"I think half of Japan has already claimed that right. Saitou, particularly." Kenshin's eyes were just as empty as Okita's, cold and sharp and lacking any of their usual expressiveness. He was focusing on the fight, and the fight only. He couldn't even see Sano and Yuffie anymore. The darkened hallway felt more and more like Kyoto with each passing second.

He anticipated Okita's lunge and moved up to counter it. He even managed to avoid the kick that had come with it. What he didn't anticipate, though, was the pen. He cried out as it sank into his leg, but it was more of a temporary annoyance. Pain wasn't something that slowed him down. He'd learned how to move beyond it long ago.

Gritting his teeth, he yanked the pen out of his thigh and threw it far away from them. It stung, but it wasn't a bad wound. The pen hadn't hit the artery. He wasn't in any danger of bleeding to death. Straightening, he swung at Okita's exposed neck.