Title: Untitled (ii)
              Author/pseudonym: Pluto
              Email address: lizcheng@umich.edu
              Rating: NC-17
              Fandom and Pairings: Battousai X Saitoh
              Status: Done
              Author's website: http://www.umich.edu/~lizcheng
              Warnings: Extreme violence, yaoi



Untitled

Part Two 
by Pluto

**Warning: This part contains yaoi: male-male romance/sex. If you
are offended by homosexuality, please do not read past here*** 

 ---------------------ALTERNATE UNIVERSE FIC-------------------

disclaimer: December and I love the fact that the RurouKen saga has
so much rich and interesting as well as factual historical background.
However, in this story we're ignoring all that entirely and just using
everyone as just their characters. (well... and sometimes very ooc...
this *is* an alternate universe) If our story was true, we'd have totally
screwed with Japanese History. So if Sagara Souzou isn't dead and
Saitoh Hajime is just a bit different (Saitoh: Just a bit! *boggles*)
from the one you know and love... forgive us :) Arigatou! Pluto. 

      ----------------------------------------------------------------

Saitoh Hajime loosened his katana in its sheath. Since he left Kyoto,
he had felt the overwhelming presence of danger to his life. Still, it
was his duty to execute the Shinsengumi member who's trail he was
following at this very moment. The little rat had turned traitor, had
stolen important secrets of the shogunate and was running to the
Ishinshishi. Bad enough that Tokugawa had almost buckled and
given up Edo without a fight; now the side of the shogunate seemed
to be leaking in all directions. Well, no matter of his; at the moment,
his quarry was within in reach, and his journey would be over. He
knew the end of the Tokugawa and the Shinsengumi was near. He
would not abandon them now, but neither would he allow their
passing to destroy him. He lived by his own code, no matter what
little man happened to rule at the time. "Aku Soku Zan": kill evil
instantly. And he that fled from Saitoh this moment had been judged
evil. 

Coldly, Mibu's wolf watched the man tremble before him, then fall
into the Shinsengumi's trademark stance, katana blade parallel to the
earth, ready to execute a horizontal thrust. He smiled, lunging his
own legs, fingers guiding his own blade, his position a smarter and
faster breed of his victim's stance. Gatotsu. His special technique, his
own deadly trademark. 

"It would be better for yourself and your family's honor if you turn
that blade on yourself," Saitoh said, his low voice even, unmovable.
Seppuku was the only choice for a dishonored Shinsengumi. 

"I'm not afraid of you," the man rallied back, but it was clear that he
was. His voice alone shook terribly, and his sword was far from
steady. 

"Hmph." Saitoh smiled at him, his narrow features falling into a cruel
smirk. The afternoon sun glinted in his golden eyes, giving them an
eerie luminescence. "Better for me if you choose not to." He dropped
his knee further, muscles coiling, gathering strength to empower the
missile his body would come, incredible power to put behind his
thrust. "Last chance." 

The man did not answer, but roused up a blood-curdling battle cry
and flew at Saitoh. The third captain of the Shinsengumi launched
himself as well, calculating when he would shift his course, where the
sword would meet flesh, how he would avoid the other man's blade.
He could taste the moment that steel would prick flesh and then rip
into muscle and bone. He channelled his strength for that final
impact... 

The loud clash of metal on metal shook the wolf to his very bone.
The man had not been that skilled; the look in his eye had been that
which one carries into death. Luck, perhaps? In an instant, Saitoh
recovered, skidding, switching direction, his eyes seeking out the
truth as to what had happened. The man was standing there, stunned
perhaps? And then a fountain of blood erupted from his chest as his
body cleaved open from shoulder to abdomen. There was a look of
shock and surprise on his face. 

That was not my attack, Saitoh thought coldly, searching for the
assassin. There was a flicker of color to his right; red, something
darker. He readied himself for attack, unable to sense which direction
the enemy had flown. It bothered him greatly that this was so. No
one, not even the Battousai had done that to him... 

The air pressure shifted slightly to his left and north; he reacted with
time-honed reflexes that just barely saved his life, his sword blocking
a slash that would have echoed the dead man's injuries on his own
body. In that moment, he locked eyes with his attacker; golden eyes
like his own, burning with bloodlust and insanity beneath dark red
brows. It was Battousai! But how-- he had never been this fast, this
powerful in all the other times Saitoh had fought him. 

