Kuuki [Air]

By Murasakisuishou


That night, the wind had risen in Tokyo, sweeping over the rattling 
rooftops, and whistling down the dusty roadways. It pulled at the dangling 
tails of Sano's headband, threatened to strip him of his jacket. Kenshin 
fared no better, though he seemed not to care at all about the way the 
wind's invisible fingers were plucking at his clothes and hair; it smoothed 
the fabric around Kenshin's body, hinting at the power his slight frame 
held. 

That was how Sano liked him the best, wrapped in air, his element. A 
smile could dance on his face one moment, a scowl the next. He could 
seemingly move faster than a person could blink. 

The moon slid free from a trailing cloud, and before them, they could see 
four men standing in their path. Over the gust that had borne down on 
them, a challenge was issued. The swordsman at the forefront brandished 
his katana, and Kenshin dropped into a crouch. At once, they sprang for 
each other. 

Sano quickly lost himself in the fight, and when he remembered Kenshin 
again, he found no sign of him on the ground. He instinctively cast his 
eyes to the spangled heavens. There, frozen in the full moonlight, hung 
Kenshin, the blade of his sakaba gleaming menacingly along its long, 
narrow edge. His hair had come loose from its tie, and now coiled around 
him like a blood-drenched banner in the buffeting gale. He hadn't lost 
sight of his prey, however, from the way his voice burst upon the air. 

"Ryu Tsui Sen!" 

And Kenshin plummeted to earth like the hawk he was.