I wanted to illustrate the unspoken connection the senpais have for one another. Something about how fate brought them together and how they’re bound by it.
Been a bit more IA recently. I’m trying to map out the last part of Blood Bound. Ending and Epilogues. So I’ll probs update once I finish most of it^^
I’m not gonna let the ending of this story fall flat. It’s one that I hold really dear (not just because it’s full length but it’s because it’s my soulmates fic). There are some scenes I’m still working on. I’m also already adding in more scenes to the earlier arcs. Probs just gonna insert it in ao3
A red string of fate AU story featuring Kenshin. Written for my dear friend @scruffymctee on the occasion of her very merry birthday. Approx. 2500 words. TW for violence!
Kenshin settled into the soft leather seat of his private plane. He had a few hours before the meeting. Enough time to review his intel on this new customer. A small group that considered themselves freedom fighters - the rest of the world labeled them terrorists. Kenshin had long since dispensed with ethical worries.
There would always be war. The ‘good’ was determined by the winner. If these men won their battles, Kenshin would be a hero. If they lost, a devil. He knew he was neither. He was a merchant and death was his trade. A capricious god who picked his side based on whether or not be believed the fight would be a good one.
He yawned and rubbed his eyes, trying to focus on the blur of the dossier in his lap.
“Perhaps you should get some rest, sir.” Sasuke, his personal assistant and body guard came up from the tail of the plane, pushing a cart of refreshments. Sake. Pickled plums. Crisps. A variety of Kenshin’s favorites.
Sasuke poured Kenshin a drink and took the dossier.
“Fine. But wake me an hour before we land. I want the information to be fresh in my mind when we meet these ‘Sons’.” Kenshin gave his assistant a look, made more severe by his oddly colored eyes. One was as blue as winter ice, the other jade green.
“Of course, sir.”
He pushed the cart back to its locked position and sat down in one of the chairs across from his boss. Sasuke had the dossier open in his lap, reading diligently.
Kenshin knew they both had practically memorized the details in it, but he felt an undercurrent of tension about this meeting. A foreboding that prickled his skin and left his gut feeling tight and cold. He wasn’t sure why. The Sons of Winter weren’t the worst group he’d dealt with. Not the largest, nor the most deadly. But they were unpredictable. Wildly violent in their cause. Perhaps they meant to double-cross him.
If so, they would die. Kenshin didn’t just sell weapons. He knew every product he offered intimately. How to use it, how to store and transport it, the most effective tactics. He set a hand on his hidden holster. If they tried to cross him, they would meet Ichimonji. His custom .45, long barrelled, the grip made from carved rosewood, polished to a soft, satin patina.
Another yawn cracked his jaw.
Sasuke gave him a meaningful look from across the aisle.
Kenshin didn’t deign to reply, but he did lower his seat back and close his eyes. Sleep took him swiftly.
Acrid gunsmoke curls in the air. Groans. Bodies of dying men crumpled in the tall grass. A long blade dripping blood. Blood pounding in his ears. Thrill of victory. A woman crying. She kneels at his feet. Her eyes are gentle. Her touch, warm. He knows as is the way of dreams, that he must choose. He does not deserve the peace she is offering. Dream-Kenshin turns away. To battle. To endless war. Until death swallows the last of my light.
Sasuke shook his shoulder, and leapt back as Kenshin stabbed at him with a blade hidden in a false pen. He ed. “You almost had me, boss.”
“If that was enough to kill you, then you aren’t worth much as a bodyguard.” Kenshin wiped the sleep from his eyes. He felt slow, tired. As if the dream had not let him go. A sense of melancholy weighed heavy in his chest. “How long until we land?”
“An hour, sir.” Sasuke handed him the dossier along with a tea and pastry.
Kenshin eyed the food. “What is this?”
“Breakfast, sir. You can’t live off sake.”
He grunted. His assistant was right, though he found it annoying. Kenshin ate while he read. Today he will meet Roberson, the Sons’ second in command. He will have three of his people with him. A woman they call An, and two men, Franco and Orson. An odd mix, hailing from different countries and regions. Varied backgrounds. Franco and Orson are well known, previously mercenaries. An was Chinese military. And Roberson cut his teeth on battle in South Africa.
The next hour passed swiftly. The plane landed, and a car arrived and escorted them to the meeting place. A parking garage near an abandoned factory. Rusted steel support beams jut into the night sky like the bones of some ancient, dead thing. The ground is littered with trash and glistening shards of glass from smashed lamps. The only light is the distant moon and the headlights of their car.
