Authors Notes: Seems I have muses. And they don't want me working on 'Silhouettes of Shadows'. They want me to start a new story. I'll get something out on 'Silhouettes of Shadows' for those of you who are reading it, but I can't promise when because my mind just isn't into the story at the moment. I think I'm going to change the summary, title, and everything about the story. It is a sequel so it's going to be like 5 or 8 chapters or something in between. I don't expect anything over 10, okay you guys? Anywayz, this story started out as something I was just typing up on Powerpoint. I did it on powerpoint so that I could play around with pictures and stuff for each different chapter (this chapter was originally 2 separate chapters, one called 'Made to Kill' and the other 'Prayers of the Assassin'). Well, let me know what you think. I don't know where this is going for sure but I know this isn't the end! I will decide after this chapter if I'm gonna put it under just Kenshin, under Romance and add Kaoru in, or Angst w/ all that dark stuff that I tend to write... that will be decided after this chapter. Therefore, you need to review!
Breaking Through
Chatper 1- Made To Kill
He slunk about, slowly, silently, undetectably and to the point that he appeared to be nothing more than a shadow. His dark demonour mixed well with the shadowy surroundings, causing him to appear invisible. His speed was awesome, something that could not be seen with the human eye. You could see, if you tried hard enough, just a slight blur in the shadows. It took no energy from him as he ran, and zeroed in on that
night's target.
He stopped suddenly, dust swinging around the bottom of his white hakama and sandals. He was rimrod straight as he stood, hand hovering slightly over his katana. The wind pulled his crimson locks around his form, and his amber eyes formed into the slits of a hitokiri about to kill, his senses high.
His moments were trained and almost mechanical the way he stepped and attacked were always the same. Left foot out, draw the sword, swing with ungodly speed, step back, sheath the sword, check for witnesses, turn and leave. Everytime was the same thing. The montonous tone of the job made the sin easier for him to bear.
There wasn't time for him to ponder what he was doing, he just had to kill and kill with accuracy, and then leave the scene. He didn't have to clean his sword from the blood, and it was too dark to see the blood on his clothing. He bathed before he turned in, not giving him a chance to see the blood on his body when the light came. To him, the slaughtering he did had never even occurred. His mind just pushed the memory away, his body allowing him to believe that he was pure.
Tonight was no different than all the other midnights he'd spent out on the streets.
The dark of the stifling fog that night concealed his body well, his eyes not the only things searching for his victim. His senses picked up the presence he was looking for, and they were closing in on him, inch by inch. He didn't worry about that though. His aura was calm yet strong, dark and dangerous, and if sensed by another, would send them off running in fear. He ignored that fact of his ruthlessness, and crouched into his best position of ambush.
Voices began to slice through the hazy gray fog that held their doom. He listened; his ears helping him judge the distance between him and his prey for the night. He discovered there to be five different men walking toward him, and he could tell by the ki that only one knew how to handle a sword, the others probably just carried them to look stronger. He was still calm; too clam if that was possible. It was like nothing to him as he judged himself to have about two minutes to finish his planning for attack.
The voices became louder and still he sat, crouched, in his battou-jutsu stance, hand hovering dangerously over his katana. His navy blue gi helped him to blend better into the shadows as he waited. The men that were nearing were Shisengumi men, he could tell by the colors of the clothing they adorned. His was that of the Ishin Shishi, but he still was not afraid as his enemies drew closer.
For anyone else, a five against one fight was spelling out disaster for themselves. But for him, it wasn't even merely a workout. A small, notorious grin spread across his cold and emotionless facial features. The manslayer within him, so close to the brink of evil, was prepared and was simply ticking the long seconds away before he could comply with his twisted bloodlust.
He glanced up, his grin still placed upon his face, as his victim and 4 guards stopped before him.
"Ishin Shishi!" one of them yelled. "Push the senator back, and lets handle this one."
"He doesn't appear to pose much of a threat, although is aura is quite strong." another member stated, pushing the babbling politician behind him and the other three Shisengumi members. "I think this will be an easy one."
He just grinned, his blood red hair swishing across his face in a manner that resembled leaves blowing in the trees or smoke swirling high from a fireplace. Tonight he decided to humor them and let the victim attack first.
