Disclaimer: Hey I don't own Kenshin and yep that's about it. This story
might sound a little bit weird at first cuz it started off as an original
story until I changed some stuff around. When chaper one starts I hope it
comes a little clearer. ^_^ But I have to figure out what's wrong when I
upload chapters because they're always formatted differently, paragraphs
aren't spaced and so forth. Maybe I should use some html tags.
Through Darkness Prelude
She was running. Running like the wind away from everything, leaving her troubles behind in a trail of dust. With no distinct plan, she only had the voice inside her that told her to get away from everything and everyone. A voice that spoke from the darkness in her heart. All her fear was compacted into this violent area of insanity and madness. Only the hope of finding freedom kept it from raging loose and taking control of her.
That slim glint of hope was what set her apart from the others. It kept her sane while people screeched horrible words in the middle of the night and vandalized what was left of the so-called community.
Number 257. The name she was branded with the second she was born as an experiment of project Kamiya, from an illegal underground laboratory. That three-digit number scarred on her left arm made her a wanted person. Of course the successful hunter would receive a reward, increasing the danger by a hundred percent since money was not easy to come by these days. This made every road she traveled on like a dartboard, with her as the target--the bulls eye everyone wanted to aim for. She could trust no one. Her purpose for the time being was to run.
Exhausted and drenched with sweat that soaked her shirt, she shivered uncontrollably as smog from nearby factories blew across from the coast. Caught in an overgrown bush, she held a tattered rag to her chest as a makeshift blanket. Weariness took over and she fell into a nightmare- filled sleep under a secluded tree while a pair of alert eyes watched and waited.
Chapter 1: First meeting Kenshin's POV
I ran my fingers through my amber hair while noon rays blinded me momentarily as I stepped out of the poorly maintained subway and carried my worn duffel bag onto the platform. No one got off at this station anymore, not after the Revolution began. Mass murder seemed to be the only solution for change to seep into and become accepter into citizen's lives. But it came at a cost. Trails of devastation and misery swept though the world leaving behind deserted towns like how mine had become. I was just a child when it hit; my parents and all my friends were taken away from me never to be seen again. At that time I didn't know any better; the small town I had known all of my life died before my very eyes. All that pain and no where for it to go, except into my heart where it burned a permanent. Somehow though I come to this desolate town every year not knowing why. Maybe for the respect of the dead or the impossible thought that the grass would grow again in the rock-hard ground. But the train still runs automatically and time still goes by.
My adolescence was spent learning the harshest lessons of life first. I don't know why I survived when those around me perished because life isn't worth living. Not when every day is like torture. Sometimes I wish I was taken away as well. To tell the truth, I tried killing myself, but every time I hold a knife in my hand it shakes so badly that I can't push it into my flesh. So I make my living by taking that pain out on others. I am a bounty hunter.
My fingers lightly graze the profanity-stained wall marked by crazed people who knew death was nearby. Others survived as well in some cities that were built downwind, but many are corrupt. That's why I chose to be who I am today: completely unemotional as I watch my victims fall by my very hand. Love is something in the past; I haven't cried once since the world became dark.
But this time it was different; it felt like something was calling me here. Maybe it one of those hunches I get some of the time. Two hours of walking later, I reach the house. Even fifteen years after that horrible event, the air of death still lingers, and restless souls still wander through the vacant rooms.
I kneel in prayer in front of the pathetic pile of stones, which I call the grave of those I lost. Their names sprayed on the concrete sidewalk with red paint in the messy handwriting by myself as an eight-year- old near the park located across the street from my used-to-be home. Swinging my baggage over my shoulders out of habit, I find myself passing the sign that says, 'You are now leaving-"the rest was partly broken off but numerous profanity words described the lost town. Deciding to take a break, I lean against a withered tree barely surviving, only two green leaves showing that life still exists in this old timekeeper.
