Ronin in a Rusted World: VI - Operation Ivy

Kenichi left through the back of the caboose. From the platform on the back of the car, he couldn't easily reach the side of the train to scoot across its side. However, there was a ladder leading to the roof. He climbed it. At the top, the wind whipped past his hair. He stared down the length of the train's roof. It stretched like a dragon, gliding across the land and sea. The sea of stars in the sky looked down upon him as he shot past more terrestrial objects.

He pulled himself onto the roof and got his footing. It was a straight shot to the front car, where he presumed Kagira rode. He gritted his teeth. Kagamikurai, Asturoth, and now Kagira. He was beginning to understand his purpose. He was the hero in a thousand worlds, sent to bring forth peace by defeating that world's dark lord. Sure, he had to sacrifice himself in the process, but that was just a hero's job.

He ran across the roof of the train, hopping from one car to the next, his hand on the hilt of his katana. He was making good progress, until…

“Stop right there!” said a voice. A hatamoto in imposing armor stood before him. He held his katana, blade bare and glistening in the moonlight.

Kenichi stopped. He planted his feet onto the roof of the train and slid his katana from the saya. The blade came free with what sounded like a yawn. He held up his sword, its blade glowing, and not just from the moonlight.

The hatamoto approached. Kenichi watched his footsteps. The rhythm of his movement reminded him of a waltz. He lowered his sword, ready to battle, but silently, he counted one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three, ready for this deadly dance.

Knowing the rhythm helped as the hatamoto swung his katana at Kenichi. He was able to deflect it before sending back an attack of his own. The two were locked in combat for a while until Kenichi realized something: he was only in this waltz because he thought it would be the best offense. But what if he changed the signature and took control of the dance.

He had once written a song that alternated between four-four and five-four time every other measure. People would stop to listen to it, but never stuck around long, as they couldn't easily pick up the tempo, and this tended to bother or agitate people. Kenichi gave a grin to the hatamoto. “It's my turn to lead,” he said.

The introduction to his best defense (a good offense) was predictable to the hatamoto. He laughed and was about to say something disparaging, but was cut off, figuratively, by the sudden shift to five-four time.

Caught off guard, it was only a matter of time before he was also cut off, literally. He fell from the train, disappearing into the darkness as the train shot past.

A few more hatamoto, as well as a gang of gokenin, met him as he traversed, but he simply accompanied their songs before improvising in a way that they couldn't follow. There were only a few more cars left. The smoke stack billowed out before him, close enough for him to smell the burning wood that was driving the steam engine. It reminded him of the Lapsang Souchong tea he had tasted earlier.

He looked at the final car before the engine. It had a fine craftsmanship compared to the others. Even the outside said that it was a car of luxury. The metal and wood of the outside was polished to a shine, and he imagined the inside was equally plush.

He peered over the edge, trying to find a window or something in which to enter. However, before he could determine the best method of entry, the roof of the car exploded upwards.

He fell back, almost dropping his katana. He grabbed onto an outcropping on the previous train car to prevent himself from sliding off the roof and into the sea below.

“So you're the little mouse that has been scurrying across my train,” said a voice from the smoke. Kagira emerged, or more appropriately, the smoke parted from around her. She wore her black kimono with the flames embroidered upon it, but the embroidered flames were moving, as if they were actual flames that just happened to be made out of stitched threads.

Her face was stern yet beautiful, and her orange eyes burned like the flames on her kimono. She stepped upon the hole in the roof of the train as if it were solid ground. Kenichi looked up at her.

“Is this the best he can offer? You're not a mouse, you're a worm.” She stepped on his left hand. “You're the dirt beneath my feet.”

“I'm going to stop you,” Kenichi said. “Even if it's the last thing I do.”

Kagira laughed. It was the kind of laugh you wouldn't want a female to make regarding you. “Such fire burns in your soul,” she said. “But it is but a candle to my majesty.” She held out her arm to the side, and a jet of flame burst forth from it. She wrapped her hand around the flame. It moved like a sword in her hands, but still flickered at the edges. “I will entertain your heroic notions,” she said. “But know that it will be your demise. You are no match for me alone.” She removed her foot from his hand. “Would you care to stand and face your death, or are you content to die like the worm you are?”

Kenichi gripped his katana. “I will defeat you, Kagira. Your reign of terror ends today.” He rolled aside just as she brought her blade of flame down on where he lay. It sliced through the top of the car. He brought himself to a standing position. Kagira moved like a dancer as she swung her flame sword at Kenichi, and it was all he could do to dodge or parry it. Her dance was just as complex as the song he had played for the hatamoto and gokenin. It was more complex than the song of the star children. It took all of his concentration to not die while he tried to learn her movements.

Then, he saw it. He saw the pattern of her dance. It reminded him of “The Dance of Eternity,” a complex song by Dream Theater. Known for its rapid time changes, it was itself a master class in what was possible within the rules of music. It was a song that Kenichi had tried to master several times, and soon, Kagira's future moves were laid out before him.

He smiled. “You ready, Drowsysword?” he asked his katana.

“Mmmhhmm,” the sword responded.

Kenichi joined the dance, deflecting the flame blade. He saw Kagira's eyes widen, albeit slightly, at his renewed attack. The two battled on for several minutes, each not letting the other come close with their blade, both dancing on the edge of chaos, one false move from defeat.

Then Kenichi saw his opening. He rushed forward, blade singing through the air. He ended up on the other side of Kagira, the Shogun standing, stunned. A lock of hair, cleanly severed, drifted from her head and floated to the ground. A trickle of blood soon followed.

Then she started laughing. “You move like a snake, worm,” she said.

Kenichi looked back over his shoulder at her, but she was gone. He turned, stepped over to where she had stood, her lock of hair resting on the roof of the train.

A stilleto of flame emerged from his chest. It burned as it pierced his heart. Kagira was behind him, her lips brushing his ears as she whispered, “But I move faster.” She dropped him to the ceiling of the train. He saw a pool of blood start to rise around him, and with each beat of his heart, he felt the energy drain from his body.

Then something happened. At the back of the train, emerging from the caboose, an angelic creature errupted through the roof. It carried a sword of light, and had wings of gears and metal. It saw Kagira and Kagira saw it. It rushed across the train like a wind and met blades with the Shogun. They seemed evenly matched. Kenichi wished he could do more to help, but it was all he could do to watch the battle. He could barely even lift his sword.

The clockwork angel, or maybe it was a person with gears and machines embedded into its body, fought the flame Shogun. Kagira seemed less sure of herself as she battled this creature whose face had similar features as the English inventor, but softer.

The angel, with a glow of light in the shape of a wreath of ivy, spun, swinging its sword. It severed the train cars from the engine, leaving all the passengers on the tracks behind as the engine, the Shogun, the angel, and the dying hero all shot forward.

“It ends,” said the angel in a soft, feminine voice. It looked at Kenichi, and he felt the gaze burn into him like cold fire. He felt renewed, like the blood that had been seeping out of him was running back into him. He pushed himself to his knees, then, like a somnambulate, managed to stand upon shaky legs. It felt like he was a clockwork rabbit that had been overwound, and he knew that this was something that wouldn't last long. He burst forward, katana in hand, meeting the blade of the Shogun with his own.

The rush of energy at their collision caused an explosion. Kenichi went flying. It all seemed to slow down as he flew into the air. Kagira clutched her throat, a spray of blood dancing in the air. The angel's sword described an arc crawling across the air behind her. Kenichi saw his own wound had opened back up, and he felt the world around him starting to fade. The last he saw was the cat kabuki mask flying through the air beside him, its purple eyes looking into his soul.