One of them launched but didn't even make it within two feet before he dropped to the floor, eyes wide and lifeless as blood began to slowly seep out away from his parted lips. He was the first killed by the hitokiri that night.
Another dove toward the man clad in Ishin Shishi colors that were now stained in bright crimson blood that dripped from the cloth and from his concealing bangs. He fell on top of his comrade, his head flying off to a corner where it stopped upon hitting a wall.
The second to die by his hand that night.
The other two decided to jump up in a last pit attempt to destroy the small boy assassin, he couldn't have been a wink over sixteen. They also fell with their fellow samurai, one sliced through the back and the other through the chest.
The assassin laughed. This was almost too simple for the pay he was receiving for doing it. He stepped over the bodies of the recently deceased, the grotesque scene not affecting him in the slightest. He neared his true target, who was curled up in a ball, and begging for mercy. The poor man would not get his final wish that night.
"Stand up and fight. I do not kill when someone is not fighting back," he told him, kicking him roughly so he uncurled and sprawled out to the floor. "I know you know how to use your sword. Humor me."
The politician shakily stood to his feet drew his sword in a last pitch attempt and saving his life from the merciless killing machine before him, standing with his sword drawn and ready. His hands shook as he stared at the crimson hair and then the trademark on his cheek.
The cross-shaped scar.
His eyes grew in recognition of the man that was going to win the fight that night. He held his sword out before him in a vertical fashion, hoping to at least gain himself a few more seconds of precious air.
The assassin just grinned and waited.
The man made no attempt to attack, just stood there frozen in his spot, scared to the point sweat began to bead and fall from his brow and make his hold on the sword's hilt slip. He gulped a few times in a futile attempt to gain his composure upon realizing he would have to make the first attack in the battle that would claim his life.
After a moment, he swung his sword and was shocked to find it clashing roughly with that of the hitokiri before him. Their faces were mere inches apart as they stared at each other across the crossed weapons. The amber eyes that glared back at him caused his blood to run thin. The grin returned to the assassin's face, but his eyes still held the angry, deadly glare.
"Remember it was the Battousai who took your life tonight," the assassin stated before drawing his wakizashi with his other hand, slamming it into the senator's chest, slicing his heart in two.
The politician had no change to scream and make the Battousai noticed before he slipped off of the smaller sword and collapsed to the ground in a bloody heap. Battousai sheathed his wakizashi and then his katana, sending his energy out around him to sense for anyone running from the scene or near the scene that could have seen the murders. He felt nothing.
In one swift movement, he was traveling in a separate direction than that in which he had used to get to where he had killed that night. He was using his full skills, running at speeds unimaginable to the human mind. Surprisingly his body did nothing to protest the rigorous movements he had been using, and he continued in this fashion until he reached the place he needed to stop.
The Inn that served as the headquarters for his group also housed him. He walked up to the gate, opened it and walked to the back to bathe the sin.
He walked farther into the yard; opening the door to the bathing house and throwing some logs in to heat up a fire for his bath. He stripped clean of his blood soiled clothing, tossing it over into a heap with the clothing of the other assassin who worked with assignments earlier in the night than he did. The women that worked for the Ishin Shishi would wash them and return them to their respective owners.
Battousai slipped into the tub of scalding water, the dark not affecting his ability to know where things were nor the efficiency of how he took the water and cleansed his body of that night's sins.
He finished; clothed in the yukata he had set in there before leaving, and left without taking the time to breathe. To breathe would cause him to smell the blood of those he had slain that night. Walking inside, he leaned against his wall, katana at his side, and went to sleep, where nightmares plagued him.
"Himura... I see you did your task." came a voice across the room.
The shadowed assassin now sat in a room, his mind wandering away from the meeting at hand. He glanced up upon hearing his name.
"Battousai always does his job, not matter what interferences there may be." he responded in a casual tone.
The other men shook their heads. This man, the assassin, was always to calm for his job. There was never a hint of anger from him at his workplace, only when he killed. Many figured it was his way to vent out his frustrations and angers. Others believed it was his pure lust for the blood of others.
Battousai looked at the leader who was holding the important meeting that seemed like nothing to him.
"Himura, you did well last night." his employer continued, looking directly at the Battousai. His amber stare did not scare his employer. "There was no trace of the murders. I would like to know where you hid the bodies."
