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night three - kill log.
Who: Killers and Horikawa Kunihiro
When: The third night
Where: The jungles of Ship-Trap Island
[ It's the dead of night when you first hear it. It's the distinct sound of baying hounds barking nearby. This must be the Hunt that you were warned of, and though it seems impossible, they sound very close. You can try and run, but The General and his foxhounds are hot on your trail... And oddly enough, even if you do try and run, you'll feel yourself growing more and more tired with every step. It seems this wasn't a completely fair hunt from the start. ]
When: The third night
Where: The jungles of Ship-Trap Island
[ It's the dead of night when you first hear it. It's the distinct sound of baying hounds barking nearby. This must be the Hunt that you were warned of, and though it seems impossible, they sound very close. You can try and run, but The General and his foxhounds are hot on your trail... And oddly enough, even if you do try and run, you'll feel yourself growing more and more tired with every step. It seems this wasn't a completely fair hunt from the start. ]
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He understands, but Hijikata didn't...
Though the recognition is there, it isn't as though Horikawa can protest it now, and Tsurumaru's words don't resound with any meaning to him. Everything is vague ー the ripping of Tsurumaru's blade through him is too much for a body like this, and the pain makes his consciousness spin, his awareness beginning to come and go. All he can see is the red of his own blood that spills from himself, stains Tsurumaru, the ground. Distantly, the taste of it in his mouth. All he can focus on is how much it hurts.
When he's pushed down, his legs practically give out under themselves as he collapses. It's amazing they continued to hold him up in the first place.]
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When Horikawa collapses backwards, Tsurumaru climbs onto him, straddling the other sword's waist between his legs ー though, it's only to pin him down; Tsurumaru is far more interested in something else. With fascination, he reaches into the gaping wound that he's created with his hands, tearing chunks of bloody flesh apart with his fingernails, digging, digging, until his gloves are steeped in a mixture of Horikawa's blood and blended insides, until his fingers drip when he removes them.
He leans over the wakizashi's chest now, his hands cupping Horikawa's face. Tsurumaru sits this way for a while, and it's the gentlest he's ever been this entire night, stroking Horikawa's cheek soothingly ー painting it red; slowly, slowly, until there's red on his cheeks, red around his neck, red, red, red.
Droplets come up through Horikawa's mouth; Tsurumaru smears them across Horikawa's lips. ]
Blood makes everything prettier, don't you think?
This is the most beautiful that you'll ever be, Horikawa. It's too bad that Yamato won't be able to see you like this, in your final moments.
[ As he speaks, he tightly wraps his fingers around Horikawa's neck and presses. ]
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He lets go of his grip on the rope, and takes a step back. Eyes locked on Tsurumaru, Hijikata observes as he practically tortures Horikawa. Watching his hands get soaked in blood, wiping it on Horikawa's face...
He clenches his teeth. Okay, that's it. ]
Alright, that's enough.
Tsurumaru. How long are you going to make me wait, do I have to punish you as well?
Get on with it.
That's an order.
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By now, Horikawa's life is fast fading. Underneath the fully encompassing pain, his insides feel wrong from Tsurumaru's sick playing, and aside from a few choice words, ("beautiful", "Yamato", "enough"), very little can truly register for him. Rather than that, the fingers pressed against his neck are almost a welcome method to speed this process to its end.
What little air flow he's managed stops, and his body tries to fight it. The taste of blood, weak, half-coughs, liquid bubbling in the back of his throat. He feels like he's drowning.
But it only takes a few moments longer for it all to end, his eyes glossing over as his heartbeat finally draws to a complete stop.]
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Tsurumaru prods him, poking at his cheek to check, before he tilts his head in Hijikata's direction, climbing off of Horikawa and stepping aside; his robes are a stained mixture of red and white. ]
Uwaaah, Hijikata! [ He claps his hands together, expression sparkling. ] I followed your order, just like you asked ー he's dead, see?
That aside, are we done? Or did you have something else you wanted to take care of?
He was your sword, you know. And I remember what you said of how well you treated your swords.
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One more word out of your mouth and we're going to have even a longer talk. [ Small huff. ] Maybe we should see how well a collar fits around your neck instead, hmm?
[ His eyes narrow at Tsurumaru, giving him one last glare, but then his expression softens. He doesn't frown, nor smile but stares down at Horikawa's body. ]
Ahh... Well. [ He unsheathes his own Horikawa, and with a quick, strong motion... Chop! Decapitate Horikawa across the neck! Besides that are what Wakizashis are for, right? Finishing off the defeated opponents... Once and for all. Closing his eyes, he inhales, and exhales once more. ]
That's enough. [ Hijikata sheathes his blade. ] There's no turning back anymore, huh... Well, I said I wouldn't hold back. Whatever...
[ He's TIRED!!! ]
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It's sudden ー one second, Horikawa's perfectly put together; the next second, his head is, well... Tsurumaru's first reaction is to laugh ー at how overkill it seems, but at how their fates are sealed, now, and perhaps he's overthinking it; perhaps it's just post-murder adrenaline. ]
Anywaaay, I hope I impressed you tonight! Go clean off Horikawa ー you know, the only Horikawa that matters.
[ And after he's a few paces away, he lifts a splattered sleeve, waving at Hijikata again. ]
See you later!