Hitokiri Battousai sprang back, resheathing his sword, his face
twisting into a smile. Something else new. Usually, his face was so
grim, so serious about his killing. He leaned forward, hand over the
hilt of his katana, ready to read and deflect whatever Saitoh might
pull. Saitoh, too, readied himself for battle, falling back into his
Gatotsu stance. 

"Gatotsu, Gatotsu, Gatotsu," drawled Himura Battousai, his face
leering at Saitoh. "Don't you know anything else? You're so boring,
Hajime. How about I teach you some new tricks?" 

"My Gatotsu is not as limited as you might believe, Battousai," the
Shinsengumi captain responded without emotion. What was wrong
with Himura? Saitoh had never in his life seen the Hitokiri act so
strangely. 

Almost mockingly, Himura fell out of his defensive stance and
yawned melodramatically. Saitoh felt a streak of anger color his
normally cool internal state. Was the red-headed brat so sure that
Saitoh would not attack him? Did he think so little of the wolf that he
did not even fear his attack? Saitoh's eyes narrowed. "Why are you
here?" 

The Hitokiri smiled at him as if he was a friend on a street. "To see
you, of course, Mibu's Wolf." He toyed with the hilt of his sword,
but not aggressively. "And I was on my way to pay a visit to the Lord
Tokugawa." He smiled again, looking shockingly innocent, the
boyish features assuming honesty easily. Saitoh noticed the scar he
had acquired on his left cheek: a single cut, clean, but there for life.
So, he was out to assassinate Tokugawa? The Ishinshishi had gotten
that ballsy, huh? Saitoh tried to deduce what kind of a game the
Hitokiri was trying to play. 

"I thought you had become Rurounin," he dropped, buying time, his
mind racing. Himura did not seem to be thirsting for a fight this
instant; but one never knew. This was the man even the Shinsengumi
feared and respected. And the only man ever to not lose to Saitoh in a
fight. Rumor said he would kill anyone, even on his own side, if he
was so inclined; then again, there had also been the rumor that he had
given up his sword and become a non-killer. 

Battousai began to circle Saitoh, and Saitoh circled him in response,
unwilling to let him get out of his direct sight. "I toyed with the idea."
He shrugged. "But it was a stupid one. Not worth following. I could
not be where I am if my sword did not kill." 

Saitoh gave him a cold flash of teeth, amused. "I had thought that
myself." The sun, now on its way down, flashed in Saitoh's eyes
from between the trees, and he squinted. Not good. He could not
afford to be blinded by the sun, and with this endless walking around
each other, he could easily end up in such a position. What was
Battousai doing?! 

He watched those feline eyes slip into a false relaxed state, hooding,
watching him from under heavy lids. Rings of gold around
constricted black pupils; Saitoh had heard once, that when the
Battousai was in a state of extreme calm or happiness, his eyes were
actually blue. And he himself thought he'd seen them blue.. after that
encounter... The memory chilled him, and he pushed it from his
mind, keeping his outward appearance even, deadly. 

His face looking sharp and feral, Himura broke the tense silence. His
voice had not stopped mocking. "I wanted to finish our little battle
from Kyoto." 

Finally, thought Saitoh. But on his way to such an important mission
as the assassination of the Lord Tokugawa? The Battousai must have
finally lost it to become so lax, so dawdling, so utterly and
offensively jeering of the shogunate's side. Did the Ishinshishi have
any idea that their favourite Hitokiri was nowhere near sane? Or
perhaps, they knew, but it did not stop them. He regarded Himura
long and hard, trying to understand him, understand why he would
want to fight now. 

"Any time, Battousai," he said, after a long moment. "I've looked
forward to giving a fitting end to your... interesting career." 

The Hitokiri smirked again, tilting his head, regarding Saitoh from
under those half-lidded, sharply pointed eyes. They virtually glowed
with the reflection of the dwindling sunlight. "I've gotten a lot better
since then, and from the looks of it, you're still boring." 

