible, whether it was by wealth or political privilege.

Toshiro proved himself ahead of the curve, even though he was cut-throat enough to resell the confiscated black market opium of Wokou pirates to his fellow Japanese citizens or even export them back to China as a profit.

He found ways to thrive in both wartime and peacetime. Like a rat or a cockroach. Crafty as a fox, he was.

"I've heard you've been chosen as part of the Kyoto Mimawarigumi (Kyoto Patrolling Group)," probed Toshiro.

"Yes, Grandfather," answered a teenaged Kinta.

No older than his fellow iaijutsu (sword-drawing) practitioner, the Hitokiri Battousai (Battousai the Manslayer) on the side of the Ishin Shishi (Patriots).

"And how are your studies?"

"There are no issues there either."

"That's fine. Keep doing both like you used to."

"Of course, Grandfather."

"Being well-versed in letters and arms, a man from the Minakata Family must excel in all fields. My eldest, your Uncle Tatsuya, became a banker. My second child, your Uncle Kaneda, became a lawyer. Your mother, my youngest..."

Toshiro trailed off and cleared his throat while Kinta stared at him, unblinking. Pretending he didn't notice his grandfather's pause.

"Remember, Kinta. The strongest of people are born from the strongest of adversities," his grandfather said with such confidence, Kinta just knew that he spoke from experience.

Whether it was him battling Wokou pirates in the South China Sea or dealing with local Tokugawa Era politics like he was Julius Caesar amidst the traitorous Roman senate, his every word dripped with veteran knowledge.

He did everything he could to keep himself from swimming in the middle of a sea of daggers and a pool of his own blood, whether in the hands of sea-faring criminals or landlubber backstabbing politicians.

Toshiro continued. "Bring honor back to the Minakata Family. Honor both your father and your mother. Erase any stains the name might have by excelling in what you do. Prove yourself to be a worthy heir of the name and the fortune of the Minakata Family, Grandson."

"I will, Grandfather."

As far as the Minakatas were concerned, winning was everything. The world was composed of winners and everyone else.

***

Rurouni Yahiko

A Rurouni Kenshin Continuation Fan Fiction Story by Chester Castañeda

The Swallow Return makes an appearance after Kinta is pushed into a corner.

Disclaimer: All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki, Shueisha, Shonen Jump, Viz, Sony Studios, Fuji TV, Studio Gallup, Studio Deen, and ADV. This disclaimer also covers all the other copyrighted material that are far too many to mention here. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

***

Chapter 59: The Swallow Return

***

Back inside the memories that Kinta Minakata had of his grandfather, Toshiro Minakata...

Kinta's grandfather told him long ago the following.

"The world is a tough, unforgiving place, Kinta. It's a dog-eat-dog world out there. In an eye blink, a king can become a pauper and a pauper can become a king. Those who adapt the most consistently in a merciless world that's always changing are those that survive in the end. Today, we eat like royalty. But tomorrow, what if the bakufu lost its power? What if Japan was colonized by foreign powers? What would happen to the hatamoto?"

Kinta answered, "We would become nothing."

Toshiro nodded. "Yes. That's why I'm building our family fortunes. So that the Minakatas can survive the dawn of a new century or even a new millennium. If tomorrow, samurai ceased to exist and all our political clout became moot, our wealth will keep us afloat. Always remember to keep moving forward and changing with the times, my grandson."

In order to remain on the top of the food chain and survive, one must win. Always win in everything they did. It was the rules of nature. It was survival of the fittest.

In their world, the winner was acknowledged and the loser was disavowed.

Like how his mother was banished from existence and forgotten as the black sheep of the family, for example.

The clan of rumored ochimusha (defeated samurai during the Sengoku Era considered as low class citizens) that stole away the name and valor of the original deceased Minakata clan knew as much.

They did what they could to save face, thus they were able to pluck victory from the jaws of defeat to cur favor from the Tokugawas.

To the ears of any member of the Minakata Clan, what Kinta's grandfather Toshiro was implying was crystal clear.

His orders were to erase the shameful actions of Kinta's shameless mother by becoming a standout among the Mimawarigumi ranks.

Just like how their ochimusha (fallen warrior) ancestors became hatamoto retainers to the Tokugawa Shogunate, so too should Kinta remove from memory the embarrassment of having an adulteress for a mother and a cuckold for a father.

Winning was the only thing that mattered.

Kinta simply had to keep his head high and win. That was all he needed to do. Because he was victorious over all, he deserved to win.

"Keep on winning, Kinta. Keep on winning because you're a Minakata. And Minakatas are born winners, through hell or high water. Even in spite of fate itself conspiring against us," his grandfather would always say.

There was nothing more important than winning at all costs. This was how the Minakatas survived through centuries. Millennia. Ages.

Toshiro also regularly said, "You know that old saying, 'It's not whether you win or lose, it's how you play the game'? That's bullshit. The bottom line is winning."

This was how Kinta earned his place at the Minakata table despite his uncles despising him, his father committing suicide, and his mother bringing shame to the family name.

He looked at his plate. The pristine chinaware was where he ate foreign food like the Salisbury steak.

If it were broken, it'd be thrown away. A plate could never be restored once it had a crack. But if it was still usable and you were desperate, what you had would suffice.

Besides which, winning was the liquid gold that helped glue together even broken pottery or ceramics, thus making it whole and beautiful again in its own right.

That was the art of Kintsugi or Kintsukuroi (Gold Repair), after all.

***

Back at the abandoned building within the narrow alleyway near the Minakata Moneychanger Office…

Yahiko Myojin gasped for air, his face beet-red, his hair somehow messier than usual, and his whole body an aching mess. Also, his shirt and pants were in tatters.

However, it was him who was left standing. It was Fabian La Cerca, the infamous "Faceless" of the foreign assassination squad, "The Brigands Guild", who ended up on the floor on his posterior, his mask shattered into pieces.

God. Dammit. That stubborn, agile gaijin finally fell down.

Unbeknownst to the slightly concussed Faceless, Yahiko had set him up from the start with the Genei Gami (Phantom God).

Yahiko let Fabian memorize his tempo of overhead swings to train him to always anticipate and parry swings from the direction, thus allowing Myojin to blindside him with a side-swiping strike to the temple.

Aware that he couldn't time him by virtue of his odd rhythm, Yahiko instead baited him to counter repeatedly until he followed the samurai kid's more predictable rhythm.

The Tokyo Samurai Descendant bet on Fabian's weakness—his over-reliance on counters—and made his usually broken rhythm more predictable as a result.

Even then, he couldn't have landed his trap on The Faceless had Kaita not arrived to assist him with timely kunai or shuriken throws.

This foreign fencing genius from the West could give most of the members of the Oniwabanshu (Guardians of the Gate) or the Juppon Gatana (Ten Swords) a run for their money! Probably.

'How's that, Cat Eyes? Here's the proof of concept of my anti-Cat-Eyes training! Everything is going according to plan.'

Yahiko grinned from ear-to-ear, feeling himself in the moment.

However, he broke a cardinal rule of being a martial artist or even an old-school samurai from a bygone era. He became overconfident and let his guard down.

It wasn't composure but pride that led to his fall.

"Good work, Yojimbo!" appraised Kaita. "Now let's finish off the assassin before he recovers and goes after the Minakatas!"

"Wait. Let's just take him down and let the police handle him," insisted Yahiko, which made the ninja pause. "He might be useful in learning the whereabouts of their gang or something!"

"He's too dangerous to be kept alive!" argued the young shinobi. "I'm authorized to kill him. I don't answer to the police."

"No! Let the coppers arrest him and have him answer for his crimes!" insisted the samurai boy, going by what Kenshin or Kaoru would normally do in such a situation.

What he said to The Faceless about the sakabatou being a life-giving sword wasn't just empty words. He lived by that code of honor and ethics in swordsmanship.

Kaita realized he couldn't reason with the child, remembering the spiel he overheard from him about a Sword of Life—a reverse-edged blade was blunt on its outside curve, yet he didn't use it like a sickle or scimitar.

Something about the kid's "life-giving" sword sounded familiar to him though. Like he'd heard about the unusual weapon somewhere before in the recent past.

In an eye blink, the shinobi disappeared from Yahiko's midst. However, the teenaged samurai figured out where he went and shielded La Cerca from the incoming ninja throwing knives.

"Despite your looks, you're quite the tenacious guy, Yojimbo," said the unseen Kaita, who kept evading Yahiko's probing strikes with his blunt weapon.

"The name's Yahiko, Ninja Dude!" Yahiko said as he swung blindly at air yet still felt the presence of the ninja by reading his bloodlust. Just like how Kenshin would.

Soon, Yahiko's sakabatou found its target, with Kaita blocking the longer blade with the Okinawan three-pronged weapon known as the sai.

"You know, you remind me of someone I fought months ago. What was his name? Take? Taikai? Tatakai?" Yahiko tried to remember the name of the aged ninja assassin who went after Kenshin several months ago.

The Tokyo Samurai Descendant faced the camouflaged shinobi on behalf of Kenshin Kamiya (nee Himura). 

'Wait.' Something then clicked inside Kaita's mind just then.

 "Oh yeah, Takae! Takae was his name! His invisibility trick was amazing, just like yours! I couldn't see him at all when we fought!"

"…Battousai," said Kaita, which made Myojin's head snap into attention and La Cerca stir in his own stupor. "That's the Battousai's sword."

Yahiko and Kaita then just looked at each other before they asked in unison:

"How did you know that name…?"

***

"Like waves from the sea," said the blood-stained Lucas Grant with a deep exhale. "The high tide and the low tide. The ebb and flow of the limitless ocean."

"…What are you talking about?" asked Kinta Minakata, who only looked a little scuffed up with tiny cuts and bruises while his half-brother looked like he had one foot on the grave.

Or an undead, vengeful zombie soldier from the foreign legion that refused to die.

"Facing your Musou Madden Ryu is like dealing with the rising tides. Your attacks come in waves. You even have a move named 'Tsunami', for goodness' sake," said the bilingual Lucas.

Curiously, even with the crimson mask on his face, Grant's slashes, stabs, chops, and pummels (from his bastard sword's pommel) seemed to increase in strength the more damage he received.

Was it the swell of adrenalin? A second or even third wind? Or perhaps sheer willpower? Kinta couldn't tell. He was just tired of trying hard to land a strike, only for his long-lost bastard of a brother to shrug it off like nothing.

Lucas Grant was no John Rathbone. Nothing about his swordsmanship was elegant or skilled. He kept on coming like a caveman, almost.

However, what he lacked in finesse he more than made up for in undeniable, sobering power. He was the difference between skillfully untying a knot and gnawing the rope apart.

More importantly, after repeatedly receiving the different techniques of the Musou Madden Ryu, Luke had started timing his blocks and parries better.

Kinta was still several moves ahead of him in every exchange, but by sheer trial and error, the stamina monster tanked enough shots to learn their timing, thus allowing him to slip past them better.

Like a sailor navigating his boat through treacherous waters and weathering the storm from experience. Unwilling to sink. Unwilling to let nature take its course and send him down the depths of the unforgiving sea.

Like villagers waiting out a typhoon until it left the area, resiliently rebuilding everything in the wake of its devastation because life always moved on.

Kinta then noticed that like the Prodigal Son of the Minakatas, he was only managing to do nicks and bruises on his half-brother.

The (literal) bastard was blocking most of his strikes with every inch of his heavy bastard sword, including its thick hilt and hammerhead-like pommel. None the worse for wear.

Well, not exactly. But all the major damage he currently had were ones he got earlier from Kinta and Zan. Wounds that might as well looked worse than they really were because of how nimble Grant moved regardless, like he'd long ago recovered from them.

Like the bloodstains all over his body were just war paint. Like his lacerations were scars or tattoos.  They were just for show and he was actually completely unharmed.

Luke had nerves of steel. And the pain threshold of a rock to boot.

A shiver ran through Kinta's spine in realization. Lucas had taken his best shots and remained standing. Could he take one of Lucas's best shots or any one of them in turn…?

His breathing had become heavier and heavier as the battle drew on. The same problem he had with the more skillful Faceless, but this time his half-brother exposed his weakness through a war of attrition.

His arms felt tired from just slashing at his brother over and over with strikes that would've normally plowed down hordes of Ishin Shishi rebels one after the other.

For someone who used techniques based on the moon phases and sea tides, it was Kinta who ended up getting dragged down deep waters by the inimitable, unfettered Lucas.

"Let me be the cliff that stands steady as your waves uselessly crash against my rocks below. The high ground where your waters couldn't reach," said Grant.

***

Yahiko crossed swords with Kaita, his mind racing a mile a minute. Or a kilometer a minute. Or roughly 1.6 kilometers a minute if it were still measured in miles.

"How do you know about Takae…?" Myojin asked Kaita, pushing the ninja away with his hard sword block.

"That's my line!" Kaita countered in words while also countering by disappearing from Yahiko's midst and stabbing him with his twin sais. "His last mission was to take out the Battousai. How did you end up with the Battousai's reverse-edged sword?"

Not knowing what else to say, Yahiko responded, "That's none of your business...!"

Unable to see him in time, the samurai kid attempted to blast the unseen shinobi away with a blind Dou Gami (God on Earth) to the floor, which his fellow bodyguard chose to parry and expose his location anyway by reflex.

The concussive force of the technique then bent and snapped one of Kaita's sais apart.

As Yahiko followed through with the Tsui Gami (Hammer of God) to break apart Taikai's other sai, the two combatants heard a voice from the blue.

"It's because he's Takae Kaita. The son of the man you apparently met. And fought. Did he die by your hands or the Battousai's?"

The recovering Fabian La Cerca had just spoken. Or was he John Rathbone this time around? The Minakata bodyguards couldn't tell.

"No, it couldn't have been you," hissed Fabian, referring to Yahiko. "You would've spared Takae with your foolish beliefs regarding a life-giving sword."

'Takae is Kaita's father?!' Yahiko's blood ran cold in realization. He'd been fighting alongside and crossing swords with the late Masahiro Takae all this time? He didn't know what to think or what to do next.

'Oh no, The Faceless is awake…!' Kaita finally disengaged from crossing blades with Yahiko to face the formidable Brigands Guild member.

Suddenly, the remnants of Fabian's broken saber then ended up on the now-visible Kaita Takae's neck before, a split-second later, his blood-spurting body got replaced by a plank of bloodstained wood wearing the ninja's clothing, the sword wedged deep into it.

With a thousand thoughts colliding inside his mind like a derailed train wreck, Myojin hesitated in attacking the charging unarmed gaijin in that same split-second, which proved to be his undoing.

Yahiko aimed and swung at The Faceless's shoulder with a simple downward sword strike, electing not to use any of his Kamiya Kasshin Ryu Revisal techniques for fear of the blunt-force trauma finishing off the man before him.

La Cerca simply dodged and stabbed the young samurai with three retractable claw blades that shot out of his left arm brace. They looked suspiciously like the claws that the late Hannya from the Tokyo Oniwabanshu.

"You're an amateur after all. To defeat an enemy without killing him... How naïve are you? You should've finished me off when you had the chance."

However, unlike Hannya, Fabian only had a single pair of the claws instead of having both hands sport the hidden weapon.

"Why won't you stay down, Faceless?!" demanded Myojin.

"If you had given me the final blow, that wouldn't be a problem. Also, the name's Haruka now,"  answered The Faceless.

For The Faceless was not Conde (Count) Fabian La Cerca any longer. Instead, he was Haruka. The half-Japanese burakumin (outcast) who had his own unique style of hidden-weapon ninjutsu.  With the destruction of one mask, he had donned another.

"Show me the power of that so-called life-giving sword you have, kiddo!" said The Faceless as he replaced his broken mask over his featureless face with another.

Regardless, Myojin blocked the claws in the nick of time with a parry from his iron sheath just before their pointed tips could pierce all the way into his vital organs.

'Magnificent,' thought Haruka, who blocked Yahiko's riposte with his other arm brace. 'The boy does not disappoint!'

"Kenshin's life-giving sword protects both you and me! That's the promise I made to both my master and Kenshin!" Yahiko spat out as his mouth spewed blood.

"Spoken like someone who has never killed a man. Naïve and foolish. If you try sparing my life, it will come at the expense of your own!" said Haruka. "Remember this painful lesson, boy. When at war, mercy is for the weak!"

Personally, Myojin wasn't as closed-minded about killing as the vagabond version of Kenshin who promised his late wife Tomoe Yukishiro to never kill again.

He knew there were times when he had no choice but to kill, especially when defending himself and/or others. However, he also wanted to emulate his idol Kenshin as much as he could.

He wanted to match his resolve as the inheritor of his reverse-edged blade.

"If you won't die so easily then neither will I!" retorted the young samurai with a bloody grin.

***

And just like that, the tables had turned. Or rather, the tides of battle had changed. Kinta's tides had started receding while the tides of Lucas grew in turn.

The exhausted Kinta looked pristine compared to his bloody bastard of a long-lost brother. However, the way they moved belied their appearance.

Like with The Faceless, Minakata had started to tire out and sweat hard. This manifested with his shortness of breath and slower movement. He also hesitated and made more mistakes than before that kept him from finishing off his brother earlier on.

Meanwhile, the bloodstained Lucas Grant kept attacking, swaying, ducking, and countering against quick-draw shots and ripostes like he could still go into battle for many hours longer.

Like Luke was a spry younger man or spring chicken dancing circles around a sickly senior citizen or an anemic old rooster at death's door. In contrast, his estranged sibling wheezed and struggled through every exchange like he was in stuck in quicksand or a tar pit.

It also helped that Grant's seemingly inexhaustible stamina and toughness allowed him to figure out his brother's swordsmanship using a similarly superior blade made of superior European steel versus the pig metal of Japanese swords.

For example, Luke figured out that Kinta relies on momentum and centrifugal force in order to make his iaijutsu strikes increase in speed and power whenever he performed one of many Tsunami kata variations.

The first few shallow strikes served as probing slashes to gauge the distance of the target and the last few strikes ended up the more deadly accurate bone-cutting attacks based on the information gathered by the initial swipes.

By refusing to get herded by Kinta's first few strikes that he also allowed to hit nothing but air to find his range, Grant could sidestep and counter or riposte the deeper cuts with his harder swings.

However, what made the Mimawarigumi Battousai truly dangerous was that he could go from zero to a hundred on the first slash by doing the Mangetsu O Tsuku Nari (Full Moon Slash) straight from the scabbard or even the Aoitsuki O Tsuku Nari (Blue Moon Slash) in case the first slash missed.

Alas, as Kyoko Sakaguchi herself discovered, doing that devastating technique from the start instead of building up to it with momentum-gathering Tidal Wave technique could literally tear a person's body apart.

When used over and over, the double-edged technique sapped the stamina of its user. Or if it was done incorrectly, it could even injure him.

Luke also pressured Kinta to counterattack and react over and over while keeping himself safe with feints, fakes, stabs, and his own probing strikes only to switch to a hard block, parry, or dodge at the last second.

His excessive, elaborate swings that would've been discouraged because of his many openings served as traps for him to catch Kinta with a slash or two. If he got slashed back, he could block or simply absorb the damage with his resilient body.

Whenever Kinta hesitated, Luke turned his feint into an actual attack care of recoveries or follow-throughs like a trap activated by a tripwire.

The Brigands Guild member pushed the hapless iaido master into a corner and made him backpedal from his accurate attacks and automatic counters.

Having both The Faceless and his son Cain scout Kinta's skill level and disseminate his abilities first before Lucas faced off with him had paid dividends for their mission.

The Brigands Guild had caught the Mimawarigumi Battousai unawares and flatfooted with their schemes, research, and preparation.

Kinta's shoulders reached nearly up to his neck as he gasped for air, his red hair matted with sweat and blood.

The Kagemusha (literally meant "Shadow Warrior" but also meant "Body Double") drowned in a whirlwind of steel while his own attacks got deflected, absorbed, swallowed, or tanked by the walking disaster area himself.

An earthquake. An avalanche. A landslide. The irresistible human tempest indulging in a roaring rampage of revenge.

***

"What pushes you to act now?" asked Haruka the Outcast. "You have no relation to the Minakatas. What is your purpose for risking your life for them?"

If Yahiko were honest, he'd admit to pushing through this bodyguard gig partly because he thought it'd be a waste to not use what he'd learned training with May Brooks/Satsuki Sakaguchi at the Sakaguchi Dojo.  

The samurai kid responded through grit teeth, "I met them through a friend of mine. Also, even if we're strangers, what good is the life-giving sword of the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu if I can't save the lives of those under my protection?"

"There you go again with your lies," hissed the foreign super spy and assassin. "A sword is a weapon. The art of swordsmanship is learning how to kill. To believe otherwise is to invite death at your doorstep. Or to give a child a gun to play with. Don't be so gullible."

The Faceless twisted his claw knives around Myojin's abdomen, which made the boy swallow down a guttural scream he wouldn't release to not give his opponent the satisfaction of seeing him in agony.

"I feel like I've heard that speech before," said Yahiko. "I believe in life-giving swords. There is such a thing as a sword that protects. I've seen it with my own eyes."

He didn't actually hear it the first time Kenshin told Kaoru those same words. However, the Kamiya couple did have discussions about their first meeting later on that the boy did listen to.

Dully, Yahiko wondered who could save him now? Munenori Minoe? Gan? The police? A wandering Kenshin Kamiya looking after him? Sanosuke Sagara back from America? Or even Seijuro Hiko himself like when he faced off against Fuji's gigantic blade?

It certainly wasn't going to be Kaita, if what Haruka said about him being Takae's son were true. He might even stab him in the back instead.

Maybe this was it. His luck finally ran out. He bit off more than he could chew.

"…Gesshoku (Lunar Eclipse)!"

"UGH! MIERDA…!"

The next thing Yahiko knew, he ended up on the floor, blood spurting from the three wounds on his abdomen while he saw a lanky man with huge hands grab hold of The Faceless's face and slam it down to the concrete ground.

"…Kiddo. I've learned long ago that the Shword of Life doesn't exist. All shwordsh are Shwordsh of Death. The Shword of Life is one big joke. A deadly one that could getchoo killed," said Yahiko's ultimate rescuer with a slight drunken slur.

"Who the hell are you, man?!" exclaimed Yahiko as his eyes stared at the man before him from his coiffed head to his sandaled toes and his flowery pink haori and hakama (shirt and pnats) in between.

"The name'sh Kojima Sho." The man smirked and let go of the struggling Faceless before standing up and retreating from the swipes from the masked man's claws. "…Ah, screw it. Let me be that silly fool. Let's make the Sword of Life into a reality!"

It was at that point that Myojin noticed the weird man had six fingers on each of his two humongous hands, giving him extra grip on his sword or on Haruka's masked face. Also, his face was as pink as his haori for some reason.

Was he drunk right now? Oh gods. Yahiko's rescuer was a drunkard. Yahiko could smell the booze from Sho's breath from where he lay. "Get away, old man! You'll get killed!"

Also, for some reason, the drunkard reminded Yahiko of Hitokiri Gasuke.

No wait. That was wrong. He actually remembered him. This was the guy who was with Kinta Minakata when they first arrived in the Sakaguchi Dojo!

Meanwhile. Haruka growled, "It's always one thing after another…!" as he jumped around and swiped his claws at Kojima in every which way. It had been quite a long day so far.

The unsteady, hiccupping Kojima unsheathed his cane sword but wielded it strangely. Like it was a scythe. He blocked and parried The Faceless's claw strikes with the spine instead of the edge of his katana.

'Was this the Sword of Life this guy was talking about?' wondered Yahiko, who by now found the strength to sit up. 'A way to wield ordinary swords so that they don't immediately finish off opponents like the sakabatou…?'

Sho then fell into a wobbly Waning Stance of the Musou Madden Ryu, with his back turned against his opponent and his face giving him a sidelong glance at most. Just like the favored stance of his fellow student, Lieutenant Satoru Sakaguchi.

Unlike Minoe and his/her split personalities, The Faceless remembered everything his other identities experienced because he merely donned different guises rather than transform into someone else entirely.

Therefore, he remembered the iaido stance from his bout with Kinta Minakata and prepared to counter it in kind.

The burakumin thusly charged at Sho to stab his back or his neck then sidestep to the right or clockwise to avoid the right-handed quick-draw slash from his scabbard.

It was his way to trip the trap without getting caught in it, just like he did when he faced off against Baku the Bat Ninja.

Only for him to get blindsided by Kojima swatting the back of his head with his scabbard instead of his blade, much to his surprise.

***

Kinta Minakata was one of the few people who've met all the Shidai Nikuya (Four Butchers)—Hitokiri Shinbei, Hitokiri Izo, Hitokiri Hanjiro, and Hitokiri Gensai—of the Ishin Shishi.

They were also known as the Four Hitokiri (Manslayers). The hitokiri who worked under orders of Hanpeita Takechi and Ryoma Sakamoto.

He didn't face off against Hitokiri Shinbei (Shinbei Tanaka) as a Mimawarigumi at 14 years of age, but he did assist his kenjutsu masters in hunting him and his partner at the time, Hitokiri Izo (Izo Okada), down when their identities were still a secret.

Kinta's masters were also the founders of Musou Madden Ryu—Genzo Sakaguchi, his father Azuma Minakata, and Kyo "Sword of Death" Kojima.

The  Shidai Nikuya cried out "Sonno Joi" (Revere the Emperor, Expel the Barbarians) even as the Shinsengumi shouted in turn, "Aku Soku Zan" (Kill Evil Instantly).

He'd later meet and cross swords with Izo, Hanjiro, and Gensai (or Izo Okada, Hanjiro Nakamura, and Gensai Kawakami) at different points of the Bakumatsu.

On top of the Shidai Nikuya were the Choshu Han Hitokiri working in the shadows—the Hitokiri Battousai and the unnamed hitokiri rumored to have a flaming sword—under the orders of Kogoro Katsura and Shinsaku Takasugi.

The Hitokiri Battousai rose to prominence as shogunate forces concentrated their might on taking out the more prominent hitokiri of the Four Butchers, with them dying one by one.

In turn, the Mimawarigumi Battousai rose to prominence himself, such that a fateful duel between two Battousais was expected to happen during the Boshin War. Let the true Battousai emerge victorious in the end.

Alas, they never crossed swords. Battousai Himura ended up fighting mostly Shinsengumi forces while the Kyoto Mimawarigumi moved to Osaka and dealt with the rest of the Satsuma Domain.

As Kenshin Himura battled against his closest rival Hajime Saito, Kinta Minakata instead dueled against the inimitable Kawakami Gensai.

By the time the two Battousais could've crossed swords in the Battle of Toba-Fushimi, the Mimawarigumi had to retreat back to Osaka to regroup with other Shogunate forces on January 31, 1868, after their leader Tadasaburo Sasaki was fatally injured.

The Kyoto Mimawarigumi was even temporarily renamed the Shin Yugekitai (from January 8 to 19) and permanently renamed the Sogikitai (April 10) a day before the Tokugawa Shogunate surrendered to the newly established Meiji Government (April 11). The group disbanded soon after.

Like with Hajime Saito and Kenshin Himura, Kinta Minakata was offered government positions in the military, cabinet, or police in recognition of his skill, contributions, and heroic exploits during the Bakumatsu and beyond.

He turned them all down, but the rest of his family were quick to cur favor with the new government to allow them to keep their wealth and remain a privileged oligarch family even as the samurai caste was abolished.

***

Back at the front yard of the Moneychanger Office…

Kinta Minakata should've finished Luke off when he had the chance. Like behead him or cut his jugular before he could even draw his superior European steel bastard sword against his inferior katana.

Lucas Grant merely walked the haggard Kinta down at that point, running him ragged like a fully grown adult manhandling an asthmatic child having a temper tantrum.

There was nothing his privileged samurai half-brother could dish out to him that he couldn't handle. His deadened nerves had gone through  much worse than this.

Good thing Lucas forced Minakata to drag the fight out with the revelation that they were half-brothers. Had the skilled Kinta not held back, Lucas might've ended up half-dead or wholly dead without touching a hair on him.

'Dammit,' thought Luke. 'What a waste for someone like him to get in the way of my revenge.'

To conduct his revenge against the Minakatas properly, Lucas did his due diligence and researched about his estranged family who disowned his mother and removed her from their family registry.

If they weren't as wicked as he believed them to be, he'd spare them from his vengeance. Had the Minakatas repented and changed for the better, Lucas would've not bothered continuing his plans for revenge.

Alas, they were perhaps greedier and more evil than even he anticipated. All of them except Kinta.

Learning about the compromised health of his brother, fighting a war of attrition, and practicing counters to some of his moves beforehand with The Faceless before experiencing the rest firsthand during the fight had paid dividends for the young Grant.

"Sorry, Aniki (Big Bro). In another life, we could've been friends. Or even real brothers," said Lucas while swatting away another iaijutsu attempt by his tiring sibling.

He'd been researching and observing from afar his estranged brother while masquerading as one of the Minakta bodyguards. He'd learned of both his exploits in the Mimawarigumi and the Hidden Christians of Shimabara.

The Minakatas had long been spoiled rotten by money, but Kinta actually fought for his ideals. Like the Shogunate Forces or even the Ishin Shishi of the past.

When Kinta's father got dishonored by Lucas's father by having an affair with their mother, Kinta's heroic exploits in the Mimawarigumi helped recover the reputation of the Minakata name.

While Kinta's relatives filled the family coffers so they could still live a life of privilege after the Ishin Shishi took over, he went and avenged the death of his master then took down the leader of domestic terrorists who claimed himself the Son of God and the descendant of Shiro Amakusa Tokisada.

He infiltrated the Hidden Christians ranks as Shogo Amakusa's Kagemusha (Body Double) before ultimately betraying the cult leader at the cost of his health, even.

 At that point, none of Kinta's Musou Madden Ryu techniques could escape Lucas's automatic blocks and parries, like he'd memorized their patterns and tells over the course of their protracted battle.

"It's over, Kagemusha. You've already lost. Enough is enough."

"…."

Luke had no doubts that six years ago, he wouldn't even have a chance against his venerable elder brother in his prime.

"I don't fault you for what your family did to my mother. In fact, I'm truly honored to fight someone like you. What a damn shame, seeing honorable men like you die for the sake of the wicked."

Kinta had fought for the Shogunate and saved Japan multiple times in several wars and countless battles, only for the leeches he called relatives to reap the rewards of his exploits and prestige, taking government positions and privileges originally offered to him.

It disgusted Luke to his very core.

Kinta's greedy family of swindlers, drug dealers, and money launderers turned oligarchs who control politicians with their blood money didn't deserve to live. They bring shame to the honorable Seiryu Clan.

Kinta, unlike the rest of his corrupted kin, was a man of principle.

***

Back at the abandoned factory…

Instead of a sword-drawing technique, the pink-shirted drunkard did a sheathe-drawing technique and swung it at Haruka's noggin like a hollow baseball bat.

Its impact also got doubled by the brigand sidestepping right into the unexpected strike.

"SHINGETSU O TSUKU NARI (NEW MOON SLASH)…!"

As expected of a loopy drunkard. Yahiko had half the mind to believe it wasn’t a real technique.

The New Moon Slash hit The Faceless strong enough to fling him into another set of windows, with him crashing right into them. He could've died right then and there from the shards alone, but when Yahiko and Sho checked the wreckage, he was gone.

"…Dammit, he got away," said Sho Kojima with a hiccup, a stinky belch as he rubbed his stomach and cleaned his ear with his pinky finger.

'So much for the Sword of Life, huh?' Then again, Sho himself didn't really believe it such things. He himself called it a joke.

