Disclaimer: The characters, scene and whatnot, obviously belong to Watsuki-sensei and various media corporations.
A/N : This was merely an exercise - Kenshin and Kaoru's first meeting from Kaoru's POV. The first scene of the manga, and the first scene of the anime also. Nothin' special about it. I've never, ever shown anyone my writing, so this is mostly just testing the waters. I wrote it 6 months ago, and figured I might as well share it.
Also, I probably have the seasons mixed up. Southern Hemisphere people have such trouble wrapping their head around where the rest of the world is at, season-wise... at least, I do. Some nagging feeling tells me it's meant to be spring, but I wrote it as autumn... Eh, whatever.
Language notes, all fairly obvious:
Kimono: Form of traditional dress, worn by both genders.
Katana: Sword, essentially. Technically, it's the larger of the two swords, called daisho, which are worn by samurai. The shorter is a wakizashi.
Saya: Sheath
Sessha: This unworthy one, taking the place of "I". One of Kenshin's idiosyncratic rurouni speech patterns.
Rurouni: Wanderer. Watsuki-sensei made-up word.
Sakabatou: Another Watsuki-sensei word. Reverse-blade sword.
An autumn evening. Tokyo. The streets, they were mostly empty. The humans had retreated inside, to a warm meal and perhaps, a little rest. For most, it was getting towards the end of a long day. Most, but not all. The leaves, they fell in small heaps, drifting along lazily in the frigid breeze. A stranger walked among them, humming a tune that wasn't quite in key. Cheerful, careless. Obviously, this man had hardly noticed that now was about the time to retire, to find a place to rest for the night. But perhaps, judging by the state of his attire, it was highly possible there was nowhere for such a person to retire to.
For Kaoru, quietly observing, this was hardly a rare sight. Wanderers were common creatures, what with the unrest of the times. They frequently drifted to the cities when the leaves coloured and fell, the weather cooled. And no better place to wind up than the capital, where there was often some form of job, and plenty of nooks and crannies that would be dry and sheltered. Yet what was strange about this man was his appearance. His clothes, they wouldn't be noteworthy if it weren't for the colour – he was wearing the most garish pink kimono Kaoru had ever laid eyes on, and for a moment, she found herself doubting whether this was indeed her quarry. Even questioning his self-respect.
However, the hair, so red that it could be mistaken for that of a foreigner. And the scar on the left cheek, unique and memorable, it was a distinctive X. And that katana at his hip, the handle well worn... despite the sword ban being in place so many years. There could be no doubt, this was indeed the one she sought.
Stealing a breath, Kaoru prepared herself for a confrontation. If the legends were even half true, she would need to be at her highest and utmost alert. Slowly, she stepped forward. When he didn't so much as pause a beat, she took another, and braced herself, steady, feeling her connection to the earth. Centred, she breathed again, preparing for an almighty shout. "Hitokiri Battousai!" She yelled, keeping her voice strong, commanding.
He paused, and turned. Battousai's eyes were curious and open. They were a most magnificent, pale violet in the dusk light, and totally, utterly honest. He didn't utter a word, merely looked back as though this were totally normal. To be accused of being the most feared, blood-thirsty murderer of the century. Kaoru allowed anger to full her veins, hatred to fuel her steadily beating heart.
"I have found you at last!" She announced to the empty night. A slow breeze swept at her fringe, tickling her cheek, filling her lungs with venom, "For two months you have murdered at will. It ends now!"
A beat, for her words to register, and then Battousai uttered the last sound she expected to hear from his lips. "Oro?" His brows furrowed and his eyes clouded in confusion. This only served to fuel her hatred.
"Don't play the fool!" She charged, "Who else would dare openly defy the law?!" She lunged furiously, and, missed… No, she didn't miss, her target dodged, jumping casually above the swing of her wooden sword and landing lightly on his feet just out of reach, as though this action were as common as any other instinct. And perhaps it were for this ruthless, cold-blooded killer. "Kah!" She yelled, and this time Kaoru lunged as far and as hard and as best as she could. It hit him, it actually hit him, and the shock of it was somehow disappointing, because she had expected him dodge once more. Instead, her target crumpled against the neighbouring wall, with a loud crash and a bang.