Roberson stepped out from the shadows. He is dressed for business in modern tactical gear. Kevlar and leather. Like something from an action film, too over the top to be real.
Franco and Orson followed, looking less comical in casual business wear, though the telltale bulge under their arm told Kenshin they were carrying as well.
“Where is your fourth?”
Roberson gestured to the high spaces. “She is watching.” His blue eyes narrowed as he examined Kenshin and Sasuke. “Where is your team?”
“This is my team.” Kenshin did not smile. “Have you provided the agreed upon proof of payment?”
“I sent your people the code just now.”
Sasuke confirmed with a nod.
“Then we will send you the coordinates of the cache.” Kenshin noted the nervous tapping of Franco’s fingers. The tension in Orson’s shoulders.
Roberson frowned. “I want some proof of the goods before I send a passcode.”
“There are pictures in your confirmation.” Violence was only a heartbeat off. One wrong gesture, one slip of the tongue, and there will be blood.
“I need more than pictures.” Roberson’s words are almost a growl. There was some desperation here that the dossier did not hint at.
Kenshin gestured to Sasuke. “We have a sample.”
His assistant pulled a large case from the car. The metal locks jingled as he carried it from the trunk to set it down on the ground between them.
Orson knelt down to open it while his companions watched the surroundings nervously. He swung the lid open, revealing the sleek lines of steel. A modern anti-tank weapon. Capable of mounted and hand-held fire. There is a general intake of breath.
Then the tension shattered at an unexpected sound. A soft yelp, the scrape of a shoe on concrete. A woman stumbled into the periphery of their gathering.
At first, Kenshin thought this must be An. But she wasn’t Chinese. And Roberson looked as surprised as he did at her entrance.
The woman is not dressed for this kind of meeting. She looks as if she was going dancing. Her skirt is short, her heels long. The dress is sleeveless and low cut with a plunging back that comes nearly to her hip. The material clings to her curves as if painted on. Blue fabric, the color of winter ice.
Sasuke grabbed her arm. “What are you doing here?”
“You know this girl?” Roberson’s tone is accusing.
“Never met her,” Kenshin said, though there is something about her that draws his eye. She was beautiful. Perhaps that was all it was. The shallow attraction of a man to a scantily dressed woman.
“H-hello? Is this -” the woman fumbled in her clutch for her phone. “Ah, 22 banchi? The rave?”
“28. You went too far.” Sasuke sighed. He knew as well as Kenshin did that they couldn’t let this girl go. She knew their faces and there was no way she missed the military grade weaponry on the ground in front of her.
“Were you spying on us, girl?” Roberson growled. “Who do you work for?”
She blinked at him. “Ummm, Neo-mod Designs? We make haute-couture clothes affordable.” She handed him a card.
Sasuke looked at the card in the other man’s hands. “Tomoyo?”
“Yes.” She looked from one man to the other. “So, uh, I’ll just be going now. Nice to meet you! Call me if you need a-”
Roberson threw her on the ground and pulled a knife. “I can’t let you leave.”
Kenshin didn’t want this woman to die here tonight. She was an innocent. Hardly at fault for making a wrong turn. He’d stepped between Roberson and the girl before he even realized he was moving. “I’ll take her.”
“Is this a joke?” Roberson scowled. “Some kind of scam? Are you trying to double cross me?”
“It is not. I don’t double cross clients. Put up the weapon, transmit the funds, and leave.” Kenshin’s unsettling gaze fixed on Roberson.
Orson and Franco were moving a breath later, drawing their weapons.
Sasuke was in motion too, already gripping two, short steel batons.
“Think we’ll just take the coordinates and kill the three of you,” Roberson growled. He darted forward, his blade flashing in the headlights.
Kenshin slammed his attacker’s hand with the butt of his gun. “You’re a fool.” Behind him, the woman - Tomoyo - was up. He hoped to keep Roberson busy long enough for her to run. It would be easy enough to track her down later - with her business card if nothing else. But she didn’t run.
There was a grunt of pain from Franco as she slammed her purse into the side of his face. “Take that! How dare you sneak up on this guy, huh? What a creep!” She kicked him in the knee with her heel and there was an unpleasant crunch.
“You are more … formidable than I expected.” Kenshin blocked another jab from Roberson.
She flashed him a quick smile, one that lit in the depths of her bright green eyes. “Thanks!” She swung her little purse at Franco again as the thug tried to stand up. “Where’d the other one go?”