Footsteps from the road ahead of me come closer and reach my ears that have been trained to track the slightest noise. My instinct makes me to take cover in the nearest brush, watch and wait. The creature begins to slow down and heavy breaths come from it. To my surprise as I look from my hideout, it's a human,--the first I've seen over the past four years around here. The exhausted being fell to its knees then lay down still a few yards away from me. Chances are that it's very close to dying. According to my knowledge, nothing consumable is found miles from this place.
Ten minutes later, with the person still motionless, I find myself standing over it. Taking a closer look, it's a young female but hardly distinguishable from the pathetic assortment of rags. Her waist-length midnight black hair was matted with dirt, dried grass and twigs. Her feet were bare. The slight movement of her chest shows that she's still alive and breathing, but barely. There wasn't much I could do; she wasn't an unfamiliar sight. There were many children who ran between cities in search for something to eat so they could survive. But her shallow cheeks and thin limbs awoke an emotion in my heart. Something I haven't felt in fifteen years.
She reminded me of myself after the first year of the Revolution Era. Me, trying to make a living in the harsh world I had come to know. A wind blew some of her hair that covered her shoulders and revealed writing on the upper part of her arm: 257. Those three numbers in order brought back the memory of a conversation I heard in an alley. I recall two men talking about a reward, a bounty hunter's dream catch. That whoever brought her in would get all the money he could dream of and more, but no one managed to capture her. A myth spread that she would vanish after a person would begin chasing her; just like that, into thin air, leaving the predator confused. And there she was in front of me. Just lying there like a blank check, and all I had to do was cash her in. That simple. No questions asked. But something held me back from tying her up. Instead I found myself picking her up and holding her. Confused, about my action that I seemed to have done without a thought. She seemed to weigh less then my duffel bag that I carried on my right shoulder.
So I began to retrace my steps, this time with a girl worth her weight in gold in my arms as the sun quietly set to my right and the road to my destiny now swirling with another before me.
Now I bet that you all want to know that's going to happen next right? Well just wait till I post the next chapter in a while. *Ducks from flying tomatoes* Hee hee at least I know the storyline for this until chapter six or so then I'll start taking requests. But suggestions are always welcome! Most likely I'll include them in future chaps. ^_^
Kaiomi Star*light
Through Darkness Prelude
She was running. Running like the wind away from everything, leaving her troubles behind in a trail of dust. With no distinct plan, she only had the voice inside her that told her to get away from everything and everyone. A voice that spoke from the darkness in her heart. All her fear was compacted into this violent area of insanity and madness. Only the hope of finding freedom kept it from raging loose and taking control of her.
That slim glint of hope was what set her apart from the others. It kept her sane while people screeched horrible words in the middle of the night and vandalized what was left of the so-called community.
Number 257. The name she was branded with the second she was born as an experiment of project Kamiya, from an illegal underground laboratory. That three-digit number scarred on her left arm made her a wanted person. Of course the successful hunter would receive a reward, increasing the danger by a hundred percent since money was not easy to come by these days. This made every road she traveled on like a dartboard, with her as the target--the bulls eye everyone wanted to aim for. She could trust no one. Her purpose for the time being was to run.
Exhausted and drenched with sweat that soaked her shirt, she shivered uncontrollably as smog from nearby factories blew across from the coast. Caught in an overgrown bush, she held a tattered rag to her chest as a makeshift blanket. Weariness took over and she fell into a nightmare- filled sleep under a secluded tree while a pair of alert eyes watched and waited.
Chapter 1: First meeting Kenshin's POV
I ran my fingers through my amber hair while noon rays blinded me momentarily as I stepped out of the poorly maintained subway and carried my worn duffel bag onto the platform. No one got off at this station anymore, not after the Revolution began. Mass murder seemed to be the only solution for change to seep into and become accepter into citizen's lives. But it came at a cost. Trails of devastation and misery swept though the world leaving behind deserted towns like how mine had become. I was just a child when it hit; my parents and all my friends were taken away from me never to be seen again. At that time I didn't know any better; the small town I had known all of my life died before my very eyes. All that pain and no where for it to go, except into my heart where it burned a permanent. Somehow though I come to this desolate town every year not knowing why. Maybe for the respect of the dead or the impossible thought that the grass would grow again in the rock-hard ground. But the train still runs automatically and time still goes by.
