A/N: So, it's been a bit?

Sorry for the wait for anybody who might be interested in the story. I've actually had this chapter written out for quite a long time, since the last chapter was posted, I'd say. I just kind of hit a massive bout of writer's block, and I don't like posting stuff without having more written out.

So, anyway, here's the new chapter. I hope you enjoy it.

Spino, out.


Near the Belle Family Home.

He's moving through the street, but he's not really there. His mind is a thousand miles away, focused entirely on the task at hand.

Expertly and gracefully dodging the busy Deacon City crowd has become second nature to Kenshi. He hears their footsteps, their heartbeats. Sometimes they quicken when they notice his lack of eyes and his completely flat expression. They think he can't hear them as they whisper about the strange man. It's happened less frequently the longer he's been in the city, but the occasional comment will show up.

That's one of the downsides of his conditions, aside from the whole "being blind" thing. Even without the Sento, his other four senses had skyrocketed to pick up the slack of his lack of vision. He could smell the hot dog vendor two blocks away, he could literally taste how filthy the city was, he could feel the temperature change in the most minute detail. And he could hear all the people screaming in the city.

Deacon was not a pleasant place. But the average person doesn't really appreciate it as Kenshi does. Robbery, assault, murder, rape, he could hear a lot of it.

It took a long time to be able to tune it out effectively enough. Every now and again it would slip through the cracks, a flash of guilt or need coursing through him. His hand would always instinctively go for his sword, and he would always stop himself.

He couldn't let himself become distracted. Not anymore. He would quietly mourn, then move on. It was all he could do.

Kenshi reached into his pocket and fingered the pendant. It's been so long since they were taken from me, he thought to himself.

If what Gertz said was true, he would find the information he needed at the Belle house. It's been condemned for years, and the police typically turn a blind eye to the illegal dealings that occur. If a cop were to investigate, ignoring the orders from the higher ups, it would end with one less cop on the force.

Kenshi learned this during his time in the DCPD, and it was something he wouldn't forget. He knew of more than a few coworkers who disappeared when they answered a 911 call about the Belle place. Corruption was so deeply entrenched in the DCPD, his few friends on the force either quit or stayed silent, for fear of their lives or their families.

He joined the police to help him on his journey, figuring the information available to them would be useful. It turned out to be a ten-year waste of time. The chief of police, Gor Roh, was not kind to Kenshi, being an outsider to both Deacon and the United States. This was despite his being taught perfect English by his mother and his sparkling record on his performance. He never really followed police etiquette, doing what he thought was right within the confines of the rules.

He'd stopped a few instances of police brutality that he witnessed before being shoved with another flailing officer of the law who knew the difference between right and wrong. Despite their situation, they had hit it off, learning from each other and becoming as close as brothers.

But now wasn't the time to get sentimental. He was here for a purpose, and he needed answers.

Slowing down in front of the three-story plantation style house, Kenshi listened closely for any signs of life. He could hear four men on the top floor, talking amongst each other. He couldn't quite figure out what they were planning. He did hear one of them say, "With what happened to Gertz, we really can't afford to be taking chances."

Kenshi gave a small snort in amusement. Word travels fast it seems.

Two more were lounging on the first floor, watching television. Aside from the drunken laughter, he wasn't getting anything useful out of them. On the second floor, he heard one man mumbling to himself. No idea about what, but a mention of a "sorcerer" popped up.

Striking soon would be the best option, he decided. None of the men were expecting an attack since their heartbeats were slow and calm. At most, the men on the top floor were stressed about arguing with each other, but that was easy to take advantage of. The two drunkards downstairs would be simple enough, and it's possible the man on the second floor wouldn't even notice.

Making the decision, he quickly pivoted, traveling up the walkway to the door. Another benefit of his abilities gifted to him by the Sento was being able to "see" someone's soul. Basically, the average person would give off a sort of blue-ish hue. Various shades of blue would represent different emotions. The lighter the blue, the happier someone is. The darker blues, however, would represent how angry or sad someone is.