Saitoh dropped into his Gatotsu stance, letting that be his answer.
Boring or not, he thought, this technique made him the rumored
equal to Okita, the first captain of the Shinsengumi. And it would end
Battousai's life, if need be. 

Battousai did not respond with a similar action. Instead, he leaned on
his sword, threw back his head, and laughed. 

Mibu's wolf came anyways, seeing an opening, merciless. His eyes
honed in on his target, his sword followed, and he thrust, the
vulnerable chest of the Battousai still unprotected... 

Then the Hitokiri vanished, his god-speed incomparably fast, the
displacement of his movement drawing Saitoh in an uncontrolled
downwards motion. Saitoh tried to recover, slipping into another
lunge before he smashed into the ground face-first, and he saw the
flicker of motion to his left. The wolf swung his blade too late, and
Himura was gone again, behind him, katana licking through Saitoh's
shoulder with a hot, acid streak of pain. Saitoh's balance toppled and
he skidded across the ground, clutching his wounded shoulder. He
rolled, springing back to his feet, golden eyes scanning the forest,
aware that he was ever so slightly slower than Himura. The tiny
amount was enough to make him lose, he realized. The Hitokiri
Battousai had been telling the truth, he *had* gotten better, while
Saitoh was beginning to feel his age. A trickle of sweat slipped past
his uniform bandanna and got in his eye, burning. He tried to ignore
it, staying solid, concentrated. 

Again from the left! Himura was toying with him, Saitoh thought as
he brought his blade up in time, deflecting the well-aimed blow. The
metallic clang of their swords rang in the air of the dying sun, its
light gleaming red off the polished surfaces. Battousai skidded back
on one foot, regained himself, and vanished, again moving too
quickly for Saitoh to follow. A blur to the right, just on the edge of
his vision. This time, the Shinsengumi did not stay still, launching
himself in pursuit of the samurai. The wolf got a glimpse of smile
twisting the face of the cold-blooded killer, just for a moment, then of
gleaming metal streaking in his direction. He moved his head in time,
and felt it shear his clothing, cutting the right shoulder so that the
cloth fell about his waist on that side. It draped heavily between his
arm and his body, a hindrance, so that he took a moment to cut it
completely free. 

"Saitoh," the clear, high voice of the Battousai rang out from behind
him. "I could have made that your shoulder, or your head, but I
didn't." He sounded so sane, Saitoh thought, but the things he said...
they made him seem insane. What was going on?! "I want to kill
you, but I would also like to defeat you another way." 

"You're babbling again, Battousai," the wolf responded coldly, never
letting his attention down. Himura was trying to distract him, break
his concentration. Perhaps he was doing better than he thought. 

A hot breath on his neck, sending alarms ringing in Saitoh's mind.
He spun too slow, to find another blade slitting through the other
shoulder of his uniform, stopping him cold as it pressed against his
neck. The chill of the impending night air bit his bared flesh,
tightening it, raising gooseflesh over him. Even still, he refused to be
afraid. "Why these childish games, Himura?" 

The Battousai's boyish voice was low and deadly as he spoke.
"Saitoh Hajime, give yourself to me." 

The wolf's face flickered a moment before recovering its usual mask
of aloof calm. "Give... myself?" 

The words that came from the Hitokiri's mouth defied reason. "Your
body. Beg for me, Saitoh Hajime, before I take your life. I want you
on your hands and knees, lusting for me, wanting me." 

Saitoh could find no response in his throat. The Battousai had truly
once and for all gone mad. He desired that kind of power? The wolf
had heard rumors of the Battousai's appetites in the battlefield, that
the Ishinshishi supplied him with numerous beautiful prisoners to
sate his mad hungers upon; but he hadn't thought they were true. The
few times he had run into the Battousai, he had seemed without that
kind of desire at all. He had thought that perhaps one of the reasons
the samurai was such a successful Hitokiri was that killing was his
one passion, one outlet. Obviously, Saitoh had been wrong. 

The cold steel pressed against Saitoh's neck, eager to bite, and he felt
something hot and wet stroke his cheek. A tongue?! The
Shinsengumi captain recoiled, elbowing his captor in the face, finding
the strength and speed to slam the Hitokiri's arm away and freeing
himself. He flew a safe distance from the red-headed samurai, then
stared at him from across the clearing. His heart was pounding, his
breathing getting difficult, his insides utterly shook up; but Mibu's
wolf stayed calm and focused outside. 

