Rurouni Kenshin/Samurai X is copyright © Watsuki Nobuhiro, Shuueisha, Sony (SME/SPE)
Pale milky moonlight bathed the streets of Kyoto, illuminating the scene below with perfect clarity. Shouts, the clash of metal striking metal, dying screams; it was another night in the stricken city. Blurs of colour in the darkness and the flash of swords…Kenshini turned away. Not his business- maybe another night.
He slipped a hand into his gi, felt the hard, cold weight of the message tube in the inner pocket. There were more pressing matters to attend to. Battousai glanced at the scene one last time, his face expressionless. More pressing matters.
The streets were oddly silent as he drew away, melting into the shadows. No Shinsengumi patrols crossed his path; no bright lanterns lit the gloom, and the teahouses were silent. Kenshin smirked to himself- this was the Bakumatsu. Who would dare roam these streets in the dead hours of the night?
A clatter and thump made him jump, and he drew his sword, keen violet eyes scanning the alleyways. A cat ran out, a thin, emaciated thing, all skin and bone and huge yellow eyes. Like his own- or rather, his darker side's. He shivered- when exactly had that happened? When had that creature reached out and stolen his soul?
No, baka, you sold your soul. Cheap bargain, wasn't it?
Kenshin shook his head violently. No, that wasn't him talking. He yearned to be Shinta once more, the idealistic child, the child who played in the dirt with his brothers, the child who never cried and had never seen death.
So much blood…it all tastes like blood doesn't it? The sake is blood in your mouth and the food is ashes. Poor little Shinta. Did you want your mama?
His breathing was fast, panicked, coming in short, sharp pants, like a hunted animal.
Little Shinta. Don't be a fool- you know you can't escape me. I'm part of you- close, close, close! There isn't anyone to help you, only me. And I'm the beast.
Cheap bargain wasn't it?...Baka…Tastes like blood…Close, close, close!...I'm the beast.
Kenshin's breathing stopped for a moment, and then returned. Slow. Deep. Deliberate. Battousai, the hitokiri who makes the sky rain blood. That's who I am. Not Shinta. Not Kenshin. Battousai.
And I'm the beast.