When he saw black, however, that represented someone who was truly evil. It wasn't often that he saw this color. In fact, he's only seen it three times in his life. But this house, especially the person on the second floor, was very close to that color. It wasn't quite there, but it was nonetheless unnerving. Kenshi got to the door and gave it a few hard knocks. He heard as the men upstairs immediately halted their conversations, while one of the drunkards got to his feet, stumbling over himself to get to the door.

"W-Who's there?" he asked.

"Special delivery," Kenshi said, already preparing himself.

The four above them were already starting to make their way down. One of them shouted, "Just a sec, let me grab my wallet!" He then immediately followed up with a sharp command. "Don't open the door, you idiot!"

Kenshi grimaced. So much for that approach.

"W-hu…?"

"No one ordered a goddamn thing," the man replied in a whisper, presumably their leader. He smacked the drunkards across the head. "Someone's here. Probably the same guy who offed Gertz. Everyone, hide. We'll surprise the bastard."

A smirk played across Kenshi's lips. Sure you will, he thought.

Just as the goons were getting into position, the leader grabbed the drunkard. "Not you. If you're not here, it would look suspicious." He reached for his gun. "Found it!" he called back. The door started to open.

Suddenly, Kenshi grabbed the door handle and flung it wide open. The leader of the group was caught off guard, not reacting soon enough to fire off a bullet. Kenshi grabbed the gun hand and slammed it into the leader's face, breaking his nose. He stumbled back, falling on the ground.

Before he did, Kenshi quickly dived into the room, sending a sharp kick into the first drunkard's knee. A loud crack filled the room, before it was followed up with an open palmed blow to the chest. The drunkard stumbled back, allowing the blind man to quickly move past him.

At this point, the other thugs had regained their wits and started to fire on him. Kenshi stayed low to the ground, making use of what little surroundings he had to work with. One of the bullets grazed his left shoulder, but he gritted his teeth and worked past the pain. He reached out, picked up a plate, and chucked it at one of the gunmen like a frisbee. It didn't break the plate, but it gave him a nice bruise on his forehead, knocking him out cold. Kenshi ducked into the kitchen as bullets continued to fly, out of sight.

This has not gone as planned, he thought. It was meant to be a silent affair. Then again, what did he expect by just walking up here? The shots soon quieted, to his quiet relief. Gunshots did a number on his hearing, but they were incredibly easy to pinpoint at least. One of the thugs slowly made his way to the kitchen. Now was his chance, he decided.

Kenshi pulled his sword free from its scabbard, a blue glow coming forth from the blade. More than just giving him sight, the Sento had another added bonus. Just as the thug rounded the corner, Kenshi sliced off his gun hand. Reaching deep within himself, he sent out of a wave of telekinetic energy from his hand, sending the thug flying back into a wall. He crashed through it, spilling into the outside.

Just as the rest were raising their guns, Kenshi used that same power to pull them from their hands. The weapons scattered across the floor, forcing the remaining group to pull out what they had left. Two of them pull out knives, but the last guy had to work with his bare hands. The knife wielders soon rushed Kenshi, slashing wildly, hoping to catch him off guard.

Instead, he easily evaded their attacks, dodging almost lazily before he had enough and slashed upward. It split one of the men in two vertically, making the other step back in fear. Kenshi gave him no quarter. He grabbed him with the power of Sento, telekinetically sending him crashing into the ceiling before slamming him face first on the ground.

Next, he did nothing. Kenshi just stood there and waited to see what the other man would do. He noticed that the leader had regained his wits, and started to get to his feet. He was holding his broken nose, aiming his gun at Kenshi. He couldn't help but roll his eyes. Abruptly, he simply ripped the gun away with his power and caught it. He aimed it at the leader.

For a brief, tense moment, no one moved. Kenshi half expected one of them to do something stupid, but they didn't. So, he let go of the gun and let it fall to the floor. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the Lin Kuei pendant.

"One of you two must know what this is," he called out. "And I want to know more."