Then again, unsheathing the scabbard instead of the blade to catch an opponent by surprise with your unorthodox iaijutsu was quite the out-of-the-box thinking. So was using the flat part of a katana to take people out.

"Well, I hope you're happy, kid. You just helped save your enemy," began Sho, only for him to trail off as he saw the bodyguard tend to his V.I.P.

"…You okay, Mister Thin Man?" asked Yahiko to the shook but otherwise unhurt Tatsuya Minakata. "The Faceless didn’t stab you while we weren't looking, did he?"

"'Bout time you remembered me," the sullen Tatsuya rasped, trying to look like his old boisterous self, but his white complexion belied his bluster.

Myojin exhaled. As far as he was concerned, as long as he was able to protect the people around him, his mission was accomplished. To Sho, he asked, "If you think the life-giving sword doesn't exist then why do you practice it?"

Kojima smirked and winked at Yahiko. "Probably for the shame reashon you do, Kiddo. Shomething a drunkard would come up with, y'know?"

The man with the huge bouffant hairdo and colorful clothes then assisted Kinta's uncle back to his feet and guided him out of the building, with Yahiko following close behind them.

The young samurai pondered those words. As th son of Tokyo Samurai, he'd heard how they had the right to cut down peasants who offended them. "Kirisute Gomen" or something to like that.

The teenager found the prospect of having the power to judge who lived and who died by something as petty as being annoyed by them as quite grisly. Like a politician such as Jusanro Tani abusing his power over the poor and underprivileged.

Like with Kenshin, he'd rather follow the edicts of Kamiya Kasshin Ryu than indulge in the uglier side of being a privileged, rich samurai.

He didn't want to be judge and executioner over criminals. He'd rather protect those before him as he sought the same strength Kenshin had. Let these villains pay their crimes in jail or have their chance at redemption.

Yahiko had always admired Kenshin and how he never used his sword for anything but protecting the weak. He never bullied anyone weaker than him but instead kept bullies at bay without serving as their executioner.

No matter how strong, Kenshin would never wield his sword for his own battles or bloodlust. His sakabatou always existed only to protect other people.

He never drowned in his own strength. He never had any meaningless fights to show that might or strength justified any action.

This was why the Tokyo Samurai Descendant took Kenshin's non-killing vow to heart even though he personally never killed anyone. Not directly, at least. Not by his own hands, certainly.

He didn't need to become someone with a body count attached to his name to do this. He didn't need to atone for murders he'd already committed. He didn't have to make a vow to a loved one he accidentally killed to avoid killing again.

If Yahiko wanted to be as strong as or even stronger than Kenshin Himura/Kamiya himself, the least he could do was be as careful as Kenshin was whenever it came to protecting human life, including his own.

Myojin wished to be pushed as much as Kenshin was before he became willing to take a life to spare others. The Kenshin who still upheld his refusal to kill no matter how angry he got.

That was the vagabond's true strength—his ability to tame the bloodthirsty Battousai inside him and make killing an absolute last resort.

That Kenshin, the Kenshin that risked his life to save others and had the willpower to live on as well, was the strongest man in the world in Yahiko's eyes.

Even stronger than Makoto Shishio, Hajime Saito, or even Kenshin's master Seijuro Hiko.

Even against monsters like Shishio, Saito, or Hiko, Kenshin's resolve allowed him to always find a way to win. That was the kind of man Yahiko wanted to become.

For Kenshin Kamiya (nee Himura) was a man of principle.

***

The gasping Hatamoto Samurai Descendant refused to give up, much to the chagrin of his bastard half-brother. Much to the detriment of his own health. Like the principled man that he was, he intended to go down swinging.

Like there was nothing else he could do but fight. A Shadow Warrior who was a shadow of his former self.

Thusly, he launched another Tsunami that Lucas anticipated, blocking the first few slashes to prevent the waves of slashes from gaining any momentum while the tides were low.

'You were something else when you aided your masters in hunting me down, kiddo,’ said a voice from within Minakata from out of the blue.

A familiar voice from Kinta’s past. The voice of Shinbei Tanaka (Hitokiri Shinbei). A ghost from his past. 'I saw your potential from the start.’

Also known as the Ansatsu Taicho (Captain of the Assassins), Shinbei had previously crossed swords with the Seiryu Clan’s best and brightest swordsmen under the Musou Madden School of swordsmanship, before his identity was exposed and he was arrested for treason.

The young prepubescent Minakata merely served as support to the adult swordsmen battling the rebel forces of the Ishin Shishi and their top assassins like Shinbei.

However, Kinta showed his mettle by saving their hides from time to time by fighting alongside them and showing off his early mastery of the Mikazuki o Tsuku Nari (Crescent Moon Slash), which was able to keep even the skilled Assassin Captain at bay.

Kinta started landing those Crescent Moon Slashes on his brother again after a long stretch of him failing to penetrate through the gaijin bastard’s impregnable defense. As though Luke had long ago memorized all the tricks in his bag.

Shinbei also died in July 11, 1863 by seppuku at 31 years old while under custody of the police. The same year as the establishment of the Shinsengumi and a year before the establishment of Kinta's own group, the Kyoto Mimawarigumi.

'That flat, bored look on your face pisses me off!’ said the Izo Okada (Hitokiri Izo) in Kinta’s mind. Izo was Shinbei’s partner-in-crime for most of their assassination missions. 'You look like an emotionless mannequin, you’re so creepy!’

The man they’d later identify as Hitokiri Izo had said as much to Kinta’s face when they themselves battled each other—Musou Madden Ryu versus Nakanishi-Ha Itto Ryu.

So his expressionless face gave Okada the creeps? As far as Kinta was concerned, the feeling was mutual. Izo's manic smile as he slaughtered his foes unsettled him in kind.

Compared to the more patriotic and straightforward Shinbei who wanted to deliver “Tenchu (Heaven’s Retribution)” on every weak and submissive head of state who submitted themselves to the Western nations, Izo was a wild card who enjoyed his job as butcher of men a bit too much.

From Kinta’s encounters with him, Okada fought like a wild beast. Or a serial killer. Izo certainly demonstrated resiliency bordering on the supernatural in their duels against each other that would put Lucas's current performance to shame.

Okada would later get arrested for assassinating Toyo Yoshida. He’d then get tortured, crucified, and then beheaded in May 11, 1865 at 27 years old.

Half-delirious from the pain and exhaustion of the prolonged battle, Minakata soldiered on against Grant. Unwilling to let himself falter against his long-lost brother who tried his best to keep up with him.

From there, he got his second wind and pushed back with swinging ripostes and counters to Luke’s hard blocks, parries, and attacks.

Meanwhile, someone else said, 'You really are a true samurai, Minakata Kinta. Your father would be proud,’ to Kinta’s mind. It was the ghost of Hanjiro Nakamura (Hitokiri Hanjiro).

Nakamura would later be more famously known by the Meiji Administration’s history books as Toshiaki Kirino. The longest surviving hitokiri among the Shidai Nikuya.

As Kirino, he lived all the way to 38 years old before getting killed in action on September 24, 1877 during Saigo Takamori’s samurai rebellion against their fellow Ishin Shishi and the Meiji Government they helped build.

A practical and pragmatic man in life and in combat, Hitokiri Hanjiro’s Ko-Jigen Ryu reminded the Mimawarigumi Battousai a lot of The Faceless’s fencing swordsmanship.

Every move they did was deliberate and calculated, with  one move always leading to another five moves like a high-speed game of chess or go, but enacted by sword attacks, counters, ripostes, and feints.

Thusly, Kinta began focusing more on tactics and strategy.

Luke used wide sweeping swings with his blade that would normally lead to straightforward stabbing counters or precise well-timed ripostes, but he didn’t just swing randomly.

He baited the Counter Attacks changed the levels of his swings every so slightly to deflect, recover, and angle his own Counter Times, like The Faceless himself would with his rapier.

He also only needed fewer strikes to cause major damage while he treated most slashes to his persons like annoying if prickly paper cuts.

Also, even though the wounds on Minakata’s body weren’t as deep as Lucas’s, his body was apparently frail enough to get affected by them. His movement slowed to a crawl compared to his “fresher” yet bloodier brother.

This was an insult to Kinta’s manhood. He hadn’t been as damaged as his little brother yet he was the one on the brink of defeat?!

'What is this? You can do better than this, surely,’ drawled another voice. 'You survived the Bakumatsu. This li'l brat is nothing compared to what you’ve been through.’

This time it was from Gensai Kawakami (Hitokiri Gensai). The Mimawarigumi Battousai’s greatest rival and most common opponent.

Despite the pain, injuries, and depleted oxygen, the Mimawarigumi Battousai dully remembered his battles against another swordsman who also drew comparisons to the famous legendary manslayer, the Hitokiri Battousai.

Hitokiri Gensai was the closest thing Kinta had to that Battousai versus Battousai duel that neve happened during the Boshin War. He couldn’t imagine the whirling dervish that was Shiranui Ryu to be any less dangerous than the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu.

An underrated tactician, Gensai’s savagery in the battlefield belied his intelligence that could challenge even the likes of his fellow brainy manslayer, Hitokiri Hanjiro, when it came to cerebral battles.

Kinta truly dealt with better slashes than those thrown by Luke. Bone-cutting strikes that killed many a man from one of the deadliest hitokiri of the Shidai Nikuya, Gensai Kawakami.

This frightful man would later go by the name Genbei Kouda. This name change was the reason why by the time Kinta learned that Kawakami had been incarcerated for harboring Kiheitai stragglers, it was too late.

Kinta learned months later that Gensai had already been executed on January 13, 1872 at 38 years old before he or the Minakatas could pull some bureaucratic strings and have him pardoned for his crimes.

All the Shidai Nikuya ended up dying before hitting the age of 40.

Thanks to their mutual sacrifices, they paved the way for a much stronger Japan with a brighter future than becoming another potential colony for foreign superpowers.

Was Kinta headed for the same fate as Gensai and the others? Maybe he'd learn the answer in the next exchange.

' You should've taken me with you, Gensai. To heaven. To hell. To limbo. It doesn't matter,' thought Kinta. 'I can't wait to face off with you in the afterlife, old friend.'

The Mimawarigumi Battousai dodged and parried the chops and slashes at him from Luke’s bastard sword, his body remembering the extreme quickness of Gensai’s Shiranui Ryu compared to his brother’s comparatively clumsy Western swordsmanship.

'There’s still some life in his swings,’ thought Grant. 'What will it take to take you down, Aniki…?’

***

'Man, that Kagemusha is hard to kill,' thought Kai Hidaka with a head shake and a heavy sigh. 'And here I thought Luke was resilient!'

He stood on wobbly feet. Winning his fight against Zan the Sharpshooter Ninja and his gigantic warfork took its toll on him.

However, it was only a matter of time. This second wind from Kinta should be his last. The Mimawarigumi Battousai of yore was no more, replaced by a sicklier version of him with low stamina and respiratory problems.

The Battousai became a mere Kagemusha. A copycat of either the more famous Hitokiri Battousai or the seditious Christian rebel Shogo Amakusa.

Kinta Minakata was the moon to Shogo Amakusa's sun. The satellite orbiting Battousai Himura's planet. 

Kinta actually served as the body double of Shogo until he betrayed the cult leader, in fact. Minakata was merely a shadow of people stronger than him. Or he was supposed to fill that role.

Could it be possible for the shadow to be greater than the man…? A Kagemusha that became his own protected dignitary? An imposter that usurped the role of leader?

Fine. If Luke failed to finish his brother off, it was his duty as a fellow brigand to complete the mission for him. They had a 90 to 100 percent completion rate on all their assassination missions for a reason.

He looked over his options. The recovering cop and daughter was still nearby, unable to escape because they were still worried about Kinta's state of health and mind while battling his half-brother.

They could again serve as Kai's hostages, distractions, or meat shields when push came to shove. Or he could be the distraction himself to allow Luke to land the final blow.

However, just as he was about to again pounce on Officer Satoru Sakaguchi to avenge himself from their exchange earlier, a golden blur arrived at the periphery of Hidaka's vision.

No, not a golden blur. A blonde blur with a huge warfork-like naginata (glaive).

'What in the world…!?'

***

What was Kinta Minakata's reason for living? For the sake of his family? To honor his deceased father and estranged mother? To uphold his honor, whatever that meant?

What was the gold lacquer that kept his fragile, broken self together? How did apply kitsugi in his own broken life and home?

He needed to win. He needed to always win and survive. To save his loved ones or even those who weren't beloved to him, he had to shoulder the burden of always winning no matter what.

If he won, the world kept turning. If he lost, their world would stop. It would be the end of the Minakatas and even the Sakaguchis by proxy.

He couldn't let that happen. Not when he still had a lot to fix. Not when he still had a lot to atone for.

As long as he had the resolve to win, his fragile self would not break apart. Like broken ceramic kept together by gold lacquer.

But still, maybe dying here in the hands of his family's bad karma made flesh wasn't so bad.

If it was his fate to die here in the hands of his half-brother then so be it. He couldn't have written a better end. Surely better than committing seppuku in jail or getting crucified.

Kinta took careful breaths to calm himself down and conserve his energy. His counters to his brother's counters were enough to make the (literal) bastard hesitate for once.

Besides which, he'd been playing defense all this while to brace himself for the tidal wave to come. Like waves on the beach receding like an extreme low tide before a big tsunami hit it.

Luke had a feeling that something big was coming though. Through trial and error, he'd memorized the essence of Musou Madden Ryu combat in his heart and soul.

And so finally, Kinta stopped dodging then charged forward in his Waxing Stance or iaijutsu/battoujutsu form.

Grant grabbed his bastard sword's handle with both hands, bracing himself for a heavy impact.

So should Kinta do the Blue Moon Slash? His body felt like it was about to break. Like how his Akatsuki sword banging against the slab of steel that was Luke’s bastard sword.

At this point, after being hit by it over and over, Luke could see even the supersonic iaijutsu technique coming a mile away, allowing him to block, sidestep, dodge, or counter by reflex.

Luke's reaction time was also fast enough to recover from any feints done to him. The half-breed swordsman could course-correct and turn a missed swing into a stab or a parry at the last second.

Also, the effort of doing that body-straining technique would only hurt Kinta in the end. It was almost not worth doing.

The thicker European sword used more high-grade carbon-rich steel versus the multi-layered Japanese steel folded unto itself that made up for the lack of carbon by putting powdered carbon into the melted metal during the forged process.

However, the Akatsuki katana was different. It could take the hardness of foreign steel because it was made from melted European swords during his grandfather’s exploits against pirates and stolen weapons from the galleon trade.

Toshiro broke his sword and Genzo Sakaguchi reforged it with high-carbon European steel and folded it unto itself to create a new, better sword.

It was a Japanese sword that used Western steel to forge something stronger. Not unlike the old primitive Japan being reforged into the current modern one after the Sakoku (Closed Country) policy was lifted.

The Western steel was the kintsugi to his katana. Like a broken bone mended so that it'd grow stronger afterwards.

With the fall of the bakufu, the New Japan—a stronger, modernized nation-state version of Japan that mixed Western technology with Eastern sensibilities--would hopefully get a seat on the table of world affairs.

Where both Western and Eastern superpowers viewed Japan as a respectable peer instead of a primitive, backwards country ripe for colonization and invasion.

'Heh. What am I even thinking?' thought Kinta. The way he mused about the Akatsuki, you'd swear he was thinking just like one of the Ishin Shishi.

And so the Akatsuki sword flew from its scabbard. At this point, Kinta's resolve was thusly if Lucas could win against this exchange then he deserved to kill him.

All this time, the Prodigal Son had been blocking any point-blank iaijutsu with the intention of tiring his brother's body with the mere effort of doing Full Moon Slashes.

However, Lucas realized that if this was a last exchange then his half-brother had every intention to cut through the block.

He could see it in the X-shaped scar in the middle of Kinta's face that deepened like wrinkles every time he strained himself. That was his most telling of "tells".

Grant then used the Tactical Wheel that The Faceless drilled into his very core.

Simple Attacks were beaten by Parry and Ripostes or Counter Attacks. Counter Attacks were beaten by Counter Times (feints used to draw out the counter). Counter Times were beaten by Feints in Time (feinted counters to draw out the counter times).

So Luke expected Kinta to feint a Mangetsu O Tsuku Nari by half-unsheathing his blade then sheathing it back again (Counter Time) and responded with a Feint in Time (feinting a counter).

However, Minakata's feint itself was a feint and he went ahead in the split-second he motioned to re-sheathe his sword, he instead unsheathed it.

The iaijutsu expert turned his Counter Time into a Simple Attack, which was the best way to counter a Feint in Time in lieu of two swordsmen continuously saber-rattling and posturing against each other without ever actually attacking.

However, Lucas was a bunch of nerves himself, his adrenalin rush slowing time enough for him to notice the change and electing to do a hard block (Parry and Riposte) instead.

The Full Moon Slash created a flash of steel that rotated fully and turned into a moon-shaped perfect circle, shining like a second moon that appeared on the ground.

As though Kinta used his iaijutsu and twisting movement to create a perfect circle using his sword and his center of balance like a protractor.

The Aoitsuki O Tsuku Nari worked like the Tsunami in that it built upon the momentum of the first perfect-circle Mangetsu O Tsuku Nari. Using foot pivots, full body rotation, centrifugal force, and the empty air left by the Full Moon Slash, the Blue Moon Slash should travel at double the speed and power.

This broke through Luke's defense, but he'd been memorizing the timing of the expected Blue Moon Slash all the while. With one hand on his claymore-like bastard sword, Luke prepared his riposte.

The bastard child knew what to do. Sidestep then stab at the center of the Full Moon Slash as the swordsman prepared to do a second one. In other words, stab the eye of the spiraling storm. This will drill the sword into the body of the rotating samurai.

A grisly death for sure, but an honorable one at least. A warrior's death in the line of duty.

However, none of that happened. Instead, halfway into Kinta raising his Akatsuki to do a Blue Moon Slash, as Lucas timed his stab, the Mimawarigumi Battousai flipped his sword, reversed his momentum, and did a downward slash.

Somehow, the bloody Lucas became even bloodier than before, producing a fountain of red from his sudden chest laceration. His deepest wound yet. 

Grant had forced the gasping, cornered Minakata to do his ultimate forbidden hidden technique.

The legendary technique of yore known as Tsubame Gaeshi (Swallow Return). The same technique he used to defeat Shogo Amakusa.

And now Luke was the one gasping and cornered in turn.

Originally the signature technique of the legendary swordsman Kojiro Sasaki, the Kagemusha himself learned the similarly legendary skill from his second swordsmanship master, the blind swordsman Hyoue Nishida.

The maternal uncle of Shogo and Sayo Amakusa (formerly Muto). The black sheep of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu.

Nishida's Tsubame Gaeshi allowed him to survive his master's Kuzu Ryu Sen (Nine-Headed Dragon Flash) when they were doing the succession duel to pass on Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu to a new successor.

The pacifistic Christian Hyoue actually learned the technique solely to find a way to counter the Kuzu Ryu Sen without killing his master, Seijuro Hiko XII, with the Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki (Heavens Gliding Dragon Flash).

Regardless, that last technique from out of the blue was the straw that broke the camel’s back. That ripped the last thread of the rope that kept the hanging Lucas from falling into the abyss below.

Lucas had finally hit his limit.

***

To Be Continued...

The exchange between Toshiro and Kinta is based on the exchange between Seijuro Akashi and his father from Kuroko's Basketball. The Faceless and his ornate masks are also based on Baldwin IV of Jerusalem, who wore elaborate masks to hide his crippling leprosy.

Also, Lucas Grant's first name is taken from George Lucas, who famously created the Star Wars franchise that started with a movie about an orphan forced to fight a relative in the backdrop of an intergalactic war.

Also, thusly, Lucas uses Form IV (Ataru) of Lightsaber Combat when fighting against his half-brother's more precise and rigid iaijutsu reminiscent of Form II (Makashi) of Lightsaber Combat.

Danke, Abdiel

[gabriel-gabdiel]

【Draft】 Rurouni Yahiko Chapter 58: Déjà Vu

For this chapter, we’ll be harkening back to things like “The Mark of Zorro (1940)” and the impressive on-screen duel between Captain Esteban Pasquale and Don Diego Vega. 

Yahiko is feeling a bit of déjà vu from battling The Faceless. What is it about him that’s so familiar anyway?

Yahiko Myojin remembered the first time Yutaro "Cat Eyes" Tsukayama came back to Japan and the Kamiya Dojo after years of living abroad to seek treatment for his arm injury.

Yutaro was supposed to be injured by his traitorous "master", Raijuta Isurugi. He went overseas for treatment, which enabled him to regain use of his right arm for the most part but he still went "southpaw" or left handed during sparring matches.

Yes, that was right. Mr. Tsukayama had decided to still practice kendo instead of retire.

Inspired by this, Mr. Myojin promised to give his rival the match of his life, showing off his skill honed by his past battle experiences.

When they had their first sparring match in years, Yahiko expected to blow the one-armed Yutaro out of the water, only for Yutaro, with a one-handed handicap, end up making the fight close.

The goddamn magnificent bastard really was a kendo prodigy. Yutaro's careful counters from Gedan-no-Kamae (Earth Stance)`made Yahiko second guess his shots and miss his attacks from the Jodan-no-Kamae (Fire Stance).

Feeling indignant by these turn of events since he went through so much more than him after they last met, Yahiko dug deep into his soul to summon his past battle experiences into the match point blow that literally blasted Tsukayama's helmet off of his head.

He rocked his socks off and then some.

However, to Myojin's annoyance, he still had to do his best against the one-armed student.

Not only did Yutaro remember what little kendo instruction he got from Kaoru Kamiya. He expanded his knowledge somehow when he went overseas to get his arm treated.

He did not waste his time while undergoing treatment and rehabilitation for his nerve-damaged right arm that Raijuta had nearly lopped off.

The cunning "Cat Eyes" somehow added western martial arts and weapon techniques to his solid kendo arsenal, somehow merging east and west together to form a truly unique repertoire.

His approached his kenjutsu like fencing, fighting at a controlled tempo then bursting in speed at the right moments with fluid motion.

It took some time for Yahiko to figure out how Yutaro bested him half of the time, but he eventually realized that Cat Eyes was using mind games and what was known as the "Tactical Wheel" to outsmart him at every other match.

It was from this flashback that Yahiko figured out what this Brigands Guild member's sword techniques reminded him of.

***

Rurouni Yahiko

A Rurouni Kenshin Continuation Fan Fiction Story by Chester Castañeda

Yahiko has seen the sword style of The Faceless before.

Disclaimer: All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki, Shueisha, Shonen Jump, Viz, Sony Studios, Fuji TV, Studio Gallup, Studio Deen, and ADV. This disclaimer also covers all the other copyrighted material that are far too many to mention here. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

***

Chapter 58: Déjà Vu

***

Back at a narrow alleyway in the Yokohama Chinatown near the Minakata moneychanger offices…

Multiple things happened at once. Like a hurricane of events.

Meanwhile, the lion dance mascot full of martial artists retaliated against Gan by stretching itself like a snake around him and kicking him with spiked shoes and hidden daggers.

Like a wounded animal fighting for its life, even though it was actually multiple men wearing a costume.

"AUUUGH!" cried The Distressed Gan, who did his best to parry and block the slashing and lacerating kicks with his metal bat.  

"GAN!" cried out Yahiko Myojin and Munenori Minoe at their comrade.

Because Fabian La Cerca lost his dagger, he thought fast, grabbed hold of Tatsuya Minakata, and threw him through the already broken windows of a probably abandoned house in Chinatown.

This distracted Yahiko long enough for him to withdraw his thin rapier sword before the frightening strength of the eye-patched Munenori beside him could break his weapon in twain as well.

Then, for a split-second, a shocked Myojin and a pale-faced Minoe stood and stared at each other and the violent scenes before them, this brains barely registering what had just happened.

"H-Hey. Thanks for saving me, Minoe," said Yahiko, sheathing his sword and slipping it back on his cloth belt.

"N-No problem," stuttered Munenori. "You better go, Yahiko-chi! We'll keep the mercenaries occupied while you retrieve, uh, Kinta-chi's uncle."

"Of course. Thanks again. I owe you one! Thank Gan for me too!" answered Myojin before both turned and went opposite directions.

Or they would've had the lion mascot not suddenly appeared beside Munenori and snatched him off the ground with its unhinged puppet jaws, like a real lion biting its prey.

From behind the mascot hobbled the Gasping Gan, spurts of blood making small fountains on his legs and calves.

"AH! Minoe!" yelped Yahiko, intending to run after the eye-patched dual wielder but Gan stopped him cold with an outstretched hand and an open palm.

Without looking at him, Gan said, "Don't worry, Yoshi-boy. I'll take care of Patches. Go after The Masked Rider instead. Time is running out!"

"…Fine. Make sure you finish that mascot off!" said Yahiko, who finally sprinted towards the abandoned building where The Faceless threw Tatsuya.

Their brief hellos and goodbyes kept them from realizing how naïve their presumptions were.

***

Back at the exterior facade of the Minakata moneychanger office building…

The cackling Kai Hidaka briefly distracted the two brothers from the same mother.

One was a Eurasian bastard child who somehow ended up as part of the Brigands Guild of international mercenaries.

The other was the grandson of a samurai turned pharmaceutical tycoon with generational wealth and significant government clout as an oligarch.

They then realized that somehow, the high-flying spidery ninja somehow defeated the formidable shinobi that the bastard with the bastard sword couldn't finish off.

"…You know what? I don't hate you, mate. You're a fine bloke to me," Lucas Grant said to his estranged half-brother, Kinta Minakata. "You spared me from having to deal with both you and that troublesome ninja bodyguard of yours so this ends up a fair fight."

Kinta spared a glance at the motionless Zan, whom he presumed had critically injured Lucas, but was actually somehow like a steam train running on fumes.

Maybe they should've double-teamed the bloody Prodigal Son while they had the chance. Maybe he was too "honorable" for his own good.

Their pattern from before resumed. The wounded but aggressive Luke plodded on, only blocking the most bone-cutting of sweeping slashes from Kinta to avoid getting his limbs lopped off.

Meanwhile, on Minakata's part, every last chopping blow or lunging stab from Grant was potentially a one-hit kill. He also had to watch out for his half-brother's pommel strikes too.

This was confirmed with how, despite outlanding Lucas in strikes, the Sanada Demon Zan succumbed to internal bleeding from a blow or stab.

Nevertheless, like with most of his fight with Zan, Luke couldn't land a significant blow on his big brother and his superior swordsmanship skill.

However, the bastard son of the Minakatas had started clipping and slicing bits and pieces of Kinta's flesh.

"It kind of irritates me that you're as good as you are despite being given everything in the world," confessed Luke.

They clashed swords again. The Akatsuki held true, but it could not stave off the longer reach and thicker steel of Lucas's bastard sword and its superior steel.

"I didn't know what to expect. A spoiled little rich boy, maybe? Someone who has no idea how cruel the world can be. An entitled dishrag of a man drowning in wealth and privilege. But you're something else, Big Brother."

Like a lion to a gazelle, Lucas stalked his prey, his strikes that previously whiffed and got countered slowly clipping and slashing his tiring brother, wearing him down.

However, like a gazelle to a lion, Kinta evaded Lucas. The bastard child of the Minakatas had yet to land a significant blow on him even as his collection of flesh wounds increased.

Even when Luke blocked the Mangetsu O Tsuku Nari (Full Moon Slash) with his much longer, sturdier bastard sword, Kinta's Akatsuki (Red Moon) katana could still penetrate the block and leave cuts on him.

Deep cuts. Cuts that almost dug deep into his bone. His nerves. His veins. Or even his very soul.

Like a dashing stag's horns piercing through the lion's hide from mid-pounce. The prey fighting for its life, injuring its predator.

'Of course it wasn't going to be that easy,' thought Lucas with a smile that formed on his bloody mouth, his teeth dyed red. 'Fine. Anything that's worth anything should be this hard to get!'

***

Inside the nearby abandoned warehouse building…

Yahiko wandered into the area where The Faceless threw Tatsuya Minakata into, the banker's body messily crashing through the structure's western-style windows.

His slippers stepping on shards of glass that glistened in the moonlight, crushing them under his soles.

"HEY! Thin Man! Where are you? Are you still alive?" called out Yahiko, referring to the V.I.P. he was guarding.

Tatsuya Minakata, the banker son of the famous hatamoto-class samurai oligarchs of both the Shogunate and the Meiji Government, the Minakata Family.

One of the heirs of the huge Minakata Zaibatsu (Conglomerate), Tatsuya was next in line to inherit his family's vast fortune after his mother kicks the bucket. Or so Myojin heard.

He was followed by his younger brother the lawyer and their swordsman nephew, the former member of the Shogunate's special guard.

These people were so filthy rich, they'd make Chizuru Raikouji's family look poor. Or the drug dealer Kanryu Takeda look downright middle class. Or fellow oligarch Jusanro Tani quaint.

'Wonder what that's like,' thought Yahiko with a smirk and a head-shake, repressing memories of him pick-pocketing for the mob to help pay for his family's debts.

Even just one of the trinkets or heirlooms here, like a painting or a suit of armor, would've been enough to pay for his parents' debt with the yakuza. Maybe. It looked like they wanted to have him for keeps.

He maneuvered his sandaled feet through the glass shards like he were walking on eggshells. Shiny, sharp, painful eggshells.

He found Tatsuya in the nick of time. He lay there but not in a pool of his own blood, though he did receive several cuts from going through the window.

"Whew. Thank goodness I found you before The Faceless could get you, Thin Man," said Yahiko, his voice barely above a whisper. "…Uh, Tatsuya-san? You okay, bud?"

"…Y-You're fired," groaned Tatsuya. "I'm going to have my brother sue you for the injuries I've sustained, you teenaged brat!"

Myojin sighed in both relief and exasperation. "Yeah, you're welcome. Save your life? No prob. Think nothing of it."

"Save my life? My assassin just threw me through a window! I almost died!" yelped Kinta's uncle.

Yahiko then barely had time to parry and back away from the attacking Faceless in his next breath, its tip clipping his clavicle, drawing blood.

He cursed under his breath. If John Rathbone could get away with it, he'd kill him with a thousand cuts.

"You didn't kill Minakata Tatsuya yet?" accused Yahiko. "You had every chance to do so."

"I like to play with my prey," answered The Faceless, who now wore a different mask than before. "Half the fun of my assassination missions is the thrill of the hunt and triggering the primal instincts of my victims. Fight or flight."

Yahiko groaned, realizing he now had to deal with this pantomiming foreign invader with a mask shtick worse than the late Hannya from the Oniwabanshu (Castle Guardians).

Tatsuya himself said to The Faceless, "Forget the kid. Whatever your sponsor is paying to assassinate our family, I'll double it! Triple it, even! Stay and become our bodyguard and you could earn a fortune!"

"Watch your filthy mouth, my little piggy bank," said the master fencer. "Once the kid dies, I have no reason to let you live either."

"What a coincidence. I feel the same way about you, Faceless," said Yahiko, surprising even himself with the boldness of his words.

The Faceless smirked. "O-ho. You wouldn't care to translate that feeling into action, would you?"

"I might be tempted," the Son of Tokyo Samurai said.

"Would you, now?" The Faceless proceeded to put his right sword arm forward, pointing his rapier at Yahiko's face while his other hand rested on his hip, his left arm bent on its elbow.

He also had his right leg bent forward, his lead foot pointed at his opponent while his left rear leg and foot pointed to his left side.

