------Year of 1861, Tokyo Brawl  (Fin)-----

                A small cloud of dust blew by our feet.  A second later, Gensai’s body disappeared in a motion of complex blurs that only the trained eye could see.  My eyes saw him charging at me and my body reacted for me.  I drew my double wakizashis and parried his oncoming thrust while holding both wakizashis in a reverse grip with the flat side of the blade touching my arms.  His thrust was aimed at my heart, aiming to kill.  What my body was doing, I could not comprehend, but in the next instant he aimed his katana again at my chest.  This is getting old, my body was saying. 

                I jumped backwards onto a set of boxes so that he’d miss.  Gensai ended up missing but his balance was impeccable and he proceeded to follow me.  He jumped up on the boxes attempting to follow me while attacking with slashes at the same time.  My body reacted and my mind could not comprehend it.  I jumped back once again but leaned on my front leg after landing so that I could counterattack.  I read Gensai’s eyes.  He was definitely not ready for what was to be coming to him in the next minute. 

                My arm automatically reacted to what I was thinking to even my own surprise.  It slashed the boxes below him, causing him to lose balance.  While he was still in midair, my body performed what I learned in the past months; the Tsukiosen.  I leapt at Gensai while he was still falling.  I initiated the first step in the Tsukiosen; the first thrust.  He shakily parried it just as he fell onto the ground.  The second instantaneous thrust of the Tsukiosen connected.  Gensai was not lucky enough to dodge that one, I heard my body saying.  My Tsukiosen had slashed the side of his ribs, spewing blood onto the streets of Tokyo. 

                I myself looked into the blood and saw my own reflection.  I didn’t recognize myself.  The reflection staring back at me couldn’t possibly be me.  Those eyes were those of a killer.  Ice cold eyes with no emotion showing at all.  This can’t be me; I wouldn’t do what I just did.

                 The crowd was deafly silent, as if time had stopped all movement and even taken away the power of speech from everybody.  All I could hear were the almost silent groans emanating from Gensai.  Even Shouren had nothing to witty to say to me as he looked at me in utter disbelief.  Master noticed the change in me though.  He walked over to me and put his hand on my shoulder.  At that moment, the feeling of reassurance from Master was enough to bring the real me back from my frenzied state.  I looked back at my reflection.  My eyes had changed once again.  They were the normal eyes I had, eyes that showed compassion, humanity, and warmth.  Not ice cold.

                I glanced back up at Master, he too was a bit changed.  It was like the snowy day back when we first met Shouren.  I noticed he was searching for something to say, but he didn’t know exactly how to put it into words.  Nodding, I put my hand on his shoulder and showed that I understood what he was trying to say.  I tried to smile but could not bring myself to.  Master was like the father I didn’t know, had my real father not been killed that day. 

                Gensai’s sister rushed over after a minute of disbelief of grasping what just happened.  She held Gensai in her arms and picked him up.  I’m sorry and I hope he will be alright, I heard myself saying to her.   At that instant, she glared at me.  Her eyes, similar to my ice, cold eyes, showed only anger and hate.  Those eyes lacked all human emotion.  As I looked into them, I felt fear and I knew that I would never forget that feeling of unimaginable hatred from her.  She walked away, blood still dripping from Gensai’s wound, staining the pure streets of Tokyo. 

                I looked at Master and then at Shouren, then at the faces of the crowds: men, women and children alike had the same blank look of disbelief.  Tears came to my eyes.  I couldn’t believe what I had just done to Shouren.  I ran, not knowing where, but I just found myself running.  I didn’t care what people thought of me as they saw a swordsman boy running, crying.  No one followed me, but I still ran, trying to escape what demons chased me, through streets and alleys alike…