Disclaimer: I do not own the Ruroni Kenshin series, stories, or anything else. =D Reviews are accepted, comments, too. Even flames.
Kaoru sat in the cold, dark alleyway, where she could heal herself without getting kicked or spit upon. It was the usual treatment wrought upon her each day, because magic was a forbidden art and she was the only person who knew how to wield it.
She looked sorrowfully at the bruise she had gotten from a man who kicked her viciously and called her a witch. Her tears did not fall because she learned to hold them back. Ever since the town found out about her powers, they turned on her, afraid of what they didn't understand, instead of using her powers for good. She sat on the cold, damp ground that stank from fish and who knows what. Her hand went up to her bruise and she closed her eyes and concentrated. The blue sparks spread from her hands to her thigh like healing water and the discoloration faded away.
I wish I could use my magic to fade my troubles away, too, thought Kaoru wistfully. She slowly got up, peeked out of the alleyway, and, seeing that the coast was clear, slipped in and out between the houses to avoid being seen. She had to reach the dojo before anyone caught her. The dojo was the only home she'd known, and the government decided not to set it on fire because she had cured a small breakout of smallpox. But who knew when they would change their mind?
People's minds are like smoke, she thought angrily. If only they could see how much I want to help them, maybe their minds wouldn't blow astray from the winds of prejudice. Her shoes lightly touched the ground as she silently moved through town. Few people were up this late at night, which was a relief for Kaoru. No kicking, no taunting, no yelling, no beating, no spitting, nothing. Just her and the cool air breeze and the night sky. The night sky...it was beautiful out. The stars twinkled and were so big in the night sky, so beautiful, like diamonds. They were the only things she could look to for comfort. And right now would be a time for them to guide her.
"Stars," she said under her breath, "please help me find someone who doesn't look at me with disgust or doesn't look down on me. Someone that makes me feel like I belong." And when she was done with this simple prayer, she had arrived at the dojo. She took out her hair ribbon, and fell asleep on the tatami mat, unknowing that her wish would be granted the very next day.
"Kaoru!" a voice yelled. She rubbed her eyes tiredly and woke up. It was Yahiko, an orphan who lived with her. He was small and scrawny for his age, but his eyes burned with a fierce, brave flame. His parents had died in the war that resulted in the Meigi era. Since no one would take him in, he had come into Kaoru's dojo one day and never left. "I'm hungry! Do we have anything to eat around here?"
She sat up, preparing for the first fight of the day. "Get something in town yourself, lazy bum! And can't you do something about your hair? You look like something off the streets!" She playfully rapped his head with her knuckle. He was scowling. They were like brother and sister, and even though they loved each other like family, they'd never admit it.
"Why? Can't you go into town? Oh...wait..." Yahiko knew then he had gone too far. Kaoru's big eyes filled with tears but she didn't cry. Instead, she smiled through it.
"No, I can't. You know what they call me, witch, monster..." she said, ticking off the names as playfully as a child counting to ten for the very first time. But Yahiko knew that deep down inside it hurt her, and it hurt him watching her get hurt.
"Never mind, I'll go get it," he grumbled, pretending to be mad to do chores. She fished out some money she had made while cleaning a teahouse. It was a meager amount, but just enough to buy another meal. He grabbed it and ran out the screen door.
Tidying up the dojo was no problem for Kaoru because no one came there. Her father had died in the same war Yahiko's parents died in, and no one in the town wanted to learn the discipline of sword-fighting from a witch. Her father had been a wonderful man, kind and caring, bold and firm in his beliefs. He taught the students with an iron fist, but managed to be sympathetic to their needs at the same time. His teaching style was unique: Swords that Bring Life. But what good did it do him? Kaoru mulled over in her head. He's dead.
While she swept around the front of the dojo, she wondered where Yahiko was. It was late in the afternoon, and the sun was beginning to give off an orange light that engulfed the whole sky. She admired the shades. Pink, red, orange, and yellow... she observed in her head. In the distance, she could hear something. It sounded like...footsteps. Fast, running footsteps! She looked to where the noise was coming from. A dust cloud! Angry mobs? But she hadn't even gone out today! Suddenly, her eyes caught sight of a scrawny boy. "Yahiko!" she yelled. And then...on his back...a man! She ran to both of them, and Yahiko collapsed under the man's weight.
He was breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath. "This man...ha...badly policemen...ha...caught sight of his sword and beat him up! I couldn't just let him die! So I brought him here," he explained while he and Kaoru lifted the man and took him inside the dojo. There, they lay him on a worn tatami mat and Kaoru put a wet towel to the man's head. He was a small man, but taller than Kaoru was. His red hair was unusual, and his scar was even more baffling. It was shaped like a large cross, but it didn't make him look disfigured. In fact, it intrigued her. He looked tougher with it. Plus, he was...good-looking. She smiled. Was this her blessing?
Yahiko had bought the groceries, on top of carrying a full-grown man on his back. He and Kaoru had a simple dinner of miso soup and rice. She intentionally left some for the mysterious man, just in case he woke up in the night. After dinner, they went to sleep, a full and contented sleep.
In the middle of the night, the man awoke. His amber eyes slanted upwards, like a cat's, and were filled with malice and anger. He spoke quietly to himself. "So...this is where the witch lives. That seer was right. Too bad I can't repay her." He smiled, the very smile an assassin gets from the joy of killing. He relished the memory that with one flick of his blade he had killed her, slitting her throat, and the blood...it kept pouring out. It still sent shivers down his spine. So easy.
He made his way around the dojo, as silently as a cat stalking its prey. In one room, he saw the little boy who had carried him here. Just like the seer said he would. He was doing this for the love of money, and because the government offered him a substantial amount if he killed the witch, it hooked him like bait hooks fish. He decided not to kill the boy, because the boy was helping him get money. It was awfully tempting, though. The boy just slept...so vulnerable. No, thought the assassin, have to keep focus on the mission.
He looked around a little more and finally saw the witch. He quietly unsheathed his blade, and looked at her. She was beautiful, no matter how evil the government portrayed her. Her black hair was as black as a raven's feather and seemed to flow like silk. Her face was an innocent one. Her long lashes added warmth and kindness. He hesitated, for the first time in his career. Maybe this isn't the witch, he thought, a strange feeling growing inside of him. Maybe the old crone is using her as a decoy. He shook his head, as if in a reverie. She was the witch, through and through. And he had to kill her. Oh well. You can't judge a book by its cover. He raised his blade, and...