Sasuke was entangled with Orson somewhere beyond the light of the headlamps, their position only given away by the occasional thwap of metal on flesh and grunts of pain.
“My assistant has him handled.” Kenshin cracked the grip against Roberson’s hand, trying to make him drop his knife.
Roberson yelped but kept hold of his blade. “You’re - outmanned, Uesugi. Give up.”
“I think my odds are fine. But I have made one mistake.” He kicked Roberson back a few steps. “But don’t worry. It’s about to be resolved.” Kenshin flipped the safety off his gun.
“An!” Roberson called into his earpiece.
Kenshin had nearly forgotten about the military woman. He followed the line of Roberson’s gaze toward the rusty metal spire. Saw a slight movement in the shadows there.
Tomoyo looked the same direction, understanding there was danger, if not what specifically.
“Sniper. Get down!” Kenshin tried to push her away.
She stumbled and swayed on her heels, gripping his arm.
The distant rifle cracked as An fired off a shot.
Tomoyo shoved Kenshin as hard as she could. Her head turned slightly toward the sound.
Kenshin fell back. He hadn’t expected her to push him. He reached for the woman, fingers extended into the space between them. 940 feet per second, he thought, knowing he could not pull her down before the bullet hit.
Blood and bits of bone burst from her right side.
Tomoyo looked down, her eyes wide. She was bleeding heavily from the wound.
Roberson took advantage of Kenshin’s distraction to drive his knife into the arms dealer’s back.
Kenshin shot him in the head without looking. As one might crush a pest. His mismatched gaze found Franco. Another bullet in the chamber.
The thug scrambled back, hands up. “J-just following orders. Please.”
“Run,” Kenshin hissed. He pushed himself to standing, ignoring the warm sheet of blood that coated his back.
“Yes. You’ve been shot.” Kenshin took her by the shoulders. “Why didn’t you run? Why didn’t you get down when I told you too?” His throat felt hot and his tongue thick.
She gave him a small smile. “I didn’t want them to shoot you either, idiot.” Her body slumped forward and she steadied herself against Kenshin’s chest.
“You fool. This wasn’t your fight.” He found his arms wrapping around her, pressing her to him. Her skin was cool against his. Her pulse weak. “Sasuke! We need medical evac! Now!”
“On it, boss!” Sasuke’s voice came from the dark and then the man himself limped into view. “Orson is unconscious. Leave him?”
“Leave him.” Kenshin confirmed. He lifted Tomoyo into his arms. “She’s bleeding heavily. We need to hurry.”
Sasuke opened the car door. “I’ve already arranged care. We just need to get her there.”
“A hospital?”
“No.” His assistant smiled. “One of our doctors.” He meant one of the underground clinics staffed by desperate med students and old veterans that lost their license to practice.
Kenshin nodded and ducked into the car with his burden. It might have been smarter to let her die, but … she took a bullet for him. She defended him when she could have just run. He had to know why.
“You’re injured.” Sasuke shut the door behind him and the car roared to life, the driver a silent witness to the whole mad scene.
“It isn’t serious.” He cradled the woman to his chest, watching her eyelids flutter. If he was honest, his wound pained him and he was beginning to feel light-headed. But he knew it wasn’t going to kill him before he could get stitched up.
Kenshin brushed a lock of hair back from her face. “You are a fool.”
Her lips quirked into a smile. “No.” She raised a trembling hand into the air, grasping something lightly with her fingers.
Kenshin craned his neck to see what she held. At first, there was nothing. Then a flash of scarlet. A ribbon of crimson. Tied around her finger. And his. He startled back. There was no sense of the red thread on his hand. Instead, when he pulled away, he felt the tug in his heart. “Who are you,” he asked, his voice breaking on the words.
She opened her eyes, though her lids were heavy. “You know.”
And in that moment, he did. For a breath, he remembered everything. A thousand thousand lives, meeting her again and again. He’d killed her. She’d killed him. Watched him die with tears in her eyes. And Kenshin knew he had held her just like this before. So many times before. Clinging to her as her life-blood stained his hands, held her gaze as light left her eyes.
“I won’t lose you again,” he promised.
“Again?” Sasuke lifted an eyebrow, confused.
Kenshin’s eyes stung with unshed tears as he looked up at his assistant. “This woman will not die tonight.” He felt her squeeze his hand. He looked down at her again, marveling that somehow, they’d found each other again. She found him.
He leaned down to brush a kiss to her lips. And then, as quickly as that, the memories were gone. Only the feeling remained. The binding thread that ran from his heart to hers. “I will never let you go,” he promised.
