damned_institute | Nightshift 35: West Wing, South Hall 1-A

In Okita's mind there were only two people in the hallway - him and Kenshin. Sano melded into the background, into the dark and the coppery smell of blood. He was no longer a threat and he wasn't about to get up again, so he could be ignored for now. Instead, Okita focused everything he had on this fight. He was physically stronger, but Kenshin was faster even when he had his knees caught by the Western pants. Okita had the advantage of wearing his old yukata, but that still didn't equalize the speed factor.

On one thing, however, they were even. They were both experts in their fields and they could both read the other. Okita saw the feint coming and dodged it instead of blocking it, pulling back and out of Kenshin's range. He switched his grip on the sword and tucked his arms in close to his sides before he took another stab at attacking. If Kenshin thought he'd be taken by such an easy blow, he had another thing coming. Running forward, Okita feigned to the right and then struck on the left at the arm holding the sheath.

Kenshin saw Okita's feint just as clearly as Okita had seen his. He dropped low to avoid the blade, but not low enough. It cut across his shoulder, laying it open. He hissed in pain, but didn't drop the sheath. Already, a change was starting to come over him. His eyes were sharper, colder. Just like with Saitou, each moment he fought brought him closer what he had once been.

He reacted to Okita's attack with one of his own, responding tit for tat. He was the faster one. He could get into Okita's space more easily than Okita could get into his.

Unlike Kenshin, Okita didn't care about using the blunt edge of his sword. The smell of blood and the feel of the blade resisting as it cut into flesh were all too familiar. He wished he'd dressed in his uniform now, if only for the nostalgia factor. He could almost imagine tatami beneath his feet and the dying screams of rebels who were too prideful to lay down their weapons echoing off the walls.

He really shouldn't have been thinking of that though. His attention should have been on Kenshin and before he knew it, the rurouni was in his face and Okita was forced to backpedal, trying to get out of his range again. He was still missing something though and as Okita caught a glimpse of Kenshin's eyes, he knew what it was. The Battousai was lurking, but it hadn't yet come out to play. Well, he might as well force it out.

Stopping midstep, Okita abruptly changed directions and brought his sword up to block, before attemping to ram his shoulder hard into Kenshin's injured one.

Kenshin only very distantly registered Yuffie's arrival to the scene. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her kneeling next to Sanosuke, helping her. The part of his mind that wasn't completely focused on the fight--the part that was still the rurouni, Kenshin and not anyone or anything else--was very grateful. When he saw bubbles emerge from nowhere in what he could only assume was some sort of magical healing spell, he could've kissed her. It was all right. Sano was going to be okay.

And now he could focus completely on the task at hand.

Mostly.

The bubbles were too distracting. He let himself get caught up in thinking about his friends, and he made a critical mistake. This time, he did fall for Okita's feint. He didn't see the shoulder coming at him until it was too late, and renewed pain exploded in his injured arm. He gasped, sheath dropping from his nerveless fingers. It had been a stupid, stupid thing to do, but now wasn't the time to mentally berate himself. He had to regain his space and respond. Okita's strikes may have had more force behind them, but he had sheer technical skill on his side. He had the advantage here: he knew how Okita fought. At this point, his opponent had never seen Hiten Mitsurugi-Ryuu in action. He could still surprise him.

He dropped low again, ignoring the pain in his shoulder so completely that it might have not even been there, for all the difference it made. At first it looked like he was actually running away from the battle, but once he had gotten enough momentum he turned and jumped, higher than anyone conceivably should have been able to. It wasn't near his normal standard, thanks to this place, but it would do. The sakabatou flashed in a wide arc, aiming for the juncture between Okita's shoulder and his neck. At one point this had been a killing stroke, meant to slice his opponent neatly in half. With his sword reversed, though, it would just hurt like hell if it connected.

"Hiten Mitsurugi-ryuu: Ryuutsuisen," he announced.

His voice was cold.

Unlike Kenshin, Okita didn't notice Yuffie when she arrived. Anything that wasn't registered as a threat just didn't break through right now. He'd gotten a hit in on Kenshin, but it hadn't seemed to slow the man down. And for all the good his strength and range did, Kenshin's speed and his skill were showing to be formidable. It was like fighting against Yoshida all over - someone else who overpowered him. It ended up taking two people to take him down and most of that had been Tetsu's unorthodox methods of fighting.

Maybe he needed such methods, too.

