Chapter Text
Fate has many agents. —ESBO
Iizuka crept away from the cabin above the town, celebrating his victory. He'd relished watching his rival’s face as the words in Tomoe’s diary crushed his heart, as the revelations she'd written shredded the life he'd been living with her, and that was his real goal, the final result he'd so wished for: the total destruction of Himura’s world.
He would not make the trek back up the mountainside to the shrine to watch the fight in person. Whether Himura were to manage to finish off Tatsumi’s men, or, which was more likely, one of the three killed Kenshin couldn’t matter to Iizuka in the slightest. Should the pest actually make it past the ninjas’ traps and ambushes, and get to the shrine, he would arrive wounded and exhausted. The Field Marshal would make short work of whatever was left. In anticipation of this outcome, he’d given the “death notice” to a messenger even before he’d gone to the cabin to confront Himura just to make sure the note got to Katsura quickly, no chance of it getting waylaid.
After he was sure that Kenshin would actually read the diary, he scurried back to town. There was no profit in meeting up with anyone--not Tomoe, not the ninjas, and certainly not Kenshin. He would engage his usual room in the rowhouse and hunker down for a few days there. Let the whole fracas blow over. He didn’t think Tatsumi would seek him out for any reason, but, even if he were so inclined, Iizuka could not think of a single reason that wouldn’t cause trouble for him.
He would lie low and rest, think and plan. Curious that he’d not seemed to plan beyond this day. That was not like him at all.