Battousai's eyes widened in shock. "I didn't move the bodies. I left them in the alleyway where I killed them. Perhaps they have yet to find the exact alley."
His boss nodded. "As long as they were killed that is all that matters. Our work is becoming much easier thanks to you, Himura."
He nodded and fixated his eyes on the board behind some of the other assassins that crowded the large room. There was a map posted upon it.
"Here is where we will strike tomorrow," his employer stated, pointing to a directed spot that was the east side of Kyoto. "Not all of you will be going out tonight. Most of you have been helping every night with the north side, and the east is not as heavily covered as the north was."
"Katsura." one of the other men stated. "Which ones will be going?"
Battousai's employer turned. "If you receive a black envelope tonight, you will be going, but the next night will be free for you to do as you please. I am going to switch off every night to keep you all in as peak physical condition as I can."
"Except for me, I presume?" Battousai asked in and irritated tone.
"Himura, you've fought basically nonstop for nearly thirteen years. You will be off for the week."
Battousai's eyebrow rose at that. "Because."
"You are crucial to us later." Katsura stated. "Do not question the judgment, Himura."
Battousai nodded and then leaned back in the western luxury he was seated in. The chair was made of mahogany, with a rich red velvet seat cushions to make it more comfortable. He was just as comfortable on the floor, but Battousai knew better than to do something so primitive during a meeting. He had a whole week to sit on the floor after this meeting concluded.
His thoughts roamed everywhere but to the meeting. He had learned early on, when he first started working for the Ishin Shishi when he was the young age of fifteen, that the meetings had nothing to do with his job. He was there mainly as a means of proof that he was committed to the cause of the Ishin Shishi, and that was all.
The information he needed to pay attention to always would come to him clad in a black envelope with his name engraved upon the front. The black envelopes had symbolized his job for the past thirteen years, and that wasn't going to change. The black was to remind him of the dark deeds that were contained inside the simple wrapping. They held the names of the people who would soon find permanent darkness due to his silver, blood stained sword. The black was to tell him that he did his job at night, in the shadows, and that he was nothing more than black death to the people who's names were inside the envelopes.
The meetings held no true importance to him at all. Directions, dates, times, and names were all the information he needed and they came in his small, black envelopes. His job was simple to comprehend, yet complex all at once. What was a simple task to him was usually a deadly challenge to everyone else in the room.
But he had to admit that thought of a week away from the sins was good. He never remembered how he killed the people, and everything just droned on. He never had a memory of the killings. But he knew he had done it. He had no proof to lay this on. He didn't see his clothes stained with blood, didn't see his swords dripping the thick liquid and his body never smelled like blood. He never remembered the attacks he had made. All he knew was that he had done it because his envelope was missing the next morning
and he was supposed to turn it in after he had finished his nightly patrol.
So a week without having to worry about if he had killed or not was somewhat of a relief to the twenty-eight-year-old assassin. Everyone thought of him to be younger, for his appearance gave off that air. But he knew he was not sixteen or eighteen like everyone else seemed to think. He wasn't as weak as he appeared, either. It was all a game to him. Everyone thought the exact opposite about what was true.
His thoughts swam around these subjects, picking up one or two for a few fleeting moments before passing on to a new one. Battousai waited for the meeting to adjourn, while he kept fake interest on his face while inside he didn't have a clue what was coming out of the mouths that were moving. He just waited.
"Himura, the meeting is over." Katsura stated.
Battousai snapped out of his revere, looking around to see the room empty.
"I was thinking." Battousai half lied.
Katsura shook his head. "Get out of here Himura, I have another meeting in fifteen minutes and I can't have you in here."
Battousai stood. "Thanks for the hospitality. I appreciate it." he stated, sarcasm dripping on each word. He turned and walked out of the room, not waiting for a response.
Battousai went straight to his room, shut and locked the door, and then drew the curtains shut. He wanted it to be dark. He looked around the plain room. There were books piled on the floor that he sometimes used for sleeping, a futon in the corner that had yet to be unrolled from the when he had first come into the apartment room. His eyes flew over to the closest that held his gi's and hakama's. In the corner was a rack to place his swords on. The only sword that ever adorned the rack was his wakizashi.