The Faceless—who now decided to refer to himself as John Rathbone instead of Fabian La Cerca—told the samurai kid, "Didn't realize you brought your friends along. I miss my dagger. Now I can't show off Fabian's sword and dagger technique."

'Good,' thought the teenager, resisting the urge to stick his tongue out at the fencer lest he cut it out. 'I can barely land a hit on you with that dagger around as is. Thanks, Minoe.'

As the moonlight touched the naked blade of Yahiko's inherited sakabatou, The Faceless remarked, "What is with that sword of yours? Is it a sickle you're wielding or a sword? The blade is on the wrong side. You can't cut someone down like that."

Yahiko then said, "It's not for cutting down people. It's for saving people. It's the sword of life."

***

Kinta Minakata didn't mean to retreat. He got forced to do so.

Like sheep being herded back to their corral by a farm dog. Or a pack of wolves picking the herd apart for lunch.

Was he really luring his half-brother to a trap or was he being herded by him instead? It depended on which one of them would ultimately survive this encounter.

He'd actually been waiting for a counter opportunity that never came. Instead, he faced constant, unrelenting pressure from his supposed half-brother.

The literal Minakata bastard.

He didn't know what to think about it. His mind whirled of memories of being bullied and made fun of by his peers for having his father cuckolded or invaded by a foreigner, stealing away his wife who birthed a bastard.

The child whose father ruined his parents' marriage and led his own father to commit sepukku (ritual suicide) by hara-kiri (disembowelment) and later decapitation.

This devilish blond man was like all that past trauma of his personified. This son of a bitch.

No, wait. He'd never call him that. He'd never shame his mother that way.

Rather, he was a son of a gun by the truest sense of the term. A "gun" referred to a foreign military person, he believed. Sons of guns tended to be children of navy sailors.

The phrase potentially originated in a Royal Navy direction that pregnant women aboard smaller naval vessels had to give birth in the space between the broadside guns to keep the gangways and crew decks clear.

He would've pondered on this more had his relentless half-brother gave him enough breathing room and time for his brain to process this bombshell of a revelation.

He'd nailed several counters at Lucas already but he wouldn't go down. As if him attacking while already bleeding and injured by Zan was a lie or ruse to get Kinta's guard down.

The man's stamina was impressive. Unlike his stamina, which was the complete opposite.

Lucas had been fighting, beating, and killing bodyguards left and right for what felt like hours and there he was, fresh like a daisy.

Or rather, the presence of blood seemed to sharpen his senses, activating his fight-or-flight instincts. Or a shark going into a feeding frenzy. Even if it was his own blood.

Luke's wild, beastly eyes shone in the dark, lit by a sliver of moonlight. Like the eyes of an animal ready to pounce. To prove that sometimes even the savviest of humans had to let nature take its course and succumb to getting mauled by a lion or bear.

Cunning and careful planning could only take you so far in the wild.

Kinta also had one serious problem. Try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to hate this stranger who tried his best to kill the entire Minakata Family.

He shouldn't feel this way, especially against such a dangerous man who already murdered so many of his family's elite guards as well as several of the Sanada Ninjas.

Everyone's lives were at stake against the Brigands Guild of assassins and mercenaries.

***

Yahiko remembered Kaoru's words like it was yesterday.

"The Kamiya Kasshin Ryu is a sword style that my father developed during the Meiji Era after surviving the turbulence of the Bakumatsu."

Her father and the founder of the Kamiya Dojo, Koshijiro Kamiya, didn't approve of murderous swords. With the ambition for swords that gave life, Koshijiro and his daughter Kaoru gave this sword style everything they had for 10 years.

"The sakabatou is a sword that gives life instead of takes it. A life-giving sword," said Yahiko, echoing what Kaoru and even Kenshin had told him in the past on why they chose to teach him Kamiya Kasshin Ryu instead of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu.

"A life-giving sword? What utter hogwash is that? Next you'll tell me you want a healing gun, or a bomb that puts your limbs back together!" mocked The Faceless.

"You're lucky because I follow a non-killing sword style. Even though I want to kill you to avenge the people you've killed, I'll settle on defeating you," said Yahiko while falling into his Water Stance.

He inwardly cringed at his audacity for saying those words but knew deep down that even though he didn't share Kenshin's past regrets, he also wasn't too keen to spill blood himself.

He promised both Kenshin and Kaoru he wouldn't. Let the endless murders end with the Bakumatsu, they said.

"You are aware that this is a duel to the death, child. I'm under no obligation to spare your life even if you're foolish enough to spare mine," said The Faceless.

"A sword is made to kill. Let me teach you that painful lesson, boy."

"Spare me the speech. I've heard it all before.  'Swords are weapons.' 'Swordsmanship is the art of killing.' But even if you think I'm sugarcoating the truth, I can and will show you what a life-giving sword is all about."

Myojin wondered if he could back up his bluster or if he wasn't merely bluffing. A sword that gave life instead of taking it away was patently ridiculous and totally contradictory.

What pushed him to say such things? What made him choose to believe Kaoru's flowery words and her father's idealistic beliefs like Kenshin did when they first met?

"Heh. Is that so? Spoken like a child who has never gotten blood in your hands," harrumphed the masked Faceless, his mask-covered nose seemingly upturned at Yahiko.. "You're a child."

"Yeah, and? So what?" said Yahiko. "I'd like to keep it that way. I don't want to be a murderer. I just want to beat you."

Yahiko did a Simple Attack from the Jodan-no-Kamae (Fire Stance) of having the sakabatou raised high up over his head, his muscles tense and his shuffling footwork gauging the distance by feel.

Whether it was a slash or a thrust after a miss from any of the eight directions as shown in the Kuzu Ryu Sen, it didn't matter.

He expected the Parry Riposte to happen and was actually baiting him to strike to do a combination strike or Compound Attack (attacks with feints) or even a Counter Attack (responding in a way that avoided the riposte while landing the counter).

Patiently, Rathbone's riposte turned into another circular parry as he danced around Yahiko's probing swings and answered with blocks and deflection, as though figuring out the kid wasn't committing fully to the strikes enough to land an effective counter to the counter or Counter Time.

Yahiko did more feints to draw out a possible counterattack from John Rathbone that he could counter or do his own Counter Time. Or he even countered an obvious feint from Rathbone, hoping to react fast enough to counter the resulting Counter Time with his own Feint in Time or a feinted counterattack.

'So he's another samurai who knows the Tactical Wheel,' thought Rathbone. 'Fascinating. Kenjutsu isn't the primitive, ineffective martial art I thought it was.'

The Faceless then read and parried all his feints until he found an angle where he could do an off-time riposte before Yahiko could react.

The thrust didn't stab the teenager in the heart, but only because John slashed at the last second to avoid Myojin's Hadachi (Sword Catch) technique.

"You're a funny fellow, kid," said Rathbone with a chuckle while wiping Yahiko's blood from his triangular blade. He then turned towards the injured Minakata and declared, "You have a champion with you, Minakata Tatsuya. And what a champion."

For his part, Tatsuya Minakata managed to crawl to the nearest boxes and rest his back there, sitting away from these two dueling fools.

He'd give a king's ransom to have both of these dangerous idiots beheaded.

***

Judging by the additional wounds Kinta Minakata gave his bastard brother, the gulf in skill between the two was apparent.

So why didn't it matter? Why didn't the long-lost "Takuto Minakata" crumple down and die from his strikes?

Did he really need to cut him through the bone, lop off his limbs, or decapitate him to kill him? Otherwise, he wouldn't die?

He still kept standing. Biding his time. Parrying endlessly, like his (presumably) sword master The Faceless would, in order to find an opening.

Luke's defense was practically nonexistent compared to Rathbone. However, he more than made up for it with his limitless stamina and out-of-this-world resiliency.

In comparison, the only blood staining Kinta's clothes were that of his brother's or any of the Brigands Guild he'd faced off against so far.

And yet a he felt a sense of gloom at the back of his head. He had to keep his guard up as long as Lucas kept moving.

The blonde foreign devil looked injured but to be honest, none of his bleeding wounds were fatal. They were just flesh wounds.

Also, Lucas noticed that he hadn't landed a significant strike on his brother for quite some time. Injured and bleeding, Luke charged forward, cutting the distance between them and making it harder to land full-strength counters.

Like he'd been prolonging this fight to memorize his older brother's tempo, range, tells, tactics, techniques, tendencies, and rhythm. As though a war of attrition favored him the most.

Now every time Kinta attempted a Full Moon Slash, Luke braced himself to block the strike with a two-handed parry before it could reach its apex.

He also sidestepped the slash with a blade deflection. He even minimized the impact of an unblocked or belatedly blocked technique by hopping backwards and letting the arcing slash push him away.

And just like that, Kinta's ultimate attack had been sealed. He couldn't even do a Blue Moon Slash anymore because Lucas wouldn't let him even land one Full Moon Slash.

On his part, Luke didn't relent on any of his attacks either, with every slash, stab, and chop of his with the potential to maim, bisect, dissect, draw, or quarter anyone it hit.

Again, Minakata felt like a helpless child dodging carriages or a stamped of spooked horses in open traffic.

His brother really swung for the fences. And even if his full commitment to his strikes left him wide open, he was more than willing to take a shallow slash to land a deeper one.

How very Japanese of him for a gaijin. He embodied the very definition of the Japanese saying, "Let them cut your flesh, and you will break their bones."

***

By the age of fifteen, Yahiko had become a national champion level swordsman feared and revered in Tokyo as "The Catcher of a Thousand Blades" thanks to his shirahadori (blade catching) mastery.

At that time, he had also mastered Kamiya Kasshin Ryu, proving as much with the feat of stopping the first five attacks from Kenshin's Kuzu Ryu Sen (Nine-Headed Dragon Flash) technique once.

Nevertheless, Myojin grit his teeth as he faced off against The Faceless' comparatively tamer yet more methodical attacks.

Having to deal with an elusive opponent who picked his spots, took his sweet time to attack, you couldn't hit, could read all of your attacks and feints felt like pulling teeth.

Or a thousand paper cuts while submerged in a lemon bath. These little nicks that were shallower than a wound yet somehow felt worse, like you'd been set on fire.

The difference between death and torture, even.

"We have a hero with us," mocked Rathbone, daring Yahiko to strike all the way with circular parries and inviting thrusts. "I'll gladly play the role of the villain now. Don't disappoint me, hero."

John Rathbone really was the spirit and image of Yutaro Tsukayama's fencing-like kenjutsu, right down to slowing the pace to a crawl in order to peck and prick the enemy to death.

Or at least anger an opponent enough to make him charge recklessly and commit with full bone-cutting slashes then make him pay for his recklessness.

'…How did this gaijin defeat the echolocation ninja anyway?' Yahiko thought as they again exchanged parries and dodges. 'A ninja who could detect and react to him instantly. And could mess with his rhythm. What is his secret to solving those problems?'

Yahiko observed that no matter how hard he feinted or attempted to interrupt The Faceless' rhythm, he'd find a way to recover, parry, or dodge then reset the assault or counter off any of the samurai teen's attempts at charging.

He had a safety zone he could shell up into or retreat towards to cover up any gaps or openings in his stance or his actions.

Even when the Sanada Demon interrupted his rhythm, he could still counter off any openings presented to him by a charging opponent.

He always set the pace and countered at more flexible or awkward angles compared to the comparatively frigid stances of kenjutsu.

He was one step ahead every time and did mind games on what he'd do next. His wait-and-see strategy also allowed him to adapt and counter any tactics thrown at him.

Just like Yutaro's modus operandi.

Because of his injured hand, Tsukayama relied more on an overall strategy that used his opponent's strengths against them instead of relying on tactics and discovering his opponent's weaknesses throughout the course of the battle.

However, this persistent sense of déjà vu (French for "already dreamed") merely pushed Yahiko further, his curved sword clashing in sparking flashes with Faceless' thin straight blade with endless probing parries to find openings or to create them.  

Fortunately, Yahiko's newly acquired skills of dodging, blocking, parrying, and cutting the distance from a retreating opponent limiting the amount of thrusts and ripostes from John.

His endless drills with May Brooks/Satsuki Sakaguchi had paid dividends. Otherwise, he would've been skewered by the Faceless long ago.

The Kamiya Kasshin Ryu master also remembered why he went into his Musha Shugyo (Warrior's Pilgrimage) in the first place. To defeat his rival, Yutaro, and his defensive kendo skills.

***

You shouldn't let his crimson mask of blood deceive you. Lucas Grant was more dangerous now than he was before he started bleeding.

It could be that Lucas was stronger and more durable than Kinta the same way Luke's bastard sword could break the samurai's katana because of its higher grade, carbon-rich steel.

However, it didn't necessarily matter.

Kinta was no mere injured animal fighting tooth and nail for his life by letting his base instincts take over either.

The Mimawarigumi Battousai was as dangerous to his fellow men as men were to animals.

Humans were weaker than most animals yet they somehow ended up becoming the dominant species in the world.

Kinta was no mere beast. He was more than a lion. He was a man. A hunter. The human animal that was on top of the food chain. The apex predator of apex predators.

Granted, a human wasn't faster than a cheetah. Nor stronger than a gorilla. Nor more brutal than a tiger or lion. His nails weren't as sharp as bear claws. Without clothes, he was as exposed as a naked mole rat or a chick that fell off its nest.

By all accounts, in the animal kingdom, a human should be prey instead of the apex predator.

However, humans weren't as weak as one would think.

They had opposable thumbs like apes and monkeys, allowing them the ability to make tools and tightly grip sharp weapons to make up for their lack of claws and raw strength.

They were long-distance endurance runners. While animals could outrun any human at any given time, a human was adept at stalking and tiring such animals down with unrelenting determination.

Any animal could beat humans in a race but they'd tire out trying to outpace a human in a marathon race.

Humans could also sweat, which allowed them to efficiently cool down and prevent themselves from overheating due to activity.

Most animals did not have as effective of a cooling system as humans, so any exertion of commensurate effort on their part, like fleeing or fighting for their life, will leave them more exhausted compared to the self-cooling human.

However, the weapon Kinta had in between his ears was what made him the most dangerous.

The human weapon of intelligence.

A human was able to plan, work with groups of other humans, and make tools. He was no mere animal acting on instinct.

The most intelligent and methodical of humans could turn hunters like any of the big cats into the hunted by springing traps on them or using projectiles against them, from rocks to spears.

Humans could also communicate with each other through language. They could take down even huge animals like elephants, rhinoceroses, and hippopotamuses by tactics, traps, subterfuge, and cooperation.

Even as Lucas pressured Kinta to retreat from an endless barrage of decapitating strikes—knowing his large chunk of steel he called a sword could withstand a strike better than the thinner though sharper katana—the samurai conserved his energy.

He'd memorized Luke's tactics, which kept him safe from even the wildest strikes through pattern recognition. Like a human stalking his prey and memorizing their movement and habits before going in for the kill.

Even as Kinta panted and sweated from the effort, his intelligence kept him from succumbing to wild beasts like his reckless brother.

Even as he tasted the rusty tang of his own blood in his mouth after clearing his throat, his brother still could barely touch him.

Alas, his brother was no mere beast either. Lucas also resembled the human animal, particularly in terms of his tireless stamina, quick recovery, hand-eye coordination, and ability to outlast his prey like an ancient hunter-gatherer.

A modern human with caveman-like strength and instincts.

***

"…In the next attack, I'll parry thrice then do a riposte," said The Faceless all of a sudden, alarming Yahiko. "Pay attention now."

Was he going to really do it? Was he going to tell him his next attack and still land, confident that Myojin couldn't come up with a counter? Or was he lying about doing that and he'd counter a different way?

And so Yahiko attempted to fly and bash Faceless on the noggin, only for him to get parried.

He then attempted to break the sword with the Tsui Gami (God Hammer), with got neutralized with two parries, followed by a riposte that he tried to counter with the Shippu Jinrai Dotou no Ken (Gale Thunderclap Billow Sword) to the wrist.

However, the riposte ripped through regardless, with Rathbone turning his wrist to parry the blow with his elongated sword handle.  He was landing at will now.

Damn you, Cat Eyes. Oh wait, this wasn't Cat Eyes. This was The Faceless.

Rathbone said, "Wipe yourself, kiddo. You're bleeding."

"…I needed that scratch to awaken me!" responded Yahiko.

Fine. Whatever. He'd been planning to use this technique against Yutaro but… what the hell. He might as well use it on this mirror image of Yutaro's kenjutsu.

Yutaro's swordsmanship was such that it didn't matter if you used your best techniques at him, he'd use your strengths as your weakness with a strategy that figured the whole essence of your own kenjutsu out.

Yahiko was different. He was the Yang to Yutaro's Yin. Or vice-versa.

Instead of figuring out a strategy to take out an opponent, he'd rather wing it or improvise, like when he figured out the weakness of the high-flying Hennya Kariwa was someone who could fly like him.

Any strategy Yahiko exhibited was purely incidental. He was more a think-on-your-feet kind of guy who relied on gut instinct to think up new tactics on the fly.

And his gut instinct told him that The Faceless had the same fundamental weakness as Yutaro.

"Next we'll do a Beat Parry Riposte," bragged Rathbone, only for him to frown when Yahiko charged at him. Like an enraged bull annoyed by all the cape waving of the matador.

'Huh. Fine. If he wants to play to my strengths, I'll indulge him,' thought John, preparing to do a Beat Parry Riposte regardless of what attack, counterattack, or feint Myojin had in mind.

Yahiko instead responded with a Counter Time. So it was a feint.

'No problem, time to adjust…?!' thought John before getting blindsided by a simple head strike, the blunt end of the sakabatou hammering his noggin and leaving a crack on his mask.

To himself, Rathbone wondered, 'What just happened?'

"Maybe next time, you'd have the common sense to not tell me what you're about to do next, old man," the petulant teenager answered back.

***

Back after The Faceless recently faced-off against Kinta Minakata, he relayed the following information to Lucas Grant.

"...I didn't notice it at first since I'm no a spring chicken myself, but Minakata Kinta has stamina problems. He slows down the longer you prolong a fight. Just like me, because of my age. Your youth will win out as long as you can withstand his extensive swordsman experience."

"Does he now?" Luke had asked with a twinkle in his blue eyes. "That's fascinating. Tell me more about Niisan (Big Brother)."

"Make your duel into a war of attrition. I haven't met anyone who has ever outlasted you in a fight. Turn it into a brawl. Throw away all technique. Don't bother outthinking him, just keep on striking. Take him into deep waters. Drown him. Show him how you've survived after all these years."

And thus Lucas did just that. Running high on adrenalin and testing the limits of his monstrous stamina, Luke kept his breathing low to conserve his energy.

He kept his frenetic pace by taking breaks while Kinta second guessed his next move and using twitch reflexes to counter or respond without thought in the middle of his rest period.

Boy, was his big brother a tough nut to crack. Most other swordsmen would've succumbed to him by now. However, the Minakata boys were apparently built different.

He'd thrown everything at him but a kitchen sink, and all he had to show for it were minor scratches and bruises.

Like he'd merely been roughhousing him on the playground like his childhood bully instead of doing his best to assassinate him then and there.

He'd poured the pressure on him, each of his full-power strikes killing blows in their own right, but the high-ranking hatamoto samurai remained cool under pressure. He had ice water in his veins.

The plan was to push his half-brother to his limits and run him ragged, knowing full well that he had respiratory problems stemming from his time with Hidden Christian rebels.

However, the red-faced Luke himself ached all over. He had a splitting headache as well. He underestimated the toll of exerting himself so much, yet he ended up swinging at nothing but air every time.

That cunning bastard. Even as Grant attempted to tire Minakata out, Minakata turned the tables on him and tired him out instead with all his missed swings and over-exertion.

His threshold for pain might be high, but he was testing its limits with all the cuts and lacerations he kept barely blocking from the Mimawarigumi Battousai.

He was also left to wonder: Was Kinta's deadpan face the look of someone out of breath and dying from his effort? He couldn't tell.

Kinta looked like he just went through a light jog. He'd broken a sweat, finally, but what of it? Did it compare to the buckets of blood Luke had already spilled?

Which one of them really was the more tired of the two?

Luke gulped hard, bracing himself for a long volley of attacks to come just to break apart his half-brother's clam shell defense and counters.

He had to do this though. Kinta Minakata was the biggest hurdle towards him getting his revenge against the family that abandoned him and his mother. That turned his life into a living hell.

Even with The Faceless' cunning strategy in mind, everything was still going to go down to the wire. Survival of the fittest.

'No hard feelings, Big Brother.'

***

Yahiko fell into his neutral Water Stance once again.

A basic kendo stance that invited all sorts of fencing attacks or counters at every corner from the more mobile sword style.

The Faceless' sword arm swung like a pendulum again, ready to parry, slash, or thrust at a moment's notice, with it serving as his means of gauging his opponent's next…!

The floor buckled beneath him. In a second, Yahiko had struck the ground with a Dou Gami (God on Earth).

Dammit. That technique had a wide berth and swing! Why couldn't Rathbone anticipate it this time?

Caught flatfooted, John Rathbone hopped to stable ground, away from the sudden explosion of rubble and debris, his sword ready to preemptively attack or counterattack.

Yahiko emerged from the smoke with a running start. Rathbone did a counter thrust that turned into a parry at the last second.

They ended up pushing off against each other with the strength of their swings, John's rapier trembling from Myojin's attempt at a blade-breaking Tsui Gami.

"The Faceless's blade is not so firm," the samurai kid said in jest.

The Brigands Guild member answered, "Still firm enough to run you through."

"Is that right? Make sure to keep your wrists safe from harm, then."

"What…?"

While Myojin was initially intimidated by The Faceless calling out his attacks, he realized it was no different from kendo matches calling out the part of the armor they hit when they were having formal matches.

It was up to the opponent to register what was said and respond. And respond he did.

"KOTE! DOUTOU NO KEN!"

As Yahiko's original signature move as a child—the Gale Thunderclap Billow Sword—landed on Rathbone's wrist, disarming him, the samurai teen inwardly grinned.

That was the weakness of The Faceless. Same as Yutaro Tsukayama.

When push came to shove, they'd wait for an opportunity to counter rather than attack 9 times out of 10.

Even when they attacked, they tended to bait a counterattack first to make their attack a counterattack.

The only time they attacked was when they had run out of options, but at that point they become vulnerable to counterattacks themselves.

Timing a Counter Time right in a way that they didn't see it coming was the key to success.

To John's chagrin, he heard Tatsuya holler at him. "Well, well, well. The fencing master has met his equal."

'My equal, you say?' thought the indignant Faceless while rubbing his wrists. 'Excuse me? Him? My equal? Balderdash.'

***

From the high-pace exchange of slashes and parries, the fight between blood brothers ground to almost a halt.

They paced themselves equally, with Luke pushing for the action while Kinta defended and kept an eye out for counter opportunities.

Their breathing was heavy. They panted like tired dogs in the middle of a summer heat wave. Their fight that lasted minutes felt like hours of nonstop trench war.

Neither willing to give ground. One fought to salvage his honor. The other fought to enact revenge upon the family who abandoned him.

On one hand, there was Kinta Minakata. He glistened with light perspiration from the effort and a couple of cuts and bruises, but his breathing was as ragged as his half-brother's.

The only blood on him was his brother's, among others. As expected of the sole Mimawarigumi survivor given the same moniker as the Ishin Shishi's own Battousai.  

His wheezing and occasional coughing belied his pristine condition. He also looked paler, perhaps even bluer, then usual.

On the other hand, there was Lucas Grant. He was supposed to be named Takuto Minakata, but his blond hair and blue eyes after he was born gave him away.

He looked like he'd gone from hell and back after taking on two of three Sanada Demons. However, his movements looked somehow sharper and livelier than his brother from another father.

For someone who looked like he was tortured, there remained a spring in his step. As though the blood on him was not his own. Or perhaps bleeding somehow invigorated him.

Which one of them was more exhausted? Which one of them was on the verge of death? The one who looked like he was almost dead or the one who sounded like he was almost dead?

Those were the thoughts filling Lieutenant Satoru Sakaguchi as he cradled his daughter near him while warily giving the side eye on the other remaining Brigands Guild member.

For his part, Kai Hidaka himself watched the bullfight of a match between fellow brigand Lucas and his brother, Kinta. If he were unmasked, perhaps he'd show an agape mouth.

Neither of the three moved from their positions as tensions rose between the panting, gasping Minakata Brothers.

The heavy breathing and groaning soon relaxed and slowed until they stopped altogether.

The two Minakata Brothers then stood up at the same time. They had saved up all their strength for this last salvo.

They controlled their breath and measured the distance between them by eyesight. They seemed to breathe almost in cadence with one another.

Slowly but surely, Kinta sheathed his blade. Meanwhile, Lucas kept his hunk of sharpened iron stabbed into the ground, waiting for the right moment to pull it out and lift it for an attack.

***

Yahiko thought about running after or even stomping on Rathbone's rapier on the factory floor to break it apart, but its owner had already dove to get a hold of it.

Oh well. Thusly, the Tokyo Samurai Descendant said, "For my next trick, I'll break that sword of yours apart."

John harrumphed. So now the kid was calling his shot as well? "You dare use my own gimmick against me, Myojin Yahiko?"

"Yessir. I sure do dare." The Tokyo Samurai Descendant fell back to his familiar Water Stance.

Rathbone himself fell into his En Garde fencing stance in kind, bouncing on his heels and measuring the distance with probing rapier thrusts.

Knowing what would happen next. They both knew, actually.

Rathbone had figured out how Yahiko was landing his strikes. The samurai kid used the same preparatory stance to initiate all of his offense, transitioning suddenly to other stances from the basic kendo stance if he had to.

This way, he gave no "tell" or "signal" to what he was about to do next. His stance remained neutral at every exchange.

All of his techniques, from the Revisal Techniques to the original Kamiya Kasshin Ryu and even his imitation Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu moves could be done from the Chudan-no-Kamae.

Making Rathbone second-guess which attack to counter allowed Yahiko to react to his belated counters in time and do the appropriate Counter Time.

In this scenario, even a "telegraphed" attack like Dou Gami could land, because if John were to notice it in time and counter, Yahiko had enough time to react and turn the strike into a feint and Counter Time.

"Genei Gami (Phantom God)," Myojin whispered.

Hiding all his techniques' preparatory movements from the neutral stance to better read his opponent was the next step of his Revisal Techniques.

And as the blocked Dou Gami finally gave Yahiko enough room to execute the Tsui Gami, Rathbone's rapier finally broke into two pieces.

Alas, this was what Rathbone bet on.

With a gloved hand, he grabbed hold of one piece of the broken sword and dual wielded the blades, blocking the samurai kid's follow-up strike with the bottom half and stabbing him in the shoulder with the top half.

"My equal? Really? ¡Qué huevá más grande! (What an annoyance!)" said John Rathbone, who'd transformed into the Spaniard Fabian La Cerca at the last second upon finding a way to turn his rapier into his favored sword and dagger weapons.

"AUGH!" said Yahiko, who had gripped The Faceless' wrist in time to keep the rapier from reaching his vital organs, his face twisted in anguish.

"You're 100 years too early to be facing me, child."

***

To Lucas's surprise, it was Kinta who spoke first after his katana slid to its scabbard with a click. He had one question for him.

"What happened to Mother?" asked the heir to the Minakata Zaibatsu fortune.

"She's dead," said the Prodigal Son matter-of-factly. "Your family killed her. Called her a traitor to her nation. A whore to the gaijin invaders. Disowned her. Cast her aside. Banished her as their black sheep. Forgot about her altogether, like she didn't exist. Does that answer your question, Big Brother?"

"…."

Despite himself, Satoru murmured, "So the rumors were true. Damn."

Beside him, the officer's daughter stirred, pretending to be asleep but clearly hearing what Kinta's yonger brother said.

Azuma Minakata committed ritual suicide after his wife slept with a foreigner and bore their bastard son. Afterwards, Aoi Minakata was never heard from again.

The Minakatas pretended she never existed and thus she didn't. Until now.

The two finally addressed the elephant in the proverbial room, clearing the air between them.

It was the very thing that held them back and kept them from going all out. It left them wondering what they were even fighting for.

Now they know. The Minakatas committed an unforgivable sin and their unknown grandchild had come to collect.

Also, like cowards, they used their precious heir to the throne to defend themselves against retribution, making him implicit to their crimes. An accessory to murder.

Lucas would've rather drawn and quartered his cowardly Uncle Kaneda. Or tortured the pride out of his arrogant Uncle Tatsuya before beheading him.

Maybe even mercy-kill his Grandmother Mieko. Then piss on the grave of his late Grandfather Toshiro.

Luke had been disguising himself as their bodyguard all this time for a reason. To gauge whether they deserved retribution or if they changed from their evil ways. What he saw of them steeled his resolve. Most of them deserved what was coming to them.

Alas, their honorable nephew or grandson Kinta was in his way from committing justified familicide.

It couldn't be helped. They were both victims of circumstance.

The two then charged at each other, Kinta waiting for the right moment to draw his Akatsuki (Red Moon) katana and Lucas preparing a full two-handed swing of his bastard sword.

***

The Faceless's body stood up in attention, as though preparing to march. He then shifted to his fencing stance, his free arm settling on his hips, his jousting or fencing hand moving in circles in front of him.

Yahiko was now faced with two problems. One, his shoulder got injured, so his reaction time had been physically diminished.  

Two, The Faceless was back to using two swords, so even the Genei Gami's ability to hide which attack he was using could not overcome Fabian La Cerca merely blocking or parrying with his other arm.

They were back to square one. Only this time, the game of cat and mouse was over. The cat won and the mouse ended up too injured to still play with.

The cat was about to eat him now.

'Oh yeah? Well screw that!'

Throwing caution to the wind, Yahiko shifted to the offensive Fire Stance this time. His true signature stance—an all-offense one focused on striking at the precise moment.

He feinted and baited the dual-wielding fencing master for all he was worth.

However, he couldn't land a counter-counterstrike this time because Faceless had one other trick up his sleeve other than the broken tip of his rapier. He also broke his rhythm.

He stopped. Paused. Avoided committing into a regular tempo or pattern to allow himself to react even at the last second in case he again misread an attack or feint from Yahiko's Phantom God.

He shifted from fast to slow at irregular intervals, like the clumsiest and drunkest dance partner determined to step on your feet at every turn.

For, unbeknownst to Myojin, this was how La Cerca ultimately beat the tempo-altering, echolocating techniques of the bat ninja Baku.

Furthermore, La Cerca could shift between attacking and defending with either sword arm. He could turn his swords into dual shields or shift between sword and shield on either hand at a moment's notice, depending on the exchange.

The Faceless outclassed the injured and slower samurai in every single way.

However, before the fencer could finish the samurai off with another stab or even an arterial cut to make him bleed so much he'd pass out and die, he had to deflect shuriken from out of the blue and retreat.

A certain ninjutsu master just came back from retrieving the horses and carriage that got spooked earlier by paid Chinese mercenaries.

The steadfast ninja arrived just in time and almost blinded La Cerca with twin kunai to the two exposed eye slits on his mask.

"Kinta! I mean, Kaita!" said Yahiko, mixing up the names of these people he only recently met. "You came back! I thought you abandoned us!"

"Of course I did," said Kaita with a shrug. "I still have a mission to complete, Yojimbo (Bodyguard)."

"Where's the carriage?" asked Myojin.

"It's parked near an open field. The horses are tied there," answered the shinobi. "I originally wanted to run The Faceless over, but then you entered this building."

"A shadow dares defeat me?" said Fabian, his chuckle echoing from underneath his plain white face mask. "Mierda (Shit). The only shadow allowed to defeat me is the Kagemusha (Shadow Warrior)."

