Caught

29.

Any martial arts teacher would tell you that you had to fight with an empty mind. Only those who remained calm in the heat of the moment would emerge victorious.

Shira was the perfect embodiment of this wisdom, always composed and focused.

But not this time.

His every move betrayed a storm of emotions he was struggling to control. Now that he could finally fight, he let out all the feelings that had been boiling inside him for the past few minutes. Despair, anger, hatred, love.

But letting emotions get the better of you meant making mistakes. Even Shira made them.

The one that almost cost him his life he made right from the start. First he attacked the two men near me, not realising that the immediate danger came from somewhere else. Fortunately, the bullet that was supposed to kill him only grazed his neck

The Emperor's soldiers also made mistakes.

There was terrible chaos everywhere, and navigating through it proved difficult. As expected, our enemies' attention was focused on the black-haired assassin who posed the greatest threat to them.

No one dared shoot at Maya and Ayako for fear of hitting the Emperor, and I was just a shackled prisoner.

Lying on the floor, I took cover from the gunfire behind the nearest overturned piece of furniture and tried in vain to free myself from my bonds. My arms, twisted behind my back, ached, the metal cuffs digging deeper into my wrists with every jerk, but they wouldn't loosen an inch.

The bullet hit the large window, sending shards flying everywhere. I realised that the crossfire must be attracting attention, and soon the rest of the Imperial Army would be upon us.

Shira knew it too, so he was hurrying.

With a pistol in each hand, he proved as dangerous with them as he was with his katana. He was fast, accurate, but reckless. I watched breathlessly as he dodged a shower of bullets by sheer luck. They'll kill him like that. 

Even now, however, it was clear how much fear Shira had inspired in his former comrades-in-arms. There stood more than twenty of them against him, and with such odds it should be easy for them to take him down. After all, he was only one man. But in the eyes of his enemies, he was an invincible black-haired demon whose face clearly reflected his desire for blood and revenge.

Even when Shira's injured leg betrayed him, when he staggered and fell to his knees, they did not take advantage of this moment of hesitation. And Shira gave them no more than that brief moment. Quickly, he rolled to his sword, lying forgotten under a table, and grabbed its hilt.

If the soldiers were afraid of him before, their eyes were filled with pure terror as he stood before them with his legendary katana. Some even tried to flee. Until now, I had thought those stories of enemies throwing down their weapons in fear of Shira were exaggerated. Now I believed them.

I'd never seen anyone fight like Shira. He held the katana in only one hand, not wanting to give up the gun in the other. His movements flowed with the grace of a dancer, but there was a deadly elegance to each stroke carrying destruction and death.

Some begged for mercy, but Shira gave it only in the form of a quick death. Driven by pure hatred, mercy was the only thing he was incapable of.

Palla was the last person he approached. The older man was huddled in the corner, shaking. His two bodyguards were already lying in a pool of blood. The Governor stared at the approaching assassin, his eyes filled with despair.

"Shira, don't!" Maya suddenly shouted from the other side of the room, where she and Ayako were trying to handcuff the Emperor. "We need him to..."

A single swing of the sword. And the severed head rolled to the floor, staining the carpet with blood.