Kenshin was running through and Okita chased, focused on driving his sword through Kenshin's chest. It wasn't until Kenshin suddenly turned and jumped that Okita knew he'd fallen into a trap. It was impossible how high the man had managed to go, but in the time it took for him to slash down, Okita had slid to a stop and brought his sword up, bracing for the blow. But why announce the attack?

It didn't seem to matter since the attack was stronger than Okita had expected. Their blades connected and Okita was shoved back; more than shoved, he was practically thrown. His arms ached from the force and he felt his fingers go a little numb when his back hit the wall behind him hard. That wasn't good. Whatever that Ryuutsuisen was, it couldn't be allowed to happen again or he'd break his sword. Pushing off from the wall, Okita tightened his grip and refused to let the air that had all but fled from his lungs to stop him. Taking a deep breath before he shot back into the fight, Okita tried to circle around and stab Kenshin from the side.

Kenshin could feel the vibrations from the Ryuutsuisen in his own sword as well. The weapons he and Okita had commissioned here were well-made and serviceable, yes, but they'd been forged with scrap metal, not honed steel. They weren't as strong and flexible as the swords that both men were used to. Any more strong attacks like that, and they'd both end up with broken weapons.

Good thing to know.

The Ryuutsuisen had managed to wind Okita, though, so maybe the effort hadn't been entirely wasted. No matter how professional he was, the Shinsengumi Captain's next attack was bound to be slightly sloppier than the last because he couldn't breathe properly. In order to make up for it, he'd probably go for a thrust, like...that?

He blocked it easily enough, but it wasn't exactly the attack he'd expected. His blue eyes got even sharper, and something...else crept into his expression.

"Interesting. I was expecting something more along the lines of Saitou's Gatotsu."

Edited 2008-09-30 13:45 (UTC)

I? Now that was interesting. Personal pronouns weren't something he heard out of Himura Kenshin. The only time he had was when the Battousai had emerged when the nurse's blood had sprayed Kenshin in the face. Kenshin easily blocked Okita's blow, but he had been expecting that. He wasn't strong enough to put any real force behind the blow. Still, it gave him an opportunity to strike back and learn more about how Kenshin fought, even on a superficial level.

He was expecting something else.

Okita stepped back and brought the sword around, holding it in both hands in front of him. Saitou's Gatotsu? What in the world was that? He knew all of Saitou's moves - they'd trained together - and he'd never heard of anything like that. The rurouni was trying to throw him off, muddle his mind with unnecessary thoughts when the only ones that mattered were the fight and punishing someone for Hijikata's disappearance through it. Even if that someone ended up being him, he didn't care. He wanted to feel fire and blood and physical pain in place of this deep emotional ache. Anything was better than admitting he had a heart left to break.

"Something along those lines, hm?" Okita backed up a step and then held firm, leveling an empty gaze at the man in front of him. "I'm sorry to say I'm not Saitou-san, but I'll kill you all the same if you wish."

Running forward, Okita decided to try something a little different. If Kenshin was looking for standard Shinsengumi attacks, then he'd just have to go with something a little more...Tetsu. Moving in like he was going to go for another strong thrust to the chest, Okita released one hand from his sword just before reaching Kenshin and slid along the floor, kicking out at the man's legs while pulling the last pen from his sleeve to stab it at Himura's right thigh.

"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.

Edited 2008-10-01 23:28 (UTC)

He missed the artery, but he got a hit in anyway. The smell of blood and the cry of pain was enough for him. And the time it took Kenshin to remove the pen meant he had a little time to get back to his feet and start to move away. Not enough though and suddenly there was a sword coming at his neck. Okita didn't have enough time to counter, but he could still dodge and that's what he did.

Dropping to one knee, he bent away from the sword, feeling the wind graze his ear. Something caught a few strands of hair and he knew that he'd just gotten a slightly unorthodox trim on one side. Pushing off from the ground, he jumped back and adjusted his grip on his sword. That was far too close.

Too close and just enough. Now it felt like home. That had been a kill blow and this was no longer the Himura Kenshin he'd fought before. Kenshin went for pressure points, he went to disable his opponent, but this new person in his place...he went for the blood and the pain. This was the man who had killed his friends.

Okita took a few more steps back and smiled bitterly. Kenshin had always been the man who had killed his friends, but Okita had refused to really see him that way. Until now, they'd been allies, but now they were just enemies. Tomorrow would be a difficult day, if he lived to see it. He hoped he didn't. He didn't really have much to go for now except the thrill of battle and the glory of death whether it be his or someone else's. "If Saitou-san has claimed you, then I'll have to apologize to him later. He'll understand." Standing firm now, the captain spread his stance. With a sword, Himura Kenshin was dangerous, but without one? Physical strength was on Okita's side. "I was never good at sharing."