Kaita looked at Yahiko then at La Cerca. "You're right. I am but a mere shadow. And that's how we'll defeat you."

The next thing they knew, like a magic trick, Tatsuya had disappeared, prompting The Faceless to action. He had no choice, they took away his bargaining chip.

***

Just like with Yahiko and his Genei Gami, Kaita's invisibility trick made it tough to predict the trajectory of his projectiles.

Thusly, Kaita disappeared from their midst, melting into the darkness of the already dimly lit building in order to attack in the shadows like the coward that he was.

Such was the deviousness of these so-called oriental assassins. They were the yellow peril for a reason, or so Fabian thought.

Either warrior proved tricky for The Faceless to handle on their own, but now they'd decided to join forces, they were double the trouble.

Fine. He'd take them both on at the same time, if need be.

Yahiko and La Cerca clashed blades once more, only this time the kid samurai wielded his iron sheathe like a second blunt sword but with a reverse grip to counteract Fabian's sword-and-dagger technique, just like before in the narrow alleyway.

Interesting. But what about The Faceless' broken rhythm?

Yahiko answered the baits to counterattack by simply attack. He didn't need to dance to the broken rhythm of Faceless' tempo. He'd rather force Faceless to move to his own beat or get smacked  by a wayward strike.

A Simple Attack. Or a series of simple attacks. No Compound Attacks. No feints. No parries.  No counters. Nothing fancy. Just pure relentlessness.

His offense was his defense (along with occasional dodges and whiffs).

However, it wasn't all predictable. He swung for the fences using slashes that changed levels from high to low. Head to body. Or even hips, thighs, and knees.

His adrenalin rush allowed him to persevere, his shoulder throbbing from the stab earlier.

"Good effort, Faceless-san," said Yahiko with a smirk after Fabian countered another God Hammer with a crisscrossing double-bladed block.

The Faceless answered, "My next will be even better, my fancy clown."

Yahiko's unrelenting attacks and chase down then became unintentional counterattacks because he wasn't timing them to counter any responses from La Cerca.

He merely overwhelmed him with his own responses, like a talkative person talking over and silencing someone else with his endless stream of words. He did multiple Dou Gami blasts on the floor to mess with his footwork or Tsui Gami attempts to break or disarm what was left of his rapier.

The Faceless couldn't even parry anymore due to rough state Yahiko's sword-breaking techniques left his swords at. However, Fabian couldn't be easily overwhelmed.

He reestablished his broken tempo by finding counter opportunities from Yahiko's own overwhelming offense. Like slipping in side comments or sarcastic quips here and there that silenced even the chattiest fellow.

He also upped his reaction time, knowing he was basically taking on a tiring one-armed young man, before figuring out his tempo and countering the attacks in kind but stopping short from getting baited into a Counter Time.

He also bided his time, knowing full well Yahiko had to exert more effort to land his strikes than he did, who in contrast merely had to react to him and his frenetic pace.

"Are you tiring, Yojimbo?" asked Kaita from the shadows.

"Just sit tight and I'll take you on in a moment!" retorted Yahiko with a bloody grin.

To himself, he wondered if this was how a duel with "Cat Eyes" Tsukayama would've unfolded at this point. A tug of war between timing and tempo.

The Faceless, on his part, had also been dodging shuriken, spikes, nails, and other projectiles from the shadow ninja's guerilla tactics and assistance to slow him down and give Yahiko more opportunities to strike.

His broken rhythm that saved him from even Baku's screaming tempo-dictation technique and Zan's echolocation accuracy also made him a reactive mobile target that avoided both Yahiko and Kaita's shared attempts at swatting him down.

For an attack to land, it needed timing and positioning. The purely instinctual Yahiko made up for missed or whiffed strikes with even more strikes or follow-throughs.

Combinations on top of combinations to the head and torso that forced Fabian on the defensive in an endless series of parries and blocks.

'Ah. He fights just like Luke,' The Faceless realized. 'An endless stream of follow-through attacks and recoveries.'

It really was feast or famine with this child. No middle ground.

Hesitation was what increased the effectiveness of La Cerca's broken rhythm. Yahiko counteracted that by not caring if he missed and simply striking in bunches, using the misses to adjust his range from the target better and correct the miss with successive blows.

However, the untouchable Fabian La Cerca started figuring Yahiko's tempo out while avoiding or parrying Kaita's shuriken from the background with his makeshift dagger like it was an afterthought.

He danced around both Myojin's close-quarter strikes and the Sanada Ninja's long-range projectiles, while sneaking in cutting counters that stopped the samurai kid's charge cold.

Like with Baku, La Cerca assimilated and countered off of his opponent's rhythm completely while dodging their attacks and counters at the same time.

Everyone had their own rhythm. However, everyone else couldn't counter The Faceless in kind because of his own broken rhythm that changed in accordance to the circumstances.

Unrelenting offense was no solution to his broken rhythm because it only made the attacker vulnerable to his counters.

Their dance of parries and thrusts continued as Fabian swooped in for the kill, with him completely memorizing Yahiko's tempo and countering at every turn.

Beat. Parry. Beat. Parry. Parry. Dodge. Counter. Over and over. Predictable. How utterly predictable.

Yahiko started looking pretty rough, like the bloody Lucas did after facing off against Zan.

The kid's tight mini dodges, constant head movement, sword-stealing attempts, and his own school's cross-armed parry and riposte (Hadome and Hawatari) kept him in the match, though.

Yahiko, Kaita, and even Fabian noticed a small window of vulnerability whenever he shifted from defending against the ninja's projectiles and the samurai's swings from his sword and sheathe.

A fraction of a fraction of a second. It was a small window, but the Tsui Gami also used a small window of reverberation to strike the same point three times fast. It was in Yahiko's bag.

Confident he was landing his sharp counters and ripostes at will at this point, Fabian went ham and stopped hesitating.

He indulged in continuous counterattacks without fear of any traps or counter times from Yahiko while having that vulnerability in his mind. Determined to do a parry and riposte if that happened.

A shuriken flew from overhead instead of straight-on to La Cerca's head, which he deflected by reflex. For that split-second, his timing was predictable. Yahiko thusly attacked.

However, expecting this, The Faceless feinted a counter (Feint in Time), only to get smacked in the head with a simple attack. His knees buckling slightly, he sidestepped a follow-through and did a riposte.

He knew Yahiko's pattern by heart now, errant attacks that slipped through aside.

However, his every riposte and counter got blocked and parried themselves with the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu succession technique, the Hadome (Sword Halt) and Hawatari (Sword Crossing).

Myojin couldn't time him while he was waiting for a counterattack, so he baited him with a predictable pattern while spring-loading his own counter time.

It took his shuffling feet and upper-body movement to get out of range of Yahiko's counters and ripostes, with him figuring out that the kid had timed him by baiting him and drawing out his counters.

Thusly, he paused and waited to see if it was bait or a real attack.

Kaita attacked again at that moment, triggering La Cerca's reflex. At the same time, Yahiko attacked again.

On this toss-up, he predicted another bait-and-switch from Yahiko and got a face-full of sakabatou for his trouble.

He then defended again with his footwork and mindless stab to keep the kid off of him, only for his dagger to get stuck inside the samurai's waiting sheathe.

Yahiko pulled the fencer towards him within his range and then wrenched out the dagger from his hands.

Meanwhile, La Cerca himself smiled behind his cracked mask. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this excited to complete a mission. Who was this Yahiko Myojin character anyway?

If it were up to him, he would've devised a proper plan to take him out, just like with Kinta Minakata. The boy proved himself a formidable foe in his own right.

The fencer dodged, slipped, parried, riposted, and countered Yahiko's strikes even at close range, bewildering him.

Then everything went dark, his mask shattering from a concussive Tsui Gami to the side of his temple. Perhaps his skull might've cracked as well.

He fell in a boneless heap at the scratched-up and bleeding Yahiko's feet, his vision swimming as if underwater.

What just happened?

***

To Be Continued...

The dialog between Yahiko and The Faceless is based on the banter between Captain Esteban Pasquale (played by Basil Rathbone) and Diego Vega/Zorro (played by Tyrone Power) during their duel in the movie "The Mark of Zorro (1940)".

Also, naturally, all this shadow talk is based on Tetsuya Kuroko. In my mind, I've transformed the original Kaita from the Rurouni Kenshin Black Knight filler arc into a Kuroko-like ninja.

Danke, Abdiel

[gabriel-gabdiel]

【Draft】 Rurouni Yahiko Chapter 57: The Chinese Parade

Finally got a bit of momentum back at writing. It really does feel cathartic to write again. Plus, there's a new Rurouni Kenshin anime coming very soon, which is neat.

Pardon the bad formatting, typos, and run-on sentences. it’s the roughest of drafts. 

Back at the exterior facade of the Minakata moneychanger office building…

Three things happened within the span of five seconds.

Five long seconds that seemingly went into slow motion for all those concerned.

As Kai Hidaka of the Fuuma Ninja Clan forcefully pulled at the speared Satoru Sakaguchi, he intended to either use him as an anchor to leap away from the attacking Kinta Minakata or as a meat shield if the lieutenant got dragged towards him instead.

Lieutenant Sakaguchi, thinking quickly, opted to allow Hidaka to pull at him instead to prevent his escape from Kinta.

The policeman charged and went into iaijutsu (quick-draw) position, intending to attack the rope-slinging brigand rather than be used as a pawn or collateral damage against Minakata.

Kinta now had no choice but to halt his momentum to prevent himself from slashing both Satoru and Kai apart with the Mangetsu O Tsuku Nari (Full Moon Slash).

That was the leeway Kai needed as he timed a jump at the last second before Lieutenant Sakaguchi could release his blade for a Half Moon Slash, his saber clashing against Minakata's Akatsuki (Red Moon) sword at the location where Hidaka stood a split second earlier.

By the time the Fuuma Clan Ninja reached the apex of his jump, he'd twisted and wrapped his body around a rope spear he'd shot into the ground below him.

Then he twisted towards the other direction, releasing all the potential energy he'd stored from coiling himself up like a mummy into kinetic motion.

***

Rurouni Yahiko

A Rurouni Kenshin Continuation Fan Fiction Story by Chester Castañeda

The Brigands are closing in on their Minakata V.I.P. targets. Can Yahiko and the Sakaguchis do anything against them?

Disclaimer: All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki, Shueisha, Shonen Jump, Viz, Sony Studios, Fuji TV, Studio Gallup, Studio Deen, and ADV. This disclaimer also covers all the other copyrighted materials that are far too many to mention here. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

***

Chapter 57: The Chinese Parade

***

Kai Hidaka twirled like a top that'd been released from being bound-up in rope or string, intending to kill two birds with one stone with the whirling dervish that was him and his dual-wielded blades.

Only for Minakata to shift his weight on his lead foot to pivot, lift his back foot, and turn to avoid Satoru altogether.

His back foot then turned into his lead foot after doing his initial pivot, giving him the leverage he needed to continue his Tsunami's supersonic strikes, intentionally missing as though practicing an iaijutsu kata (quick-draw form).

From there, he moved past Lieutenant Sakaguchi and charged at the spinning Kai, barely losing any of his momentum. He then adjusted the trajectory of his sword to slash at Kai's revolving blades without missing a beat.

As though he turned his missed swings into an intentional part of his kata until he recovered enough to actually hit his target.

'Kinta-kun…!' thought Satoru, who himself turned to witness the Mimawarigumi Battousai clashi blades with the Brigand's resident ninja.

Kai scowled. Dammit. The Kagemusha (Shadow Warrior) did it again. He found a way to win.

Regardless, Hidaka used the recoil from his blades after they clashed hard against Kinta's Full Moon Slash to rebound back to the sky and avoid the Blue Moon Slash he knew was coming.

He then did a pirouette to redirect the trajectory of his body and land behind Satoru, using him as his human shield against Kinta like he had originally intended.

"DIE, SEIRYU CLAN!" Kai cried out, which surprised both Kinta and Satoru.

'Seiryu Clan…?' they thought in unison.

Hmmm. They were the Seiryu Clan, weren't they? Both of them knew the Brigands Guild member had a point. The name had a nice ring to it too.

Their clan indeed involved the partnership between high-ranked hatamoto samurais who only answered to the daimyo and low-ranked subordinate samurais under them.

Kai Hidaka had intended for Minakata to use up the last of his stamina to make himself easy pickings for himself or for Kinta's half-brother, Lucas Grant (the man who proposed that their guild take this dangerous mission in the first place).

A mission close to Lucas's heart. For the Prodigal Son, this time it was personal.

Then again, Kai also saw it as a personal mission in a certain point of view.

Hidaka then noticed that Satoru fell into the infamous Waning Stance. The defensive stance of Musou Madden Ryu where the user faced away from the opponent instead of forward.

As usual. How typical of the cowardly Lieutenant Satoru Sakaguchi. The sidekick of Kinta. The Kagemusha of the Kagemusha.

An ordinary police officer stuck into extraordinary circumstances. A family man with a wife and daughter to boot. Or an about-to-be widow and her daughter, at any rate.

Hidaka figured out that the Waning Stance was simply the Waxing Stance seen from behind.

Attacks happened much slower from the Waning Stance because the point of release happened from the front of the quick-draw swordsman and they had to loop around in a circle care of the resulting follow-through.

This defensive stance hid the trajectory of the sword, allowing for a 360-degree quick-draw slash that depended more on timing than speed to work.

Regardless, Kai had almost stabbed through Satoru to get to Kinta and injure him. Or at least distract him enough to the point of making a mistake.

Well, almost.

***

At the front door of the Minakata moneychanger office building…

A banker, a ninja, and a samurai all gathered at the front porch of the Minakata moneychanger building. No, that wasn't the start of a joke.

However, the ridiculous circumstances did push them to the brink of hilarity in the point of view of situational irony.

Thusly, none of them understood the resulting punch line.

Regardless, the thick wooden doors before them burst open long after they had closed them earlier, as though demanding they come back inside.

The jaws of Yahiko Myojin, Kaita of the Sanada Ninja Clan, and Tatsuya Minakata figuratively dropped on the floor at the sight before them. A sight to cause sore eyes on the part of Tatsuya, for sure.

Despite their best efforts, The Faceless—also known as Seth Merrick, John Rathbone, or even Fabian La Cerca—had breached through the defenses of the Sanada Ninja that ran interference for them, driving the bloody bat-themed spy through the door with a rapier stab.

Like Hajime Saito would with his fearsome Gatotsu stabbing technique.

"Baku!" exclaimed Kaita, which was the first time Yahiko heard the invisible ninja raise his voice. The master of camouflage seemed more like the quiet type, so the shout surprised the Tokyo Samurai Descendant a tiny bit.

Wide-eyed, Yahiko witnessed the bloodied bat-themed ninja screech and holler a war cry, a haunting noise which made him realize the inhuman screams he heard from before was actually from the shadow warrior all along.

Only for The Faceless to do a Beat, Parry, and Riposte to counter him, driving him to the ground and turning him into a human plow.

"Ahhh! Monsters! They're all MONSTERS!" screamed the horseman they found who was supposed to drive the carriage.

He then ran away on foot at the frightening sight of The Faceless painting the front porch with Baku's blood.  

"Come back, you coward!" demanded Tatsuya, who had half the mind to shoot the driver to put him away from his misery.

"SHIT!" cursed Yahiko while Kaita also did so, but under his breath. Then again, good thing the carriage driver didn't end up driving away with their getaway vehicle.

Aloud, the teenaged samurai asked Kaita, "The ninja uses screams to mess with his target somehow, right? Like maybe burst his eardrums or give him vertigo?"

He based this on his experience with Kenshin Himura fighting Enishi Yukishiro. Kenshin defeated Enishi's "Nerves of Insanity" by the supersonic sheathing of his sword that burst the wattoujutsu expert's eardrum with a high-pitched sound.

From behind Yahiko, Kaita said, "You're on the right track. Baku's screams disrupts a swordsman's ability to read kenki (swordsman presence) and sakki (bloodlust) by using infrasound vibrations."

Indeed, Yahiko couldn't clearly get a read on the intentions of Baku even from that distance, his bloodlust and swordsman presence masked with distracting supersonic screeches.

Like how the Kekkai no Mori (Sealing Forest) sealed away Kenshin's ability to detect bloodlust by the strange magnetic field surrounding it when he faced off against the Yaminobu Ninjas.

Kaita frowned, his kunai at the ready. Originally, Baku used his shrieks in order to strike fear in his targets and echolocate them from a distance or even in pitch-black darkness like bats would.

Baku trained for years to turn his screams into kenki disruptors, getting him on equal footing with the likes of the sharpshooter ninja Zan.

"However, the foreigner's swordsmanship style probably doesn't sense bloodlust the way Japanese swordsmen do, so Baku instead used his infrasound screams to disrupt his rhythm," Kaita surmised.

"He can do that?" said Yahiko in wonder.

Kaita nodded. "But his expertise only somehow woke up a sleeping giant. That man, The Faceless, is dangerous."

'You don't have to tell me twice,' thought Myojin, remembering how hard it was to hit or penetrate through the parries of the expert fencer who was always two steps ahead of him.

"Once you nitwits are done congratulating my assassin for a job well done, can you please save my life, if you don't mind?!" demanded the gaunt Minakata uncle, Tatsuya.

Fabian La Cerca did one flick of his sword in order to fling the blood on the ground. "Now where were we? Ah yes. Minakata Tatsuya. Prepare to die."

"AH! Don't come near me, you freak!" cried the banker, his pistol at the ready.

Both Yahiko and Kaita acted quickly, hoping they had the same idea in saving Tatsuya from harm. Or that their ideas didn't clash against each other.

Thusly, Kaita disappeared from view, like an apparition in twilight.

'Godammit,' thought Myojin, hoping against hope that the Minakata Family's ninja didn't just abandon them like their horse carriage driver did.

He then swung at the ground at full force to do an explosive "Dou Gami! (God on Earth)", only for him to shift quickly into a "DOU RYU SEN! (EARTH DRAGON FLASH!)" as soon as the fencer assassin dodged to the side to redirect all that loosened earth towards the direction of his dodge.

Yahiko then grit his teeth when Fabian also slipped, slid, parried, and deflected the resulting landslide of rocks and debris as though doing a fencing duel with it.

What was up with this guy?!

Then, just in time, Kaita the Ninja drove the carriage in front of Yahiko and Tatsuya, beckoning them to get in. He actually fetched their getaway car in time before The Faceless could get to them.

"Get in," beckoned the ninja, who threw kunai at La Cerca even as he dodged the rock shards and debris Yahiko flung at him earlier. "Lord Minakata. Yojimbo (Bodyguard). Let's go."

"Whew, I thought you abandoned us for a second there!" confessed Yahiko, who wiped the sweat off his brow.

"Not to worry. I'll stick with you like I'm your shadow," the Sanada Ninja reassured.

"Hmmm," grunted The Faceless because by the time he realized what had happened, his target and his guards had gotten away. "Touché, Minakata Tatsuya. Your bodyguards have impressed me."

***

Back at the exterior facade of the Minakata moneychanger office building…

Hidaka had anticipated the Full Moon Slash from the Waning Stance of Satoru, so he countered with a stab instead of a slash since that was the quicker attack.

However, Kai merely clipped the turning back of the policeman. As expected, contact with the ninja's blade made the lieutenant move like a booby trap that had been tripped.

The acrobatic Fuuma ninja sidestepped the resulting slash by reflex as soon as he saw the glinting blade appear in the moonlight, figuring out its trajectory by sight.

Hidaka then attacked with another lunging stab, knowing full well that Satoru was no Kinta Minakata and thusly wasn't capable of the Blue Moon Slash (or Double Full Moon Slash).

The shadow warrior now had leverage against Kinta and his supersonic slashes—i.e., an injured Officer Sakaguchi—while also buying himself time until Lucas arrived.

'What…?! Impossible!' thought Hidaka, who almost got bisected into two halves with a follow-up Full Moon Slash.

'A Double Full Moon Slash? A Blue Moon Slash?! That mere copper was capable of this advanced technique?!'

Unbeknownst to him though, Satoru Sakaguchi had one more trick up his sleeve.

Instead of doing the Full Moon Slash twice, Satoru instead did the Waning Gibbous Moon Slash, allowing him a slightly faster recovery time to execute a Pseudo Blue Moon Slash.

Even though Satoru couldn't do a Blue Moon Slash like Kinta could, he could fake the technique by instead doing a Waning Gibbous Slash that resembled a Full Moon Slash, allowing him a quick enough follow through to unleash a real Full Moon Slash soon after.

Thus, the opening that the Fuuma ninja thought was there got him slashed apart instead with an actual Full Moon Slash.

Such was the power of the Suigetsu O Tsuku Nari (Water Moon Slash or Illusion Moon Slash).

Like the reflection of the moon on the water, Satoru fooled Kai into thinking his Waning Gibbous Moon Slash and Full Moon Slash combo was the Blue Moon Slash.

It took advantage of the fact that the preparatory motion for all the slashes of Musou Madden Ryu appeared the same until release.

Hidaka fell for the Illusion Moon Slash hook, line, and sinker.

***

In the middle of Yokohama's Chinatown...

They were home-free. The two bodyguards, the samurai and the ninja, fulfilled their mission of protecting Kinta Minakata's uncle, Tatsuya.

Kaita, though with some difficulty due to lack of horse-riding experience, took he reins of the horses of the horse-drawn carriage that served as their getaway ride.

Yahiko bought them enough time to stave off the advance of The Faceless, the gaijin (foreign outsider) partner of the Minakata Family's Prodigal Son, Lucas Grant, in time to escape.

So why did they feel like something was amiss? Like something horrible was about to happen?

They slowed down to a crawl instead of riding straight through the streets of Yokohama's Chinatown in order to get back to one of many Minakata Zaibatsu mansions.

They ended up stuck with other carriages as a parade of dancing Chinese and Japanese folk as well as their half-Chinese, half-Japanese offspring went through the streets in celebratory fashion.

"What's going on? Why aren't we moving?" demanded Tatsuya, looking like a carved bronze statue of himself sitting on cushioned carriage seats.

"Relax, Minakata-dono," reassured Kaita. "There's just a parade happening. For some sort of Chinese holiday or festival."

"Ah, the Dongzhi Festival, huh?" Tatsuya allowed his tense shoulders to relax, his back finally slumping down on his seat's cushioned backrest. He'd previously been as stiff as a board this entire time.

As a local of Yokohama, he was familiar with the customs of the area. "Fine. Let's wait it out and find the nearest shortcut. I want to be hundreds of kilometers away from those maniacs."

The Dongzhi Festival or Winter Solstice Festival was celebrated during the Dongzhi solar term (winter solstice), during any day from December 21 to December 23. It was supposedly celebrated to ensure good yin-and-yang balance for the coming season.

After the celebration, it was believed the days would have longer daylight hours and more positive energy flowing in.

Different cultures celebrated the Chinese holiday in different ways, with them eating anything from glutinous tangyuan (rice balls) or dongzhi (dumplings) and quhan jiaoer tang (hot dumpling soup that expelled the cold).

Perhaps they were just being paranoid.

'Like hell we are…!' thought the antsy Yahiko as he scanned their surroundings, his hand clasping the hilt of the Hitokiri Battousai's sakabatou (reverse-edged blade).

"Wait a second," began Tatsuya. Something was amiss.

The Minakata banker then reminded his two bodyguards that it wasn't December 21st, 22nd, or 23rd today. The correct dates for the Winter Solstice Festival.

Also, the Dongzhi Festival wasn't celebrated with a parade of uproarious people in the streets and a Chinese lion mascot dance like it was the Chinese New Year. Families ate dumplings, sticky rice balls, or soup instead.

Kaita attempted to turn the carriage around in order to find a better avenue for their escape, but soon they ended up surrounded by the suspicious merrymakers.

Also, the lion mascot doing the Chinese lion dance—a southern lion mascot, Tatsuya informed them—started approaching them.

***

Back at the exterior facade of the Minakata moneychanger office building…

God damn it. Damn it all to hell.  Once again, that damnable Satoru Sakaguchi got in Kai Hidaka's way. Once again, the Fuuma ninja underestimated his childhood rival.

He swore to every Japanese god known to man, he'd make that son of a bitch pay.

As Kai fell to the ground in a spray of crimson, everyone present heard a loud crash from the wall facing them, which drowned out the wet splat of his own painful drop.

The ninja scrambled up to his feet in anticipation, ignoring the sting of Satoru's saber on his person.

If he had somehow made it out of the offices of the Minakatas, then the Brigands Guild still had a chance to complete the mission to finish off the strongest Minakata.

And as if on cue, Lucas Grant emerged from the dust clouds, smoke, wood, and plaster he plowed through like so much cardboard and tinder.

The blood then drained from Kai's face when he saw the bloody state that the Prodigal Son was in. He looked like a pincushion, with all sorts of darts, shuriken, knives, and other sharp objects stuck on his person.

For his part, Lucas walked like a drunkard, his clothes stained red from all the blood he lost.

'What the hell happened?!' Hidaka thought, his mind going a mile a minute while his own blood pooled from underneath him.

"Goddamn you, Sanada Demon!" cursed Luke. "Come back here, coward! Stand still and fight like a man, Zan!"

'Demon…?' thought Kai. 'I guess he is a demon.'

The Sanada Demon known as Zan then appeared from behind Kinta, startling the swordsman. His demonic red Noh mask, devilish garb, and oversized war fork would give anyone a fright.

"I've softened him up for you, Minakata-dono," said the strongest of the Sanada Demons as he bowed to his lord. "He's ripe for the kill."

"…." was what Kinta had to say about that.

'Who the hell is this?' thought Kai. 'We weren't briefed about the Minakatas having these other ninjas under their employment! Our scouts only spotted at least two ninja bodyguards, with the rest acting more like liaisons than warriors!'

"We can take him on together, m'lord. Now's our chance," Zan said to Kinta while both shielded Lieutenant Satoru from the rest of the brigands as the officer tended to his daughter's injuries. "We must strike iron while it's hot, before he recovers!"

Kai grabbed his head, forgetting he had a mask on that kept him from tearing his hair out.

'DAH! That was our plan! Lucas and I were supposed to converge on the Kagemusha then have The Faceless finish him off! Everything's going south for us!'  

"Keh. Fine by me," boasted, perhaps bluffed, the woozy Lucas. "Two against one, huh? As expected of you sneaky orientals. I can take both of you gutless cowards on!"

The Mimawarigumi Battousai shook his head at Zan, which prompted the ninja to complain, "Please, listen to reason, m'lord! Now is not the time to treat the enemy with honor. We must be practical and pragmatic about this. I know he's your brother, but…!"

Kinta turned towards Zan and shook his head. "I refuse to gang up against an injured man."

This took Lucas aback. "Bloody hell. What's this now? Japanese honor? The code of the samurai? I told'ya I'm good with you two going up against me at the same time! Come at me, big brother!"

"…Understood, m'lord," said Zan with a sigh and a bow to Kinta before he struck his war fork on the ground, making it tremble and shake once more. "As you wish, Minakata-sama. I'll finish him off myself."

Sneering, Lucas then said, "I wouldn't do that if I were you. Don't make my life difficult and I won't make your life short."

***

In the middle of the Chinese parade...

A northern lion mascot had a fiercer face, painted-on eyes, boxier jaw, and visible sharp teeth. A southern lion mascot has pouted fish lips, blinking eyes, and a moveable jaw.

So it felt surreal to have the adorable fish-lipped lion mascot staring back at Tatsuya, Yahiko, and Kaita, filling them with dread and uncertainty.

The lion dance was developed to scare away evil spirits and bring luck to the audience participating in it. It involved the lion mascot eating cabbages then spitting it out the audience as a sign of good fortune.

Legend had it that the lion dance started because a monster once would attack a village once a year to eat all the food or even the babies of the villagers. Until one day, a monk came to the village and tamed the monster by tying a red ribbon on its horn.

Afterwards, the monster acted as the village guardian, protecting everyone instead of eating their babies and some such.

Other stories alleged that the gods cut the monster's head off, but Guan Yin (The Chinese Goddess of Mercy) brought it back to life, which also turned it into a village guardian.

Thusly, the Lion Guardian of Yokohama Chinatown peered straight at them with blinking (puppet) eyes.

They were left in a conundrum. Should they go out of the carriage and move by foot? Or should they stay there trapped like rats in the middle of a slow-moving parade?

If this was all part of the Brigands Guild plan, they were screwed either way.

"Go out and see what it wants," Tatsuya ordered Yahiko as though he were his butler telling  him to see who was at his door.

"ME? Why me? Why not your personal ninja?" balked Myojin.

The Elder Minakata said, "He's not my ninja, he's Kinta's. Also, he's driving the coach so he's staying here with me."  

The teenaged samurai rolled his eyes. "All right. Fine. I'll go out. You two stay here."

"Oh yeah. Don't give the lion something white to eat," said Tatsuya. "It hates that."

"That's weird," said Yahiko. "Why is that?"

"It's Chinese superstition, you nincompoop," said the banker.

'Ugh. What an asshole.' Resisting the urge to throw Kinta's uncle to the proverbial wolves, Yahiko exited the vehicle and stood guard in front of it, his sword at the ready.

The lion dance mascot took one look at the samurai kid, spewed bits of cabbage at him, and then left him alone.

Huh. Yahiko then remembered Tatsuya telling them that, as part of the lion dance, the lion mascot pretended to eat lettuce and cabbages offered to it before it spat it out back to the business owners and audience.

This symbolized blessing them with wealth and prosperity in the coming year.

After merely ten seconds, Yahiko realized the danger he, Minakata, and Kaita faced.

What if the parade of merrymakers were real and filled with actual Chinatown residents, but mixed with the mercenaries hired by the Brigands Guild to do their bidding?

A crowd was the perfect place to kidnap dignitaries and assassinate V.I.P.s Bodyguards would have a hard time telling which was friend or foe. Normal citizens or actual assassins.

"Is the coast clear? Let me out. I'm going back to my mansion on foot, if I have to!" complained Tatsuya, who swung open the carriage door only for Yahiko to shut it close and shush him. "Wha…? How DARE you shush me, Bodyguard!"

"Please keep quiet, you ghoul," hissed Yahiko.

"Gh-Ghoul?! How dare you…!" hissed Tatsuya in return, only to get shushed further.

"We're being watched. They want you to get out of the carriage and get lost in the crowd."

Although he grumbled, Kinta's uncle shut the door of the carriage and did what he was told.

"Ninja, take care of Kinta's uncle while you're in there, okay?" said Yahiko, to which Kaita nodded in agreement.

Meanwhile, on his part, Myojin remained at the entrance of the carriage and focused. He remembered his training with Kaoru and Kenshin.

He trained mostly in Kamiya Kasshin Ryu and partly in Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu (mostly self-taught), specifically in the art of reading the air. Reading intentions before anyone even acted upon them.

Spreading his swordsman's presence to feel the ripples and detect the malice and blood thirst of those around him.

A couple of stray leaves snapped and popped before the Tokyo Samurai Descendant.

Yahiko snatched the hand of a man with a knife and twisted it. He then did a judo throw to him, also taught to him by Kaoru. This scared the person away.

Without looking, he batted away what might've been a poison dart, and then blocked a cleaver attack with the iron scabbard of the sakabatou.

Most of the sneak attacks on Yahiko's person, he stopped by gutting them with the hilt or tip of the reverse sword, with him not needing to draw its naked blade.

All these attempts at violence by rank-amateur mercenaries paled in comparison to dealing with the long-distance shots of the likes of May Brooks and her naginatajutsu.