His katana stayed with him at all times.
His eyes finally settled on an interesting knot in the wood planks of the floor. He traced the curves of it with his amber gaze, finding it oddly fascinating at how it curved and dipped slightly in the middle, how it was rougher than the rest of the wood and stuck out like a sore thumb.
It reminded him vaguely of himself. Easily picked out of the rest.
The main thing was his red hair. Not many Japanese people had red hair. Most had brown or black. Another thing that caused him to stick out was the crossed shaped scar that adorned his left cheek. His hand went to the scar unintentionally, and he remembered exactly how he got the scar. He shook his head, scolding himself for dwelling on such memories. He went back to his musings on why he stuck out so much from the rest.
His eyes were another thing, he decided after a long talk within himself. They weren't naturally the amber that everyone saw. Underneath the hitokiri golden shade was his natural, birth given violet shade. But his eyes hadn't been violet for a long time. The closest they had gotten to violet was a steely, haunting shade of blue that he had shown
only to one person in the past ten years.
That brought him back to him musing of the strange scar, upon realizing a connection.
The same person who had completed his cross-shaped scar had been the only one who had seen his eyes in the state between violet and amber. He leaned back and tried in vain to remember exactly what she had looked like. It wasn't a hard task, for he could never forget how he had lost her. It was etched in his mind and replayed in nearly all of his dreams, causing him indescribable pain as he remembered. He had killed her. He knew that. He just couldn't accept it.
With all of the musing he had gone through that day, the Battousai decided to do something that he had never thought of doing in a long time.
He prayed. Even if it was silently, and he highly doubted that Kami-sama would listen to a sin, blood-covered hitokiri, he still prayed.
It wasn't a matter of if he was heard or not, and it didn't matter much to him if he was granted the help he wanted. It was merely a matter of knowing he had done it, of the attempted at closure.
'Kami, I know you probably don't wish to listen to an assassin, and personally I really don't care. I have not been one to pray to you or any other gods to out there. My life has been a total wreck ever since I was young, and in a sense I still blame you even if it was my own doing. I have to ask you, did you forget about me? Did you forget about Kenshin Himura?
You know it all started when I was eight, and still known as Shinta. You took away mother and father, the only family I had. Then, I was placed in with slave traders. Where were you when the bandits attacked us and killed the women who had become sisters to me? Why didn't you let Master save them, too?
I was taken in by my master, and trained in the sword technique Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, the one I use to destroy people in the way of the peaceful era I have been fighting so hard to gain.
I was actually content with my master. He was harsh in my training, demanded the best and often called me his stupid pupil, his baka deshi, but in the end, where was I better off? I never even got a chance to finish my training, Kami-sama. You know why? Because you decided to add more turmoil to my life. You made me feel the need to help the people. But did you really want me to become what I am now?
Katsura hired me as a hitokiri when I was fifteen. I killed for the fist time soon after, and I have never stopped. No one ever got away from my blade; no one lived to tell of me. The Himura Battousai with who is speaking to you now was formed due to those facts. But of course, Kami- sama, you had a lot more in mind.
You brought her into my life. And for once in a long time I thought I was going to be happy, I thought I was going to be happy. But of course not Kami-sama, you had other plans for me.
You let her come deeper into my life, made her mean more to me. Did you do that on purpose to hurt me again, to make this festering scar and the pain and anger and hatred I live with greater? Why did you take her away from me, Kami-sama? What did you make me kill Tomoe?
I believe that you have placed a curse upon my life. Or maybe I did it myself by surviving the plague that killed my parents, is that the reason behind all this? Are you ever going to allow me closure? Are you ever going to let me be and live happy, Kami-sama? Are you ever going to let me be Kenshin?
Part of me believes you won't, but another wishes otherwise. All I really want from you is a chance to heal from these wounds, to clear myself of my sins. Is that too much to ask from you, after everything I've been through, Kami-sama?'
Finished, he lifted his gaze to the ceiling, and closed his eyes, bidding himself to sleep.
Author's Notes: So... what did you all think of that? Good, bad, should I keep or should I scrap it! Help me decide! Review, please: pouts to you : I WOULD LOVE YOU FOREVER: crushes you with a hug :
Luv,
Crystal Renee