Kaguta - Or, Ankūro - The Warrior, The Thief and The Killer

10

Fire sparks and spits.
Glittering fireflies to sky.
Gone in an instant.
- Rūka.

He crouched, prodding the blankets with the tip of his sword, afraid that the Sansui would appear from the pile to strike him down. He couldn't control his breathing, his chest rising and falling in fits and starts. He could feel sweat pouring from him, slicking his back and forehead. The Sansui had, somehow, anticipated them.

A clamour, from the other side of the camp, forced him to raise his head, turning it in all directions. He wiped his forehead, biting his lip as he tried to work out where the sounds came from and then, despite every instinct telling him to run, he rose and headed towards the noise, cursing himself every step of the way.

Fires had broken out, carts bursting into flames, their precious cargos catching aflame like the dried and brittle bushes and useless food plants that surrounded the camp. He headed there, visions of people running this way and that. Yelling, screaming as they grabbed and tore at clothes that had caught fire, skin peeling, melting upon their bones. He avoided them all.

One figure appeared before him, a guard, wide-eyed and desperate. The guard caught sight of Saiban, raising a trembling sword, but Saiban cut him down before he could hope to use it. He passed the body without a second thought, his only concern the whereabouts of the Sansui. Then he caught sight of another figure, silhouetted by rising flames roaring as they consumed the covered cart of the caravan master.

That figure did not run in panic. Did not look in any way bothered by the chaos around them. They moved with complete confidence and poise and Saiban hesitated. Only the Sansui could act so under such circumstances. He wiped both hands on his wide trousers before taking a strong grip of his great sword and heading that way.

As he neared, he saw bodies littering the ground. Throats slashed, deep wounds in backs. The work of Shubō, no doubt. If the Sansui stalked Shubō or Nesukē, it could keep the deadly warrior from noticing Saiban's approach. He continued, slicing open another forlorn figure that attempted to rush him. The sounds of fires about him, of people falling to panic, pain and death assaulted his ears, but his eyes remained on one thing. One man. One objective.

Before he could reach the Sansui, he saw Shubō. Blood covered, laughing that maniacal laugh, Shubō slit the throat of another pitiful figure and Shubō allowed them to fall at his feet before turning to find another victim. He found none. Only the Sansui, pointing his long sword towards Shubō, challenging him.

A cart, aflame beside Saiban, collapsed. The wooden wheels taken by fire, blackened and wizened by the flames, cracked and splintered, sending the flaming contents into Saiban's path. He raised an arm to shield his eyes, trying to see past the flames towards Shubō and the Sansui. Then he saw them again and knew he would arrive too late.

Shubō didn't understand the peril he found himself in. He twirled his pair of knives in his hands, grinning at the implacable Sansui. The mad fool thought he had a chance and Saiban tried to call to him. Tried to tell the thief to run, to toss aside those knives and take to his heels. Use his thieving skills to hide and disappear, but the sounds of the burning camp muffled and drowned his words.

Without warning, Shubō launched himself towards the Sansui, knife blades glinting red in the light of the rampaging fires. He moved like a dancer, with grace and balance. Against any other opponent, Saiban could see Shubō having a chance. Greater than a chance. With anyone else, Shubō would, without a doubt, have triumphed. But he did not face anyone else. He faced a Sansui and result of this fight could never be in doubt.

The Sansui, without any effort, swatted Shubō's blades aside. As graceful as Shubō appeared, the Sansui made the thief look like some lumbering oaf. As fast as Shubō was, the Sansui made him look slow and awkward. Still Shubō attacked with every ounce of effort, unwilling to surrender or die with ease.