He could dodge, counter, and manhandle everyone all day

However, Myojin actually fell for the Brigands Guild's Plan B. While he busied himself staving the attacks of disguised assassins and hired hitmen at one door, the lion mascot snuck to the other side of the carriage.

"Yojimbo! Myojin Yahiko, the other door…!" warned Kaita, his kunai at the ready while he reined in the neighing horses to calm them down.

Awakened from his trance-like flow state, Yahiko forced open the carriage in time to see the southern lion mascot "eat" (as in open its puppet jaws and grab hold with multiple hands) the person he was supposed to be protecting, Tatsuya, unto itself.

Afterwards, the giant mascot blasted cabbages at the horses like from a canon or a firework, spooking them and forcing Kaita to hold on for dear life and they all went buck wild.

Ironically, for the first time, the slow-moving parade finally gave way for the carriage to go through.

What the hell just happened?

***

Back at the exterior facade of the Minakata moneychanger office building…

"Daughter! Daughter! Kyoko, are you all right?" called out the worried Satoru, who cradled his little girl's head while pain still emanated all over her body from her attempt at a Full Moon Slash.

"I-I'm all right, Daddy. Thank you for saving both me and Kinta-sama."

Her vision cleared, and the first thing she saw was her father's worried face. Afterwards, her eyes traveled to Kinta, who stood perfectly still, looking none the worse for wear save for him looking sweatier than usual.

Dimly, she marveled at how her father and Kinta could continuously due such straining techniques in the heat of battle. Boys sure were made of sterner stuff.

However, this also had her worried. She now knew firsthand the incredible strength, agility, physical fitness, and skill to pull off those dangerous moves.

Even with their training and physical strength, they were both only human. Even they might end up like her, with pulled muscles or ripped tendons from the effort of performing Musou Madden Ryu techniques.  

She also saw the hateful Kai on all fours, crawling in a pool of his own blood. Served him right.

She wasn't a violent person by nature and she hated the sight of blood, but in the case of that creep, she made an exception.

Her eyes then settled unto Kinta Minakata's tall, blond, and handsome attacker, charging through a hailstorm of knives and daggers while swiping his European longsword at one of Kinta's ninja bodyguards.

Even though the bloodied blond devil's longsword had quite the reach itself, the devilish masked ninja had an even longer weapon he used like a lance, with every strike making it vibrate and hum the drone of a million hornets.

If she could hazard a guess, she'd bet there was some sort of trick that the ninja was using in order for him to accurately and unerringly strike down the gaijin assassin like target practice.

The war fork's vibrations and droning sound could be simulating the way swordsmen sense the intent of their opponents.

Like ripples from a disturbed pond bouncing back at anything that got in their way, revealing their shape and location.

Like a swordsman's kenki (swordsman ki) reacting to the sakki (bloodlust) of nearby opponents.

By all accounts, the fight was all over. They'd won. Kinta was safe. His assassins were struggling.

However, Kyoko's female intuition screamed at her to keep her eyes peeled. And her hands on her sword's handle.

But maybe she was just being paranoid.

Kinta was strong enough to do the Full Moon Slash without straining or injuring himself like she did.

His assassin was on the verge of being defeated without her or her father's help. They only needed to wait a little longer. Then they could go home and forget all this.

She swallowed down the lump of fear and panic in her throat and watched someone get stabbed to death bit by bit.

She forced herself to watch the grisly affair to prove her persistent feeling of dread wrong.

***

Back in the streets of the Yokohama Chinatown…

Yahiko couldn't tell if the parade was a premeditated ruse to lure any escaping Minakatas into a death trap or if the Brigands timed their assassination plot in the middle of a parade.

Regardless, he was in the thick of it and it seemed like he was taking out thousands of mercenaries in disguise one after another.

He couldn't tell friend from foe or bystander from hired merc and that was probably the whole idea of this Chinese parade "finger trap".

After all, he wasn't totally sure they were sneaky mercenaries with hidden knives or clumsy and drunk parade goers.  

Thusly, he did his best to avoid hurting innocent bystanders by doing things like making his attackers slip and fall or snatching their weapons away with his shirahadori (barehanded blade blocking) techniques.

The pacifistic Kenshin would probably approve of Yahiko's attempts to minimize any potential collateral damage in the middle of a skirmish, at least.

He chased the lion dance mascot all the way into a crowded wet market, and the parade's jolly dancers seemingly made their way there as well.

However, every time Myojin got near, he got bombarded by kicks and punches hidden underneath the flowing costume of the lion mascot. They essentially used hit and run tactics to escape their swordsman pursuer.

He had to contend with hidden mercenaries at every corner and martial artists trained in kung fu wearing a gigantic lion costume every step of the way.

The kendoist herded the multi-feet, caterpillar-like mascot puppet into the nearest, narrowest corner alleyway he could find, their shoes muddied by splashing puddles as he pushed them towards a dead end.

"Let the Thin Man go, bastards! He ain't my cup of tea either, but I won't let you kidnap him! Much less kill him! DOU…!"

It was then that Yahiko realized where they'd ended up at. Back near the Minakata moneychanger office building. Right into the waiting hands of The Faceless.

"I've already seen that attack before. Has your bag of tricks run out?" Fabian La Cerca asked Yahiko Myojin.

Meanwhile, the samurai kid's attempt at another God on Earth got blocked hard by Fabian's sharp and thick rapier, the clang of the blades making the sakabatou vibrate like a tuning fork. Or Zan's war fork.

"Faceless!" said Yahiko, remembering the name Kaita gave the, for lack of a better term, gaijin ninja. "Uh, fancy meeting you here…?"

"Quiet, you popinjay," said the smug La Cerca. "You've fallen right into our trap. Our Chinese mercenaries serve as our insurance policy against any unforeseen hindrances. Now hand over the Kagemusha's relative this instant!"

Yahiko had figuratively ended up between a rock and a hard place, facing off against a multi-limbed kung fu pseudo-lion and a sword-wielding maniac with no face.

***

Kai Hidaka had seen enough.

Styles made fights and obviously, Lucas Grant was no match against the long-distance projectile thrower with a war fork.

Had Zan and the Kagemusha joined forces to defeat Lucas, it would've been all over already.

However, as it was, the red devil ninja was more than enough to take care of the novice mercenary.

Where the hell was The Faceless anyway? He was supposed to be the veteran leader of the Brigands Guild. Their organizer. Their finisher.

Ever since joining the ranks of the Brigands Guild like a soldier in the foreign legion, Kai imagined he'd die someday due to some mission in faraway lands like Constantinople, Hindustan, Siam, Burma, Zaire, or Holland.

Never in his wildest dreams did he fathom he'd die back in his homeland of Japan.  

All the same, the goggled warrior picked himself up from the pavement and willed himself to go once more unto the breach.

If he was going to die anyway then he'd do so like a man.

Then maybe he'd haunt that idiot Faceless and his multiple personalities (or disguises) for good measure! He was nowhere to be found when they needed him the most!

Zan the daredevil ninja saw Kai approach and thusly shot him full of blades and projectiles, intending to turn him into a pincushion for multiple blades like Lucas Grant.

Or like Musashibo Benkei who died standing while shot full of arrows or Julius Caesar and his body stabbed by multiple senatorial daggers.  

However, much to Kai Hidaka's surprise, Kinta Minakata charged alongside him.

Kinta headed straight towards Lucas as soon as Kai decided to act as the distraction for Zan.

What was the Mimawarigumi Battousai doing? Was he finally willing to fight his half-brother now that it was a one-on-one battle or a much fairer fight than before?

Kinta and Lucas were face-to-face once again—The Prodigal Son versus The Minakata Heir.

"Hello, brother," said Lucas with a bloody grin. "Have you changed your mind? Or do you now feel like this is more of a fair fight, Mr. Samurai?"

Kinta kept quiet as he fell into the Waning Stance, his back turned on his bastard brother and his bastard sword.

'What's going on?' Hidaka wondered before dodging and slicing the flying knives and shuriken thrown at him by the sharpshooter ninja.

***

Back at a narrow alleyway in the Yokohama Chinatown near the Minakata moneychanger offices…

"I'll make this duel short to save you fatigue," said La Cerca to Yahiko, who fell into his fencing En Garde stance and did probing stabs at the samurai kid's defense. With both his rapier and his dagger.

"Duel?! You're ganging up on me, you masked coward!" came Myojin's retort, which in no way helped him against The Faceless' riposte.  

The troublesome dagger served as both his extra shield and extra weapon, with him shifting defense and offense between rapier and dagger.

Meanwhile, at the same time from behind him, an oversized, ridiculous lion puppet kept snapping its jaws at him with camouflaged fists and brass knuckles as well as kicks with hidden shoe blades.

It hardly seemed fair. It was like two against one. Or more like eleven against one.

Up to ten people could fit inside the lion mascot, although Yahiko wondered if Tatsuya was forced to serve as the eleventh person inside the puppet, so technically it was twelve against one.

Regardless, the poor kid got bludgeoned by kicks and punches from a lion mascot and wounded by stabs and slashes by the masked fencer.

Wiping the trickle of blood from his busted lip, Yahiko realized he could barely counter any of the attacks because whatever openings either opponent had was taken care of by the other's offensive, forcing him to remain on the defensive.

Dammit. He got beat up at every front, drowning in the winding rapids full of fists, feet, and sword stabs. Like he'd fallen from a waterfall directly into a swamp filled with man-eating gators.

Normally, fighting against The Faceless felt like fighting against a ghost. The Tokyo Samurai Descendant could throw confetti at him and none of them would land.

Now, it felt impossible to take him on with his guard lion running interference for him, wearing his defense down and keeping his offense limited.

The lion dance mascot clamped its puppet jaws at the reversed blade of Yahiko's sakabatou, which forced the kid to use his metal scabbard to block and parry La Cerca's resulting attacks instead.

Laughing like an unhinged lunatic, Fabian declared, "¡Ya me tienes harto! ¡Vete a la chingada! (I'm done with you! Go fuck yourself!)", and of course Myojin couldn't understand a word he said.

The lion mascot then wrenched Kenshin's sword away from Yahiko's lead hand at the same time as The Faceless disarmed his rear hand of his iron sheathe.

He was now weaponless. Unarmed.

***

Back at the exterior facade of the Minakata moneychanger office building…

Hidaka's twitch reflexes allowed him to dodge the flying sharp objects headed towards him at bullet speed much better than his teammate Lucas, who weathered such a storm of steel like a human meat shield. Or a sitting duck.

"Missed me," mocked Kai.

"Impressive," admitted Zan. "You're a harder target to hit than the Prodigal Son."

Like a knight in heavy armor and a gigantic shield, but he lacked both of those as he let Zan turn him into target practice. 'What an idiot.'

The ninja had figured out the secret behind the sharpshooter's unerring accuracy. Zan could somehow detect the sound waves from his war fork and used it like bats would for echolocation.

He also wisely circled around and tested the area of effect of Zan's vibrating war fork, crawling across its perimeter to make the demonic ninja miss his mark.

He winced at the effort, the laceration given to him by Officer Satoru made his chest feel like it was set ablaze.

His high-flying acrobatic ninjutsu had saved his life countless times in countless missions overseas. However, most of those he faced weren't familiar with the way of the ninja at all.

This time, he confronted one of his own right in his motherland. The birthplace of ninjas.  

The darkness was not Kai's ally. Zan grew up in that same darkness. Molded by it. They both didn't see the light until they were men.

They were cut from the same cloth. They were the same kind of animal in a violent dogfight, biting and clawing at each other for in a fight for survival.

He flew across the dome-like area that served as Zan's tripwire to fling his projectiles.

In other words, the outer fringe of Zan's echolocation chamber was where his aim was the least accurate, so Kai could dodge the easiest from there.

From within the sonar dome, the spidery ninja then deployed three-dimensional movement with grappling hooks and ropes that included jumps and flying in midair to dodge while his whirling blades deflected any projectile he couldn't avoid in time.

Going airborne allowed Hidaka to get in the mid-range of the Sanada Demon's war fork sound waves while still being able to dodge in X, Y, and Z-axis despite Zan's heightened echolocation senses.

Hidaka wasn't only dodging from left or right. He also had the freedom to jump ahead or even twist in midair, his twin rotating blades also serving as his means to parry any incoming projectile.

"Missed me again," said Kai.

For his part, Zan acknowledged, "Yes. Not for long, though."

The Fuuma Ninja threw his own rope projectiles at the Sanada Demon to bind and hogtie him, but Zan himself dodged those easily.

Now was the moment of truth.

***

Back at a narrow alleyway in the Yokohama Chinatown near the Minakata moneychanger offices…

Thinking fast, Yahiko ran towards the strangely adorable lion mascot, aware that from behind him, The Faceless was hot off his heels.

The Son of Tokyo Samurai then threw something at the gap between the lion's slightly ajar jaws (it "bit" on his sword, after all), which it received by reflex. Like the cabbage fed to it during the parade.

The mascot then opened the jaw up and "choked out" the white streamer that Yahiko pick-pocketed earlier to the ground, along with the sakabatou.

The boy remembered what Tatsuya said about the Chinese superstition of never "feeding" the lion dance mascot anything that was colored white because that was bad luck.

The silly superstition made the hardened kung fu mercenaries panic and "spew" the streamer out, which gave the unarmed Myojin the opportunity to snatch back his stolen sakabatou from the ground and enter the lion costume from the agape mouth.

He had finally entered the belly of the beast.

From there, chaos ensued.

Fabian La Cerca could only stare, his own mouth agape but hidden behind a plain white mask, as an armed Yahiko beat up his hired hitmen from inside their battle puppet.

From inside the costume, the teenager used his bloodlust detection training he did with Satsuki to bludgeon the wriggling mass of humanity within the costume. Attacking like a virus or bacterial infection.

Like a cape or a curtain, the lion costume unfurled, revealing a triumphant Myojin and a sweaty Elder Minakata who slumped on the kid's shoulders.

Yahiko took a long gasp of air that looked like a yawn. Man, did it stink inside that lion suit!

"I thought I was going to DIE!" said the gasping and wheezing Tatsuya. He slapped his bodyguard upside the head, but he lacked strength, so it came off as more of a nudge.

"Ow! Hey, what was that for?" asked Yahiko. What an ingrate.

"Th-That's for getting me captured in the first place, idiot! Y-You e-even made us run all the way here!" wheezed Minakata, who while nabbed by the lion costume operators, was forced to move in cadence with them at knifepoint.

"Yeah, you're welcome for saving your life," muttered Myojin with an eye roll while considering throwing the V.I.P. back to his kidnappers or to The Faceless.

Unbelievable. The samurai boy took out all those men by himself using finesse and creativity. He was cunning as a fox. Or perhaps he was a fellow thief like himself…?

Who was this interloper anyway?

With a harrumph, the masked assassin said, "Fine. I'll just finish you both off from here. It's like killing two birds with one stone."

Yahiko yelped, who had no choice but to let go of the tired Tatsuya as he fell into his Chudan-no-Kamae (Water Stance) and parried the lunging fencer's rapier before him.

***

Back at the exterior facade of the Minakata moneychanger office building…

"Can't catch me," taunted Kai.

"I've missed every shot so far. But I'm getting closer," said Zan.

"Is that a threat?" asked Kai.

Zan answered, "No, it's a promise."

The Fuuma Ninja used every dodge, parry, and block he could muster to get near the Sanada Ninja and his echolocation. He avoided projectiles on the ground from far away.

He leaped and used midair three-dimensional movement to avoid more blades and darts from midrange. He even threw his own rope darts and grappling hooks at Zan for good measure.

In a mere second, he got clipped on the shoulder by a blade, followed by stabbed on the lead foot with a shuriken and sliced on the rear thigh by the vibrating warfork.

"Almost there," taunted Zan.

He'd charged too close to dodge the sharp-shooting Zan. It was now or never.

Ignoring the screaming, burning pain from the severed nerve endings of his growing list of injuries, Kai Hidaka spun like a top with his twin blades serving as the razor tips of his human shuriken impression.

His blades rotated like the rotors of a windmill, the fins of a pinwheel, or the spokes of a wheel.

He intended to cut through every last projectile at a distance so close, Zan's primitive sonar abilities wouldn't matter anymore.

However, all Zan did was block the rotating Fuuma Ninja's blades with his war fork, which made it vibrate enough to give him enough echolocation sound waves to stab him multiple times with multiple knives with unerring accuracy.

"OH SHI—!"

Zan himself managed to avoid the rotating blades and stick knives into Kai's body between every rotation.

Zan then hissed, "Bull's eye."

Dammit. It didn't work.

Desperate, the Fuuma Ninja wrapped the war fork with one of his rope darts to stop it from vibrating then attempted to decapitate Zan from behind with a whirling dervish of an attack.

The Sanada Demon avoided that too by eyesight instead of by echolocation, ducking in time and countering with his war fork. He was too good and too strong to fall for that as well.

It was all over.

Hidaka wasn't able to land one slash. And now Lucas faced off against his half-brother while injured himself.

The goggled ninja's spent body crumpled to the ground, exhausted beyond belief and bleeding from several more stab wounds.

"Well? What are you waiting for, Sanada Demon? Finish me off."

***

Back at a narrow alleyway in the Yokohama Chinatown near the Minakata moneychanger offices…

'I thought he was a fellow thief, but he's nothing more than a pickpocket,' thought Fabian, who carved Yahiko up like a wooden toy knickknack. 'A petty thief against a criminal mastermind.'

On his part, the samurai kid couldn't penetrate the dual defense of La Cerca's double blades.

The rapier probed at Myojin's range at a comfortable distance and when he forced his way to more closed-quarter combat, the dagger served as both The Faceless' shield and auxiliary blade.

Just like before.

However, unbeknownst to the master fencer, the kendo master had actually pushed the battle towards the area where he'd lost the iron sheathe.

He then secretly picked up his scabbard with his sleight of hand like the pickpocket that he was when he worked with the yakuza.

He then used the same scabbard to block the dagger as he did a circular parry of the rapier and finally landed a rib-cracking body shot at The Faceless.

Coughing blood, even the doubled-over Fabian had to admit, "Magnifico, hijo. (Magnificent, kid.) How much farther can you push me, I wonder? Don't disappoint me now."

Yahiko cringed. "Why won't you go down, Old Man?"

The veteran duelist then moved in for the kill, baiting counter after counter that wore on the dual-wielding samurai's defense.

The Tokyo Samurai Descendant avoided the bait, but this forced him to second-guess his offensive, leaving him to mostly focus on parrying and moving to the preferred cadence of The Faceless.

"Hit him, dammit! He's right in front of you! What am I paying you for?!" demanded the disheveled Tatsuya.

'You do it,' thought the samurai kid, who feinted a strike to draw out Fabian's counter, only to get his counter to the counter blocked by that damnable dagger, leaving him wide open to a barely dodged riposte.

"Almost," said the masked man, his tone dripping with an implied smirk from behind the mask. Like a cat playing with his prey.

Wait. This feeling of frustration felt quite familiar.

Where had Yahiko felt this before? This was the first time he'd ever faced off against the foreign sword style of fencing, so why did this duel feel like he'd been through it before?

He felt a feeling of déjà vu.

From the corner of his eyes, Myojin then saw the mercenaries he beat up regain consciousness and start picking up the parts of their lion costume again. 'Oh, shi…!'

"Stand back! Stand back or I'll shoot!" screamed Tatsuya, scrambling for his pistol, but then he realized he'd lost his gun from the scuffle earlier.

The two realized that one of the mercenaries had stolen the Minakata uncle's firearm and aimed it at them, which backed them into a corner.

Things went from bad to worse.

***

Lucas Grant wiped the blood on his leaking forehead to his hair, dyeing it red. He then licked his hand. "That Sanada Demon of yours was a pretty impressive fighter. I'm not going to lie."

Kinta Minakata remained silent, his body coiled and ready to strike with a iaijutsu slash.

"You're not very chatty today, are you, Big Brother?" said Luke with a nonchalant shrug while tapping his bloody bastard sword from behind his head.

The Mimawarigumi Battousai and the Prodigal Son then picked up where they left off.

The surgeon versus the butcher.

The surgeon remained pristine and precise with his cuts. The butcher kept hacking and slashing right into the bone of the meat.

"You know, I went undercover as your bodyguard to do some research of my own on the Seiryu Clan. The Minakatas. The family that rejected me and my mother," said Lucas with the same inelegant strikes that wore down the snake man ninja Ren.

The Kagemusha, for his part, dodged Luke's fencing strikes and European swordplay, remembering the training he got from his grandfather, the sage and worldly Toshiro Minakata, on how to handle swordsmanship from across the globe.

This allowed him to defend against unconventional tactics he didn't witness from his time in the Mimawarigumi, like using the pommel of a bastard sword to bash the head in.

As brusque, simple, messy, and savage as Grant's swordsmanship looked, it was also pragmatic and effective. Like bashing any living thing with the sharpest blunt object you could find into minced meat.

"Every one of your family is full of bastard. Even bigger rat bastards than I am, the literal bastard," continued Lucas, happily chopping away at the surgical Kinta's defense, his sword slashes coming closer. And closer.

Like in the middle of a stampede of carriages or even chariots, Minakata kept avoiding those strikes, each one swung with great strength and killing intent. Each one enough to finish him off.

Disturbingly, every accurate cut Kinta landed on Luke, the foreigner didn't even register. He didn't even bat an eye. They might as well have been paper cuts. Or cat scratches.

It was as if they were too shallow for him. Flesh wounds weren't enough to take him down, as proven by Zan earlier. His brother dared him to commit to every strike and cut right through his bone.

Easier said than done. It felt like one wrong move from him would result in certain death.

Kinta didn't break a sweat earlier, but now he was really sweating on a December.

Also, it was naïve of him to refuse Zan's proposal to fight his bastard brother together, thinking it was dishonorable to fight an injured man.

This creature before him did not act like an injured man. He was more like a wounded animal whose fight or flight instincts had been activated.

But that wasn't quite right either. He acted to lackadaisical for someone so bloody. It was as if he became stronger and more relaxed the more injured he got...?

What an utterly ridiculous man he'd grown up to become.

***

Back at a narrow alleyway in the Yokohama Chinatown near the Minakata moneychanger offices…

Something in the periphery smashed the hand holding Tatsuya's pistol. A tetsubo (metal bat), to be exact.

"…Gan!" gasped Yahiko while Tatsuya used him as a shield against the lion dance mascot. "You came! I didn't think you'd come here!"

Sure enough, the Great Gan started swinging his weapon against the overgrown puppet before him. "You owe us part of that reward money, Yoshi-boy!"

"Don't call me that," said Myojin with a smirk, almost unthinkingly. He didn't really care what Gan called him at that point.

The thuggish ruffian walloped the multi-legged lion mascot before him, with him swinging for the fences with bone-shattering swipes.

Damn. Yahiko heard several sickening crunches from Gan's blunt force approach.

He then had to do a split-second cross-armed Hadome parry on short notice as Fabian suddenly lunged his rapier's tip at his face, intending to turn him and Kinta's uncle into shish-kebab.

However, before he could transition into the disarming Hawatari, the boy realized his fatal mistake, unable to backpedal in time to avoid the dagger to his heart, with both his arms leaving his chest wide open.

To both the shock of La Cerca and Yahiko, a dual-bladed block kept the dagger from puncturing the spiky-haired boy's chest just in time.

It was Munenori Minoe's Cancer Stance: Scissor Grip technique.

"…Minoe!" said Yahiko with a smile and a half-laugh. His allies had come to his rescue in the nick of time.

"Mochiron (But of course)," said Minoe before squeezing his two swords hard enough to bend and break The Faceless's dagger.

***

Hidaka winced at the forked stab that never came.

What was the Sanada Demon waiting for? The Chinese New Year? Tanabata (The Star Festival)? He should finish him off and get it over with.

"Hey, Demon. Quit playing games," said Kai, only for him to realize something important.

The mask wearing youkai (ghoul) ninja that reminded him of The Faceless the most had stopped moving.  

Like Musashibo Benkei who died standing while shot full of arrows or Julius Caesar and his body stabbed by multiple senatorial daggers.  

However, unlike them, he had no arrows or knives stuck on his body. Did he have a random heart attack and died then and there, smote by the gods?

What the hell just happened?

The ninja exhaled, releasing the breath he just realized he'd been holding all this time. He took stock of his surroundings, awakening to self-awareness with several eye blinks.

He felt like he'd just escaped death with the skin of his teeth. Or like he got sideswiped by a runaway carriage, saving himself from becoming roadkill.

He sat there, dripping in blood, his eyes searching for any wound or slash he landed unto Zan.

At first glance, it looked like Zan was the victor and Hidaka awaited death.

Kai's brain scrambled for a reason behind his sudden victory. Was it when he wrapped the war fork and muffled its reverberating sound waves, allowing him to land a hit?

However, his blades—as sharp as they were—didn't draw blood or felt like they even hit the red devil ninja at all. No impact or resistant.

Hidaka then noticed the drip of blood not his own.

Little drops of blood formed on the slumped form of Zan.

Wait a goddamn second.

Kai thought the pincushion look of the bloody Lucas meant that he'd been pushed to the limit by the devilish ninja.

What if Zan's red costume hid that he'd been wounded all along?

What if the blood on Lucas wasn't (only) his own, but someone else's blood?

Or, if that wasn't enough outward bleeding to incapacitate him, what if Zan had been internally bleeding all this time?

That last burst of effort to avoid Kai's blades must've been the straw that broke the camel's back.

Kai chuckled, which then turned into a full-blown cackle.

That damn Lucas had him worried for nothing.

***

Meanwhile, elsewhere in Chinatown…

With ragged breaths, a tired and sweaty May "Satsuki" Brooks pushed the blunt edge of her naginata down while she herself leaned on it like a cane.

She had actually went ahead and tailed the Minakata party even before the surviving bodyguards sounded the alarm of another assassination attempt, only for her to get intercepted by a Chinese assassins hiding behind a Chinese parade.

Like with Yahiko, random strangers pretending to be merrymakers attacked her, which she took out in short order thanks to her naginatajutsu.

She'd been training along with Yahiko to hone her sixth sense in battle, after all.

Only for her to get blindsided when the lion dance mascot also ambushed her for good measure.

And now there they were, with her taking on a surprisingly lion-like mascot puppet with the fierceness of its choreographed group attacks with military efficiency.

"Arigathanks for the workout," the tired blonde bluffed, not realizing she was code-switching between two languages and mixing up words together in her exhaustion. "Sorrymasen for the mess though. But I've got to go."

She brushed her matted hair, revealing a black eye. Her face and body had various bruises from the beating she got from the lion-head disguise of the Brigands' hired hitmen.

She'd actually been fighting against another lion mascot all this time, this time of the northern lion design with its painted on face and much sharper teeth.

It used less puppetry like moveable jaws and eyelids, but like the other southern lion mascot, it was controlled by Shaolin-trained kung fu masters hired by the Brigands Guild for their assassination mission.

With a sneer, Satsuki whirled her bladed polearm above her head and told the approaching lion dance mascot. "This is your final warning! Yamete kudastop…!"

The lion's sharp half-open jaw clamped upon the blade of the naginata while its worm-like body wrapped itself around May's body with wriggling hands and shuffling feet.

'Just you wait, Joshua-kun (Yahiko-kun)! Kyoko-chan! Satsuki-oneesan is here to save you!' she thought through grit teeth as she struggled against the mascot monster.

***

To Be Continued...

Beware of those Chinese parades, man. They're a riot.

As for the Sanada Demons, Baku is based on Batman from D.C. with supersonic shrieking powers like Banshee from Marvel. Ren wears snake armor reminiscent of Serpentor from G.I. Joe but has resonant destruction powers like Avalanche from Marvel.

Finally, Zan uses sonar-like echolocation (through his tuning war fork) like Daredevil from Marvel, but his accurate projectile hurling is more reminiscent of Daredevil's arch-nemesis Bullseye.  

Danke, Abdiel

[gabriel-gabdiel]

Fantasy of Evolution Chapter 6: It Wasn't All Just a Dream…?

Wait. What if it wasn’t all a dream? What will Florante do now?

You can also find more chapters of my original fiction here. Please enjoy.

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Back in Fatima High School's science laboratory…

The Biology teacher of Florante Galang and Isaiah Pascual—the soft-spoken Miss Isabelle Del Mundo, known by the faculty by her nickname "Belle" a la the protagonist of Disney's "Beauty and the Beast"—looked over their shoulders to glance at their laboratory work.

After staring intently to check their answers, Ms. Belle Del Mundo said to Florante, "Mr. Galang, don't you think Mr. Pascual should get a chance at looking into the microscope?"

The two former best friends exchanged glances. Pascual was the first to speak.

"We're just about to finish up, Ms. Del Mundo," he said to the soft-spoken teacher before taking the last slide and putting it onto the microscope so he could peer at it.

"Well," she said after a moment of deliberation, "then go ahead, boys. Remember, this is a cooperative exercise between lab partners, okay?" She then walked away.

After she left, Florante began doodling on his notebook.

"Florante," said Isaiah in an almost whiny manner. "I don't know what I'm looking at. Help."

With a sigh, Florante whispered, "The last two we haven't found are prometaphase and telaphase. Telaphase is easy because it's the cell splitting into two. If it's not split into two, it's probably prometaphase."

"How do you spell that, bro?"

"Come on, man."

The two exchanged glances again.

"I'm just kidding, Florante."

"Haha. Funny stuff. Can you spell it or not?"

"Yeah, of course. It's something like 'Pro' as in 'Pro-wrestling', 'Meta' as in 'Metal', and then P-H-A-S-E for 'Phase', right?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"The slide I got is probably the pro-something one, by the way. The cell hasn't split."

"Gotcha," said Florante as he took the slide out to label it. "The last one's probably telaphase but look at it just in case."

"Yep, it's a split cell," Isaiah confirmed after changing microscope slides. "You saved my bacon, bro. Thanks," he added.

Florante harrumphed. "I saved the both of us. You're not going to drag my grade down with you."

And, just as Galang was about to wave off how Pascual talked about his fever dream as his imagination running wild, his imagination apparently chose that moment to run wild again.

"You remember killing me, don't you?" said the pokerfaced Pascual in a deadpan monotone. "You blew my head off. You did all sorts of nasty things to our classmates too."

Isaiah sounded like something out of a horror story. Thusly, Florante resisted the urge to scream, his blood running cold once again.

Was Galang going mad? This wasn't happening, was it? Or was he in a dream again? He hadn't gone off the deep end yet, had he?

He should check out his dream journal when he got home, just in case. It helped him differentiate when something was a dream and wasn't.

It was his sole tether to sanity and objective reality at this point.

***

Fantasy of Evolution

An Urban Fantasy Story by Abdiel

Who keeps dream journals of their nonsensical dreams as though they have any bearing with reality? Florante does, but his is a special case.

Disclaimer: This work may reference copyrighted material, the use of which has not always been specifically authorized by the copyright owner. It is believed that this constitutes a fair use of any such copyrighted material as provided for in Section 107 of the US Copyright Law. All copyrighted material referred to in this work belongs to their respective owners. All rights reserved.

***

Chapter 6: It Wasn't All Just a Dream…?

***

Sometimes, Florante Galang wondered if he got bullied because he deserved it.

Nine times out of ten, he'd say no. Like that one dentist who didn't recommend this or that brand of toothpaste even though nine others did.

No one deserved to be bullied the way he got bullied. However, one of those ten times he might reconsider that maybe he got what was coming to him because he did something wrong.

His feeling of inadequacy and insecurity haunted him. Maybe he had it coming. Maybe he was asking for it.

