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Entry tags:
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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When he wakes up, he's alone.
He does try to move away from the sounds, sticking low and trying to stay hidden by the underbrush. He probably makes decent progress too, because his stealth is a skill he's rather proud of. Unfortunately he doesn't seem to be skilled enough at it, and if he hears any sounds that are too close he'll freeze, doing his best to stay hidden.]
1/2
For now, Tsurumaru is alone. ]
Wah! I bet I surprised you, didn't I? Anyway, what are you doing out here? Are you lost? Here, I'll take you back to the others.
2/2
Just kidding.
[ And before Horikawa has time to react, he keeps his gaze locked on the other sword's face, issuing commands under his breath— ]
Aruji. Grab him.
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Well, how's that? Can't escape now can you?
[ His tone was flat, and cold. He doesn't really say anything else, but he grits his teeth slightly. ]
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He winces in pain at the twist of his arm, but it's only when he notices Hijikata's presence that his eyes go wide. This isn't happening, right? There's no way this is happening, even as a rope is fastened around his neck, which Horikawa pulls at with his free off-hand. He looks between the two of them with something between panic and disbelief.]
W-What are you doing? This isn't funny, Tsurumaru-san!
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[ With Hijikata holding onto Horikawa, Tsurumaru steps a few paces back, unsheathing his blade slowly; the faint light of the moon reflects off of its sleek surface. ] I'd ask you if you want a quick, painless death, or if you want to suffer, but— ah, that's right! You don't have a choice.
[ Pointing his blade at Horikawa's chest, he traces slow circles on the fabric of his shirt, thoughtfully. ] Ask me that one more time, and I'll drag this out, until you're begging and crying for me to get this over with.
[ He'll keep this up for a while longer, watching the anticipation on Horikawa's expression wax and wane. The question itself is far more than irritating; wasn't it obvious? When he figures that he's wasted enough time, it happens quickly — he pushes the blade several inches into Horikawa's chest, into a spot lower than his heart.
And then, he twists his wrist to the side; he feels something inside Horikawa rip, slowly. ]
What do you think I'm doing?
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[ Hijikata doesn't really add much to the conversation. He stands there, making sure the rope around his neck is fastened securely.
Actually... No. He told himself now's not the time to hold back. He pulls on the make shift choker around Horikawa's neck, tightening it juust a bit more. ]
We have our reasons. Besides... [ Smirk. ] I think you need some punishment for the other day. I don't like people who carelessly break their blades.
So? What do you have to say for yourself, Horikawa?
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At least, there was.
With the sword pushed into his chest, he gives a gasp, his eyes wide. There's a cry of pain Tsurumaru twists it, followed by short whimper, but he bites his tongue to suppress it. Horikawa's breathing catches and every breath hurts, the feeling of his ribcage expanding and contracting causing pain to surge through his chest. He grits his teeth to keep from giving into it, but his breaths comes in short bursts. Most of the words spoken sound like whispers under the scarily human sound of blood rushing in his ears, but his own seem clearly directed towards Tsurumaru, Horikawa's narrowed blue eyes still focused on him.]
How... dare you... [And with a definite feeling of betrayal:] You, you don't understand the situation...
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It hurts, doesn't it? Being human means that everything hurts more. Wounds, scratches, injuries... words. [ He glances back at Horikawa, whose furious glare hasn't faltered; it amuses him, so dearly. His fingertips run down the edge of his own blade, commenting: ] Oh, right. Did I mention? Aruji has no need for a broken, useless blade.
We may be human here, but we're still blades at heart. Your blade is broken, so there's no reason for you to exist.
I'm just doing Aruji a favor.
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I suppose he is. [ It sort of left a sour taste in his mouth, the way Tsurumaru addresses Hijikata but: ] It's always better to have an obedient dog that doesn't require so much training, right?
Otherwise I wouldn't have to be doing this. [ Small tug on the rope. ] You should be quiet though if you know what's best for you. Dogs should only open their mouths when they're told so by their master, you know.
Unless you need to be trained. Well?
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And you think Tsurumaru is obedient..? [He scoffs. His voice is low, and the disbelief in his bitterness is evident.] If he was, he wouldn't be betraying us.
[He swallows, trying to suppress his pain and entirely expecting the rope to be pulled tight, a sword to be driven into his chest, and not to be able to speak anymore. He can't deny it. He can't deny that he's useless, that he doesn't need to exist, but even so he makes his appeal to Hijikata.]
I may speak out of line, Hijikata-san... but at least I would never turn against my allies.
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He draws his arm back with more force, aiming for Horikawa's chest ー aiming for the center of it. And this time, when his blade pierces flesh, he hears something crack. ]
If this is me betraying all of you, then what of the masters that betrayed me? What of the swords? What of everyone that ever left me alone?
[ Still, Tsurumaru doesn't stop there; with the blade still wedged between Horikawa's ribcage, he pushes the handle of the sword down. It's met with resistance, but he drags the blade, shredding, until Horikawa's insides blur together and he cries out, until his insides are little more than a cut-up, messy pile of red. ]
You wouldn't understand, even if I explained.
[ He looks back in Hijikata's direction now, pointing towards the ground with his free hand. ]
Lie him down.
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And you think I'm betraying. Of all people? That's funny.
I have a duty to the Shinsengumi... and... [ Inhales... Exhales... ] I have to get back before they all disappear.
You just wouldn't understand.
[ Hijikata furrows his eyebrows at Tsurumaru. ] How long are you going to keep this up? [ But... With a hand on Horikawa's shoulder he begins to push him down, forcing him so that he's on his knees. ] Well, anyway. You should just listen, alright?
A good dog always listens.
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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!