He was pathetic. "This… this is the Hitokiri Battousai?" She questioned no one in particular, staring at the red-head in that garish kimono with disbelieving eyes, her hands shaking with the emotion she hadn't succeeded in expelling from her system.
"Rurouni." He corrected, lifting his hand behind his head, and displacing the hairs in a gesture that could only be described as genial embarrassment. "Sessha is a rurouni. Merely a traveller, with no real destination. Sessha has just arrived in town, so sessha hasn't yet had the chance to hear anything about bloodshed in the streets." He braced himself on his knees and lifted himself up, looking at her openly, warmly. As though this whole incident had never happened.
Kaoru stared, mortified by her own actions, grasping for an excuse. And when she found one, she didn't hesitate. "Then how," she pointed accusingly, making sure to be annunciating every word, "do you explain that katana?"
The rurouni looked back, eyes crinkling, and a cheerful, benevolent smile slowly spreading across his face. That did it. "Don't you know there's a sword ban? No one is allowed to carry a sword!" She cried, and before Kaoru could register a response, her spare – her right hand – snatched out and latched onto the handle. She gripped, and pulled, the blade sliding free of its saya in one smooth movement. Halfway through the procedure, time seemed to slow. The swordsman, he didn't budge, the only movement he made was for his mouth to part slightly in protest at his possession being violated. But Kaoru, all she noticed as the silver steel was exposed, slightly reflecting the light of the now-visible moon, was the fact that it looked, purely and inherently wrong.
She examined it, feeling as she did so the weight of its genuine-ness in her palms and uttered a silent gasp. The blade, she thought incredulously, this blade is reversed! "It's," She exclaimed with surprise, "it's… this is a Sakabatou!?" Never in her life had she seen one before, sure, she had heard of them. But what logical person ever wanted one? "Then you're nothing more than what you say?" Kaoru queried, "A rurouni?"
"Yes." Said the rurouni, standing fully and brushing off the dirt in a few swift, dusting motions. Kaoru noted with some surprise that his eyes were on exactly the same level as hers, which was remarkable, seeing as she were somewhat shorter than average. He smiled fully, "How many people could one kill with a blade such as this?" he asked cheerily, blinking his eyes to the truth of the statement.
Kaoru touched it, "Not many," she said softly, running her finger down the blunt edge for a moment, "and the blade, it shows no wear, not even a trace of blood… truly, it has never been used even once." The young woman paused, allowing the truth to sink in, before she started slowly, finally believing, "Then you're really just –"
"A rurouni, yes." Confirmed the red-head with a nod, reaching to reclaim the useless katana and sliding it back into its sheathe with a soft click, finally home once more.
Kaoru regarded it for a moment, pondering its usefulness with a slight frown tinging her expression, "But why carry a sword you cannot use?" She asked curiously.
The rurouni opened his mouth to reply, but before he could even utter a single noise, the sound of numerous running feet could be heard. There was a crash, and then a cry, then an incessant whistle was blown, piercing the evening air with its coarse pitch. The young woman before Kenshin startled, eyes suddenly brimming with intent, "That whistle," she muttered, breathless, "The police, I have to go!" And she sped off down the street, hastily turning the corner. Not away from the noise as one might suspect, but towards it. Puffs of dust were all that were left behind, and a soft, surprised, "Oro!"
xxxx
Kenshin was left alone in the narrow street. The noises coming in night air sounded curious, they sounded like fighting. Swords being drawn, blade hitting blade, cutting through flesh and bone, the last cries uttered by a victim… this rurouni only knew it too well. Hastily, unable to satiate his morbid curiosity and inability to leave these matters alone, he didn't wait long before following the loud young woman around the corner.