A/N: Ohk. This is my first attempt at a Soujiro story so i'm sorry if i go a bit OOC. Oh, and just to warn you guys, i'm known to be a reaally slow updater, but this story i have dutifully planned...it just might take a while for me to update sometimes because i place my priorities in real life before this.

Wait...What real life?

Anyway, please enjoy and don't kill me if you get really confused with this chapter, the whole thing that happened 'Three days ago' will be explained in later chapters. And no, Akito will not be a major character.

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin...If i did, Soujiro would have beaten Kenshin into the ground for wearing magneta. Blech.


Soujiro Seta narrowed his eyes in fierce concentration, poised deftly just above his prey as the innocent little creature slowly peeked its head out from its shelter. With a sharp intake of breath, the young man brought down his shukuchi- strengthened foot and laughed like a mad man at the sickening crack from beneath his sandal.

He had been awoken at an absurd hour that morning by a strange tickling under his nose, and after his feeble attempts at simply blowing it off; Soujiro had finally opened his eyes only to be faced with the most horrific creature known to man, so horrible that the resulting girlish scream was followed by several loud bangs as furniture was knocked back at Soujiros desperate attempt to get away.

A sickly-sweet smile on his face, Soujiro lifted his sandal triumphantly and stared down at the bloody mess of shell and insides which was once a majestic cockroach.

"Ahhh sweet victory…" he sighed, stretching his limbs and ruffling his hair in a truly un-Soujiro-ish manner.

A soft tap at the door abruptly brought him back to earth. "Ah…Seta-san? We need to get going soon…" the voice of a soft spoken man murmured through the thin shoji before padding away.

Soujiro paused until the soft spoken young man was out of his hearing range before slowly letting out a breath he didn't even know he had been holding.

It had been five years since the Shishio fiasco in Kyoto . Five years since he had set foot in the city he'd dubbed as home. Five years since he'd seen the man who'd emotionally raped him in so many ways. Three years and two hundred and fifty six days since he'd last seen any of the juppongatana. One year and forty eight days since he'd last been in a city. Three days since he'd last killed and three days since he had adopted his 'Emotionless-smiling-psychopath' look.

Everything that he'd worked so hard for, every bitter memory that he had long forgotten, every shred of happiness that he had managed to cup in his bare hands had been taken away from him three days ago.

However, fortunately for the population of Japan , Soujiro had not reverted to his self of five years ago. Those long years had managed to knock a few pounds of sense into his un-educated head to not block out every emotion that seems even the tiniest bit painful to endure.

Very abruptly Seta huffed and silently berated himself. He had promised himself that he would not even let these thoughts pass his mind. He was going into Tokyo , and then he would sort this mess out.

So, with the cockroach dead and the time to depart drawing close, Soujiro picked up his normal Japanese blade and tucked it securely at his side. Yes, he still carried a normal sword however over the past years he had refrained from shedding a single unnecessary drop of blood. Oh yes, he'd maimed and severely disfigured many the wandering bandit, but killed? No, no, no…I mean, it wasn't like he ever liked killing people, he and Himura had definitely sorted that out, but…

Soujiro pulled open the Shoji and smiled.

….'Old habits just die hard, don't they Mr. Himura?'

"Seta Soujiro! Will you hurry up, we have to leave soon!" shouted the now not so soft-spoken man from the bottom of the stairwell. Soujiro twitched and ran to the side of the staircase to look down onto a middle-aged frail looking man with unevenly cropped black hair and calculating brown eyes.

"Hai Akito-san, I haven't forgotten" he cheerily called back, smiling down at Akito sweetly and smirking as the man seethed and muttered something that included the words 'Too cheerful' and 'Four o'clock in the morning'.

Chuckling breathily, he padded down the stairs and into the dinky kitchen where a hastily wrapped package of food covered with a dirty brown cloth was thrust into his hands and Akito hastily grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and forcibly dragged him out to where a cart and horse were waiting patiently for them.

"Ah! Itai!" he yelped as Akito hastily shoved him into the back of the cart and began pushing a few large boxes strategically in front of him. Soujiro sweat dropped at the precautions but inside he knew they were necessary and Akito knew that he knew they were necessary so they both chose to ignore his instinctive act of 'Stupid-rurouni'.