The unarmed man was confused, but the leader's heartbeat quickened. "What's that?" he asked through a broken nose, so it came out all nasally and whiny, but with a surprising conviction to the role. Kenshi almost believed him.

He turned and faced the man. He said, "Gertz told me I would find a Lin Kuei informat here. And given that you are likely the leader of this ragtag group of misfits, I suspect that person to be you."

"I-I have no clue who you're talkin' about," the leader replied. "That name don't mean nothin'."

"You're lying. I can tell." Kenshi turned and started to walk towards him. "I'm going to give you three seconds before I break every bone in your body. You will talk. It's just a matter of if you want to walk ever again."

The leader was nervous now. He was starting to sweat profusely. His eyes quickly glanced to the last man standing, who was slowly creeping towards the blind, before moving back. Before the other man could get any closer, Kenshi, in a smooth motion, spun around, slashing him across the chest with the Sento and rushed towards the leader. The action took less than two seconds.

Kenshi grabbed the leader by the collar of his shirt and held the sword up to his neck. He let the silence sit for a moment before continuing. "This is your last warning."

"Okay!" the leader shouted. "Alright, I'll tell you everything! Just don't kill me!"

"That is entirely up to you."

"Alright, the Lin Kuei, they're-"

A knife became embedded in the man's forehead. It took Kenshi a moment to realize what just happened. The blade had just suddenly appeared. Then it hit him. The man on the second floor.

Kenshi let the leader's corpse flop to the ground as he turned to face the man. His heart was pounding, still high on whatever drug he was taking, but there was something else about him. Now that he was face to face with the man, he could actually hear what he was saying.

"Must… protect… complete mission… last Takahashi… must protect… sorcerer…"

Kenshi's eyes widened. "What did you just say?"

"Can't fail, have to complete mission, sorcerer can't know, must protect," the man stammered. His breathing was ragged, and his heart wouldn't slow down. "No one can know, last Takahashi-"

"How do you know that name?!" Kenshi demanded.

The drugged man wasted no more time. He pulled out two knives and darted towards Kenshi. Unlike the others, this wasn't a random, desperate attack. There was a sort of sloppy grace to it, with speed that far surpassed the thugs in the home. Kenshi almost didn't evade in time, and just barely brought his sword up to block the follow up attack.

Already at a disadvantage due to being against the wall, Kenshi was struggling to match the speed of the blows. His guard was broken through at a few points, and was rewarded with a shallow cut on his right bicep and left cheek on his face. Whatever mind-altering substances he was on, they weren't having an effect on his abilities.

The man attempted a stab at Kenshi's head, but missed by a fraction. This allowed the blind man to quickly maneuver around his back. With his powers augmenting his strength, Kenshi gritted his teeth, lifted him up, and fell backwards. The drugged man made sure to keep his chin tucked, though, allowing most of the force of the fall to be focused on his upper back and shoulders.

Kenshi scrambled to his feet, raising his foot to stomp on the man's head. He rolled out of the way, however, quickly jumping up and backing off. He lunged forward, his right hand attempting to plunge the knife into Kenshi's heart, but the blind man kicked it out of his hands. He followed it up with his open palm striking the man's sternum. He used a bit of his telekinetic abilities to aid in sending the man flying backwards across the room, but he skidded to a halt.

With the entirety of the room separating them now, a snarl escaped the drugged man's lips. "Won't let you! Can't let you!"

Before Kenshi could even begin to ask a question, he was set upon by the man again. Instead of trying to counter, he simply jumped away to avoid the man's wild knife attacks. The blind swordsman grabbed him with his mind and then threw him through a wall and into the kitchen.

This seemed to daze him for only a moment, as he quickly got back to his feet. This time it was Kenshi who was on top of him. Instead of just raining down strikes with his sword though, he focused on throwing whatever he could grab hold up. He threw an ashtray, a plastic cup, even a chair with his mind.