Maybe nines times out of ten, he had a brief moment of self-awareness. He got bullied because he committed the grave sin of social ineptitude.

Maybe he just needed to fit in with his classmates better. Maybe, even though they were mean to him, they were mostly excellent to one another, so there must've been something wrong with him instead.

Maybe he should be the one to adjust to them instead of the other way around.

Was he victim-blaming himself? Maybe. Or maybe he was a narcissist manipulating others to his will only to face karma from his bad behavior.

Maybe a large portion of his life leading up to this moment was a series of huge mistakes of which he learned nothing.

Maybe he should emulate their behavior except for the part where they were being jerks to him.  

Or maybe he should be a jerk to other weirdoes while imitating the manly behavior exhibited by the jocks and tough guys in his class. Find someone weaker than him to pick on so he wouldn't be the one picked on by everyone.

Maybe he simply needed to fit in with his bullies and coexist with them in the social food chain. Maybe he merely needed to grow up like his asshole classmates, who themselves were already having hookups, parties, and girlfriends.

Meanwhile, like a child, he couldn't even hold a romantic conversation with a girl his age, with him stuck in the Friend Zone for all of the girls he was actually in good terms with. Or worse.

He might even have the E.Q. (emotional quotient) of a child too, or at least that was what his mother and teachers kept telling him. Arrested development, if you would.

Outside the Dead Kids, he simply couldn't find a clique to belong with in Fatima School and its roughly 800 high school students, specifically the 200 or so students in the same year.  

He rationalized that he couldn't relate to people his age. Despite what his mother suggested, he was friendlier towards people who were older than him, like college-aged students, teachers, or other grownups.

However, even then he wasn't really all that close to anyone in school. Perhaps the truth of the matter was that he couldn't relate to people period and he was a gigantic weirdo, dork, or wimp.

A wimpy kid with no friends.

Anyway, at least he had an okay I.Q. (intelligence quotient). He sometimes made it to the Top 10 of the class. Sometimes. Bottom three of ten, usually. So at least he wasn't completely pathetic academically.

He was back to his usual ritual of barely eating lunch and finding ways and places to hide himself inside the school every recess and lunch break so he wouldn't look like (more of) a total loser to his peers.

He'd end up eating alone outside the cafeteria, near the boiler room, or under the mango trees with the circular concrete seats surrounding them time and time again. Or reading in the library until his hunger passed.

He was skin and bones practically. The wimpiest of kids. Certain sporty girls in the varsity team could probably outdo him in athletics, he was so pathetic.

So it was probably this insecurity that led him to dream the dreams he dreamt. He had also called them nightmares because it involved him murdering his bullies.

However, if it were proverbial rather than literal murder—like him imagining their murder to let off some steam from their bullying without ever daring to murder them for real—he'd understand how these dreams could be considered as the power fantasies of the powerless.

Like parents tempted to kill their misbehaving children without really meaning it.

Or maybe his being a terrible person who deserved all the bullying he ever got was just the dose of self-awareness he needed.

Maybe he should stop being so dependent on what other people thought. As long as he followed his own moral compass, they had no business dictating how he lived his life!

If he left them alone then they should leave him alone too. Right?

As long as he didn't hurt anyone else—so again, he crossed his fingers that his dream murders were nothing more than dreams—he didn't need anyone's approval.

***

As the class returned from the lab to the classroom to further discuss cell mitosis or whatever, Pascual played catch-up with Galang, walking beside him and asking him how he'd been doing.

Or more like Isaiah talked and Florante half-listened, waiting for the other shoe to drop in regards to them sharing memories of something that only happened in his, well, their dreams.

Maybe Florante misheard him the first time? And the second time? He didn't know. Isaiah didn't press the matter.

He merely asked him for the time instead, wishing to change the subject. "What time is it?"

"Let me see. It's skin thirty," Pascual said with a straight face while pointing to his bare wrist.

It took Florante a minute to get it.

"Oh."

They then both shared a hearty laugh, with Florante laughing in spite of himself. A cathartic laugh from all the stress he felt.

Dammit, Galang kind of missed this. He missed talking to his former best friend like this.

Too bad their friendship went south in the end.

Pascual then told Florante about the rumors he heard about him. How Florante had ended up joining the infamous Dead Kids of Fatima High.

How he finally got his bullies to let up with their bullying by listing their names and sending them to his teacher. A teacher that actually did something after catching Florante's bullies in the act.

How he started wooing(!?) their classmate Jennifer Tolentino.

"I wasn't wooing anyone, don't be weird," Florante told Pascual off. "I just want to be better friends with her, that's all."

Or be friends again at all. They were supposed to be friends when they first met during the first day of school, but they then drifted apart. Kind of like the situation between Pascual and him, to be honest.

Florante avoided eye contact with Isaiah all this time out of embarrassment of being told loads of gossip, rumors, and half-truths about himself.

At the same time, he had to also avoid getting caught stealing glances at Jenny from time to time as she walked on ahead of them alongside Laura Reyes.

Her bespectacled face was such a distraction that he tried not to look at her as much as possible, only to end up staring back at Pascual and his nonsense.

It didn't help that Laura was there too. They still had an awkward air about them when they were near one another.

He didn't know where to look. The floor, perhaps? Or how about the ceiling?

There he was again, falling in love with another girl who gave him an ounce of attention. Or kissed him in his dreams.

On second thought, yeah. He was dreaming, wasn't he?

Once they were back in the classroom, Florante returned to his seat and tried to listen to the rest of Ms. Del Mundo's lecture, who used an overhead projector to project transparencies onto the blackboard with the windows and shades closed.

He couldn't manage his thoughts. Was he hearing things with Pascual? Did he really say what he thought he heard him say?

***

For a change, as the bell rung and Biology class ended, Pascual continued talking to Galang. Usually, no one bothered to do so in their class.

As of late, before she went absent for a week, it had been Jenny who talked to him, but only sometimes.  

"Jenny seems friendlier to you now than before," was the icebreaker Isaiah went with. "You even had lunch with her and your gang."

'Humph. My gang, huh?' Florante thought, with Pascual avoiding calling them by their infamous name of "Dead Kids".

To Isaiah, Galang went with, "Yeah, I guess," while also wondering aloud, "I wonder why she was absent for so long."

"There's been a cold bug spreading. Must've been the change in weather."

"Yeah, that must be it."

Florante frowned, though it felt more to him like the petulant pout of a child. He looked away while resisting the urge to stick his tongue out childishly at Isaiah for good measure.

He couldn't focus on his former best friend's chatter as they grabbed their bags with their P.E. (Physical Education) uniforms and proceeded to have P.E. class at the gymnasium.  

Mixed-gender volleyball at the gym didn't catch much of Florante's attention either. He ended up playing with Pascual and his friends though, which was a relief for him.

Usually, their P.E. teacher had to force one of the multiple cliques or groups in Section St. Francis to include Florante with them. Or he ended up with the rest of the social outcasts who couldn't find a group to team up with.

He was always left out whenever the gym coach instructs the class to group themselves into four or five people.

After doing warm-up exercises and partner drills, they had a simultaneous mini-tournament of sorts. Multiple five-member teams ended up doing a set of games until the end of P.E. period.

Florante ended up in a team composed of four guys—two of them Isaiah and Florante himself—and one girl up against a team of three guys and two girls.

Naturally, Florante Galang sucked at P.E. in general and volleyball in particular.

Most of his volleyball returns resulted in shots that went outside the court, so his teammates covered his position so he wouldn't bungle more shots.

However, strangely enough, both Isaiah and even Jenny (who played against another team at an adjacent court) cheered him on, leading him to surprise himself by serving the volleyball decently, even scoring an ace or two.

Sure, their team lost in the end, but at least the unathletic Florante was able to somewhat contribute when normally he couldn't.

Well then. The day ended up better than he expected!

***

Inside the boys' locker room, while the class either changed back to their regular uniforms or just gathered their belongings to head out of the school for dismissal time, Pascual continued talking to Florante, making him self-conscious.

The introvert felt tired from all that talking—well, half-listening and barely answering—he did for so long. His social "health bar" was spent.

To explain, introverts tended to shy away from social gatherings because being in such situations took a toll on their energy. They could only take so much before becoming anxious or nervous wrecks.

Even though Pascual and Florante were having mostly one-on-one (or rather, one-sided) conversations instead of a more open social encounter with multiple people, Pascual's sudden over-friendliness after they'd acted like strangers for so long had depleted Florante's tolerance for the social situation.

"…Oh, I remember that one time, in the grade school playground, you were playing alone, pretending to be Rambo or something, tying an imaginary bandanna on your forehead…!"

"All right, ALL RIGHT! That's enough," said Florante, who now focused his full attention on his ex-friend Pascual. "I get the picture."

By the way, his bullies had caught him playing alone as a high school kid, since he spent his grade school in Makati.

"Sorry," apologized Isaiah. "You're not going to zap my brain to mush again like before, are you?"

This jolted Florante awake from any more random thoughts. He hoped the earlier declarations from Pascual was just his imagination, but no such luck.

He'd been actually delaying any potential confrontation as long as he could.

Galang's eyebrows knit together in concentration for the first time the whole day, like he had just suddenly noticed that the things happening around him didn't make sense because he was merely dreaming.

Like someone between the verge of sleepiness and wakefulness.

He then exhaled, mumbled, "Susmaryosep," under his breath, and said, "No. I only have those powers when I'm dreaming, not in real life."

The daydreaming asthmatic didn't want to look like a fool and attempt to shoot nonexistent laser bullets at one of his bullies, thank you very much.

Isaiah gave him a quizzical look. "You can totally shoot your power beams or whatever right now."

Florante scoffed at the idea. "No, I can't. That's not how this works. I need to be dreaming in order for me to use those powers. Because none of it is real."

Pascual raised an eyebrow at that. "You sure about that?"

Galang also raised an eyebrow in kind. "What do you mean?"

So Isaiah clarified. "You don't need to dream to use your powers."

What. Now hold on a minute there! "No, I can't. That wasn't real. That was just a dream," Florante dismissed the very notion until something else occurred to him.

"Hey, Pascual. How'd you know what happened in my dreams?"

Although Isaiah had been talking up a storm since Biology class, Florante just now noticed his ex-friend's hands gripping the edge of the bench they sat on in the locker with immense tension.

Like a squashed bed spring ready to uncoil.

Had Isaiah been acting this nervous around him this entire time, unbeknownst to him? Was he talking nonstop to help calm his nerves?

Why was he so afraid of him…? Oh. Right. The murders.

No, please. Not this again. Not him questioning whether his dream happened or not again! Anything but that!

"Florante Galang," Isaiah Pascual said. "That wasn't a dream. You really did kill us all."

No. NO. That couldn't be. No, no, no. Shut up, Pascual.

Pascual continued. "Was that how you were able to cope with what happened? You waved off everything as a dream? You avoided accountability that way?"

"NO! What happened was a dream!" exclaimed Florante.

"You always had the power. To destroy. To kill. It's as plain as the nose on your face," said Isaiah.

"But you can't see the nose on your face unless you look in a mirror," said Galang.

"Then let me be that mirror to your face. Let me prove it wasn't a dream," said Pascual.

Florante productively released his anger, malice, and frustrations in that dream because he was powerless in real life! Also, who had superpowers in real life? How absurd!

"Just because you were somehow able to reset everything back to the way things were doesn't mean you've completely undone what you did."

"SHUT UP!"

It was then that Florante noticed how Isaiah hadn't taken off his P.E. uniform yet even as the introvert immediately took those clothes off and changed into his school uniform.

"We remember everything. I remember everything you've done. And what a monster you were back then."

No no no nonono. Florante was not the monster Mammon accused him of! None of it was real! This wasn't real either! He was dreaming again, wasn't he?

His fever dream was supposed to be catharsis so he could successfully avoid committing a murder in real life! Or at least wish-fulfillment because he was never a violent or particularly powerful person either!

The bullies in his life had always silenced him but the one time he struck back and silenced them instead, he was the bad guy?

How was that fair? He was solely responsible for losing control? They could do whatever they wanted with him but he couldn't to them in turn?

Before the asthmatic could let out a wheezy exhale, Isaiah disappeared from view.

Then the whole world became a blur.

***

The drizzle had become mist by the time they ended up suddenly in the streets, leaving a trail of devastation behind them.

It took a minute before a bleeding Florante Galang realized that Isaiah Pascual had just pushed him from the gym lockers all the way through the soccer field, right past part of the high school building, to the back of the school wall, right into open traffic, with one hand to his chest.

They busted through wall, brick, concrete, and plaster like a bulldozer through Styrofoam.

It all happened within a second. Or a fraction of a second. Before Galang's eyes could even blink or his mind could register what had happened.

Wait. So Pascual was actually an angel too? Or maybe even a demon? An Ophanim or a Minion? Like the spaghetti monster or the maelstrom man?

The impact should've caved Florante's chest in. Not to mention broke and dislocated his bones in 30 different places.

He might've even ended up like roadkill too, if not for his Ophanim halo that served as his shield.

Thankfully, a combination of light energy and gale winds formed a protective vacuum cocoon around Galang's body that kept him safe from harm. His own halo effect, if you would.

Isaiah just looked at the (mostly) untouched Florante, his palm outstretched, his jaw agape, before he gave him a sheepish grin. "Hehehe. Didn't expect that, did you?"

"You have superpowers too?"

"Yep. See? And so do you… AH! Please don't blow my brains out!"

Isaiah flinched or perhaps even overreacted at Florante stepping towards him, with him unleashing a flurry of punches.

"I wasn't! OW! Stop punching me!" One of the fists hit Florante's nose before he could summon his light wind dome again to block the rest of the blows.

Something else then dawned to Florante as he surveyed how far they went out. "You… you almost killed me!" He considered taking a swing at his former friend, but settled with attempting to catch him.

However, Isaiah disappeared the instant Galang tried grabbing his arm. Like a fly disappearing before the fly swatter could hit it.

By instinct, Florante jumped back into the sidewalk as a car beeped at him.

He then looked around. Several onlookers began gathering around the scene of devastation, particularly near what was left of what was once a wall and a planter's box.

Isaiah ran away and Florante was about to chase him when he felt something coming at him from behind. 'What…?'

Instead of multiple supersonic punches, Galang got hit by a single spine-tingling punch that actually blew away his halo shield and rattled him to the bones.

Then it hit him again. And again.

"…Catch me if you can, Slowpoke!"

Multiple Pascuals kept appearing and disappearing, punching his weakening halo shield with supersonic punches that came at Florante stronger and faster by the second.

What was this? In spite of his panic, Florante figured what Isaiah did. He ran in a tight circle at supersonic speeds and incrementally increased the momentum of his punch until it reached an irresistible power at an unstoppable level.

Sneaky bastard.

Pascual ran at the supersonic speed of a racecar going through a racetrack, crashing through Galang's halo shield bit by bit.

The more time passed, the faster the momentous punch got and the harder it was for Florante's halo aura to resist it. Isaiah might actually break through his hallowed field. What was he supposed to do now?

"…Lightning BOLT!"

Florante thusly summoned lightning from the drizzling overcast skies just as the infinite mass punch shattered his halo vacuum field, which electrocuted Pascual while energized Galang.

This jolted and froze Pascual, but his forward momentum remained, which prompted Florante to finally dodge one of the continuous punches.

The resulting blockbuster explosion blasted both of them thirty or so feet clear into the gray heavens.

***

The next thing Florante knew, he'd landed on the roof(?!) of the Fatima High School Building.

What the hell.

He looked around him to see where he was. He felt a tingling sensation travel across his extremities. His acrophobia (fear of heights) had acted up again.

Or maybe that was the millions of volts of electricity he'd just absorbed before making the electrocuted Isaiah miss, resulting in a blast from his massive punch that jettisoned them from the streets of Mandaluyong to the rooftops of Fatima High.

It was times like this that convinced him that the time when he jumped from rooftop to rooftop in order to experiment upon using his powers was just a dream. An acrophobic would never do anything as crazy as that for real. Also, he had superpowers. Of course it was all a crazy dream.

He looked around to make sure he was indeed where he was. That was when he noticed the still figure of Isaiah Pascual beside him.

Huh. He survived the fall too, huh?

"Dammit, you weren't this powerful before," was what Florante thought Pascual murmured under his breath.

'Before…?' thought Florante. What did he mean by that?

However, as Galang braced himself for another assault, he realized Pascual's stiff body still hadn't recovered from the electrocution.

Also, because they were on the roof deck of the building, his former best friend has less running room for his supersonic punch.

Most importantly, Florante still had enough energy left from absorbing the millions of volts of electricity from the lightning strike. Perhaps 1.21 gigawatts of power. Perhaps even more than that.

A billion joules of electricity. Enough to power dozens of homes for a day. Or 10 million light bulbs at the same time. Maybe even a flux capacitor on a time-traveling DeLorean.

Should he do it? Should he test out whether this was a dream or not?

Should he hit him with his five-fingered Light Array bullets, which was now practically his finishing move? Or he could use both hands and fire all ten shots?

Nah. That was overkill. Instead, he elected to focus his accumulated power on one closed fist, cocked his arm back, and then shouted, "Thunder BOLT…!"

It made sense. Even though the high school building had a narrow roof deck, Isaiah could still dodge. So Florante might as well shoot his thread-thin concentrated laser that cut through the air and produced a powerful "thunder" or "sonic boom" shockwaves with a wider destructive area.

However, he hesitated at the last minute when he heard Pascual ask, "Thunder Bolt? So what's different between that and the Lightning Bolt you shot earlier?"

Florante couldn't help himself. It had been his pet peeve ever since he saw "Thunder Bolt" and "Lightning Bolt" used interchangeably in anime, manga, action games, and RPGs.

"…Well, obviously, a Lightning Bolt is the bolt of electricity. The thunder comes after the lightning bolt, correct? It's the rumbling sound from the shockwaves of a sonic boom. So to me Thunder Bolt is basically just a sonic boom."

"Oh, I see. I never thought of it that way."

The two then just stared at each other for a hot minute, with Galang allowing the rivulets of electric might fade away as he relaxed his shoulders and stopped cocking back his fist.

Pascual himself relaxed as well, the paralyzing effects of Florante's electric shocks finally wearing off.

***

The two former best friends sat down on the roof deck overlooking Fatima High while the rest of the world stood still.

The damage they'd wrought on the rooms, walls, and streets earlier slowly but surely disappeared, as though they didn't even touch anything.

Curious. Then again, this only affirmed Florante's stance that his supernatural actions originated from dreams. Perhaps extra-lucid dreams than normal, but dreams nonetheless.

Florante sat beside Pascual, with both doing the "Indian sit" or "Indian style" sitting position with their legs crossed underneath them, which was often linked to stereotypical portrayals of Native Americans.

It was also believed to be rooted on a meditation or yoga pose from India known as the "Lotus Position".

They shared a hearty laugh, with Isaiah stating, "Of course only you can come up with something as nerdy as making a Thunder Bolt be different from  a Lightning Bolt!"

Meanwhile, Florante himself protested, "You're the one to speak! You were the one who gave me the idea!"

Pascual blinked three times then tilted his head to the side. "I did? I don't remember."

"You totally did! That's why I made it a point to use a different kind of attack when doing a Thunder Bolt and Lightning Bolt!" said a grinning, nostalgic Galang. "You once brought the topic up to me."

"Maaan, I can't believe you've grown this strong already," said a wistful Isaiah while scratching his cheek. "I guess I should've expected it. You were among the first to awaken, weren't you?"

"…I guess? What do you mean by awaken, though?" Florante asked.

"Just what like it sounds like," Pascual said. "It's when you awaken your powers."

Oh right. It wasn't just him who awakened. There was also Gerry Jacinto. And Laura Reyes. And now, Isaiah Pascual. They all "awakened" to having their own superpowers along with Florante.

"Hey, Pascual," Florante called out, "you're an angel too, aren't you?"

"…Angel?" Isaiah repeated.

"That's what Jenny Tolentino called us," Galang continued, brushing his damp hair bangs back and heaving a heavy, asthmatic wheeze. "Angels. Demons. Either or."

"Demons, huh?" Pascual rubbed his shoulder. "Yeah, I guess you can call her that. Maybe even a monster."

"…Her?"

Pascual hesitated from revealing anything more. "Sooo how does Jenny know about all this?"

Florante replied, "She's one of us. She's also an angel."

Pascual smirked. "Isn't that just your crush on her talking?"

"What? No," Florante denied, but he has second thoughts. So far, everything tracked. Jenny confirmed they were angels then they fought against multiple demons.

She was telling him the truth, right? She must've told them the truth. He trusted her.

"I meant she has powers like ours and she awakened her powers long before we have, so I gave her the benefit of the doubt," said Florante.

Why shouldn't he trust the girl whose (alleged) back story of being much older than she looked, he found out for himself, without her prompting? He already did the background check himself!

A second later, he asked, "Wait, she hasn't talked to you about it?"

"No, it's the first time I've even learned she even has powers like us," said Pascual.

"That's strange," said Florante. "So you didn't know we're angels and demons?"

"Not a clue," said Pascual. "For all I know, we've become like the X-Men or something. Mutants who've awakened our superpowers, you know?"

"That also makes sense," said a wistful Galang. "We might be the next evolution of man. Deities. Or gods. Or heroes."

"Or villains. Or demons. Or monsters…" Isaiah trailed off.

"What happened?" Florante asked, sensing Pascual's foul mood. "Is something wrong?"

"I-It's nothing," Isaiah said, but then exhaled and shrugged. "It's about Regina…"

"Regina Mariano?" Florante repeated, remembering the girl as the one who said he had fetal alcohol syndrome.

He also remembered blasting her until she turned to ash in his fever dream.

"What happened to her?"

***

By the time Florante and Isaiah left the rooftop (via the staircase), everything went back to normal.

No hole in the wall. No broken glass windows. No interrupted traffic outside of the school. It was if they'd never fought.

Another reset or "Ctrl + Z" had happened, which made Galang presume that his fever dream was one of those resets. Nevertheless, he had to face facts.

He unfortunately did kill his classmates, but something occurred to "undo" the event, making it fade away like a dream. Was this the power of angels in action again?

Regardless, Isaiah gave Florante the lowdown on what happened to Regina. She had awakened her powers like Isaiah, Jennifer, and Florante did.

Long story short, Regina transformed into a mindless Ophanim or perhaps even a Minion. Like the crawling chaos or the spaghetti monster from before, she ended up becoming an out of control monster that Isaiah couldn't stop.

Come to think of it, Florante left out that little detail of him visiting Jenny's apartment in his dreams after seeing her name-alike in a yearbook at the library.

However, because of recent events, he had an inkling suspicion that his visit to the Tolentino abode actually happened. Like how his brief battle with Isaiah actually happened before their collective lucid fantasy disappeared right in their very eyes.  

God dammit all to hell. So he really did kill his classmates. He really did kill Laura.

He felt terrified and confused, but mostly ashamed by the fact.

A wave of guilt washed over him. What he thought was him releasing pent-up stress harmlessly was actually him harming his bullies as revenge. Like a school shooter run amok.

If everything hadn't reset back to normal with everyone still living and their school left in one piece, he'd be no better than the bullies he so hated.

No, he'd be worse than them. He'd be a murderer.

He turned what was supposed to be an eye for an eye revenge plot and instead took an arm and a leg as payment for his social humiliation.

Never mind, "An eye for an eye makes the world go blind". The term, "An eye for an eye" was created with people like him in mind: Vengeance seekers who went overboard with their revenge.

He didn't know what to feel.

On one hand, he felt horrified, guilty, and ashamed after realizing he had hurt his classmates for real.

On the other hand, shamed as he was to admit it, he felt a measure of Schadenfreude or catharsis for mostly, um, unleashing his frustrations on his tormentors back to them.

However, he wanted to crawl under a rock and die over the realization that he really did kill his former crush, Laura Reyes, as collateral damage for his mad killing spree. Ditto his teacher who merely got in his way.

They didn't deserve to die like his bullies. However, did even his bullies deserve death over humiliating him in school? Why couldn't he simply humiliate them in return? An eye for an eye?

Sure, everything went back to normal and everyone ended up alive, but he still felt dirty realizing he really did all those things. He wasn't so innocent after all.

No wonder Jenny kept acting so guarded and awkward around him. On top of him stalking her. Damn, he needed to have more self-awareness!

The more he thought about things, the more he realized he was screwed.

What he originally thought was harmless stress relief was now considered something beyond the pale. He felt like someone pulled the rug from under him.

What if he had no reset button? What if they stayed dead? He would have ruined their lives, the lives of their loved ones, and his own life forever.

He didn't mean to. He just wanted them to leave him alone. Even if they didn't end up friends or acquaintances in the end, just let him be. Let bygones be bygones, dammit.

***

The next day…

That breakfast, Florante ate his sandwich and drank his orange juice in a hurry.

For once, he felt somewhat excited to go to school. Not because he was some nerd looking forward to tests and quizzes or something.

He certainly didn't go there to meet up with any friends save for his Dead Kids acquaintances. No, if he was being honest with himself, he knew his eagerness to get to school was to see Jennifer Tolentino again.

No, no. Well, yes. He did want to see his crush again.

But aside from that, he was looking forward to using his powers for good instead of evil.

For once, he would used his dream abilities to help a (former) best friend in need save his new girl friend (not girlfriend, a friend who was a girl, Isaiah insisted) from herself.

If anything, this was his way of alleviating his guilt and shame over actually killing his classmates for real. He owed it to all the bullies he killed, even though they didn't stay dead.

Hmmm.

So if memory (of his vague dreams) served him correct, the angels who'd been chosen as candidates for the position of Archangel Gabriel was Florante, Isaiah, Regina, Gerry, and  Laura.

Maybe also Mark Zuniga? No, no. Mark only stabbed Florante. Gerry was the one who awakened his own powers, followed by Laura. In his "fever dream" that wasn't really a dream.

***

Back at Fatima High…

Regina Mariano appeared normal enough when she got to school. However, as Isaiah Pascual would explain later, she'd actually gotten mixed up with a "bad crowd".

If Florante could hazard a guess, she must've ended up being manipulated by another full-fledged demon avatar like Mammon.

They all attended classes like usual, with Isaiah giving Florante looks here and there to remind him of their plans to, uh, "save" Regina after school.

From how Isaiah described her transformation, her Ophanim/Minion form or biblically accurate angel/demon body was reminiscent of a geometric polygon. Or pyramids glued together at the bottom.

An object instead of an organism. An abstraction instead of something living.

Isaiah admitted he was no match against her and her growing power, but he thought that maybe with Florante's power and help, they could beat the sense back into his estranged girl friend.

Galang then told Pascual about how Ophanims were actually awakened with the purpose of becoming avatars of famous angels or demons like Gabriel or Raphael.

However, it hadn't quite sunk in that Isaiah, Regina, and Florante were bound to fight for the position of Gabriel's avatar sooner or later.

Florante wasn't too clear on how this avatar business worked himself. He made a mental footnote on asking Jennifer more about it later.

Oh right. Jenny. Should Florante end up facing off against her too? She was already the Raphael avatar, so it should be okay.

However, he ended up breaking his promise to her to forget about this angel and demon business.

He felt at times that Jenny acted too guarded around him. Even hostile at times. Seeing that he had every intention of breaking his promise to her, maybe her behavior was warranted.

No. He had to do this favor to Isaiah. To make it up for what he did to his bullies.

He'd apologize to Jenny later. For now, he had to concentrate on Isaiah's friend Regina.

Sure, Regina wasn't the most pleasant of classmates to Florante himself, but he really wanted to make up for the sins he committed that haven't actually been erased.

Some of his bullies actually remembered him killing them. Remembered his past sins.

His sins that actually happened and were real, despite them disappearing from reality like forgotten dreams.

***

After dismissal time…

It rained particularly hard that afternoon, such that it took every ounce of the clumsy Florante's concentration to make it out of school without slipping on a puddle or getting the hem of his pants wet from wayward splashes.

He even managed to cling to the nearby chain-link fence of the school's entrance and exit to save himself from falling.

He shook his head, wishing the ground would swallow him whole. As amazing as he and Pascual probably looked earlier with their superhuman feats, he looked downright pathetic without his powers and with his actual clumsiness.

If he were a girl, perhaps he'd look more endearing instead of pathetic, like a cute klutz. As it was, he felt less of a man for being an uncoordinated goof with not a single athletic bone in his body.

It was times like this that made him doubt (perhaps hope) that his imagined sins or dark fantasies against his classmates remained as such.

Not that hoping for their misfortune subconsciously was any better, but at least it didn't really happen.

Anyway, Regina Mariano had been hanging out with these shady people after dismissal time and her friend circle—of which Isaiah was a part of—was getting worried about it.

Appropriately enough, she seemed like the poster child for an after-school special on wayward kids who hang out with the wrong crowd.

As typical of such specials, Regina was your average tomboyish girl next door who wore a ponytail haircut and sported a dyed brunette hair that stood out from her tan skin.

Regardless, Pascual insisted that her meetings with these questionable and suspicious persons had something to do with both him and her awakening their angelic powers.

So what was Regina's deal? Pascual alleged she got into contact with some talent agency and they were going to make her into a star. However, they instead awakened her angel self and turned her into an outright monster with their schemes.

Pascual attempted to save her, with the stress of her awakening also triggering his own angelic transformation, but she proved too powerful for him.

As her guy best friend, Isaiah followed her to their talent offices, feeling that something was afoot. From what Florante could surmise, Regina was a bit of a naïve country bumpkin and the agency was taking advantage of her and various other talents.

That was news to Florante, who only knew Regina for her mean girl antics with him whenever they came across each other.

Then things got weird from there.

For his part, Galang could only wonder if his other encounters with Ophanims or Minions involved such schemes.

The spaghetti monster seemed to fly out of nowhere at the school parking lot. Meanwhile, the indefinable shadow man was someone he and Jenny detected along with Mammon in the middle of Makati.

Jeez. Florante could only shake his head.

That American(?) white guy in a formal attire was Mammon? The infamous demon Mammon? Or at least an avatar of his. Wild. And Florante himself was supposed to be the avatar of the world-famous Archangel Gabriel to boot.

Or he would become Gabriel's avatar once he went past being an Ophanim and evolved into a Cherubim then a Seraphim.

Regardless, Florante skipped his school service ride home to (again) commute elsewhere, this time with Isaiah, to Ortigas on Isaiah's dime.

They considered using their powers to get there, but they decided against it to conserve their energy and use their powers on saving Regina instead.

***

The duo sneaked (snuck?) around the conference hall leading to an amphitheater where a seeming talent show took place. Some were on stage singing and dancing. Others served as the audience.

On the front row were some well-dressed judges, including a drop-dead gorgeous Caucasian lady who had the looks of a Hollywood actress.

She had blonde hair complimented by her blue eyes. She also wore a flashy blue gown and shoes that matched her dress yet seemingly decorated a closed heart.

At the back of the stage were various contestants with numbered sashes, among them was Regina herself.

What was all this now? A talent show? Star Search? Tanghalan ng Kampeon (Contest of Champions)?

Or perhaps it was a beauty pageant like Miss Universe or Binibining Pilipinas (Miss Philippines)? No, there were dudes there too.

'What are they planning?' Florante wondered. The setup seemed far too elaborate just to awaken the angel (or demon) within Regina. What was this supposed to accomplish?

Using Pascual's teleportation-like speed, they both got passed through the security guards and ended up at the back of the conference room's audience, with all of them none the wiser.

It was actually pretty packed in there. Standing room only. So Isaiah and Galang stood and observed what was happening.