"You cannot get away..." Battousai giggled, a disturbing sound,
making him seem more girlish than ever. His beautiful golden cat-
eyes were narrowed down to slits, an insane smile spread across his
heart-shaped face. Blood trickled from the single-slash scar across
his cheek, split open from Saitoh's blow. His slender white fingers
came up to caress it, to bring the blood to his lips, where he devoured
it sensuously. Saitoh felt himself get extremely ill, and fought to keep
control. It would not be wrong to flee... but it would be against every
fiber of his being. He would die, then, if it was to be so. 

Once again, he let his sword answer for him. Catlike, he fell into his
stance and flew, launching himself at the Battousai from one foot.
The air scratched at him with chill claws and his muscles locked, the
entire force of his body cast behind the length of steel. Himura did
not move; Saitoh knew he would not move until he was ready, and it
might be seconds before his sword made impact. He readied himself
to switch directions at any moment. As he came to Himura, the
red-head did move, but *towards* Saitoh. His hand came down at a
diagonal, striking the horizontal blade that Saitoh sent slashing
towards him, deflecting it downwards. His hand suffered a slight
gash but Battousai did not even notice. In shock, as if it was in slow
motion, Saitoh watched the hand swing around and bare his sword,
slashing it across the Shinsengumi captain's chest. Then, almost
mocking Saitoh's favorite technique, he braced his hand behind his
sword and thrust it into Saitoh's shoulder, smashing him into the
ground. 

He breathed several breaths before his vision refocused. The pain in
his shoulder was unbearable, and he could feel the sword still buried
in his flesh, grating against the bone. He tried to bring his chaotic
thoughts back in order, and tried to sit up, only to slam the wound
into the hilt of Himura's sword. He gave a grunt of pain, his face
contorting. He felt a heavy weight settle on his chest, and when he
reopened his eyes, he saw Battousai standing above him, one foot
planted on his ribcage. The Hitokiri had unsheathed his secondary
sword as a precaution, but from the look on his face, he feared
nothing from the man sprawled beneath him. He crouched, arms
crossed over his bent legs, the sword loose in one hand. 

"Sai-chan," his voice was a soft, playful child's tones. The insulting
nick-name made Saitoh bare his teeth in annoyance. "Give up yet,
little Sai-chan?" 

Forcing himself to endure the agony, Saitoh dredged up the last of
his strength and *sat up*, ripping the sword up with him, knocking
the lighter Himura off of his chest. He reached up and gritting his
teeth, wrenched the katana out of his flesh. He felt a fresh splash of
warm blood run like water down his shoulder, his naked side.
Gathering up his adrenaline, he stood, although unsteadily, and
smiled a wolf's smile at the Battousai. 

"If you think that is all it will take to break me, Himura, you are a
fool." 

"If you think that's all it will take to shake me, Saitoh, you're the
fool," mocked the Hitokiri, his golden eyes cold, his face smiling. He
licked his lips, stroked his bared chest between the folds of his shirt.
"I'll have you and then the Lord's head, and it will all be delicious." 

"The Ishinshishi ought to have retired you months ago. You're
completely insane." 

Battousai just gave a long, low chuckle that chilled Saitoh to the core.
It was like his own laugh, the one he used when he was being
particularly cruel, but the Hitokiri's higher voice made it sound
positively psychotic. One side of his mouth twisted up into a sneer, a
cold amusement, his eyes dancing at the thrill of the situation. Saitoh
tried to recall any other time he had heard the Battousai laugh, and he
couldn't. He held back a shudder and took his Gatotsu stance, his
shoulder flaring up in protest. 

