AN: I haven't read many fics where Soujirou is still an assassin for Shishio, so I tried my hand at it.
Disclaimer: Don't own it.
Fresh
The blood of another was still fresh as he cut down another fleeing figure, the man shuddering as he fell to the floor. Blood dripped like tears on to the heavily packed floor, tread on by generations of farmers, their wives and children with the odd merchant or wanderer.
Breathing through tightly held lips, forced into a parody of a smile, Soujirou widened his smile as he felt the man's life dim and falter to death.
It was mildly satisfying to see a job end so well. After all Shishio has said to leave no witnesses. Laughing in the thin, crisp air, clotted with the smell of blood, Soujirou stepped forward, barely noticing when his foot, tabi speckled with the shopkeeper's blood, grazed the out stretched palm of a child, wide unseeing eyes tilted to the west.
Flicking his sword, a new wave of blood splattering across the plain wall, dripping to the highly polished bench, persistent. Ripping a sleeve of a glassy eyed woman's kimono, Soujirou calmly, in even strokes, the remaining blood. The smile stayed, fixated.
Sheathing the sword, he opened the door, sliding it open. it quickly closed behind him as he entered a quiet side lane, an old woman averting her eyes hurriedly and retreating inside as the sight of his sword. Whistling an off tune melody, radiating with pure shamelessness, his smile ever present as the aroma of death drifted.