In front of them was an ordinary talent show. They witnessed acts like an amazing male singer who sung a Whitney Houston song while sounding nearly exactly like Whitney with his impressive falsetto or female "head voice" range.

A minute later, there was a group of break dancers on stage. From there, a long-haired musician with an electric guitar did a three-minute guitar solo. Afterwards, another singer, a girl who was classically trained in opera, sung an operatic version of Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody".

They even featured drag shows with male cross-dressers who could pass for women.

The pair of classmates stood there, mesmerized by the amount of talent before them. Applauding along with the rest of the audience.

Then it happened. Just like with Mammon's Minion, both Florante and Pascual felt the presence of their fellow angel. Or demon. Celestial being, perhaps.

The curtains parted and then they saw Regina arrive on stage. It was apparently her turn to sing in the talent show. However, instead of singing, she instead began to transform.

They then heard a high-pitched screech, like metal crunching on metal, that became fast and painfully loud.

Startled, Florante looked around him. He saw several things at the same time.

Nothing moved in slow motion the way it did in movies. Rather, his brain felt like it worked overtime due to an adrenalin rush, allowing him to absorb multiple scenes and have them register in his brain at once.

Maybe it wasn't the same case with the speedster beside him who stared at what happened before him with dilated eyes and an unhinged jaw. Florante couldn't tell.

Regina obviously stood out from the sea of faces staring back at her since she was at center stage in this talent show and all, with them wearing the same faces of horror that Pascual did. That Florante probably did as well.

The contestants of the talent show then glowed, as though they themselves had a halo of aura like angels would.

The tendrils of this bright energy got sucked into Regina's body, who herself begun singing a Regine Velasquez song that Florante couldn't quite place.

He also idly wondered if Regina was named after Regine, a famous Filipina singer.

Florante feared that the violently winding soundwaves from Regina's song would converge into a climactic ante, like rapids to a huge waterfall, but then it became a calm lake  that only produced ripples.

Just the purest song.

The fainter variegated spirit energy from the audience swirled along with the more vibrant multicolored auras of the contestants, all converging together into Regina's aura.

This made everyone act lethargic, with the seated viewers slumping down on their seats and the standing contestants plus stage crew crumpling down on the floor in a dead faint.

All of them did so except the two angels at the back—Regina's classmates—and the judges near the front of the stage. Particularly the pretty woman who looked like a Tinsel Town goddess.

"…Pascual?" Regina said, waking from her reverie and breathing into her microphone.

Her eyebrows then furrowed as she squinted and focused them on the person beside Pascual. "Wait. Is that… Florante Galang? Why is he with you, Isaiah?"

"Ay palaka! (Frogdammit!) She caught on to us! The jig is up!" exclaimed Pascual, which only pissed Florante off.

"Susmaryosep, Pascual! What's the plan now?" complained Galang. "You do have a plan just in case she noticed us, don't you?"

"I didn't think things through! Sue me!" said Isaiah. "Just… help me rescue her, okay?! Use your powers or something!"

The Hollywood beauty took a cursory look at the two high school students in uniform and then asked Regina, "Friends of yours?"

Regina stared back and forth between the svelte woman and her classmates then nodded, "They're my classmates, Miss Spelvin," she said aloud, through the microphone.

"Please. Call me Georgia," Georgia Spelvin do declared.

It was then that Florante realized that Miss Spelvin didn't open her mouth when speaking. Like with Mammon, she communicated telepathically. On a frequency only fellow angels and demons could listen to.

Daring to be brave and remembering his former best friend's request to save Regina from the influence of literal demons, Galang shot a Thunderbolt at Georgia instead of his other bully classmate.

The spellbinding Spelvin swatted the Thunderbolt away, which created an ear-splitting sonic boom that made the whole place rumble.

For his part, Florante had already covered his ears, but soon Pascual and even Regina followed suit and did the same.

The three then bore witness to Spelvin changing form from a beautiful blue-eyed blonde in a blue dress to a sultry red-skinned demoness with bat wings, fingernail claws, the wild hair of a harridan, and a black dress seemingly made of the darkest starless night.

An improvement from Mammon's squat gremlin form that Florante and Jenny got exposed to back in Guadalupe Church for sure, but still! Her true form was a She-Devil?

Georgia Spelvin's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Now who told you that's my true form, li'l boy?"

"Wait, you and Jenny fought another demon like her?" asked Isaiah, startling Galang. This telepathic communication between fellow angels and demons was more trouble than it was worth!

As Spelvin strode towards Regina, the two judges beside her turned to dust, which made the hairs at the back of Florante's neck stand on end while beside him, Isaiah turned blue in horror.

Georgia then told Regina telepathically without regard to the two angels who'd overhear, "Now's your chance to use the power you've absorbed from everyone in this talent show to take control of your Minion form."

And soon both Galang and Pascual saw clear as day the literal talent flow like neon tendrils of spiritual energy from the unconscious contestants to Spelvin's hand into a floating sphere of energy. Like an aurora borealis.

The demons had weaponized their passion and used it to their abusive advantage. How devilish of them to do so, but that was to be expected.

Quite a bit of the metaphysical ball of talent then got transferred unto Regina in the form of a seeming solar flare.

Then, like a ghost, the demonic Spelvin vanished and faded into existence.  

From there, Regina opened her mouth, resisted the urge to transform into her geometric self, and sung a song to end the world.

***

Dammit.

Why did it feel like the world was always at stake when Florante dealt with an awakening angel? Or demon?

Regina sang a lyricless hymn of the damned that warped their perception of reality. The sound waves from the song kept Florante's attempts at shooting her down with projectiles from hitting her. They kept missing or dissipating around her.

Meanwhile, on Isaiah's part, he didn't know what to do. He didn't want to hurt his friend and classmate. He certainly didn't wish to use that momentum-filled punch on her.

However, she might become even more powerful now than she was when she went berserk with her first awakening.

So Mr. Pascual bravely ran away.

…What?

Regina took a break from her singing that rendered every energy projectile Florante shot at her into harmless heat and light. "What are you doing even here, you fetal alcohol syndrome baby?"  

"AH! You called me that again! Even after I told the teacher on you for bullying me!" exclaimed Florante, who doubled his efforts by shooting Lightning Bolts at himself and storing enough power inside his body to resist Regina's repellant sound waves.

"You're such a li'l snitch, you dork," Regina said with a roll of her eyes. "You're a wimp and a coward to boot. Shame on you."

She then started humming at a specific frequency that resonated with the rest of the building.

Florante considered asking her if she remembered him killing her in his fever dream, but he pushed such thoughts away before they could fully form into words in his head, fearing she'd overhear him telepathically.

The sound waves from her voice came at a shorter-wave vibrato, almost like a bird's trill, which echoed across the amphitheater then transmitted unto the rest of the structure, making its very foundations shake and dance to the beat of her wordless song.

And so the room and the building started to rumble and shake from the droning hum of Regina's powerful singing pipes.

Soon, all the glass panes and mirrors nearby broke or went on the verge of shattering. Deep faults and hairline cracks appeared from the windows to the plaster walls while the floor below them and the ceiling above them trembled like scared children.

Florante hesitated, with him second-guessing himself now that he realized his past dreams weren't dreams and he and everyone else could die for real if the whole building were to collapse upon them.

However, just in the nick of time, Pascual returned, blasting through the wall from behind Miss Mariano instead and pushing—not punching or striking—her forward.

It took the next second for Florante to realize Pascual might've probably run the entire block or even globe and back to produce enough kinetic energy to penetrate through Regina's melodic defenses with supersonic might.

Regardless, that momentous push did the trick. It stopped the building from crumbling to dust just in time.

However, to Pascual's horror, he went overboard and built up enough momentum to push Mariano away with the strength of a freight train.

"AAHH…! Pascual…!?"

"Oh no! GINA…! I'm SORRY!"

For a split-second, the sonic siren changed into the geometric object Isaiah described from before. She was hard to miss, with her occupying most of the amphitheater.

She probably shifted into that form for self-preservation's sake. Otherwise, she would've turned into a messy red stain of blood and guts on the ceiling and walls.  

Florante couldn't believe what he just saw. He also couldn't react in time before the geometric fallen angel did a banshee shriek that blew him away and shattered his eardrums.

"AUGH!" Galang cried out, and when he gnashed his teeth in pain, he felt the enamel on them crack as well, thus worsening his agony.

The supersonic screech of her Minion self lacked the controlled nuance of her human form's song for sure.

However, for Pascual's part, he couldn't be happier. He grinned and exhaled in relief. "Oh, thank goodness, Gina! You're not dea… URK?!"

Regina Mariano finally shifted back to her human form, her hands throttling Isaiah by his neck. "You almost killed me, you jerk!"

"Wait (cough), I-I didn't mean to…!" Isaiah choked out.

"Whatever. I'm going to control this power and become queen of this world. Just you wait and see," she said, dropping Pascual to the floor before she picked up the microphone and began singing again, her heel firmly stepping on Isaiah's face.

A half-conscious Florante thought, "Rule the world…?"

Huh. Why didn't he think of doing that when he first got his powers?

He was too shortsighted with this angel and demon avatar thing that he didn't realize the full implication of his gifts. He'd rather pettily get back at his bullies than aim at something higher. Like world domination.

But to be honest, why would he want to conquer the world? What good would that do? So he'd become President of Earth? A clueless teenager like him should have that responsibility?

Meanwhile, the compromised position Pascual had with him getting stepped on by Regina also made Galang's cheeks warm up.

Mariano kept Isaiah pinned down to the ground by stepping on his face, huh? Florante wished it were him instead.

He shook his head to wave off such sordid thoughts. He needed to set his priorities straight.

Galang attempted to get up and move, but the ground started shaking again. The building creaked and swayed, like a house of cards about to topple over.

What was he supposed to do now? Her singing served as her shield against 100 percent of Florante's myriad of projectiles. His own halo shield couldn't block off Regina's sound waves either. He was a sitting duck.

Also, if he didn't feel like killing the crawling chaos Minion from before, that went double or even triple for his classmate. Not that he could at this rate, but he definitely didn't want to.

Whatever rage he felt for his bullies back in his fever dream had faded away, replaced with shame and embarrassment after he realized he killed them for real back then.

He could only helplessly stare as the ceiling plaster cracked and buckled while bits of dust, rock shards, and debris fell on the unconscious contestants and audience.

They were about to serve as more collateral damage from the awakening of yet another (fallen) angel. Just like Laura Reyes.

According to Pascual, the people who died when he first tried stopping Regina's rampage the first time she awoke remained dead.

They didn't revert back to normal like with what happened when Jenny and Florante defeated the spaghetti monster and the living maelstrom.

Where was Florante's great power and creativity in using them when saving lives? Was he only useful against helpless people, like his powerless bullies before some of them discovered they too had powers?

He was so helpless against Regina that he might as well turn into an Ophanim himself to battle her full force. He didn't remember his monstrous gyroscopic and multi-eyed form having ears, after all. Just endless revolving eyes on fire.

"Wait, you have an monster form too?!" said Isaiah without thinking after hearing Florante's thoughts, as though forgetting (or not believing) Florante claiming they were angels with alternate, monstrous "true" forms.

Oh, right. Angels and demons could sense and communicate telepathically with one another. Florante should keep his thoughts to himself. Isaiah accidentally overheard his thoughts again.

Hold on a minute. He could project his thoughts to those two, couldn't he?

He got it all wrong. He had his priorities straight from the start!

So he stared and focused on his classmates while making his concrete thoughts known to them even as he, a socially awkward teenager, would normally have trouble expressing himself.

The two seemed unaware of how they looked, what with Regina stepping on Isaiah but hesitating to hurt him or finish him off while Isaiah himself didn't seem to mind it one bit.

Also, from the angle where Pascual lay, he could totally look up from under Regina's dress.

The two received the message loud and clear.

Regina screamed and covered herself up while an apologetic Isaiah reassured it wasn't what it looked like.

Mariano did a swift stomp at Isaiah's head that would've squashed it like a watermelon had he not stood up in time. "Manyakis ka! (You pervert!)" she exclaimed. "You're both perverts!"

"You really are a snitch, Florante!" shouted Pascual at his former best friend while backpedaling deftly across multiple unconscious contestants and audience members.

For that fraction of a second though, Regina left herself wide open. So Florante shot her full of light bullets to force her to change into her Ophanim/Minion form.

"LIGHT ARRAY!"

All ten of Florante's energy projectiles hit their target, with each going off like the electromagnetic pulse version of blockbuster bombs.

It wasn't the most honorable tactic, but it worked.

Also, Galang had the presence of mind to envelop himself in his electric wind halo sphere and push Regina backwards from the stadium through several walls up until they were outside the building to save the unconscious people inside the amphitheater from harm.

"Ah! Florante, you bastard…!" the backpedaling Pascual, uh, forward-pedaled towards the pair. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"What do you think I'm doing? I'm saving everyone before… AH!"

Then, from outside the venue, right in the middle of Ortigas, Regina Mariano began to change and shift forms herself. Like with the flying spaghetti monster, Regina's true angel/demon form towered over Florante and Isaiah like a gigantic geometric monument.

A floating blue pyramid that might as well be an alien ship. Or a tinted Star Destroyer from Star Wars.

'Now what?' thought Florante, which only made Pascual scream at him harder. 'Oh right. You can still hear me, huh?'

"Now it's you who hasn't thought things through!?" Isaiah screeched. He then saw images from Galang's memory flash before his eyes.

Of Florante killing both him and Regina.

She actually forced him to act because she was about to kill all those people back in the amphitheater herself.

With misty eyes and a sniffle, Florante said, "I don't want to kill her again, Pascual. Or hurt her any further."

***

To Be Continued…

The first incarnation of "Fantasy of Evolution" in my mind back in the early 2000s  involved Gabriel De Angeles (currently Florante Galang) ending up seeing his best friend J.D. (reminiscent of Isaiah Pascual) dying because of the War of Angels and Demons.

Also, yes. The Ophanim/Minion form of Regina Mariano is reminiscent of Ramiel the Geometric Angel from Neon Genesis Evangelion.

Fascinating how stories and creations change as you yourself develop into a person and as an author, huh?

Farewell, Abdiel

[gabriel-gabdiel]

【Draft】 Fantasy of Evolution Chapter 6: The Dream Journal of a Wimpy Kid

Man, this took quite long to write. Had to adjust my time table to accommodate this. 

I’ll still trying to get the hang of writing original characters as opposed to already established templates when I write fanfic.

This can make them nebulous in characterization. I also have to remember what I’ve established previously before adding anything to their history. 

You can also find more chapters of my original fiction here. Please enjoy.

Back in Fatima High School's science laboratory…

The Biology teacher of Florante Galang and Isaiah Pascual—the soft-spoken Miss Isabelle Del Mundo, known by the faculty by her nickname "Belle" a la the protagonist of Disney's "Beauty and the Beast"—looked over their shoulders to glance and their laboratory work.

After staring intently to check their answers, Ms. Belle Del Mundo said to Florante, "Mr. Galang, don't you think Mr. Pascual should get a chance at looking into the microscope?"

The two former best friends exchanged glances. Pascual was the first to speak.

"We're just about to finish up, Ms. Del Mundo," he said before taking the last slide and putting it onto the microscope so he could peer at it.

"Well," she said after a moment of deliberation, "then go ahead, boys. Remember, this is a cooperative exercise between lab partners, okay?"

She then walked away.

After she left, Florante began doodling on his notebook.

"Florante," said Isaiah in an almost whiny voice. "I don't know what I'm looking at. Help."

With a sigh, Florante whispered, "The last two we haven't found are prometaphase and telaphase. Telaphase is easy because it's the cell splitting into two. If it's not split into two, it's probably prometaphase."

"How do you spell that, bro?"

"Come on, man."

The two exchanged glances again.

"I'm just kidding, Florante."

"Haha. Funny stuff. Can you spell it or not?"

"Yeah, of course. It's something like 'Pro' as in 'Pro-wrestling', 'Meta' as in 'Metabolic', and then P-H-A-S-E for 'Phase', right?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"The slide I got is probably the pro-something one, by the way. The cell hasn't split."

"Gotcha," said Florante as he took the slide and labeled it. "The last one's probably telaphase but look at it just in case."

"Yep, it's a split cell," Isaiah confirmed after changing microscope slides. "You saved my bacon, bro. Thanks," he added.

Florante harrumphed. "I saved the both of us. You're not going to drag my grade down with you."

And, just as Galang was about to wave off him hearing Pascual talk earlier about his fever dream of massacring students as his imagination running wild, his imagination apparently chose that moment to run wild again.

"You remember killing me, don't you?" said the pokerfaced Pascual in a deadpan monotone. "You blew my head off and did all sorts of nasty things to our other classmates."

Isaiah sounded like something out of a horror story. Thusly, Florante resisted the urge to scream, his blood running cold once again.

Was Galang going mad? This wasn't happening, was it? Or was he in a dream again? He hadn't gone off the deep end yet, had he?

He should check out his dream journal when he got home, just in case. It helped him differentiate when something was a dream and wasn't.

It was his sole tether to sanity and objective reality at this point.

***

Fantasy of Evolution

An Urban Fantasy Story by Abdiel

Who keeps dream journals of their nonsensical dreams as though they have any bearing with reality? Florante does, but his is a special case.

Disclaimer: This work may reference copyrighted material, the use of which has not always been specifically authorized by the copyright owner. It is believed that this constitutes a fair use of any such copyrighted material as provided for in Section 107 of the US Copyright Law. All copyrighted material referred to in this work belongs to their respective owners. All rights reserved.

***

Chapter 6: The Dream Journal of a Wimpy Kid

***

Sometimes, Florante Galang wondered if he got bullied because he deserved it.

Nine times out of ten, he'd say no. No one deserved to be bullied the way he got bullied. However, one of those ten times he might reconsider that maybe he got what he deserved because he did something wrong.

Like that one dentist who didn't recommend this or that brand of toothpaste even though nine others did.

His feeling of inadequacy and insecurity haunted him. Maybe he had it coming. Maybe he was asking for it.

Maybe nines times out of ten, he had a brief moment of self-awareness. He got bullied because he committed the grave sin of social ineptitude.

Maybe he just needed to fit in with his classmates better. Maybe even though they were mean to him, they were mostly excellent to one another, so maybe there was wrong something with him instead.

Maybe he should be the one to adjust to them instead of the other way around.

Maybe a large portion of his life leading up to this moment was a series of huge mistakes of which he learned nothing.

Maybe he should emulate their behavior except the part where they were being jerks to him.  

Or maybe he should be a jerk to other weirdoes while rewarding manly behavior exhibited the jocks and tough guys in his class. Find someone weaker than him to pick on so he wouldn't be the one picked on by everyone.

Maybe he simply needed to fit in with his bullies. Maybe he merely needed to grow up like his asshole classmates, who themselves were already having hookups, parties, and girlfriends.

Meanwhile, like a child, he couldn't even hold a romantic conversation with a girl his age, with him stuck in the Friend Zone for all of the girls he was actually in good terms with.

He might even have the E.Q. (emotional quotient) of a child too, or at least that was what his mother and teachers kept telling him. Arrested development, if you would.

Outside the Dead Kids, he simply couldn't find a niche or clique in Fatima School and its roughly 800 high school students, specifically the 200 or so students in his year.  

He rationalized that he couldn't relate to people his age. Despite what his mother suggested, he was friendlier towards people who were older than him, like college-aged students, teachers, or grownups.

However, even then he wasn't really all that close to anyone in school. Perhaps the truth of the matter was that he couldn't relate to people period and he was a gigantic weirdo or doofus.

He'd end up eating alone outside the cafeteria, near the boiler room, or under the mango trees with the circular concrete seats surrounding them again.

Anyway, at least he had an okay I.Q. (intelligence quotient). He sometimes made it to the Top 10 of the class. Sometimes. Bottom three, usually. So at least he wasn't completely pathetic academically.

He was back to his usual ritual of barely eating lunch and finding ways and places to hide himself in the school every recess and lunch break so he wouldn't look like (more of) a total loser to his peers.

Like eating inside the boy's bathroom or spending time at the computer lab or library instead of eating.

This was probably why Mark Zuniga—one of Gerry Jacinto's closest friends and right-hand man, also one of the guys Florante had difficulty killing in his oft-referenced nightmare—had always teased him of having the figure of a 9-year-old girl instead of a 14-year-old boy.

He was skin and bones practically. The wimpiest of kids. Certain girls in the varsity team could probably outdo him in athletics, he was so pathetic.

So it was probably this insecurity that led him to dream the dreams he dreamt. He had also called them nightmares because it involved him murdering his bullies.

However, if it were proverbial rather than literal murder—like him imagining their murder in his hands to let off some steam from their bullying without ever daring to do it for real—he'd understand how these dreams could be considered as the power fantasies of the powerless.

Like parents wanting to kill their misbehaving children without really meaning it.

Or maybe his being a terrible person who deserved all the bullying he ever got was just the dose of self-awareness he needed.

Maybe he should stop being so dependent on what other people thought. As long as he followed his own moral compass, they had no business dictating how he lived his life!

If he left them alone then they should leave him alone. Right?

As long as he didn't hurt anyone else (so again, he crossed his fingers that his dream murders were nothing more than dreams), he didn't need anyone's approval.

***

As the class returned from the lab to further discuss cell mitosis or whatever, Pascual played catch-up with Galang, walking beside him and asking him how he'd been doing.

Or more like Isaiah talked and Florante half-listened, waiting for the other shoe to drop in regards to them sharing memories of something that only happened in his, well, their dreams.

Maybe Florante misheard him the first time? He didn't know. He merely asked him for the time instead, wishing to change the subject.

"What time is it?" said Florante, who forgot to wear his watch.

"Let me see. It's skin thirty," Pascual said with a straight face while pointing at his bare wrist.

It took Florante a minute to "get it".

"Oh."

They then both shared a hearty laugh, with Florante laughing in spite of himself.

Dammit, Galang missed this. He missed talking his former best friend; this endearing guy and his sharp wit. Too bad their friendship went south in the end.

Pascual then told him about the rumors he heard about him.

How Florante had ended up with the infamous Dead Kids of the Fatima High School campus.

How he finally got his bullies to let up with their bullying by listing their names and sending them to his teacher. (A teacher actually did something after catching Florante's bullies in the act).

How he started wooing(!?) their classmate Jennifer Tolentino.

"I wasn't wooing anyone, don't be weird," Florante told Pascual off. "I just want to be better friends with her, that's all."

Or be friends again at all. They were supposed to be friends when they first met during the first day of school, but they then drifted apart. Kind of like the situation between Pascual and him, to be honest.

Florante avoided looking Isaiah in eye all this time out of embarrassment of being told a multitude of gossip, rumors, and half-truths about himself.

At the same time, he had to also avoid getting caught stealing glances at Jenny from time to time as she walked on ahead of them alongside Laura.

Her bespectacled face was such a distraction that he tried not to look at her as much as possible too, only to end up staring back at Pascual and his nonsense.

He didn't know where to look. The floor, perhaps? Or how about the ceiling?

There he was again, falling in love with another girl who gave him an ounce of attention. Or kissed him in his dreams.

Once back in the classroom, Florante returned to his seat and tried to listen to Ms. Del Mundo's lecture, who used an overhead projector to project transparencies onto the blackboard with the windows and shades closed.

He couldn't manage his thoughts. Was he hearing things with Pascual? Did he really say what he thought he heard him say?

***

For a change, as the bell rung and Biology class ended, Pascual continued talking to Galang. Usually, no one bothered to in their class.

As of late, before she went absent for a week, it had been Jenny, but only sometimes.  

"Jenny seems friendlier to you now than before," was the icebreaker he went with. "You even had lunch with her with your gang."

'Humph. My gang, huh?' Florante thought, with Pascual avoiding calling them their infamous name of "Dead Kids".

To Isaiah, Galang went with, "Yeah, I guess," while also wondering aloud, "I wonder why she was absent for so long."

"There's been a cold bug spreading. Must've been the change in weather."

"Yeah, that must be it."

Florante frowned, though it felt more like the petulant pout of a child. He looked away while resisting the urge to stick his tongue out childishly at Isaiah for good measure.

He couldn't focus on his former best friend's chatter as they grabbed their bags with their P.E. (Physical Education) uniforms and proceeded to P.E. class at the gymnasium.  

Mixed-gender volleyball at the gym didn't catch much of Florante's attention either. He ended up playing with Pascual and his friends though, which was a relief.

Usually, their P.E. teacher had to force one of the cliques or groups in Section St. Francis to include Florante with them.

Or he ended up with the rest of the social outcasts who couldn't find a group to team up with.

After doing warm-up exercises and partner drills, they had a simultaneous mini-tournament of sorts. Multiple five-member teams ended up doing a set of games until P.E. period was over.

Florante was in a team composed of four guys—two of them Isaiah and Florante himself—and one girl up against a team of three guys and two girls.

Naturally, Florante Galang sucked at P.E. in general and volleyball in particular.

His volleyball returns resulted in shots that went outside and teammates that covered his position so he wouldn't bungle the shot.

However, strangely enough, both Isaiah and even Jenny (who played against another team at an adjacent net) cheered him on, leading him to surprise himself by serving the volleyball decently, even scoring an ace or two.

Sure, their team lost in the end, but at least the unathletic Florante was able to somewhat contribute when normally he couldn't.

Well then. The day ended up better than he expected!

***

At the locker room, while the class either changed back to their regular uniforms or just gathered their belongings to head out of the school for dismissal time, Pascual continued talking to Florante, making him self-conscious.

The introvert felt tired from all the talking—well, half-listening—he did for so long. His social "health bar" was spent.

To explain, introverts tended to shy away from social gatherings because being in such situations took a toll on their energy. They could only take so much before becoming anxious or nervous wrecks.

Even though Pascual and Florante were having mostly one-on-one (or rather, one-sided) conversations instead of a more open social encounter with multiple people, Pascual's sudden over-friendliness after they'd acted like strangers for so long had depleted Florante's tolerance for this very social situation.

"…Oh, I remember that one time, in the grade school playground, you were playing alone, pretending to be Rambo or something, tying a bandanna on your forehead…!"

"All right, ALL RIGHT! That's enough," said Florante, who now focused his full attention on his ex-friend Pascual. "I get the picture."  

By the way, his bullies caught him playing alone as a high school kid, since he spent his grade school in Makati.

"Sorry," apologized Isaiah. "You're not going to zap my brain to mush again, are you?"

This jolted Florante awake from any more random thoughts. He was hoping the earlier declaration from Pascual was just his imagination, but no such luck.

Galang's eyebrows knit together in concentration for the first time the whole day, like he just suddenly noticed that the things happening around him didn't make sense because he was merely dreaming.

Like someone between the verge of sleepiness and wakefulness.

He then exhaled, mumbled, "Susmaryosep," under his breath, and said, "No. I only have those powers when I'm dreaming, not in real life."

The daydreaming asthmatic didn't want to look like a fool and shoot nonexistent laser bullets at one of his bullies, thank you very much.

Isaiah gave him a quizzical look. "You can totally shoot your power beams or whatever right now."

Florante scoffed at the idea. "No, I can't. That's not how this works. I need to be dreaming in order for me to use those powers. Because none of it is real."

Pascual raised an eyebrow at that. "You sure about that?"

Galang also raised an eyebrow in kind. "What do you mean?"

So Isaiah clarified. "You don't need to dream to use your powers."

What. Now hold on a minute there!

"No, I can't. That wasn't real. That was just a dream," Florante dismissed the very notion until something else occurred to him.

"Hey, Pascual. How'd you know about my dreams?"

Although Isaiah had been talking up a storm since Biology class, Florante could now notice his hands gripping the edge of the bench they sat on in the locker with immense tension.

Like a squashed bed spring ready to uncoil.

Had Isaiah been acting this nervous around him this entire time? Was he talking nonstop to help calm his nerves?

Why was he so afraid of him…? Oh.

No please. Not this again. Not Florante questioning whether his dream happened or not again! Anything but that!

"Florante Galang," Isaiah Pascual said. "That wasn't a dream. You really did kill us all."

No. NO. That couldn't be. No, no, no. Shut up, Pascual.

Pascual continued. "Was that how you were able to cope with what happened? You waved off everything as a dream?"

"NO! What happened was a dream!" said Florante.

"You always had the power. It's as plain as the nose on your face," said Isaiah.

"But you can't see the nose on your face unless you look in a mirror," said Galang.

"Then let me be that mirror on your face. It wasn't a dream," said Pascual.

Florante was a good person. Or so he told himself. He didn't really kill all his bullies. He only imagined he did using the silliest and most childish of fantasies.

"Just because you were somehow able to reset everything back to the way things were doesn't mean you've completely undone what you did."

"SHUT UP!" Florante productively released his anger, malice, and frustrations in that dream because he was powerless in real life! Also, who had superpowers in real life? How absurd!

It was then that Florante noticed that Isaiah hadn't taken off his P.E. uniform yet even as the introvert himself immediately took those clothes off and changed into his school uniform.

"We remember everything. I remember everything you've done. And what a monster you were back then."

No no no nonono. Florante was not the monster Mammon accused him of! None of it was real! This wasn't real either! He was dreaming again, wasn't he?

Florante was bullied all his life and had never stood up for himself because he was scared that he'd get humiliated emotionally, tortured mentally, ostracized socially, or beat up physically.

The bullies in his life had always silenced him but the one time he struck back and silenced them instead, he was the bad guy?

How was that fair? He was solely responsible for losing control? For going werewolf? They could do whatever they wanted with him?

Before the asthmatic could let out a wheezy exhale, Isaiah disappeared from view then the whole world became a blur.

***

The drizzle of rain had become mist by the time they ended up suddenly in the streets, leaving a trail of devastation behind them.

It took a minute before Florante Galang realized that Isaiah Pascual had just pushed him from the gym lockers all the way through the soccer field, right past part of the high school building, to the back of the school wall, right into open traffic, with one hand to his chest.

They busted through wall, brick, concrete, and plaster like a bulldozer.

It all happened within a second. Or a fraction of a second. Before Galang's eyes could even blink or his mind could register what had happened.

Wait. So Pascual was actually an angel too? Or maybe even a demon? An Ophanim or a Minion? Like the spaghetti monster or the maelstrom man?

The impact should've caved in Florante's chest. Not to mention his bones broken and dislocated in 30 different places.

He might've even ended up like roadkill too, if not for his Ophanim halo that he learned to control back when he faced against the eldritch shadow man.

Thankfully, a combination of light energy and gale winds formed a protective vacuum cocoon around Galang's body that kept him safe from harm. His own halo effect, if you would.

Isaiah just looked at the untouched Florante, his palm outstretched, his jaw agape, before he gave him a sheepish grin. "Hehehe. Didn't expect that, did you?"

"You have superpowers?"

"Yep. See? And so do you… AH! Please don't blow my brains out!"

Isaiah flinched or perhaps even overreacted at Florante stepping towards him, with him unleashing a flurry of blows.

"I wasn't! OW! Stop punching me!" One of the fists hit Florante's nose before he could summon his light wind dome again and blocked the rest of the blows.

Something else then dawned to Florante as he surveyed how far they went out. "You… you almost killed me!"

He considered taking a swing at his former friend, but settled with attempting to catch him.

However, Isaiah disappeared the instant Galang tried grabbing his arm. Like a fly disappearing before the fly swatter could hit it.

By instinct, Florante jumped back into the sidewalk as a car beeped at him.

He then looked around. Several onlookers began gathering around the scene of devastation, particularly near what was left of what was once a wall and a planter's box.

