Dance with the Devil

by RosyTea

When Saito and Cho were sent to Yokohama to quell the violence caused by rampant Yakuza, they thought their assignment would be simple and straightforward. However, a mysterious death and newly arrived Oniwabanshu Okashira leads them on an investigation straight into Yokohama's underworld, where a devastating new weapon is for sale to the highest bidder.

1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin or Samurai X. If I did, I certainly wouldn't be hanging around here on FFnet, and this story would be published. XD

A/N: Not gonna lie, this is gonna take forever to finish. Hope you enjoy reading!

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Yokohama

September 1879

A solitary light shone in the accounting office of Fischer and Ward's Trading Company. The clock on the wall chimed, drawing the eyes of the man at the head desk away from his work. It was four in the morning, and the man groaned and rolled his aching shoulders.

For a brief moment, he thought of returning home and retiring to bed, but his eyes drifted to the two ledgers and the written notes he made, and the thought disappeared. He feared people were becoming suspicious; he needed to finish this.

He figured he would have another two and a half hours to complete his notes, return the ledgers to their proper place, and leave before the custodians arrived to light the stove and sweep the floor before the other accountants arrived for work.

Dipping his pen into the inkwell, he made a few more notes, flipped to the final pages in one of ledgers, and compared the numbers to those in the second.

"There you are," he smiled and wrote down what he found. "Now I have you Mr.—"

A vice-like hand clamped tight over his mouth, cutting off his words. Something slipped between his lips and down his throat, and at first he was not sure what it was. Whoever was behind him held him place, but they did not speak.

Slowly, the man felt as though his throat and stomach were burning, and the sensation began to intensify rapidly. He thrashed against the person holding him as the pain became unbearable. It seemed a fire had been lit in his stomach and the flames scorched the back of his throat. He began to choke, and soon he could no longer breathe.

His struggles became weaker, and he finally stopped altogether. His assassin then released him and let him fall against the desk.

The assassin's work was not done, however. The figure picked up the notes and one of the ledgers and crossed over to the stove in the corner of the room. They were tossed in, along with a lit match, and the little door was then closed. The other ledger was placed onto the shelf, and the pen put back in its holder beside the inkwell.

Satisfied that the work was complete, the assassin left the room, shutting the door behind them.