And again, Okita dashed forward, aiming a slash down and across Kenshin's body. It was probably easy enough to block, but that was what he was hoping for. If Kenshin blocked, a hard kick to his stomach would follow.

The pen had gone deep enough that Kenshin wasn't as fast as he should have been. Instead of dodging and rolling like he normally would, he was forced to block Okita's attack with his sword, opening himself up to the kick to his stomach. His breath came in short gasps, and he had to fight to stay upright. He didn't hear Sano shouting, or his ensuing scuffle with Yuffie.

Kenshin did, however, hold onto his sword.

"Neither was I." He spat a little blood in Okita's direction. "I won't kill you, Okita. I won't sink to your level." Not yet.

"We all have to live in this world. Stop this idiocy."

His foot connected solidly and Okita grinned, pushing forward with his sword as Kenshin blocked. Their swords connected and Okita kept a steady pressure on his, forcing Kenshin to push back or risk letting Okita get another slash in. This battle was getting his blood going and it was making him remember. Fighting in narrow halls was what he was trained to do, but so was Kenshin. The Ikedaya had been dark and the floor slick with blood, the air thick with shouting and tension and fear. Across the city, Hijikata's group searched for a hideout that Kondou and the others had already found. It rested with Yamazaki to let them know where the Choushuu were. Inside, it was life or death. Here again, he was tasting that same thing. Life or death, fear and tension, shouting and blood - all of it flooded his senses until he channeled it down to one thing: the desire to kill his enemy. \

He had to blame someone for losing him again. The first time Homura had stopped him, but this second time, no one could. He was alone now. A wolf without its pack, cut off and left stranded in a strange wood with no one to answer his calls.

Kenshin spat blood at him and Okita grit his teeth. How dare that bastard remind him now? It was a distraction, that was all. He meant to remind him of how he was dying of that disgusting disease again. Kenshin was forcing him to remember that he was fighting a losing battle. "No, we don't," Okita snapped back, shoving his sword harder against Kenshin's. "You have to live in this world. Your friends have to live in this world. All of mine are dead at your hands."

Shot in the back in Hokkaido. Forced to commit seppuku as a traitor. Lost on the battlefield. Left to die in Edo. There was no place for the Shinsengumi in this new world. Canting his left shoulder, Okita pushed off Kenshin's sword, jumping back before running forward again, his blade aimed at Kenshin's heart. "And I'm going to follow them soon enough!"

Kenshin's eyes softened, just for a moment. He looked tired, standing there, holding Okita back. And he was. He was tired of all this fighting, all this pain. The truth was, he had killed them. Not the ranked officers, but he'd killed...more Shinsengumi than he could remember. He couldn't remember all of the men he'd killed. Their faces blended together in the same mask of pain and blank horror, and he couldn't for the life of him make out individual features.

He pushed back, holding the stance, before Okita suddenly broke and lunged for his chest. Kenshin couldn't dodge or block in time, so he turned to take the attack with his already injured left shoulder. The sword went all the way through, but it gave him a window. The pain was...staggering, and it took all had not to scream. Lunging had left Okita open. Not that much, but it was enough. Kenshin stepped forward, faster than Okita could react, and slashed him across the chest.

He hadn't switched the sakabatou. The blunt side of the blade hit quickly and cleanly, with a lot of force. Maybe, just maybe, it would be enough.

Okita's sword sunk into Kenshin's shoulder and the fresh spray of blood hit him in the side of the face. This, too, was familiar. How much blood had he bathed in over the years? Nine years old and already covered, screaming as he stood over the dismembered body of a different murderer. The last day he'd ever shed a single tear in his life. The last day he remembered feeling really human. After that, that feeling slowly began to slip from him, making him numb. Still, he remembered that old man's face and many of the faces after that, even after they all started to blend together and only pieces of each person remained. The eyes, the mouth, the nose, a stray bit of blood as it hit their cheeks - something of them remained and sat inside him, rotting him away from the inside.

With his sword in Kenshin's shoulder, he couldn't get away fast enough to avoid the slash to his chest. It hit him hard and for a brief moment, relief flooded him as he thought that it was finally over. He died a warrior's death, raging against the enemy, bleeding on the battlefield and not wasting away in a sickbed, isolated and alone. But when the sword passed and he felt the dull pain turn sharp and heavy, he knew what had happened. That damned sakabatou. Okita felt the air leave his lungs and he fell back, his fingers slipping off the hilt of his sword as he was forced back from the blow. He staggered and dropped to one knee, gritting his teeth through the pain. As much as it hurt, he couldn't let this stop him.