Isaiah ran away and Florante was about to follow suit when he felt something coming at him from behind. 'What…?'

Instead of multiple supersonic punches, Galang got hit by a single spine-tingling punch that actually dented his halo shield and rattled him to the bones.

Then it hit him again. And again.

",..Can't catch me, Slowpoke!"

Multiple Pascuals kept appearing and disappearing, punching his weakening halo shield with a punch that came at Florante stronger and faster by the second.

What was this? In his panic, Florante figured what Isaiah did. He ran in a tight circle at supersonic speeds and incrementally increased the momentum of his punch until it reached an irresistible power at an unstoppable level.

Sneaky bastard.

The more time passed, the faster the momentous punch got and the harder it was for Florante's halo to resist it. Isaiah might actually break through his hallowed field. What was he supposed to do?

"…Lightning BOLT!"

Florante thusly summoned lightning from the drizzling skies just as the infinite mass punch shattered his halo vacuum field, which electrocuted Pascual while energized Galang.

This jolted and froze Pascual, but his forward momentum remained, which prompted Florante to finally dodge one of the continuous punches with the speed of racecar going through a racetrack that he'd been absorbing all that time with his halo.

The resulting blockbuster explosion blasted both of them thirty or so feet clear into the gray skies.

***

The next thing Florante knew, he'd landed on the roof(?!) of the Fatima High School Building. What the hell.

He looked around him to see where he was. He felt a tingling sensation travel across his extremities. His acrophobia (fear of heights) acted up again.

Or maybe that was the millions of volts of electricity he'd just absorbed before making Isaiah miss, resulting in a blast from his massive punch that jettisoned them from the streets of Mandaluyong to the rooftops of Fatima High.

It was times like this that convinced him that the time when he jumped from rooftop to rooftop in order to experiment upon his powers was just a dream.

An acrophobic would never do anything as crazy as that for real. Also, he had superpowers. Of course it was a crazy dream.

He looked around to make sure he was indeed where he was. That was when he noticed the still figure of Isaiah Pascual.

"Dammit, you weren't this powerful before," was what Florante thought Pascual murmured under his breath.

'Before…?' thought Florante. What did he mean by that?

However, as Galang braced himself for another assault, he realized Pascual's body still hadn't recovered from the electrocution.

Also, because they were on the roof deck of the building, his former best friend has less running room for his running punch.

Most importantly, Florante still had enough energy left from absorbing the millions of volts of electricity from the lightning strike. Perhaps 1.21 gigawatts of power. Perhaps even more than that.

A billion joules of electricity. Enough to power dozens of homes for a day. Or 10 million light bulbs at the same time. Maybe even a flux capacitor on a time-traveling DeLorean.

Should he do it? Should he test out whether this was a dream or not?

Should he hit him with his five-fingered Light Array bullets, which was now practically his finishing move? Or he could use both hands and fire all ten shots?

Nah. That was overkill. Instead, he elected to focus his accumulated power on one closed fist, cocked his arm back, and then shouted, "Thunder BOLT…!"

It made sense. Even though the high school building had a narrow roof deck, Isaiah could still dodge. So Florante might as well shoot his thread-thin concentrated laser that cut through the air and produced a powerful "thunder" or "sonic boom" shockwaves with a wider destructive area.

However, he hesitated at the last minute when he heard Pascual ask, "Thunder Bolt? So what's different between that and that Lightning Bolt you shot earlier?"

Florante couldn't help himself. It had been his pet peeve ever since he saw "Thunder Bolt" and "Lightning Bolt" used interchangeably in anime, manga, action games, and RPGs.

"Well, obviously, a Lightning Bolt is the bolt of electricity. The thunder comes after the lightning bolt, correct? It's the rumbling sound from the shockwaves of a sonic boom. So to me Thunder Bolt is basically just making creating a sonic boom."

"Oh, I see. I never thought of it that way."

The two then just stared at each other for a hot minute, with Galang allowing his rivulets of electric might from his fist fade away as he relaxed his shoulders and stopped cocking back his fist.

Pascual himself finally relaxed his own stance, which looked like a runner who was ready to turn and bolt out of there.

***

The two former best friends sat down on the roof deck overlooking Fatima High.

Florante sat down beside Pascual, with both doing the "Indian sit" or "Indian style" sitting position with their legs crossed underneath them, which was often linked to stereotypical portrayals of Native Americans.

It was believed to be rooted on a meditation or yoga pose from India known as the "Lotus Position".

They had shared a hearty laugh, with Isaiah stating, "Of course only you can come up with something as nerdy as that!" while Florante himself protested, "You're the one to speak! You were the one who brought that up to me!"

Pascual blinked three times then tilted his head to the side. "I did? I don't remember."

"You totally did! That's why I made it a point to use a different kind of attack when doing a Thunder Bolt and Lightning Bolt!" said a grinning, nostalgic Galang.

The two pals then sat down while the rest of the world stood still. The damage they'd wrought on the rooms, walls, and streets earlier slowly but surely disappeared, as though they didn't even touch anything.

Curious. Then again, this only affirmed Florante's stance that his actions were from dreams. Perhaps extra-lucid dreams than normal, but dreams nonetheless.

"Maaan, I can't believe you've grown this strong already," said Isaiah with a scratch of his cheek. "I guess I should've expected it. You were among the first to awaken, weren't you?"

"I guess? What do you mean by awaken, though?" he asked.

"Just what like it sounds like," Pascual said. "It's when you wake up your powers."

So it wasn't just him. It was also Gerry Jacinto. And Laura Reyes. And now, Isaiah Pascual. They all "awakened" to having their own superpowers along with Florante.

"Hey, Pascual," Florante called out, "you're an angel too, aren't you?"

"…Angel?" Isaiah said.

"That's what Jenny Tolentino called us," Galang continued, brushing his damp hair bangs back and heaving a heavy, asthmatic wheeze. "Angels. Demons. Either or."

"Demons, huh?" Pascual rubbed his shoulder. "Yeah, I guess you can call her that. Maybe even monster."

"…Her?"

Pascual hesitated from revealing anything more. "Sooo how does Jenny know all this?"

Florante replied, "She's one of us. She's also an angel."

Pascual smirked. "Isn't that just your crush on her talking?"

"What? No," Florante denied, but he has second thoughts. So far, everything tracked. Jenny confirmed they were angels then they fought against multiple demons.

She was telling him the truth, right? But then again, Pascual seemed unaware of the origins of their powers as he was before he met up with Jennifer.

She must've told them the truth. He trusted her.

"Wait, she hasn't talked to you about it?" asked Florante.

"No, it's the first time I learned she even has powers like us," said Pascual.

"That's strange," said Florante. "So you didn't know we're angels and demons?"

"Not a clue," said Pascual. "For all I know, we've become like the X-Men or something. Mutants who've awakened our superpowers, you know?"

"That makes sense," said a wistful Galang. "We might be the next evolution of man. Deities. Or gods. Or heroes."

"Or villains. Or demons. Or monsters…" Isaiah trailed off.

"What happened?" Florante asked.

"I-It's nothing," Isaiah said, but then exhaled and shrugged. "It's about Regina…"

"Regina Mariano?" Florante repeated, remembering the girl as the one who said he had fetal alcohol syndrome. He also remembered blasting her until she turned to ash in his fever dream. "What happened to her?"

***

By the time Florante and Isaiah jumped out of the rooftop, everything went back to normal. No hole in the wall. No broken glass windows. No interrupted traffic outside of the school. It was if they'd never fought.

Another reset had happened, which made Galang presume that his fever dream was one of those resets. Nevertheless, he had to face facts.

He unfortunately did kill his classmates, but something happened so that it never happened and faded away like a dream.

Regardless, Isaiah gave Florante the lowdown on what happened to Regina.

She had awakened her powers like Isaiah, Jennifer, and Florante did. In Jenny's case, she awoke as an angel avatar many decades ago, in the 1960s.

Long story short, Regina had awakened as a mindless Ophanim or perhaps even a Minion. Like the crawling chaos or the spaghetti monster from before, she ended up becoming an out of control monster that Isaiah couldn't stop.

Come to think of it, Florante left out that little detail of him visiting Jenny's apartment in his dreams after seeing her name-alike in a yearbook at the library.

However, because of the nature of their powers, he had an inkling suspicion that his visit to the Tolentino abode actually happened.

Like how his brief battle with Isaiah actually happened before their collective lucid fantasy disappeared right in their own eyes.

God dammit all to hell. So he really did kill his classmates. He really did kill Laura.

A wave of shame washed over him. What he thought was him releasing pent-up stress harmlessly was him actually harming his bullies as revenge. Like a school shooter run amok.

If everything hadn't reset to normal with everyone living and their school left in one piece, he'd be no better than the bullies he so hated.

No, he'd be worse than them. He turned what was supposed to be an eye for an eye revenge and took an arm and a leg as payment for his social humiliation instead.

Never mind, "An eye for an eye makes the world go blind". The term, "An eye for an eye" was created with people like him in mind, who went overboard with their revenge.

He didn't know what to feel. On one hand, he felt horrified, guilty, and ashamed after realizing he had hurt his classmates for real. On the other hand, shamed as he was to admit it, he felt a measure of schadenfreude for mostly, um, unleashing his frustrations on his tormentors.

However, he wanted to crawl under a rock and die over the realization that he really did kill his former crush, Laura Reyes, as collateral damage for his mad killing spree. Ditto his teacher who merely got in his way.

Everything went back to normal and everyone ended up alive, but he still felt dirty realizing he really did all those things. He wasn't so innocent after all.

No wonder Jenny kept acting so guarded around him. On top of him stalking her! He needed to have more self-awareness!

The more he thought about it, the more he realized he was screwed.

What he originally thought was harmless was now considered beyond the pale. He felt like someone pulled the rug from under him.

What if there was no reset button? What if they stayed dead? He'd have ruined their lives and his own life forever.

He didn't mean to. He just wanted them to leave him alone. Even if they didn't end up friends or acquaintances, just let him be. Let bygones be bygones, dammit.

That breakfast, he ate his sandwich and drank his orange juice in a hurry. For once, he felt somewhat excited to go to school. Not because he was some nerd looking forward to tests and quizzes or something.

He certainly didn't go there to meet up with any friends save for his Dead Kids acquaintances. No, if he was being honest with himself, he knew he was eager to get to school to see Jennifer Tolentino again.

No, no. Well, yes. He did want to see his crush again. But aside from that, he was looking forward to using his powers for good for once—to help a (former) best friend in need save his new girl friend (not girlfriend) from herself.

If anything, it was his way of alleviating his guilt over actually killing his classmates for real! He owed it to all the bullies he killed.

Hmmm. So if memory served him correct, the angels who'd been chosen as candidates on the position of Archangel Gabriel was Florante, Isaiah, Regina, Gerry, and  Laura.

Maybe also Mark Zuniga? No, no. Mark only stabbed Florante. Gerry was the one who awakened his own powers, followed by Laura. In his "fever dream" that wasn't really a dream.

***

Regina Mariano appeared normal enough when she got to school. However, as Isaiah Pascual would explain later, she'd actually gotten mixed up with a "bad crowd".

If Florante could hazard a guess, she must've ended up being manipulated by another full-fledged demon avatar like Mammon.

They all attended classes like usual, with Isaiah giving Florante looks here and there to remind him of their plans to, "save" Regina after school.

From how Isaiah described her, her Ophanim/Minion form or biblically accurate angel/demon form was reminiscent of a geometric form. An object instead of an organism. An abstraction instead of something concrete.

Isaiah admitted he was no match against her and her growing power, but he thought that maybe with Florante's help, they could beat the sense out of his friend.

Galang told Pascual about how Ophanims were actually awakened with the purpose of becoming avatars of famous angels or demons like Gabriel or Raphael. However, it hadn't sunk in that Isaiah, Regina, and Florante were bound to fight for the position of Gabriel's avatar.

Florante wasn't too clear on how this avatar business worked himself. He made a mental footnote on asking Jennifer more about it later.

Oh right. Jennifer. Should Florante end up facing off with her too? He ended up breaking his promise to her to forget about this angel and demon business.

He felt at times that Jenny seemed so guarded around him. Even hostile at times. Seeing that he had every intention of breaking his promise to her, maybe her behavior was warranted.

No. He had to do this favor to Isaiah. To make it up for killing two of his bullies for real in his fever dream.

He hadn't quite figured out how their powers worked or why things went back to normal after one of them was defeated, but… he was totally doing this right now.

He'd apologize to Jenny later. For now, he had to concentrate on Isaiah's friend Regina.

Sure, Regina wasn't the most pleasant of classmates to Florante, but he really wanted to make up for the sins he committed that haven't actually been erased.

Some of his bullies actually remembered him killing them. Remembered his sins.

His sins that actually happened and were real, despite them disappearing from reality like forgotten dreams.

***

After dismissal time…

It rained particularly heavily that afternoon, such that it took every ounce of the clumsy Florante's concentration to make it out of the school without slipping on a puddle or getting his pants wet from wayward splashes.

He even managed to cling to the nearby chain-link fence of the school's entrance and exit to save himself from falling.

He shook his head, wishing the ground would swallow him whole. As amazing as he and Pascual probably looked earlier with their superhuman feats, he looked downright pathetic with his actual clumsiness.

If he were a girl, perhaps he'd perhaps look more endearing instead of pathetic, like a damsel in distress even. As it was, he felt less of a man for being an uncoordinated klutz with not a single athletic bone in his body.

It was times like this that made him doubt (perhaps hope) that his imagined sins or dark fantasies against his classmates remained as such.

Not that hoping for their misfortune subconsciously was any better but at least it didn't really happen.

Regina Mariano had been hanging out with these shady people after dismissal time and her friend circle—of which Isaiah was a part of—was getting worried about it.

Appropriately enough, she seemed like the poster child for an after-school special on wayward kids who hang out with the wrong crowd.

As typical of such specials, Regina was your average tomboyish girl next door who wore a ponytail haircut and sported a dyed brunette hair that stood out from her tan skin.

Regardless, Pascual insisted that her meetings with these questionable and suspicious persons had something to do with both him and her awakening with their angelic powers.

So what was Regina's deal? Pascual alleged she got into contact with some talent agency and they were going to make her into a star.

However, they instead awakened her angel self and turned her into an outright monster with their schemes.

Pascual attempted to save her, with the stress also triggering his own angel self, but she proved too powerful for him.

As her guy best friend, Isaiah followed her to their offices, feeling that something was afoot. From what Florante could surmise, Regina was a bit of a naïve country bumpkin and the agency was taking advantage of her and various other girls.

That was news to Florante, who only knew Regina for her mean girl antics with him whenever they came across each other.

Then things got weird from there.

For his part, Galang could only wonder if his other encounters with Ophanims or Minions involved such schemes.

The spaghetti monster seemed to fly out of nowhere at the school parking lot. Meanwhile, the undefinable tall shadow man was someone he and Jenny detected along with Mammon in the middle of Makati.

Jeez. Florante could only shake his head. That American-looking white guy was Mammon? The Mammon? Or at least an avatar of his. And Florante himself was supposed to be the avatar of the Archangel Gabriel to boot.

Or he would once he went past being an Ophanim and evolved into Cherubim and Seraphim.

Regardless, Florante skipped his school service ride home in order to commute with Isaiah to somewhere in Ortigas on Isaiah's dime.

They considered using their powers to get there, but they decided to save their energy and use it on saving Regina from herself instead.

***

The duo sneaked (snuck?) around the conference hall where a seeming talent show took place. Some were on stage singing and dancing. Others served as the audience.

On the front row were some well-dressed judges, including a drop-dead gorgeous Caucasian lady who had the looks of a Hollywood actress.

She had blonde hair complimented by her blue eyes. She also wore a flashy gown and shoes that matched her shoes yet seemingly decorated a closed heart.

At the back of the stage were various contestants with numbered sashes, among them was Regina herself.

What was all this now? A talent show? Star Search? Tanghalan ng Kampeon (Contest of Champions)? Or perhaps a beauty pageant like Miss Universe or Binibining Pilipinas (Miss Philippines)?

'What are they planning?' Florante wondered. The setup seemed far too elaborate just to awaken the angel (or demon) within Regina. What was this supposed to accomplish?

Using Pascual's teleportation-like speed, they got through the security guards and ended up at the back of the conference room's audience, with them none the wiser.

It was actually pretty packed in there. Standing room only. So Isaiah and Galang stood and observed what was happening.

In front of them was an ordinary talent show. Like an amazing male singer who sung a Whitney Houston song while sounding nearly exactly like Whitney Houston with his impressive falsetto or female "head voice" range.

A minute later, there was a group of break dancers on stage. From there, a long-haired rocket with an electric guitar did a three-minute guitar solo. Afterwards, another singer, a girl, who was classically trained in opera and sung an operatic version of Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody".

The pair of classmates stood there, mesmerized by the amount of talent before them. Applauding along with the rest of the audience.

Then it happened. Just like with Mammon's Minion, both Florante and Pascual felt the presence of their fellow angel. Or demon. Celestial being, perhaps.

The curtains opened and they saw Regina arrive on stage. It was apparently her turn to sing. However, instead of singing, she instead began to transform.

They then heard a high-pitched screech, like metal crunching on metal, that became fast and painfully loud. Started, Florante looked up, startled.

Galang saw several things at the same time.

Nothing moved in slow motion the way it did in films. Rather, his brain felt like it worked overtime due to an adrenalin rush, allowing him to absorb multiple scenes register in his brain at once.

Maybe it wasn't the same case with the speedster beside him who stared at what happened before him with wide eyes and an unhinged jaw. He couldn't tell.

Regina obviously stood out from the sea of faces staring back at her since she was center stage in this talent show and all, with them wearing the same faces of horror that Pascual did. That Florante probably did as well.

The contestants of the talent show started glowing, as though they themselves had a halo of aura like angels would.

The tendrils of this glowing energy then got sucked around Regina, who herself begun singing a Regine Velasquez song that Florante couldn't quite place.

Florante thought the violently winding soundwaves from Regina's song would converge into a climactic ante, like rapids to a huge waterfall, but then it became a calm lake  that only produced ripples. Just the purest song.

The energies from the audience swirled along with the brightness of the auras of the contestants, but they were weaker comparatively weaker.

This made everyone act lethargic, with the seated viewers slumping down on their chairs and the people standing crumple down on the floor in a dead faint.

All of them did so except the two angels at the back—Regina's classmates—and the judges near the front of the stage. Particularly the pretty woman who looked like Hollywood actress.

"…Pascual?" Regina said, waking from her reverie and breathing into her microphone. Her eyebrows then furrowed as she squinted and focused her eyes on the person beside Pascual. "Wait. Is that… Florante Galang? Why is he with you, Isaiah?"

"Ay palaka! (Ah frog!) She caught on to us! The jig is up!" exclaimed Pascual, which only pissed Florante off.

"Susmaryosep, Pascual! What's the plan now?" complained Galang. "You do have a plan just in case she noticed us, don't you?"

"I didn't think things through! Sue me!" said Isaiah. "Just… help me with her, okay?! Use your powers!"

The Hollywood beauty took a cursory look at the two high school students in uniform and asked Regina, "Friends of yours?"

Regina stared back and forth between the svelte woman and her classmates then nodded, "They're my classmates, Miss Spelvin," she said aloud, through the microphone.

"Please. Call me Georgina," Miss Spelvin do declared.

It was then that Florante and Pascual realized that Miss Spelvin didn't open her mouth when she spoke. Like with Mammon, she communicated telepathically. On a frequency only fellow angels and demons could listen to.

Daring to be brave and remembering his former best friend's request to save Regina from the influence of literal demons, Galang shot a Thunderbolt at Miss Spelvin instead of his other bully classmate.

The spellbinding Spelvin swatted the Thunderbolt away, which created an ear-splitting sonic boom that made the whole place rumble.

For his part, Florante had already covered his ears, but soon Pascual and even Regina followed suit in covering their ears as well.

The three then bore witness to Spelvin changing form from a beautiful blue-eyed blonde Hollywood actress in a blue dress to a a sultry red-skinned demoness with wings, fingernail claws, the wild hair of a harridan, and a black dress seemingly made of the darkest starless night.

An improvement from Mammon's fat gremlin form that Florante and Jenny exposed back in Guadalupe Church for sure, but still. Her true form was a She-Devil?

Georgina Spelvin's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Now who told you that's my true form, li'l boy?"

"Wait, you and Jenny fought another demon like her?" said Isaiah, startling Galang.

This telepathic communication between fellow angels and demons was more trouble than it was worth!

As Spelvin strode towards Regina, the judges beside her turned to dust, which made the hairs at the back of Florante's neck stand on end while beside him, Isaiah turned blue in horror.

She then told her telepathically without regard to the two angels who'd overhear, "Now's your chance to use the power you've absorbed from this talent show to take control of your Minion form."

And soon both Galang and Pascual saw clear as day the literal talent flow like neon tendrils of spiritual energy from the unconscious contestants to Spelvin's hand into a floating sphere of power.

They'd weaponized their passion and used their love to their abusive advantage. How devilish of them to do so, but that was to be expected.

Quite a bit of the metaphysical ball of talent then got transferred unto Regina in the form of a seeming solar flare.

Then, like a ghost, Spelvin vanished. Fading into existence.  

From there, Regina opened her mouth, resisted the urge to transform into her geometric self, and sung a song to end the world.

***

Dammit.

Why did it feel like the world was always at stake when Florante dealt with an awakening angel? Or demon?

Regina sang a lyricless hymn of the damn that warped their perception of reality. The sound waves from the song kept Florante's attempts at shooting her down with projectiles from hitting her.

Meanwhile, on Isaiah's part, he didn't know what to do. He didn't want to hurt his friend and classmate. He certainly didn't wish to do that momentum-filled punch on her.

However, she might even be more powerful now than she was when she went berserk with her first awakening.

So Pascual ran away.

…What?

Regina took a break from her singing that rendered every energy projectile Florante shot at her into harmless heat and light. "What are you doing even here, you fetal alcohol syndrome baby?"  

"AH! You called me that again! Even after I told the teacher on you for bullying!" exclaimed Florante, who doubled his efforts by shooting Lightning  Bolts at himself and holding enough power inside his body to resist Regina's repellant sound waves.

"You're such a li'l snitch, you dork," Regina said with a roll of her eyes. She then started humming with a specific frequency that resonated with the rest of the building.

Florante considered asking her if she remembered him killing her in his fever dream,  but he pushed his thoughts away before they could fully form into words in his head.

The sound waves from her voice came at shorter-wave vibrato, almost like a bird's trill, which echoed across the amphitheater room then transmitted to the rest of the structure, making its very foundations shake and dance to the beat of her wordless song.

And so the room and the building started to rumble and shake from the droning hum from Regina's powerful singing pipes.

Soon, all the glass panes and mirrors on the amphitheater cracked and went on the verge of shattering. Hairline cracks appeared everywhere while the floor below them and the ceiling above them moved.

Florante hesitated, with him second-guessing himself now that he realized his past dreams weren't dreams and he and everyone else could die for real if the whole building were to collapse on them.

However, just in the nick of time, Pascual returned, blasting through the wall from behind Miss Mariano and pushing, not punching or striking, her forward.

It took the next second for Florante to realize Pascual might've probably run the entire globe and back to produce enough kinetic energy to penetrate through Regina's melodic defenses with supersonic might.

Regardless, that momentous push did the trick. It stopped the building from crumbling just in time.

However, to Pascual's horror, he went overboard and built up enough momentum to push Mariano away with the strength of a freight train.

"AAHH…! Pascual…!?"

"Oh no! GINA…! I'm SORRY!"

For a split-second, the sonic siren changed into the geometric object Isaiah described her as. She was hard to miss, with her occupying most of the amphitheater.

She probably shifted into that form for self-preservation's sake. Otherwise, she would've turned into a messy red stain of blood and guts on the ceiling and walls.  

Florante couldn't believe what he just saw. He also couldn't react in time before the geometric fallen angel did a banshee shriek that blew him away and shattered his eardrums.

"AUGH!" Galang cried out, and when he gnashed his teeth, he felt the enamel on them crack as well, thus worsening his pain.

The supersonic screech of her Minion self lacked the controlled nuance of her human form's song for sure.

However, for Pascual's part, he couldn't be happier. He grinned and exhaled in relief. "Oh, thank goodness, Gina! You're not dea… URK?!"

Regina Mariano finally shifted back to her human self, her hands throttling Isaiah by his neck. "You almost killed me, you jerk!"

"Wait (cough), I-I didn't mean to…!" Isaiah choked out.

"Whatever. I'm going to control this power and become queen of this world. Just you wait and see," she said, dropping Pascual to the floor before she picked up the microphone and began singing again, her heel firmly stepping on Isaiah's face.

A half-conscious Florante thought, "Rule the world…?" Huh. Why didn't he think of doing that when he first got his powers?

The compromised position Pascual had, with him getting stepped on by Regina also made Galang's cheeks warm. Mariano kept Isaiah pinned down to the ground by stepping on his face, huh? He wished it were him instead.

He shook his head to wave off such sordid thoughts. He needed to set his priorities straight.

He was too shortsighted with this angel and demon avatar thing that he didn't realize the full implication of his gifts. He'd rather pettily get back at his bullies than aim at something higher.

But to be honest, why would he want to conquer the world? What good would that do? So he'd become President of Earth? A clueless student like him would have more responsibility? Who'd want that?

Galang attempted to get up and move, but the ground started shaking again. The building creaked and swayed, like a house of cards about to topple over.

What was he supposed to do now? Her singing served as her shield against 100 percent of Florante's myriad of projectiles. His own halo shield couldn't block off Regina's sound waves either. He was a sitting duck.

Also, if he didn't feel like killing the crawling chaos Minion from before, that went double or even triple for his classmate. Not that he could at this rate, but he definitely didn't want to.

Whatever rage he felt for his bullies back in his fever dream faded away, replaced with shame and embarrassment after he realized he killed them for real back then.

He could only helplessly stare as the ceiling plaster cracked and buckle while bits of dust and debris fell on the unconscious contestants and audience.

They were about to serve as more collateral damage from the awakening of yet another (fallen) angel.

According to Pascual, the people who died when he first tried stopping Regina's rampage the first time she awoke remained dead.

They didn't revert back to living like with what happened when Jenny and Florante defeated the spaghetti monster and the living maelstrom.  

Where was his power and creativity when saving lives? Was he only useful against helpless people, like his bullies before some of them discovered they too had powers?

He was so helpless against Regina that he might as well turn into an Ophanim himself to battle her with full force. He didn't remember his monstrous gyroscopic and multi-eyed form having ears, after all. Just endless revolving eyes.

"Wait, you have an monster form too?!" said Isaiah without thinking after hearing Florante's thoughts, as though forgetting (or not believing) Florante claiming they were angels with alternate, monstrous "true" forms.

Oh, right. Angels and demons could sense and communicate telepathically with one another. Florante should keep his thoughts to himself. Isaiah accidentally overheard his thoughts.

Hold on a minute. He could project his thoughts to those two, couldn't he?

He got it all wrong. He had his priorities straight from the start.

So he stared and focused on his classmates while making his concrete thoughts known to them even when he, a socially awkward teenager, would normally have trouble expressing himself.

The two seemed unaware of how they looked, what with Regina stepping on Isaiah but hesitating to hurt him or finish him off while Isaiah himself didn't seem to mind it one bit.

Also, from the angle where Pascual lay, he could actually look up from under Regina's dress.

The two received the message loud and clear.

Regina screamed and covered herself up while an apologetic Isaiah reassured it wasn't what it looked like.

Mariano did a swift stomp at Isaiah's head that would've squashed it like a watermelon had he not stood up in time. "Manyakis ka! (You pervert!)" she exclaimed. "You're both perverts!"

"You really are a snitch, Florante!" shouted Pascual at his former best friend while backpedaling deftly across multiple unconscious contestants and audience members.

For that fraction of a second though, Regina left herself wide open. So Florante shot her full of light bullets to force her to change into her Ophanim/Minion form.

"LIGHT ARRAY!"

All ten of Florante's Light Bullets hit their target, with each going off like the electromagnetic pulse version of blockbuster bombs.

Also, Galang had the presence of mind to envelop himself in his electric wind halo and push Regina backwards from the stadium through several walls up until they were outside the building to save the unconscious people inside the amphitheater from harm.

"Ah! Florante, you bastard…!" the backpedaling Pascual, uh, forward-pedaled towards the pair. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"What do you think I'm doing? I'm saving everyone before… AH!"

Then, from outside the venue, right in the middle of Mandaluyong, Regina Mariano began to change and shift forms.

Like with the flying spaghetti monster, Regina's true angel/demon form towered over Florante and Isaiah like a gigantic geometric monument. A floating blue pyramid that might as well be an alien ship. Or a tinted Star Destroyer from Star Wars.

'Now what?' thought Florante, which only made Pascual scream at him harder. 'Oh right. You can still hear me, huh?'

"Now its you who didn't think things through!?" Isaiah screeched. He then saw images from Galang's memory flash before his eyes.

Of Florante killing both him and Regina.

With misty eyes and a sniffle, Florante said, "I don't want to kill her again. Or hurt her any further."

She actually forced him to act because she was about to kill all those people back in the amphitheater herself.

"Florante, look out!" a voice from behind them said.

Their world went topsy-turvy again, and Galang wasn't sure if the Minion form of the demonic and geometric pyramid Regina was responsible.

The next thing he knew, he saw darkness just before he heard the shattering crunch of a car folding around a truck bed. He then realized he'd been wrapped in a cocoon of vines from head to toe.

The green tendrils receded from his person before he attempted breaking free of them. He then got up in time to see Jennifer Tolentino entangling Pascual with those same vines, a trickle of blood flowing from her forehead, her signature glasses missing.

"Jenny…!" blurted out a confused Florante, not knowing what to say.

"You broke your promise, Flor," whispered Jenny, the words filling Galang with shame. "We'll talk about this later."

Then, from right beside them, Florante saw double. Two Pascuals.

"Wha…?" Galang trailed off, at a loss for words. The second Pascual, he realized, was the one who asked him to watch out. So who was the first Pascual…?

The vine-entangled Isaiah Pascual smirked and changed back to the Hollywood beauty from before. Miss Georgina Spelvin, if Florante recalled correctly.

He didn't have the chance to notice anything else when he realized a van was headed their way. The geometric form of Regina had started singing again, and things beyond Galang's ken started happening all around them.

The vehicle spun and slid, on the verge of colliding with them all—Florante, Jenny, and the two Pascuals.

Without looking, Jenny

"Asmodeus," was what Jenny called the Pascual imposter instead. The imposter who could do somehow also mimicked the real deal's abilities.

The fake Isaiah cackled then shifted form back to the gorgeous blue-eyed blonde from before. "Raphael. I've heard you're in town from Mammon."

"What are you doing with my classmates?" Jenny the Raphael avatar demanded.

Spelvin smirked a spellbinding sneer. "I'm doing to them what you should've done a long time ago. I'm rousing them from their slumber, Raphael."

One thing was for sure. It was about time Florante took a second look at that dream journal of his.

***

To Be Continued…

The first incarnation of "Fantasy of Evolution" in my mind back in the early 2000s  involved Gabriel De Angeles (currently Florante Galang) ending up seeing his best friend J.D. (reminiscent of Isaiah Pascual) dying because of the War of Angels and Demons.

Also, yes. The Ophanim/Minion form of Regina Mariano is reminiscent of Ramiel the Geometric Angel from Neon Genesis Evangelion.

Fascinating how stories and creations change as you yourself develop into a person and as an author, huh?

Farewell, Abdiel