Elflord: Hey, listen up! I've got something to say to y'all. It's a little
piece called "I don't own Rurouni Kenshin." *strums guitar* Goes a little
something like this . . . *strum* I don't *twang* own Rurouni Kenshin
*strum strumedy twangedy* and none of the characters either *TWANG* Oh, I
wish it were so *strum-strum-strum* But it ain't *twange Twangedy twang
twang strum* so I just wrote this lil' song *TWAAAANG* so you don't sue me
. . . *lil' strum* . . . thank you.
A/N: This fic, like all of my fics, does not take plot as ORTHODOX. I use most of the plot of which I believe supports the fic, but I am not afraid to change other parts according to my own interpretation to better support the fic. Please do not flame for plot reasons.
Reflection
Reflection . . .
Who are you to me?
How your face changes . . .
Once you were a young boy
Small and afraid
Lost and alone
Without a guide, without a home.
I did not recognize you as my own.
I did not recognize anything but fear.
Alone, I reveled in my sweet lament
And not knowing what I sang of
Trembled in the sight of cannibalism;
Men slaughtering other men
Women raped, children beaten and killed
Killing for no reason save for bloodlust
Was that where I learned this madness first?
Perhaps so.
Shinta I was called . . . but no
Slave . . . that was my name.
So he gave me a new one.
Kenshin: a good name;
A warrior name: a Samurai.
Kenshin . . .
How that shadow of a memory haunts me.
Was I ever really that image in the pond
Of a young teen full of young foolish ambitions?
Was I ever a truly a faithful student,
Learning from him,
Becoming stronger, wiser, more enlightened at his guide,
Living every day like a private heaven?
Did I lie in the tall grass after a day's rigors
My body and mind wearied from the day's labor
Watch the stars until midnight
And drift softly away?
But that, too, would not be forever.
Nothing lasts that would be beautiful.
No, I thought I knew the right way;
My duty to aid the people.
He told me no.
How arrogant and stupid I was;
Fourteen thinking I wiser than he.
But I couldn't see it.
I left him. He let me.
Kyoto drew me
Revolution seething in my heart
Rebellion burning in my ears
Upheaval boiling in my soul.
They taught me how to fight,
Taught me to kill
Guilty and innocent alike
Without emotions,
Without guilt,
Without a second thought.
I slept after massacres,
Supped after bloodbaths,
Took women with red hands.
Hitokiri Battousai . . . manslayer
That is what they baptized me
A fitting name for what I had become,
For what I am.
And now, five years later
When the bloody road to power has been won
Sins committed now legends
I look into these ashy waters
To see if you, reflection,
Are the Battousai, the hero.
No . . .
You are the Battousai:
The monster, the demon,
Psychopathic creature of midnight carnage.
Carnivorousness like a disease
Has infected my soul.
I am the inhuman, the wolf,
My slitted yellow eyes that of the hunter.
Oh, my mirror image,
Where is Shinta the slave?
Where is Kenshin the student?
Gone forever, not a sign left.
Here stands the Hitokiri Battousai . . .
Manslayer.
And in beholding Battousai, the monster,
I know the choice I must make.
The road is open before me,
My chance for redemption.
I look at my bloody sword
The memories of its possessors fresh in my mind
And I know what to do.
Yes, I will transform once more
Crawl into my chrysalis and emerge again.
A new sword in my hand
One that will never take a life
From a hand that will never bring death,
I will take that road, that escape.
And by the Harvest's moon above me
Full and red in the September sky
I raise the new sword and vow
To protect the innocent, to never kill
As long as I live.
I will become a wanderer, a drifter,
Using my skills to protect those who need it,
Serving justice wherever I can
That such repentance will save me.
I will travel far and wide,
Find what I have lost
Revive my lost soul from its prison
Begin my life afresh.
And maybe, just maybe
I will recognize you again one day.
THE END
A/N: This fic, like all of my fics, does not take plot as ORTHODOX. I use most of the plot of which I believe supports the fic, but I am not afraid to change other parts according to my own interpretation to better support the fic. Please do not flame for plot reasons.
Reflection
Reflection . . .
Who are you to me?
How your face changes . . .
Once you were a young boy
Small and afraid
Lost and alone
Without a guide, without a home.
I did not recognize you as my own.
I did not recognize anything but fear.
Alone, I reveled in my sweet lament
And not knowing what I sang of
Trembled in the sight of cannibalism;
Men slaughtering other men
Women raped, children beaten and killed
Killing for no reason save for bloodlust
Was that where I learned this madness first?
Perhaps so.
Shinta I was called . . . but no
Slave . . . that was my name.
So he gave me a new one.
Kenshin: a good name;
A warrior name: a Samurai.
Kenshin . . .
How that shadow of a memory haunts me.
Was I ever really that image in the pond
Of a young teen full of young foolish ambitions?
Was I ever a truly a faithful student,
Learning from him,
Becoming stronger, wiser, more enlightened at his guide,
Living every day like a private heaven?
Did I lie in the tall grass after a day's rigors
My body and mind wearied from the day's labor
Watch the stars until midnight
And drift softly away?
But that, too, would not be forever.
Nothing lasts that would be beautiful.
No, I thought I knew the right way;
My duty to aid the people.
He told me no.
How arrogant and stupid I was;
Fourteen thinking I wiser than he.
But I couldn't see it.
I left him. He let me.
Kyoto drew me
Revolution seething in my heart
Rebellion burning in my ears
Upheaval boiling in my soul.
They taught me how to fight,
Taught me to kill
Guilty and innocent alike
Without emotions,
Without guilt,
Without a second thought.
I slept after massacres,
Supped after bloodbaths,
Took women with red hands.
Hitokiri Battousai . . . manslayer
That is what they baptized me
A fitting name for what I had become,
For what I am.
And now, five years later
When the bloody road to power has been won
Sins committed now legends
I look into these ashy waters
To see if you, reflection,
Are the Battousai, the hero.
No . . .
You are the Battousai:
The monster, the demon,
Psychopathic creature of midnight carnage.
Carnivorousness like a disease
Has infected my soul.
I am the inhuman, the wolf,
My slitted yellow eyes that of the hunter.
Oh, my mirror image,
Where is Shinta the slave?
Where is Kenshin the student?
Gone forever, not a sign left.
Here stands the Hitokiri Battousai . . .
Manslayer.
And in beholding Battousai, the monster,
I know the choice I must make.
The road is open before me,
My chance for redemption.
I look at my bloody sword
The memories of its possessors fresh in my mind
And I know what to do.
Yes, I will transform once more
Crawl into my chrysalis and emerge again.
A new sword in my hand
One that will never take a life
From a hand that will never bring death,
I will take that road, that escape.
And by the Harvest's moon above me
Full and red in the September sky
I raise the new sword and vow
To protect the innocent, to never kill
As long as I live.
I will become a wanderer, a drifter,
Using my skills to protect those who need it,
Serving justice wherever I can
That such repentance will save me.
I will travel far and wide,
Find what I have lost
Revive my lost soul from its prison
Begin my life afresh.
And maybe, just maybe
I will recognize you again one day.
THE END