The Hinomoto Rebellion (45 page)

“It pains me to do this to you, Foxfire, but you joined the wrong side,” Bear grunted into his ear. The bearded man let go of Foxfire, who swayed unsteadily on his feet before a blow to his face sent him back to the floor. He skidded across the tiles and hit an accent table that was against the wall, smashing the legs and causing the top to fall on him.

Dazed, Foxfire pushed the broken wood off just in time to see Bear striding toward him, his fist pulled back. He forced himself to roll out of the way, barely missing the blow that sent Bear’s hand through the drywall. The dark-skinned
ronin
scrambled across the floor, knocking over a few Daimyo who had been running through the lobby at that moment. Foxfire didn’t give them a second glance though. He was only interested in putting enough space between him and Bear to make sure he could get his bearings before the next punch was thrown.

Foxfire made it to the other side of the room and turned to face Bear as he pulled his fist from the wall. The two eyed each other for a minute, then Foxfire dropped into a ready stance. “Come on!” he challenged.

Elsewhere in the Capitol building, Shogun Kunota had run out of room to retreat. He was at the end of a corridor with a window to his back. In front of him was Daimyo Yasakuto and a group of policemen. To his left, about 5 meters away was a door to a stairwell. It was too far away and swung inward though, so he wouldn’t be able to get to it without being blown away first. Kunota backed as far as he could against the wall without sending himself out the fourth story window. His knees shook as the policemen shouldered their guns.

“That was a very... foolish... move, Kunota. Very foolish indeed. I told you what the consequences would be if you went against me!” shouted the Daimyo.

 

Kunota managed to speak even though his teeth were chattering together. “Some consequences are worth the rewards!”

“Idealism will get you nowhere, Shogun Kunota.” Yasakuto raised his hand casually, causing the policemen to each chamber a round in their guns. The Shogun stared down the barrels, his knees shaking.

I don’t regret it. I don’t regret it. I
won’t
regret it!
Kunota squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then opened them again.
I’ll face death with honor!

The Shogun stared at the police, the police waited for their signal from the Daimyo, and the Daimyo’s hand paused before it started moving back down again. Kunota was sure that his time had come– his life was over.

Just as Yasakuto’s hand began its downward swing, the door to the Shogun’s left burst open. Every head in the hallway turned as a tall brunet wearing a red headband raced out into the hall. He dashed straight for the Daimyo and the policemen, barreling down at them like a bull charging on a matador.

Kanjou cleared the distance between them in the blink of an eye, letting a primal cry escape his throat as he pounded across the carpeting. The policemen fired a few wild shots as the
ronin
closed in on them, causing bits of drywall and an accent lamp to explode around Kanjou. With a flurry of punches and kicks the spiky-haired brunet worked his way down the line of policemen, knocking their guns from their hands as though he were playing a strange carnival game. As the guns went flying through the air the policemen scattered, attempting to retrieve them.

Daimyo Yasakuto had backed up a few steps while the
ronin
was disarming his assembled guards, but even those few wary feet weren’t enough to keep Kanjou from giving him an open-palmed strike to his chest. The Damiyo stumbled backwards as Kanjou spun on the ball of his foot, racing across the hall and grabbing Shogun Kunota by the arm. He nearly picked the politician off the floor as he steered him toward the door, throwing open the entry to the stairs and tossing the Shogun in ahead of himself.

As the metal door closed, gunfire rang out in the hall, causing dents in the door from bullets hitting it and ricocheting off. “Get them!” came the Daimyo’s voice from the hall.

Kanjou made a noise of exasperation as he grabbed the door handle just before one of the policemen could pull the door open. He yanked the handle back, the muscles in his arms tightening as he dug his sneakers into the concrete floor of the stairwell. There were more tugs on the door from the other side, each one getting harder for Kanjou to overcome.

Kunota stared at the tall martial artist for a few moments, completely dumbstruck until the man with the red headband on turned to him and growled. “Get me something to hold this door shut with!”

The Shogun jumped, then looked around. “What!?” he exclaimed.

 

“I don’t care! Anything!” Kanjou gritted his teeth as the pulling on the door became harder to resist.

The Shogun looked around, trying to find anything that he could use to help the fighter out, but the staircase was empty. He spun around, his eyes still desperately searching. As he finished his turn, his tie flew up and smacked him in the face. Kunota stopped, looking down at the silk garment for a second before he reached up and loosened the knot, pulling it off. He ran over to Kanjou and tied one end of the fabric to the doorknob, jerking a tight knot in it. Then he grabbed the loose end and pulled it toward the metal railing in the middle of the landing. The black tie was just long enough for him to wrap it around the top rung of the railing and tie a knot in it.

“How’s that?” the Shogun asked.

Kanjou cautiously let go of the handle just as the policemen on the other side of the door pulled again. The tie held and the brownhaired
ronin
looked approvingly at Kunota. “Great thinking. Come on, they won’t wait long before they move to another floor.” The two men took off down the stairs.