The man was caught off guard for a moment, but quickly recovered. He avoided the heavier objects and just brushed off the smaller ones, quickly setting upon Kenshi again. He made two horizontal slashes followed by a thrust. Kenshi was able to avoid the first slash and blocked the second, but he felt a sharp pain in his side. He ignored it, grabbing the man's arm and pulled him closer.

Kenshi leveled his sword and plunged it into the man's gut. His eyes went wide before looking down to see the blade in his side. Kenshi gave it a sharp twist before pulling it out with little regard. The man gave a small cough, spitting up some blood, and fell to the ground.

Taking a deep breath, Kenshi suddenly noticed that pain from before flair up. He reached down to his side and felt a knife in there. He grabbed the handle and pulled it out slowly. From what he could tell, it hadn't hit any major arteries, but it would need almost immediate medical attention. Once it was out, he let it drop to the ground and applied as much pressure as he could to the wound. Well, he thought, that's going to have to be a problem to deal with later.

For now, though, he knelt down to the drugged man's level. His breathing had become labored, and Kenshi could smell the blood that was pouring out. But he wasn't dead yet.

Kenshi grabbed his head and forced him to look him in the eyes. "You said the name 'Takahashi'. How did you learn of it?"

When the drugged man said nothing, Kenshi added, "You're bleeding out. You'll die, and I can't stop it. But I can stop the pain. Please, help me."

"The sorcerer…" the man mumbled. "He wanted the last Takahashi dead… Said something about a traitor…"

Some lucidity seemed to be returning, although he was still going on about a sorcerer.

"Who is this sorcerer?" Kenshi asked.

"Said you'd be in Deacon… Said you would be coming for us…"

So they were on to him, Kenshi thought. This "sorcerer" couldn't have only just discovered him, however. There had to have been eyes on him for quite some time now. The thought unnerved Kenshi, but he pushed it to the back of his mind.

"Why did the Lin Kuei kill the Takahashi family?" Kenshi finally asked. "What did Takeda Takahashi do to the clan?"

"Traitor…" the man mumbled before falling silent.

Kenshi gave him a shake. "What does that mean? Tell me, what does that mean?!" When he got no response, he listened for a heartbeat. He wasn't surprised to find none.

With great difficulty, he checked the man's pockets. While there wasn't anything in them, he did find a back slung onto his back. He used his sword to cut the strap and ripped it from the man's body and slowly got to his feet. Among the broken bodies and furniture, he was the only one standing. A couple of the thugs still lived, albeit heavily injured.

Kenshi stumbled out the door, clutching his side. Now, he needed to get himself patched up. A hospital was completely out of the question, of course, but where else could he go?

Someone lived close by, he realized. He was close enough to their apartment that he might be able to make it in time. He groaned, and not entirely because of the stab wound. If there was anyone he was not looking forward to meeting again, it was them. It's been a few years, and Kenshi's departure wasn't the most… gracious.

But he was bleeding out, and he couldn't go to a medical facility. It was worth a shot at least.

And so, Kenshi began to walk. He didn't even bother to hide his sword.

On the Rooftops.

The woman brought the binoculars down from her eyes.

She had just witnessed a slaughter. Those crackheads and dealers barely stood a chance. The one drugged guy seemed to be doing pretty well, but it was for nothing. She had to blink a few times and even rub her eyes to make sure she was seeing correctly.

Having spent the past few weeks observing the Belle house, she knew all the comings and goings, and never once did she suspect some vigilante to clean house. But he wasn't just a vigilante, was he?

Using a hidden microphone that she planted a week ago during a day undercover as an escort, she learned that the attack was planned. He was looking for something, something personal. But what? The name "Takahashi" elicited quite the reaction from him. She felt as though she should know that name, like it was tickling the back of her mind.

But like most things, whenever she went to grab the thought, it would quickly evaporate. Instead of dwelling on it though, she quickly packed away her equipment. This man knew something about this "Lin Kuei". And she wanted to find out.

"'Takahashi', huh?" she said to herself. "Interesting."