Chapter VII: Parallel lives

It was well after dark when the tavern door opened. A drenched figured stepped in. An average height man, his wet long hair glued on his face, stepped in. Despite his rugged appearance, his footsteps were steady and measured. One would think that with this weather, and in this condition, someone should be shaking. Well, not this man. It was as if an inner furnace was keeping him warm. As if hell itself was offering comfort. And maybe hell was indeed with him, for even if his eyes were just visible behind the curtain of his dark hair, one could almost feel the wrath they emitted.

“Kenzo…” His voice was ice. Just a single word was enough to send shivers up in the spine of the patrons.

The nearly drunk Kenzo raised his eyes. It was no hard to guess, from the composure of the man in front of him, that he was a warrior. The clothes dropped heavily on his form, revealing the swords that were hiding underneath them. His walking was strong and light on the same time, like the dancers of the courts. But this one’s moves were graced with death…

It was obvious to Kenzo what this meant. The feud lords have dispatched someone to kill him. Well, it wouldn’t be hard in the condition he was right now. In a mock gesture, Kenzo raised his glass to the stranger.

“Before you kill me, have a drink with me. Tell me at least the name of my murderer.”

He noticed that the man, for some reason, seemed to become even more infuriated.

“Kenzo… Your tricks will work no more on me. You want to sip some poison in me? You’ll have to try harder. This is my moment. This small fraction of time belongs to me… and to my revenge.”

Kenzo looked again at the young man. He couldn’t understand what was happening, and the sake didn’t make it easier for him. Suddenly, his eyes fell on the simple embroided letters on the stranger’s sleeves. It was the clothes of a noble family, a family long dead now…

“Ichiro…?” He asked with disbelief.

“I see you remember Kenzo. I devoted my whole life to chasing you around. I’m strong now. You will see how strong when you die by this blade. By my father’s katana…”

And how could Kenzo forget about Ichiro, another one of his victims. The first born of a noble family, a family that decided to mess up with him. He remembered the love that the teenager son felt about a girl. He recalled how he killed her so as to turn the boy against his family. His memories were filled with the screams of the unsuspected parents, when they saw their own son killing them. It was just a trick really. It was so easy to use the young boy’s love instead of infiltrating a house full of guards. He was really proud of the completion of his plan back then. Now he knew better… He was now young Ichiro’s Ryu, a man who stole everything from him, someone who forced him to become another Kenzo. Another beast filled only by revenge.

It was a familiar pattern; this one had walked his steps. Unwillingly, Kenzo had shaped another being like him. Should he have killed the young boy then, nothing of this would happen now. But what mattered to Kenzo the most, was that nothing that the boy had went through, would have then ever occurred. For he knew this path, and it was not pleasant one. He had climbed the same steps, and he knew that every step was misery, every day suffering. Pain enough to shape a man. Torture enough to forget what you once were.

But Kenzo was used to harsh decisions. Some hours ago, he cursed himself for his ability to manipulate people. During this soul searching journey he regretted his mastery to trick events into happening. But now he smiled…

“Ichiro,” His voice was thunder again, his old strength returning. “even as drunk as I am now, I could easily win over a whelp as you…” He shouted.

Silence reigned in the room. The farmers were slowly backing away. Fearful that maybe Kenzo would make his challenge happen right now. Even the rain, that plagued the area for two days now, seemed to have stopped.

After some seconds the long awaited answer came. “No Kenzo. I want you sober. I want you to understand every minute of our duel. I want you to comprehend who killed you. I don’t need you drunk on this duel. We will fight tomorrow morning. Prepare…”

A little before dawn, another door slid open. The, still sleeping, elder was ready to throw a tantrum at Kenzo. How dare he, an outcast of the village, a man told several times to leave, someone that had brought distraction to the village so many times, annoy him in such an hour?

But the elder remained silent as Kenzo handed him two small parcels. The first one, he saw, was a dirtied pouch, and a letter, directed to him. The second one was a bundle of poorly written scrolls.

Only an hour later, a young boy was running towards the east. It was about the same time, that Ichiro was in the elder’s house and talking with him.

The sun had already risen as Kenzo was staring at Ichiro silently. His whole body was raging, but Kenzo was still in control of himself. He reminded to himself, that this was a battle to be fought with his mind, and not with his emotions. On the other hand, Ichiro was literally shaking with anger. His hatred focused on the steel that was resting on his hand.

It was a good blade, Ichiro’s. Better than Kenzo’s. A blade that bear the symbols of his family. A family he had killed with his own hands. There was no future for him. Everyone he knew hated him for his hideous crimes. The only one that could accept him, now laid dead. His beautiful fiancée… He now knew that it was not his family that had killed her, it was Kenzo. It hadn’t taken him too long to figure that out. But it had taken him long enough for the murderer to slip away…

He had no life anymore. Shattered dreams and hopes lay trampled in the ground. At least, he was given a chance. A chance to kill the one who brought him misery. And not only that, he would claim his revenge, as his father would like, honorable, in a duel. He was a murderer too, a bastard. But at this moment, he would fight opposed to everything that Kenzo made him to learn. No poisons adorned his sword. No vile assassinations would interrupt his rightful justice.

Ichiro emptied his mind. His focal point was rage as he charged forward. Kenzo just managed to parry his attack. He felt weak now, naked. Without his sheath of anger, he was void of strength. And yet, he felt better this way. For the first time, he knew he was in control of his sword. It would be a challenge to keep his emotions buried behind logic. But he always liked challenges. Before this battle ended, he wished to know how it is to really fight…

Slowly, he started to become better in parrying like this. Ichiro was strong and fast. But his attacks were childish. One could easily see them and predict them. He was looking Ichiro’s eyes now. It seemed that every failed attack only helped to restock the furnace of his rage. Each time he stroke back, Ichiro, was becoming more and more fierce.

Suddenly, for the first time in those five minutes they fought, Kenzo attacked. His blade went inches away from Ichiro’s neck. Kenzo laughed inside him. He knew that he could have killed the young fool right there, but he was happy now. He was his own master in this battle. Everything he would do would be the product of his mind, and not of his emotions. And this was the only thing he needed.

Ichiro was shocked. Momentarily he though that he had died. But for some reason, the blade never reached his neck. He felt like Kenzo was toying with him. Everything blurred out of his vision. Now there was nothing than darkness and Kenzo. He charged again. He felt his blade meeting some resistance, instantly the resistance faded as he felt the katana sliding through soft flesh. Withdrawing the blade, he saw the limp body of Kenzo falling to the ground. He was shocked. Everything he worked for came into completion. His deadly adversary laid dead in his feet, struck down by his blade, in a formal duel. He still could force himself to believe that he had succeeded. In the whole battle, he felt like he was being defeated. Like Kenzo was just playing. And now, his opponent laid dead. Ichiro felt calm. Everything was complete now. He could just fade away now, somewhere…

Kenzo was on the ground. He felt somewhat light, as the blood, his blood, was being devoured by the hungry land. His eyes were glued to the skies. The heavy storm clouds were finally breaking up, giving their way to the clear blue spring sky. As they slowly glided apart, he saw a hint of sun. In his mind, he thought that it was the heavens that allowed him a last view of them, before he died. He smiled, and let go…

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