Only it did.

Not the blow itself, but what it did to him. The pain and the force and the strain finally crumbled him like a pile of stones and he doubled over, clutching his stomach as he began to cough. It hurt and it made him feel hollow and worse, he knew Kenshin would recognize the sound. Early still, too early for blood, but it was there - it was the sound everyone knew. Forcing himself to straighten, he tried to stand up when a second bout hit him and he went down, struggling just to breathe. Unfair. It was so, so unfair.

And now it was over.

Kenshin's breath came in short gasps, and when he saw that Okita wasn't going to be getting up any time soon, he sheathed his sword. Blood dripped down his arm and pooled on the floor, mixing with the blood from his leg. It wasn't the worst he'd ever been injured, not by a long shot, but if they had dragged it out for any longer, he might have been in trouble.

He watched Okita for a moment, clutching at his wounded shoulder. Okita had been trying to commit suicide-by-Choushuu. Now that Hijikata was gone, he thought that this was the only way. And Kenshin could empathize with that, to some extent. The coughing was a clear sign: Okita was dying. It would be a long, slow, and painful death, completely devoid of the glory and honor that he'd been working towards all his life. Still...

"There's no such thing as an honorable death," he said gently. "Not really. An honorable life is so much better. Use...what time you have to carry on the proud traditions of the Shinsengumi, even here. If that means killing this one, so be it. Defend the Bakufu." He knew what it was like. You were so empty inside that you wanted to die just so that you could feel something again. He'd felt that way after Tomoe.

What Okita really needed was something to drink, but during nightshift, that was hard to come by. And he didn't need the person he was just fighting to the death to take any more pity on him than he already had.

Instead, Kenshin sighed and leaned against the wall, still out of breath.

It was over. Okita had never felt defeat so keenly as he did now. That damned rurouni standing over him, lecturing him about honorable deaths and honorable lives. Defend the Bakufu? It all sounded like taunts and filth coming from his mouth. Someone who fought to bring the Bakufu down, someone who killed so many of his men - he had no right to talk to him about upholding the honor of the Shinsengumi and defending the government. The Bakufu wasn't Kenshin's government.

The coughing finally stopped and Okita remained on the ground, head lowered as his breathing gradually returned to normal. No blood yet, just pain and the unavoidable future. Raising his head, he refused to look Kenshin in the eyes, instead holding his hand out for the katana still stuck in Kenshin's shoulder. Honorable death or no, he had one option left to him. He'd seek revenge for Hijikata's disappearance and then he'd follow the others as he should have so long ago. Tradition and law dictated that if his enemy left the battlefield alive, he was to kill himself. Eventually, that was what he would do - in one way or another.

"You have something of mine," he said, voice thin and hollow as he motioned to the sword.

Wordlessly, Kenshin pulled the sword out of his shoulder. He cleaned it on the unbloodied part of his trousers before limping over to Okita and laying it respectfully in front of him. He didn't even grimace until he'd staggered back to his own side of the hallway and slid down the wall, leaving a bloody trail on the paint.

Gripping the hilt of the sword, it took a lot of willpower not to stand and run it through Kenshin's head. The battle was lost though and it would be dishonorable to continue it beyond its time. At least, for now. The war still weighed heavily on Okita's mind whenever he saw Kenshin, and it likely would, until the day he died.

Pushing himself to his feet, he glanced over at Sano and his friend and didn't bother smiling as he usually would. Whatever joke there was to be made about Sano tying up a girl while he and Kenshin fought to the death just wasn't in him right now. But he did notice that despite having been stabbed several times, Sano was no longer in pain or bleeding. The girl was perhaps a healer then. "I suggest you attend to your friend," he said quietly.

The katana slid into his obi and Okita tried to keep his head up as started to walk away. Leaving a battlefield with his enemy still breathing was unacceptable, but he had to. Pausing just in front of Kenshin, Okita stared down the hallway as he spoke to him. "There is no such thing as an honorable life to someone like me, Himura-san. Maybe if we had met under different circumstances, I would have believed you." Lowering his voice so only Kenshin could hear, he finally looked down at him. "Cherish the people you have here, Himura-san. You're very lucky. I envy you."

[skipping a hallway to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/457893.html?thread=37607333#t37607333)]

[From below]

It was over.