Himura's face took on a disturbingly good imitation of an unhappy
child's. "Boring, boring, BORING!!!" he screamed, his voice shrill.
"You'll never do that stance again!" He pulled out his sword and
gripped it, eyes wide and frightening. Saitoh was still relatively
collected and he saw his opening. He drove the full of his strength
into Battosai's upper left arm, slicing through the outer muscle.
Himura let out a blood-curdling scream but swung his blade around,
striking Saitoh across the back of his neck with the dull side of his
blade. Overcoming his mind's initial impulse to shut down, the wolf
flung himself away from the Battousai, pivoting on one foot and then
coming again at the samurai. He wasn't fast enough though, the
Battousai slashed him as he passed, and Saitoh only caught him with
a light scratch across his already injured arm. He felt his legs
explode as blood pulsed and burst from the huge gashes across his
thighs. Battousai had cut wisely: his strength would be greatly
diminished on his gatotsu thrust. Saitoh swore, trying to recalculate
the situation as Battousai rushed him again, sword flashing; multiple
strikes from many directions... Saitoh blocked most but a few
attacked his legs again; and again, until it was difficult and by pure
adrenaline-powered strength that he stood. Himura had kept his
promise: it would be impossible for the wolf to lunge and power his
favorite strike this way. He didn't care, with every last bit of
willpower Saitoh bent his right leg and leaned deeply forward, right
hand guiding his blade, left empowering it. It drew the reaction he
wanted; Himura's eyes went ablaze, and Saitoh noticed he had fallen
silent. He was truly angry now, and if he just lost his concentration
for but a *second* it might be enough... 

He ran toward Battousai, his legs screaming in agony, aware that his
power had been reduced to nothing. The red-head howled his rage
and slapped the katana blade aside with his own sword as if it had
been nothing; but he left himself open as Saitoh had hoped, and the
wolf brought his right fist back around and into Himura's jaw. It sent
the smaller warrior flying; he hit the ground with a painful crack and
then bounced back up, as if made of rubber. Saitoh sagged to the
ground, braced on his sword, his shoulder stiff and throbbing, his
legs utterly exhausted. He watched Hitokiri Battousai with no fear in
his eyes, hoping but knowing he wouldn't pass out. The long red
bangs concealed the Hitokiri's face, and he brought a hand up to his
mouth- he used the cut arm, Saitoh noticed, as if there was no
damage to it- wiping the blood off. 

The man known as the most feared and deadly assassin of the
Ishinshishi looked up, and his face sent Saitoh into a cold sweat. He
had nightmares about it for weeks, and nothing scared Mibu's wolf,
he had thought. Irises like yellow fire burned around tightly
constricted pupils, barely larger than two black pinpricks; the boyish,
sharp chinned face was wrenched into a terrible grimace, teeth bared
in a hideous parody of a smile, blood tracing mad patterns across his
cheek and chin. The eyes were widened until there were white rings
around the glaring color, and deep furrows dug themself across the
nose of the snarling Battousai. No more words wasted, no more
playing with the weaker prey. The Hitokiri mocked Saitoh's Gatotsu
stance and the wolf knew his death was coming, and that his legs
would no longer move him to safety. He could only watch, his face
impassive, unafraid, even though his insides had become ice. Himura
Battousai moved with god-like speed and his sword cut through
Saitoh like his flesh was nothing; surprise registered across the
features of the Shinsengumi's third captain. A second blade from
somewhere in Battousai's sleeve sheared through the fabric of
Saitoh's belt and his remaining clothing shed to the floor before he
hit the ground as well. He lay there, stunned, waiting to die, as
Battousai sat upon his chest, smirking down at him. 

"So, Sai-chan," came the voice, crawling like poison into Saitoh's
ears, eating at his soul and veins. "Beg." 

I would rather die, Saitoh wanted to say, but his tortured body would
no longer move. He shut his eyes, unwilling to be broken, feeling
steel pinning his left knee to the ground, and more steel through his
right elbow. 

Suddenly, hot kisses, a tender tongue, tasting his blood, as the weight
on his chest shifted. His eyes flew open and he stared at the
Battousai in stunned silence, at the face that held such incredible want
and desire and madness. A hand caressed his injuries curiously,
drawing alternating responses of pain and pleasure. Saitoh felt his
will break and his mind snap, refusing to believe this could be
happening to him. And then, his tongue loosed, saying things his
mind couldn't believe it was hearing... 

"Please, Battousai..." 

He shut his eyes and a slow hot tear marked the moment he ceased to
be the man Saitoh Hajime, as he relinquished himself to the desires
of the Battousai. 

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