In Kunota’s office Andrea and Aki continued to watch the news. The reporter had long ago retreated back behind a building and far away from the fighting. They were proceeding to narrate the battle that was taking place outside of the capitol building, but the two martial artists had stopped listening to the banter from the journalist.

“You know, Andrea? It doesn’t matter how this turns out,” said Aki.

 

Andrea scowled. “How do you figure that?”

The black-haired traitor paced in front of the captive, her bo held in her hand. “The only thing about this that matters is the spin that the government will put on it after it’s all over. Right and wrong, good and evil, loyalty and betrayal: they’re all only as good as the people that are left in front of the news cameras at the end. In your mind, I’m an evil lying traitor, and I’m in the wrong for what I’m doing. But in my mind, I’m doing what is right– because you’re the one that’s evil. Everything is subjective, Andrea.”

“Then I guess the only thing that matters in the end is keeping the Shogun alive to tell the people the truth.” Andrea glared up at Aki, hatred burning in her eyes. “Because that’s what the people of this country deserve. The
truth
.”

Aki suddenly reached out and slugged Andrea in her face, nearly knocking the Aka Ryuu back to the floor. “Even truth is subjective. It all depends on what parts of it are left out. If the Daimyo wins, then the truth is that
ochiudo
attacked the government, and that the Shogun died in the battle that they started. If the Shogun manages to stay alive, then the truth is that
ronin
attacked the government, and saved his life. The only thing that matters is the words that are used, and the facts that are omitted.

“The fact of the matter is, Andrea, that in the end we are still all criminals. Criminals don’t get parades and hero’s welcomes. They get thrown in jail.”

Andrea growled. “We’ll see who the criminals are by the end of the day, Aki.”

 

Bear and Foxfire circled each other for a moment, each waiting for the other to be bold enough to make the first attack. Foxfire held his fists close to his face, while Bear’s guard was more relaxed. Foxfire hopped back and forth on the balls of his feet, preparing to dodge out of the path of any of Bear’s punches. They made a few rounds of the lobby area, ignoring the chaos surrounding them as they stared each other down.

Finally, Bear exploded forward, his brown boots clattering across the floor. Foxfire held his position, staring at the hulking beast of a man as he ran toward him. The ground trembled under his feet as Bear approached him, but still he stayed frozen to one spot.

Just before Bear could smash his fist into Foxfire’s face, the dark-skinned
ronin
moved his body to one side. With the speed of a cobra, Foxfire stuck out one of his booted legs directly into Bear’s path. He quickly snapped his hand from a fist into an open strike and chopped down onto the back of Bear’s neck as the larger man stumbled over Foxfire’s outstretched leg.

Bear let out a grunt as he smashed down to the marble floor, sliding across it and into the legs of a Daimyo who had stopped to watch the two combatants. The man in the business suit toppled over as Bear rolled through his legs, landing face-first on the marble floor. There was a sickening crack as the man hit. Bear stood up, rubbing the back of his neck while a pool of blood spread out from under the former spectator’s head.

“That was-” Bear’s statement died prematurely in his throat as he stepped back to avoid a blow from Foxfire’s fist. The
ronin
had leaped across the lobby, clearing the motionless body that had been created in Bear’s wake, and now launched an assault on the brownclad fighter.

The two martial artists rounded the room, swinging viciously at one another as each tried to land a blow. Neither of them was extremely fast, but each knew that the other was powerful enough to end this fight in an instant. Anyone who had been watching out of morbid curiosity was now gone, leaving the two fighters alone in the lobby.

Foxfire threw punches as quickly as he could, trying to keep the bulkier man on the run. He purposely backed him toward the wall with his powerful strikes, hoping to corner him so he wouldn’t be able to throw a blow back. Bear, however, had other ideas. As soon as he felt the edge of the accent table he was backing toward, he stepped to the side, avoiding an ax kick that Foxfire had just attempted. Foxfire’s boot crashed down through a lamp and the ceramic bust of a previous Shogun before it decimated the table, turning the wood into splinters.

Bear quickly moved around Foxfire as the dark-skinned man was thrown off balance. Realizing that straightening up would probably mean put his head straight into the path of a fist, the shirtless
ronin
instead allowed himself to fall on top of the rubble of the table. Bear’s clenched fist flew above his head as he fell, slamming into the wall and causing drywall dust to rain down on Foxfire before he tucked his shoulder and rolled to the side. He leaped to his feet, turning around to face his opponent, his guard up to protect his chest.

Bear pulled his hand from the drywall, brushing the dry dust off on his shirt as he turned to his black-haired opponent. “This is a good fight,” he grumbled.

The dark-skinned martial artist raised his guard higher. “Indeed,” he grunted back before he raced forward and threw a savage side kick at Bear. The two fighters began their dance of dodging and throwing blows once more, each trying to chase the other into a trap. As they were making their second circuit of the lobby, three figures burst through the lobby doors, coming to a skidding stop as they saw the two combatants.