Sanosuke couldn't help his relief when Okita and Kenshin stopped. Except he knew that Kenshin still might not be himself, and he'd have to check on that damn quick, in case it stuck. The fighter didn't mind giving Kenshin a smack to the head if that's what it took for him to go back to the rurouni after such a close call.

He didn't need Okita's prompting to remember Yuffie, though he might not have remembered as quickly without it. Sanosuke dropped down, quickly undoing the ties before taking Ninja Girl by the arm to help her up. He tried to be gentle, but he was in a bit of a hurry too. At least he didn't go for the arm he'd bruised earlier.

"Can you heal Kenshin too?" Sanosuke sure as hell hoped she could, because there was no describing how shitty he'd feel if Kenshin had to suffer because he'd used up Yuffie's healing for the day. As soon as the girl was up he crossed the distance to his friend, kneeling down next to him, even before he'd gotten his answer.

"Talk to me Kenshin." He tried to smile. He really did. But damn if Sanosuke couldn't quite make it happen. He was thrilled that Kenshin had won, but worried as hell about the cost. In the dark he couldn't see how bad the wound was, but he could smell all the fucking blood.

Whatever gods there were, he prayed to all of them that his friend was still his friend, and that he'd be okay.

Yuffie still didn't really have a clue what was going on. All she knew (aside from the painfully obvious) was that it sucked, and that it was sorely tempting to act on her impulse to plant her slipper in the back of Sagara's head.

She didn't, though. Yet.

Stumbling across the hallway, the ninja rubbed her head. Ow. Owwwwww. "Ow," she mentioned outloud, for good measure. "Sagara, I goddamn hate you. Even if I can use Clear Tranquil, you can bet your ass I won't be using it on you again!"

Even though the fighting seemed to be over, the atmosphere still felt so tense and thick. Thick like butter. Or maybe batter? Yeah, that was it-- walking was like wading through an ocean of Tifa's best, thickest waffle-batter. Or maybe that was just because of how suckylicious she felt? As soon as she could, Yuffie flopped to the floor on the other side of Kenshin.

"You're lookin' a bit worse for wear," she told the red-head conversationally, despite how hard it was to keep her words from slipping into a mumbling slur. Never mind the fact that she could barely see a thing, let alone make out the extend of his injuries; the smell of blood was a pretty good, if gross, indication of how beat up the guy was.

Okita envied him. Kenshin looked up, eyes widening slightly, before they met the other swordsman's and he nodded in acknowledgment. Their fight wasn't over--far from it--but he hoped they'd come to...some sort of understanding. Maybe, in a few days, they'd be able to talk again without battling it out. They were more alike than they were different, in many ways.

With Okita gone, the rurouni turned to his friends. He knew he'd worried Sano, and there was really no telling what Yuffie thought of him now. She'd seen a part of him that he hadn't wanted her to.

Sano first. "What would you like this one to say?" he asked mildly, trying to smile. It was hard, with the blood still pumping out of his shoulder. It was starting to dry on his shirt, heavy and sticky. Blood always felt the same, whether it was someone else's or his own.

The smile that Yuffie got was a bit more genuine. He understood why Sano had done...that, but it was still kind of hilarious. Especially right now. In spite of everything that had happened, Sano was still Sano and Yuffie was still Yuffie.

"You don't look that much better yourself. Honestly, you needn't worry about this one. His life isn't in danger, and the bleeding's already starting to slow. Save your energy."

Even when Kenshin asked, Sano grinned; he'd said everything the fighter he wanted to say when he started talking, sounding like a very tired, but very rurouni rurouni. He laughed hard, if only because doing so was the only way he stopped himself from jerking Kenshin into a hug in his relief. "What do you think I want you to say? Something that ends with oro damn it!"

Still, even that relief was short lived. Sanosuke had to agree with Kenshin that Yuffie was looking like shit, which Sanosuke was reasonably sure he shouldered at least partial responsibility for. "Uh sorry about all that, Ninja Girl." Maybe it wasn't exactly apologetic, but Sanosuke did smile up at her a bit hopefully. "Don't be too mad, okay? And it's fine if you don't want to use that bubble stuff on me. I can take a lot." Just not pens to the lungs. That hadn't gone over well.

And then Kenshin was being Kenshin. "Damn it, how much blood are you looking to lose tonight?" He didn't hit quite as hard as he could've, but Sanosuke didn't let Kenshin's wounds stop him from smacking the rurouni in the head. "If she can't heal you, fine, but we can at least make bandages. I already ripped my shirt up for something else anyway. But stop acting all tough, cause we all know that wound isn't as light as you're making it out to be."

