After much thinking of a way to avoid the usual routes, finally here's a oneshot for all of you. It was a stop-start project, and I'm glad it's finally done. Hope you like it. S7 ain't mine, and all this is just conjecture and what if.

Dedicated to narrizan, who asked for it.

………………………………

Someone saluted in front of me. "Sir, we have a lead."

Several rounds of ammunition had been stolen from the base, with our guards knocked out cold before they saw who it was. "Who did it?" I asked.

"The yellow-haired mongrel."

"Find him, arrest him," I said.

"Yes, sir."

So, it was him again.

Nobody knew his name, but he was in the clan's files. Stole this mecha samurai's sword. Stole that cruiser's cannon. Under their noses, in broad daylight. If anyone tried to stop him, a punch across the face stopped them cold. He supplied the weapons to a merchant, who then sold the goods to whoever would buy them, on either side.

I had noticed that riffraff of a boy for a while now. I had seen him around town a few times. He looked like a young man, but was still a boy, strictly speaking, maybe fifteen or sixteen. He just looked older than his age. He was tall and lithe. His face was hidden under a mass of tangled yellow hair. He looked poor, surely, but he was impeccable in how he carried his poor clothes, with the regal air of one used to luxury in time past.

He went by too many aliases, angry names that people called him, according to the number of reports against him. He answered to no clan and did not belong to the city he was in. His yellow hair stood out way too much among people with dark hair and brown skin. And yet, no one could catch him.

Iris scans (requirements among the people, whatever their status) had determined that he was from a line of swordsmen, from a far land. As to why he was now living alone, hand-to-mouth, no one knew. The boy kept to himself, spies told me. He was a mongrel, a street dog.

A report came from one of the men. "He's hiding in the nearby district."

"Catch the mongrel, then. Pin him down. I want to see his face, before he's taken to prison."

"Yes, sir."

I got my coat, and walked out of headquarters. I told one of the men to take me where they were hunting the boy down. I wanted to be there when it happened.

Our men trailed the boy through alleys and narrow streets. I thought I even saw his yellow hair dashing through the marketplace.

He was finally cornered on a long and narrow street. Guards blocked both ends of the street. A few perched on the roofs, blocking that way out. He stood in their midst with calm and dignity, something I did not expect out of a street rat. I positioned myself on one of the roofs. His entire aura told me that this was going to be dangerous to my health if I did not take precautions.

"Surrender the cannon, you dog," one of the guards said, and moved closer.

"Already sold," he answered.

"WHAT?"

"Any…..other questions?"

"We're taking you in for stealing military property." The whole troop moved closer.

"Property you stole from others," he replied.

One of them fired a pistol, but he jumped out of the way in time. He began to breathe heavily, and placed a hand on the handle of each sword.

He slowly took out the swords on his back. "Don't……don't……make me do it…" He warned with a low voice.

"Why should we be afraid of a city dog, aye?" the guards chided.

He attacked.

With a sword in each hand, he charged in. He crossed and uncrossed them, separating a head from a body each time. One man, one sword swing, and he was sent to the afterlife. Another man, the other sword, and he too was gone. One attacker charged in. He thrust him through, and quickly withdrew the sword, as the man fell without knowing what hit him. He sliced and thrust as if he was practicing a drill. He attacked, the way my guards would attack each other during kendo class. It was dry and mechanical. It was without soul, without excitement. In total, six men in two minutes. The rest ran as fast as they could away from the yellow-haired boy.

He finally stood alone amidst the six men.

"Damn," I heard him say.

He panted heavily. He held a long sword at each hand, each dripping with blood. He looked down at the swords, and down at the six men. He dropped the swords, and stared in disbelief at the bodies that lay around him.

I had seen frightened boys before, scared by their first use of a sword against a human being. While this boy was indeed shocked by the incident, he was far from rattled, and was unusually composed, for a rookie.

I brought myself down from the roof, and pointed my pistol at him. "Don't move. I just want to talk."

He raised his hands. He had the look of the captured dog that he was, frightened but still snarling.

"You're shaken, don't try to hide it," I said. "Your first kill?"

He lowered his head and clenched his teeth, but said nothing.

I got closer to the man he just sliced. The cut was straight and sharp, a level of skill I only expected of a man who had been in battle for a few years, at least. "Who taught you how to do this?"

"No one," he replied.

"Impressive, very impressive," I said. "You should be working for us, instead of wasting your life away. Allow me to introduce myself--"

He growled. "Tessai, of the Amanushi clan."

Not bad, for a dog. Only a few people knew me, much less associated me with the clan. "Very good." I stopped walking, and faced him. "Your name?"

"Unimportant," he said.

"Or you simply refuse to give it?"

"People call me what they please." He said this with a stony face, but with fiery eyes, eyes that resented the fact. He lowered his hands beside him, where I could still see them.

"Your clan?"

"None."

"Your family?"

"Eliminated."

"All of them?" Surely that was not true, even in this time of war.

"All of them."

"How?"

"Unimportant."

His curtness, his insolence, was getting on my nerves. "What are you, a message service? A coin for each word?"

He glared at me.

"At least," I said, "answer me the name of the clan that wiped out your family, the clan that deserves your vengeance."

I saw him clench a fist so tightly the knuckles turned white. "Kinamaro," he replied.

"Our enemy, as well as yours," I said.

He looked at me with sudden interest.

I pointed at the bodies, slowly soaking in their own blood. "Do you think you can do this again? Against that clan? For us?"

He kept his head bowed, and remained silent, as he placed the two swords into a long sheath behind his back.

Since I was not going to get an answer, I turned my back on him and started walking away. But I had not walked a few steps when I heard a quiet and deep voice behind me.

"Yes."

I saw one eye under the messy yellow hair that covered half his face, and I saw his mouth, set in a firmly straight line. He was serious. That was enough for me to know. In these last desperate times, we recruited anyone we could. "Very well."

I looked him over. I recalled how he moved like lightning among the men, and made them fall in rapid succession. I remembered how……dead….he seemed while doing it. And I decided.

"You are quick on your feet, boy, but you remind me of a soulless statue. A fleeting, passing figure, a ghost. From now on, your name among us shall be Kyuzo."

He gave no signs of either displeasure or agreement to that notion.

I started walking again. "Come. I'm going back to headquarters. I'll introduce you."

He sighed. Then he began to follow me from a short distance.

…………………………………

Even I use "Kyuzo", and will always prefer that spelling, but I am aware that the most correct romanization is Kyuuzou, which roughly means the way I said it means above, quick (kyuu) and statue or figure (zou), based on my Japanese-English little dictionary. The kanji for it might be different, though, and I won't know.

The idea for this comes from the passing comment that he was originally a "dog from the city", mentioned in episode 9 I think, when he accepted the offer to tag along. I apologize if it sounds a lot like the way Kenshin was recruited to become Hitokiri Battousai., crossed with Aoshi. I can't help it that RK is my favorite show, sorry. I knew I didn't want to do yet another resurrection fic, a story with an original girl, or even one with Kirara. Not that I don't appreciate those who do it, but there are enough people who do it. That leaves 3 more of the 7 guys to make a story for (sigh….).

Thanks for reading.