Soujiro had been a very bad boy over the past few days…well, past few years. Five years had still not lowered his placement on the 'Most wanted' list, and, well, pilfering from the various restaurants on the mountain path had not helped that either, but not even Soujiro had anticipated such a violent reaction--NOT THINKING ABOUT IT.

So, anyway, the only way for Soujiro to get out of this little farming village and into Tokyo with out being seen by the police was with the help of his good friend Akito.

Well ok then, just a friend…No, Acquaintance…well, they might as well be considered enemies.

"Ah, Seta-san?" Akito called softly from his perch, deftly taking the reigns in his hand and refusing to look back and meet the young mans gaze.

Soujiro turned to him with a somewhat soft expression "Aa?"

"That food should last you about two days, i can only take you to the outskirts, there's some money in there too if you need it..."

A pause and a deep breath.

"Will you...I mean..." he paused and took another gulp of air.

"Just...be careful in Tokyo, ok? Police are crawling everywhere...i don't know why your out on this crazy mission but..."

Soujiro smiled. Not a chilling smile, that meant death to whoever was standing in his way, but a smile that spread across his face and into his eyes with just a touch of sadness.

"...Aa"

Not another word was spoken, and at some point he quietly curled up and slipped into a light sleep.


"Nngh..."

Soujiro blearily forced his eyes open against the suns light, gently brushed long locks of brown hair out of his eyes and uncurled from his fetal position just so he could slightly stretch his limbs, even though the constraining boxes didn't really give much room for this.

"Shut up, Seta" hissed a voice harshly from above, and as he turned with a frown on his face to Akito the only explanation he got was a blanket in the face and sharp whack over his head before he obediently ducked holding his breath as the steady pace of the cart halted suddenly and risked a quick peek over the top of the boxes to see the cause.

His heart almost stopped as he recognized two police officers questioning Akito solemnly and gesturing to his cargo. He craned his neck slightly to listen to their conversation.

"—I'm sorry sir, but we are required to inspect your cargo before you pass--" One officer was saying.

"No" Akito bit back harshly, every bit the offended farmer before restraining himself and bowing quickly in apology "I'm very sorry sirs, but my cargo may get damaged and it's very important that I get this cargo to Tokyo undamaged"

Soujiro couldn't quite see, but it appeared that Akito had shifted very subtly and handed one of the officers with a large squat face something that made his face twist for a few seconds before abruptly pocketing something.

"You may go about your business, sir" he said smugly, and Akito immediately set off again.

Whether or not it was because he was upset about not getting a bribe from the farmer, or he was just plain suspicious, the other officer gave the side Soujiro was leaning against a hard slap, eliciting a yelp of surprise from the young man.

"Shit!" Akito shouted as the two officers stared at Soujirou dumbly, who had sat up at the last second to nurse his bruised head, and immediately slapped the reigns so that the horse drawing his cart set off at a steady run.

Soujiro gave a startled cry and gripped the sides of the dilapidated cart as it rattled unsafely at an uncomfortable speed. Very very uncomfortable speed.

"Akito! I'm going to be sick—" he whined, gripping his stomach with a spare hand as the man shot him a venomous stare and pointedly snapped the reigns once more.

Soujiro made a face at the mans back and turned to watch the two officers yell something to their partners across the street and scale a crude looking cart with no roof, pulled by two horses. Soujiro gulped and ducked back down again, feeling quite rejected at the moment.

"Akito-san..." he called as a warning as the cart set off after them at twice the speed they were currently going at.

The only sign Akito gave the he had heard was a soft grunt, before abruptly slapping the reigns and leaning forward against the wind, as if it would make them go faster.

"Hey you! Stop your cart immediately!" shouted an irate officer from behind the reigns of the horses, his companion matching his expression of anger. Soujiro blanched and scanned the cart for anything that could slow them down, only spotting two large wooden splinters, a broken wheel, and three overly large boxes plus a blanket.

The officers horse and cart swerved and Soujiro almost yelped as he caught sight of the officer from the back of the cart trying to get a steady shot with a rifle. "Akito! Rifles!" he yelped, and the man obediently swerved as a shot rang out from behind them, piercing one of the wooden boxes next to Soujiros head.