Geez, some people. The endurance-crazy bastard was Sano's role, not Kenshin's. Not when his blood had made a damn huge stain on the wall.

Kenshin was acting like Kenshin again.

The violence of the fight hadn't really fazed Yuffie. The smell of blood was more than a little familiar, and she'd lost count of the number of opponents she'd killed years ago. It had just been... weird.

Really weird.

But, hey. At least he hadn't done a Vincent and turned into a kinda-sorta-slightly terrifying demon of death and doom. Yuffie could deal, as she always had done and always would do, with whatever life threw at her. She returned his smile brightly, if a little wearily.

The smile was quick to fade into a scowl when Sagara opened his mouth, though. "You're sorry, huh? I ain't forgivin' you that easily!" Her cheeks were pink in both anger and embarrassment, and she added: "You knuckleheaded pervert."

Knuckleheaded pervert he may be, but he did have a point. Kenshin was messed up and they couldn't let him get away with doing the whole macho-man act. "Whatever," Yuffie sighed. "I'll be just peachy. You, on the other hand? You're about as fine as a... not fine thing." Even as she spoke, the ninja was already gathering what little energy she had left. No way was she going to wait for Kenshin to protest! Besides, she wanted to get it over with; she was sick to death of the hallway. Blood wasn't the nicest decoration in the world. Once she'd finished doing her thing, they could go to some room or other and they could explain to her what the hell had just happened..!

And despite her earlier words, when she released the energy of Clear Tranquil, three bubbles developed; one each for herself, Kenshin, and Sagara. Maybe she was just that kind. Maybe she was rubbing her generosity in his face. Or, maybe she'd done it by accident.

Either way, she didn't really notice; as soon as the Limit was over, she was too busy collapsing in a dead faint.

"Still don't understand your understand your fascination with that," Kenshin grumbled, but he didn't say anything else. He didn't need to, it turned out. Sano's punch got him an extended, extremely put-upon "oro."

He knew that was how his friend showed his affection, but usually he was a little more sensitive when that friend was bleeding all over the floor. He was still in intense pain, and being punched in the head--even lightly--didn't help any.

He chose to ignore the heated little debate between Sanosuke and Yuffie at the moment. He was tempted to tease them both about it, but he was feeling too woozy from the blood loss to come up with anything clever.

It turned out that he didn't need to.

"Yuffie-donno you shouldn't--" But it was too late. Whatever magic that Yuffie had used to close the wound in Sano's side healed the rurouni enough to stop the blood. And completely knock Yuffie out.

"Sano, help this one move her somewhere safe. We'll...talk later." Kenshin was already at her side, propping her up. With his arm in this condition, and with the wound in his leg slowing him down, there was no way he'd be able to carry her on his own.

Extenuating circumstances made it okay for Sanosuke to be a totally insensitive dick, particularly when Kenshin was being a totally irresponsible idiot. Really, the rurouni was lucky. If Megumi had been there, Kenshin might have gotten a lot worse. Or he would have if Kenshin were Sano, anyway. Still, the woman would have at least given Kenshin a severe talking to or something.

Then the bubbles came back, and for the second time that night Sanosuke felt what injuries he had going away. He would've teased Ninja Girl about his inclusion himself, except before he could, Yuffie had passed out. Looked like whatever the bubble magic was, it wore her out even more than Sano had.

"No way." Sanosuke had been moving to catch Yuffie too, but he drew the line at helping Kenshin carry her. Frowning at his friend, Sanosuke shifted Yuffie so that her weight was solely on him, draping her over his shoulder right. "You're going to have a hard enough time carrying yourself. I've got Ninja Girl. You just don't pass out on me either. Got it?"

And yeah, Kenshin, Sanosuke thought in silent agreement. The matter was too important to drop, but too heavy to pick up then at the same time. What they were going to do now that the truce was over, and Okita could attack Kenshin at any time. We're going to have a damn long talk later.

Kenshin knew that this was one battle he could not win. Actually, Sano was probably right. A quick test yielded these results: yes, he could stand, and no, he couldn't do it very well. Not without leaning heavily against the wall.

All right, so Sano really was right. Good to know.

The rurouni gave his friend a weak smile. "Shall we be off, then? Apparently there's some sort of clinic the next hall over. Let's get her there."

[skipping over here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/457411.html).]

Nightshift 35: West Wing, South Hall 1-A

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