My adolescence was spent learning the harshest lessons of life first. I don't know why I survived when those around me perished because life isn't worth living. Not when every day is like torture. Sometimes I wish I was taken away as well. To tell the truth, I tried killing myself, but every time I hold a knife in my hand it shakes so badly that I can't push it into my flesh. So I make my living by taking that pain out on others. I am a bounty hunter.
My fingers lightly graze the profanity-stained wall marked by crazed people who knew death was nearby. Others survived as well in some cities that were built downwind, but many are corrupt. That's why I chose to be who I am today: completely unemotional as I watch my victims fall by my very hand. Love is something in the past; I haven't cried once since the world became dark.
But this time it was different; it felt like something was calling me here. Maybe it one of those hunches I get some of the time. Two hours of walking later, I reach the house. Even fifteen years after that horrible event, the air of death still lingers, and restless souls still wander through the vacant rooms.
I kneel in prayer in front of the pathetic pile of stones, which I call the grave of those I lost. Their names sprayed on the concrete sidewalk with red paint in the messy handwriting by myself as an eight-year- old near the park located across the street from my used-to-be home. Swinging my baggage over my shoulders out of habit, I find myself passing the sign that says, 'You are now leaving-"the rest was partly broken off but numerous profanity words described the lost town. Deciding to take a break, I lean against a withered tree barely surviving, only two green leaves showing that life still exists in this old timekeeper.
Footsteps from the road ahead of me come closer and reach my ears that have been trained to track the slightest noise. My instinct makes me to take cover in the nearest brush, watch and wait. The creature begins to slow down and heavy breaths come from it. To my surprise as I look from my hideout, it's a human,--the first I've seen over the past four years around here. The exhausted being fell to its knees then lay down still a few yards away from me. Chances are that it's very close to dying. According to my knowledge, nothing consumable is found miles from this place.
Ten minutes later, with the person still motionless, I find myself standing over it. Taking a closer look, it's a young female but hardly distinguishable from the pathetic assortment of rags. Her waist-length midnight black hair was matted with dirt, dried grass and twigs. Her feet were bare. The slight movement of her chest shows that she's still alive and breathing, but barely. There wasn't much I could do; she wasn't an unfamiliar sight. There were many children who ran between cities in search for something to eat so they could survive. But her shallow cheeks and thin limbs awoke an emotion in my heart. Something I haven't felt in fifteen years.
She reminded me of myself after the first year of the Revolution Era. Me, trying to make a living in the harsh world I had come to know. A wind blew some of her hair that covered her shoulders and revealed writing on the upper part of her arm: 257. Those three numbers in order brought back the memory of a conversation I heard in an alley. I recall two men talking about a reward, a bounty hunter's dream catch. That whoever brought her in would get all the money he could dream of and more, but no one managed to capture her. A myth spread that she would vanish after a person would begin chasing her; just like that, into thin air, leaving the predator confused. And there she was in front of me. Just lying there like a blank check, and all I had to do was cash her in. That simple. No questions asked. But something held me back from tying her up. Instead I found myself picking her up and holding her. Confused, about my action that I seemed to have done without a thought. She seemed to weigh less then my duffel bag that I carried on my right shoulder.
So I began to retrace my steps, this time with a girl worth her weight in gold in my arms as the sun quietly set to my right and the road to my destiny now swirling with another before me.
Now I bet that you all want to know that's going to happen next right? Well just wait till I post the next chapter in a while. *Ducks from flying tomatoes* Hee hee at least I know the storyline for this until chapter six or so then I'll start taking requests. But suggestions are always welcome! Most likely I'll include them in future chaps. ^_^
Kaiomi Star*light