A/N: I owe inspiration to everyone whose fanfics I have ever read. And to the boredom of Saturday evenings, and Watsuki. I don't own RK, which is a good thing because I'd mess it up worse than Seisouhen.

Beginnings

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The inn was small, as was the town; it was for this reason he chose to stay at it. A few weary travelers like himself slumped in corners, but the majority of the clientele were local folk, farmers and artisans at the small crossroads. Most of them were currently gathered around one of their number, a merchant who had recently returned from Tokyo. As the only source of recent news from the capital, he had gathered quite an audience.

"It was terrible!" He said, with an eye towards his listeners and far more drama than was needed. "Didn't know if you were safe or not. Killings everywhere…Always had to keep an eye over your shoulder. Even the police were baffled! I left as soon as possible, of course," he added, downing his drink and motioning for a refill. One of the serving girls left the small crowd and sidled towards him.

Himura Kenshin snorted into his cup, as quietly and politely as possible. That sounded like Kyoto in the old days. Thank goodness, nothing in Meiji could even attempt to reach that level of fear and violence—

"All of it the work of one man! Hitokiri Battousai!"The merchant slammed his refilled cup on the table. Sake sloshed out.

"Really, Taro?" one voice called out.

"Definitely." The listeners began muttering among themselves, tales and rumors of the supposed demon moving form mouth to mouth.

Impossible—the rurouni thought, stunned. I haven't been anywhere near—But that did not prevent a man from taking up the name of an infamous, and most importantly, disappeared assassin. He had run into that type before. They saw a feared name and took for their own, for the prestige and fear it gave to them. They had no idea of the true weight a hitokiri bore, and an even smaller idea of the worth of human life. Kenshin did his best to prevent usage of the name, but sometimes resistance could only be met with his trusty sakabatou.

The crowd was clearing, now. The storyteller seemed sad at the departure of his audience. Kenshin stood up and strolled towards the now quite drunk merchant. "Ahhh…This one was wondering if you could tell me a little bit more about the troubles in Tokyo?" he asked politely.

The merchant, Taro, sat up with a snort and a shudder. Evidently he had been dropping off to sleep. "Don' go there, wha' ever you do." He near-yelled. "Whatever! Really. Iss dangeroussh." Having imparted this piece of lifesaving advice, he quieted. "Streetsh filled with fear…Bodies everywhere" he began. The exact same things he had told the earlier audience. Kenshin smiled and nodded. This man was his only source of information to whatever was happening in Tokyo.

"Killings, you say? How horrible." He said, and meant it.

"Yesh, done by the-'

"Hitokiri Battousai. You mentioned it before."

"Uh-huh. What?" The man said, confused by his drink. This man wasn't letting him tell his story properly.

"Hitokiri Battousai. You said he killed those men?"

"Yesh!" he said, banging his cup down once more. "Terrible, it was."

"Are you sure it was him?"

" What, why wouldn't I be sure? I saw one of the bodies. All cut up, it was. Who but a hitokiri would kill like that, especially now?" The storyteller shuddered form the memory, sobering.

Who indeed? "You saw one of the bodies?"

"Yes, all cut up…"

"Could you tell what sword style was used?" Kenshin didn't think that the merchant even knew what end of a sword to hold, but any hint would be helpful.

"No. Do I look like a swordsman?" Taro laughed and tried to slap Kenshin on the back, but gave up, wobbling. He looked the farthest thing from one, especially with that rotund belly, but Kenshin was not going to tell him so.

"I heard on the street that the swordsman was using something with a 'k', though. Kama Katsu Ryu? Kami Kaze Ryu? Kamiya Katsu?" The merchant pondered the question deeply. He looked for answers on the ceiling, and then the floor.

"Ah, thank you." Kenshin said, standing up. Clearly this man was reaching his limits on useful information.

"Wait. You aren't planning on going there, are you?" The man said, suddenly serious. "Cause it isn't safe at all. Really." His eyes narrowed. "I am telling the truth, you know. Hitokiri Battousai really killed 'em. I saw one of those bodies with my own eyes!

The man's concern was touching, in a way. "I have never been to Tokyo before. Who am I to challenge you and claim that Battousai did not kill them?" Kenshin said with a smile. "Anyway, I sincerely thank you for the information."

"Who indeed?" The man grumbled, staring and the stranger's patched gi, worn sandals, red hair and cross-shaped scar. Red hair and cross-shaped scar. He choked on his drink. Stared at the apparition that was now leaving the inn.

Himura Kenshin stood outside, looking down the dusty road. He now had a destination in mind, and a plan. Go to Tokyo, look for dojos that practiced styles beginning with the letter "k"…and stop the killer using the name of Hitokiri Battousai, a dead name that should never be resurrected.

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A/N: This is my first time writing RK fanfiction. I don't know why I started, but the idea was there, and I had to start sometime. The only way I'll ever improve is through practice. So I tossed my unbeta'd fic onto the story seas of …This doesn't even feel like it was my idea. It feels like somewhere I read a story like this and made a pale imitation of it. Oh, the RK manga, of course. Still. I'm sure others have done this story before. I hope that I did not commit any of the sins early writers are prone to falling into. And if I did, please tell me. Nothing felt too terribly out of character, my OC wasn't too Sue-y (though I think-and hope-that's difficult for a drunk guy to do.), etc. Reviews are appreciated!