For a few moments, he was seriously considering using the shukuchi to take out the two officers, but A, the cart he was sitting in would probably get a huge and notiecable dent, and B, Akito hated him enough already. Especially after the fact that he'd gotten himself spotted thus making it impossible for Akito to go home until it had quieted down a bit. Soujiro winced. Especially after that.

So, in a hasty compromise, Soujiro snatched up one of the thinner splinters and threw it threw one of the front wheels, catching the cart on the axle and succesfully stopping the wheel...of course, it was only a thin little splinter, thus a sharp crack told him that the thing had broken.

He yelped and at a loss of what to do scrambled forthe otherwooden splinter and threw it with pin-point accuracy at the officer who was directing the horses hand.

A loud screech of pain told him he'd hit spot on.

"YAA-G-H"

Blinking in surprise he ducked his head as a chance shot went off from the other officers' gun, whom had dived over the front of the carriage to grasp the reigns and slowly bring the cart to a stop.

Akito let out a sigh of relief.

"Seta?"

"Aa?"

"...You do know i hate you right now, don't you"

"...Aa"

Soujiro watched mournfully as the two pinpricks of blue dissapeared onto the horizon and wrapped the huge cloth used to cover him around his dirty blue kimono. (A/N: Kimono? Gi? Anyone know?)

"You certainly aren't the only one Akito-san..."


Hajime Saitou took a looong drag from his cigar.

"I don't believe you"

The squat officer sitting before him shifted uncomfortably in the hard wooden chair.

"It's true sir. Believe it or not, Soujiro Seta murdered the entire family, and their next door neighbor is now officially missing"

"Soujiro Setas emotions were broken five years ago, the boy wouldn't just attack and kill out of the blue. Your information is incorrect, check again." he frowned in response.

The man merely mumbled something that sounded like a 'yes sir' before backing out.

As soon as the door closed, Saitou violently stubbed his cigar and stared at the crude black and white photography on his desk. It certainly helped that they'd finally decided to use this new technology to make his job easier, but it had nothing on the real thing.

The first picture was of a woman hanging from the enterance of a poor house. Her long hair was matted with thick amounts of blood, or what looked like blood since this was only in black and white, and her head was hanging limply to one side. He stared at the picture for a few seconds. So…where was the wound? He could see the blood, he could see that she was dead…but…

Saitou sighed and pushed the image to one side, this one he would definitely have to visit himself.

The next picture was of a man…or, from what he could tell from the body, was a man, for it was merely the picture of a body crudely tied around the waist and hung next to the woman, with a gaping bloody hole where the head used to sit. Cuase of death? Definitely decapitation. Very Un-Soujiro. He had been known to stab through a persons head, and severely disfigure the rest of a person's body until they eventually bled out, but he did not decapitate. It was too...humane. Humane in a 'quick-death' kind of way.

He placed the picture aside with the other one and turned to examine the last photo. A young girl of about four or five was hanging in exactly the same way as the other woman. Blood matted her hair, hung crudely from an entranceway, and no sign of an actual wound. He frowned. What kind of photographers were they, anyway? To not take a photo of the actual wound. But, if it was a stab wound, then it would most definitely be Soujiro.

"Fuyuutsuki" he called at the door.

His assistant stumbled through the door way, brown hair hastily thrown beneath his police cap and hands currently fiddling with the buttons on his coat. Saitou twitched an amused eyebrow.

"Late again?" he asked casually.

Fuyuutsuki gulped, but Saitou saved him from having to explain himself.

"I want you to call up the squad currently working on the farmer incident, and tell them that I'll be coming down. Oh, and could you please ready the transportation" he commanded curtly.

"Yes sir" came the mumbled reply before the young man stumbled back out again to make the call.

Saitou allowed himself a smirk. Fuyuutsuki had just recently gotten married, and he could think of a few good reasons as to why he was always late…

He sighed, a sigh that he would never do in front of anyone except maybe his wife, and pulled the pictures back over his desk.

For some reason, Saitou sourly regretted stubbing out his cigarette.


Nngh. Review. Now damnit.